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btcwriting · 1 year

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Friendly Refuge

The holidays kicked my butt. This piece has been sitting around partially written for like a month and I finally finished it. Have some light mostly fluff to start out the new year.

CWs: Stalking

Sem felt a pressure on his arm as he walked. When he looked down, he found a young woman wrapping her arms around his. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a braid with a small light blue brimmed hat adorning it. She wore a matching long blue blouse with a decorative black and silver belt around her middle, and a mid-length light blue skirt underneath it. Her dress was perfectly modest, but the way she pressed herself against his arm went against it. Though she smiled, her clear aqua eyes glanced behind her and her expression was strained.

“I found you!” She giggled.

“Cyan?” Sem inquired quietly. At first he was amused but the feeling died as soon as he saw the worry haunting her face.

In a heartbeat she switched to a more serious expression, and mouthed the most important answer to his question.

“Play along.”

Sem smiled. “Took you long enough!” He finally responded at normal volume again. “I was getting tired of wandering around.”

She smiled sweetly back. “I wanted to get a surprise for you!” She pulled back but kept a casual grip on his arm, close and familiar.

“Oh yeah? What kind?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” She stuck her tongue out him.

“I suppose.” He exaggerated rolling his eyes in amusement. “Well, shall we start back then?”

Cyan nodded, and they started down the sidewalk together. After a few moments of quiet he shifted his eyes to her again and entreated her with a light whisper.

“What’s wrong?”

“A guy’s been following me.” She finally responded, keeping her eyes forward. “Can’t think of any reason other than bad news.”

“Gotcha.” Sem frowned to himself. He hadn’t known Cyan was nearby before she had pulled him from his thoughts. He’d only come to town recently, but he had no idea how long she’d been there. How long had this guy been following her? He decided to hope that this was mostly a stroke of luck for the both of them, especially with how his friend was acting.

They passed all kinds of shops that had settled on the edge of the square, one of them being an alternative fashion clothing shop with brightly colored mannequins in the window. Sem paused with a noise of interest and turned to look at them, pulling Cyan out of the walking path beside him as he did so.

They marveled at the flowing outfits, but Sem flicked his eyes down the line of windows as they did so. Just beyond another display of mannequins, the road reflected off the windows frosting them in shades of gray. A few shops down he saw the reflection of a man who had just finished shifting to look in the window of a cafe. His clothes were plain, features sharp, his eyes focused intently on the hours chart in front of him. The man stayed planted as long as they did, patient.

“They’re cute, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.” Sem’s eyes darted back to the displays in front of them, finding something reasonable to comment on. “Though I think a bag like that would be much more useful with a purse strap than left as a hand bag. It’d bring the color out more, too.”

“I don’t know why people only want to sell purses as handbags these days. Especially since less pants even have pockets these days so you have to put even more in them.” Cyan pouted. “This skirt doesn’t even have pockets, I haven’t gotten around to altering it yet. It feels next to worthless sometimes to have to alter all the clothes I buy, but the alternative is not having pockets.”

“Seems like a fruitful endeavor to me, then.” Sem smiled at her.

“Well sure, you don’t have to worry about spending the time and fabric on it.” She rolled her eyes in his direction. “Some dresses are so hard to alter. And some things look nice but they’re so shoddily made if you pull one thread the entire thing falls apart and you have to practically resew the whole thing.”

“At least you get to make the pockets as deep as you want when you do it yourself.”

“That is nice. I’ve gotten used to big pockets. Makes it even harder to go back.” She agreed, and they turned together back to the sidewalk.

Sem listened for the steps of the man behind them, but it was hard to pick them out over the sound of cars passing them on the road. His shoes didn’t click, and he kept a leisurely pace behind them. He was tempted to slow down, but there was no assurance that he wouldn’t slow down as well and make them both look suspicious.

Cyan tugged his arm and pointed to a sign ahead of them. “Look, there’s an ice cream parlor! Do you want to stop for ice cream?”

Sem beamed. “You know, that sounds like a great way to end the day. Sure, let’s do it, my treat.”

She tugged him up and through the door of the parlor, a bell chiming happily as they entered. They stepped up behind the few people in line and looked over the menu, shifting to be casually holding hands as they did.

“Do you think they have many fruit flavors?” Cyan looked up at him.

Sem craned his neck to look through the glassed-in counter to see the barrels of ice cream. “I think so. Plenty of interesting colors, too. They should have something tasty, at least.”

They stood in line, idly chatting as the groups in front of them got their orders. As they progressed, Sem felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. There was a flicker of a shadow on the floor, but they kept their eyes on the line in front of them. He listened for the sound of the bell, but the sharp chime never cut through the conversations of the patrons.

Sem forced himself to smile as they reached the counter, and Cyan looked into the freezer and told him about the options. Soon they paid and turned to find a spot to sit, ice cream in hand. He looked up at the large windows at the front of the store, but they were empty, the sunlight shining through them unperturbed. People passed a few feet from the front of the store, but any trace of the man he’d seen earlier seemed to be gone.

They slid into a small table near the front of the store with a sigh of relief. Cyan glanced out the window and down the street as far as she could see, but shook her head.

“Good riddance.” Finally she relaxed and dug a spoon into her bowl of strawberry creme, well formed scoops of white ice cream crisscrossed with ruby red veins.

“Hopefully that will be enough to get him to leave you alone. Thankfully most people lose interest if they think you’re in a relationship.” Sem agreed, taking a bite out of his chocolate chip cookie dough, scoops piled high on top of an individually fashioned cone. They ate a few bites in silence as their nerves settled.

“So, how have you been, Sem?” Cyan asked finally. “It’s been a bit.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been better, but it hasn’t been… too bad recently. Getting used to a new coworker is always a trial.”

“Oh, yeah, how has that been going?” Cyan looked up at him more attentively.

“Well… He’s better than the last guy.” Sem chuckled.

She frowned. “That’s an incredibly low bar.”

“I know. I’m trying to be grateful.” Sem sighed. “I think he’s doing alright so far, but he’s already decided we’re enemies and is sticking to this idea, as far as I can tell.”

She blinked. “How’d that happen?”

“Suddenly and without warning.” He cringed at the memory. “Apparently we have a few moral… disagreements. A few particular areas where he’s more, let’s say conservative than I am.”

“Conservative? Conservative how?”

“Conservative in the ‘fish that grew up in a small pond thinks the big ocean is a salty hedonistic wasteland’ way. I’m hoping that he’ll get over it given a bit more time, but for now he is looking for comfort in the familiar and not finding it. And on our second meeting I happened to introduce him to a few of my major hobbies that he did not much agree with, so now I guess he’ll never agree with me on anything.” Sem rested his head on his hand tiredly.

“Oof.” Cyan furrowed her brow sympathetically.

“He’d probably get along with you great.”

“Well, I’ll let you know if I ever run across him. That’s a better starting point than the last one at least, but hard to say how he’ll turn out.”

Sem nodded. “For the moment he has a goal and he’s busying himself with pursuing it. No telling how long it will last, but he’s figuring things out, and he’ll get the hang of it in his own time. At the very least, I think he’ll last. Not that he’d probably be given a lot of option to bow out at this point.”

Cyan ate in thoughtful silence for a minute.

“What about you? How’ve you been?” Sem prompted in kind.

“Mostly the same old, same old.” She picked at her ice cream as she talked. The intricate blue crystalline bracelet folded around her wrist glinted perfectly in the sunlight as it poked out of her sleeve, filling it with colors as if it captured the light and stored it as vibrant hues. “I found a clinic I can volunteer at, but I have to give my ‘advice’ on the down low. Getting a first aid certification is easy enough, but at the moment I’m loathe to work out the actual paperwork I’d need to be a practicing doctor around here. They want a lot of paperwork, and it’s not even interesting like it is in other places. Just schools communicating and filing, all the worst parts of a medical degree. So for now I just give advice if they ask for it. I think I’ve helped more cats with injuries recently than I have people.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Sem said, imagining Cyan kneeling down and putting a bandage on an ornery cat’s leg. “Do you think you’ll stick around here long?”

“I’m not sure yet. I was originally planning to be here for a while, but the competition’s pretty high and people are fairly healthy. If that keeps up, I’ll probably just cut my losses and go looking for employment opportunities elsewhere.”

“If that’s what you’re feeling, then it makes sense.” He agreed. “I know I’ve seen some places on the outskirts lately that could use someone with your kind of qualifications around, I’ve found the new guy and myself spending more time there lately. Could be something for you to work on there.”

“I’ll consider it. Maybe I’ll check it out when I feel like I need a change.” She nodded.

With a few more bites they both finished off their ice cream, picked up their trash and exited the shop after Sem left a nice tip for the workers. The sidewalk was clear, the sun slowly working its way towards the horizon.

“Do you want me to walk you home the rest of the way? It wouldn’t be any trouble.” Sem asked her, stepping between the buildings, away from the glass panes of the ice cream shop.

Cyan smiled. “I think I’ll be alright the rest of the way, you’ve been more than enough help. And thanks for the ice cream, as well. That was a nice change of pace.”

“Of course. It was well overdue.” Sem beamed. Cyan stepped forward and hugged him, and he gently wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. He felt her squeeze him, gleaning what more comfort she could from his presence before she finally eased up. After another moment he let her go and stepped back.

“Hopefully I’ll see you again, sooner this time.”

She nodded. “I hope so too. It’d be nice to hang out again. But unfortunately someone needs to at least try to keep an eye on our new coworker, and gods know that Scar isn’t going to do it.”

“That’s an understatement.” He frowned, but smiled again before long. “See you around. Take care.”

“You take care as well. Stay out of trouble – doctor’s orders.” She crossed her arms and gave him a meaningful glare.

He laughed and gave her a salute. “Doctor’s orders. Got it.”

They parted ways, Cyan continuing the way she’d gone before and Sem taking the alleys, hands in his pockets and a spring in his step.

Words: 2136

#original writing #semsenir #cyan #stalking #(it's fairly minor tho)#fluff #just. a friendly conversation. you know #definitely no strangely couched language here

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chyanxrene · 3 years

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Sweetheart Part 2

♡ Sweetheart part 1 ♡

♡ Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Y/N

♡ Summary: Draco and Y/N were friend’s with benefits, now that Y/N was avoiding him, it was only a waiting game until he caught up with her.

♡ Warnings: Degradation, pure smut, male receiving

"Y/N have you found an outfit for the ball yet?" Her friend asked from next to her whilst she ate a slice of toast.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and then opened her eyes in realisation that she had forgotten the winter ball that was on Friday.

"Fuck, I forgot."

"We don't have time to go to Hogsmeade, you'll have to wear one of my dresses" her best friend smiled and continued eating.

Y/N nodded, spreading jam on her toast. She was trying to forget about her last encounter with Draco which had left him fuming. She was trying to avoid him, she wouldn't walk down the halls by herself— in case he caught her.

"Y/N" her friend drawled, Y/N followed her friends eye line.

"Why is he staring at you?" Her friend frowned, quickly diverting her gaze back towards Y/N.

Her eyes found his, he was mad, furious actually. His gaze was intense, he sat two tables away. Despite the large amount of students in the great hall, he was only looking at her.

His hand was tightly clenched around his fork, his knuckles whiter than his normal pale skin tone. Y/N felt uncomfortable from his staring— but she couldn't take her eyes off him.

She watched as Pansy Parkinson tapped his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. But Draco didn't flinch, he continued to stare at her in anger, watching her every movement.

Y/N gulped and excused herself from the great hall, she ran out into the corridor only to bump into someone and fall straight on her ass.

"Oh fuck."

"Shit— I'm sorry, here— let me help you up."

Y/N watched the large male hand in front of her, she hesitantly grabbed the hand. He pulled her up, maybe a little too hard as she crashed into his chest.

"Thanks Cormac."

"You're welcome Y/L/N."

There was an awkward silence between the two. Y/N knew him from a few classes but had never spoken to him like that. She knew he could be a player but that didn't alter is good looks.

"Say Y/N, you don't happen to have a date tomorrow yet? If you do that's fine but if not then perhaps I could take you."

Y/N chewed on her lip, a part of her didn't want to go with him as he was a ladies man, another part of her wanted to— as she didn't have a date yet. The ball was the last thing on her mind.

"I'm surprised you don't yet" she laughed.

Cormac chuckled and brushed his hand along her right arm. "Well, I wanted to go with you but I didn't have the balls to ask."

This was news to Y/N, she had never observed any interest from Cormac. She decided to bite the bullet and agree to going with him— besides she didn't want to look lonely.

"Sure, I'll go with you."

"Perfect!" He pulled her into a tight squeeze, she heard him take a deep inhale and then let out a sigh. He was weird— nether the less she now had a date, so she had to prepare.

Y/N said her goodbye to Cormac after an awkward hug and turned around to head to her dorm room. At the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Draco leaning against the entrance door to the great hall.

Her heart was racing, she didn't want to make eye contact with him. She hurried past him, the wind picked up his smell which travelled into her nostrils. Shivers ran down her spine, the smell of Draco was addictive but she had to be strong.

It was the day of the winter ball, Y/N didn't have much time to prepare an outfit so was left with two options, kindly offered by her friend.

"So, there's the red one with the slit— very Christmassy— also very seductive— the slit makes it easy if you want to— well you know what."

Y/N laughed at her friend's dirty mind and watched as she picked the other dress up.

"The black one is cute— it's what you would wear to your enemies funeral— just to show them up" she laughed.

Y/N thought carefully, the black was nice, slightly puffy at the bottom and long sleeves. The red was silk from head to toe, a slit running down the left leg, it was a straight dress— it would be a tight fit.

"The red."

Her friend clapped her hands excitedly and threw the dress over to her. Y/N went to get ready, she took a long hot shower. She done her hair in her favourite style and applied natural make up. She decided to go for a bold red lip, to match her dress.

"Fucking hell."

"Is it too much?" Y/N said worriedly, she looked down at her dress, ironing out the creases with her hands.

"If Cormac doesn't get you in his bed tonight, you'll definitely be in mine!"

Y/N blushed, her friend wore the black dress which complimented her skin tone nicely. She paired it with a smoky eye and nude lipgloss, they both looked good.

"Come, let's go— I have a date with Blaise and Cormac will be waiting for you" her friend said pulling them out of their shared dorm room.

"You look— lovely" Cormac smiled, his eyes went straight to her chest and then to her exposed leg. Y/N scoffed and now began regretting coming with this boy.

She thanked him, shooting him a quick smile. His hand went around her waist, holding her tightly— maybe a little too tightly. Y/N sucked it up, she hoped that she could loose him in an hour and find her friend.

"Do you want a drink?" He asked, his eyes wandered glancing at other females.

Y/N stood on his toe quickly and then retracted her foot "oh my, I'm so sorry, I'm clumsy you see."

Cormac nodded, a hint of anger on his face as he examined his shoe to see if there was any scuff marks. Once he discovered there wasn't he smiled and then went to get drinks.

Y/N stood waiting for her date, she watched as her friend was being twirled around by Blaise. They looked cute together, she couldn't help but feel jealous as she wanted to be treated the same as her friend.

Cormac was taking a while, she glanced over and saw him speaking to his friends, they kept looking over to her and then smirking. Y/N was utterly repulsed— men she thought in her head.

The air suddenly shifted, it was heavier— stuffy, Y/N's breath was caught in her throat as she found it hard to breath properly.

Everyone else continued dancing, she was the only one that was feeling this, and that's when she felt his body behind her. He wasn't touching her, she could just feel him behind her.

She took in a deep breath, and licked her lips.

"You look— beautiful" Draco breathed from behind her.

He had never spoken to her like that outside of sex. Of course he had called her beautiful many times, only when she was sucking his dick, or riding him— oh gosh.

She felt herself grow wet as memories of her and Draco clustered her mind. She had to stand her ground, she can't let him win again.

"Thank you."

"Where's your date?" He said now standing next to her, he didn't look at her, he just faced forward watching everyone dance.

"Getting drinks."

"Mmm, which one is it again?"

"None of your business" Y/N spat.

He let out a short laugh, his eyes finally meeting hers. She turned her head quickly and faced the front again.

"Where's your date?"

"I don't have one."

"That's a shame."

"Is it? Or are you secretly happy about that?" He teased, Y/N's face grew hot, did he know about her crush on him? She thought deeply thinking if she gave away any hints.

Y/N cleared her throat "oh here he comes."

Cormac walked over with two glasses of punch. He eyed Draco and then handed the drink to Y/N.

"Malfoy, everything alright?" Cormac asked, drinking some of his drink.

He hummed, watching Cormac, he looked annoyed "I'm fine, you mind if I have your drink Y/N?"

She frowned at him and shook her head "no— it's mine, get your own."

I looked at Cormac who had a worried look on his face "yeah— yeah get your own Malfoy."

Draco slapped the drink out of her hands, sending shards of glass onto the dance floor. It was too loud for anyone to hear, so no one noticed, only a Hufflepuff who quickly collected the glass.

"Draco what the fuck."

"He put something in your drink" he growled now holding onto Cormac's shirt collar.

"I did not!" Cormac shouted.

"I watched you, you and your little friends had a game going on didn't you?"

Cormac shook his head.

"Who can fuck first? Right?" Draco shouted.

Y/N had heard enough and ran off, she felt embarrassed. She knew Cormac was an ass but she didn't expect that. She wasn't upset or crying, she just wanted to go back to her dorm room.

She felt more embarrassed at the fact that Draco came to her rescue, she should've figured it out herself. Now she was beginning to get annoyed at him.

She turned down a corridor, speeding to her dorm room. Heavy footsteps trailed behind her, she was finally going to be caught by Draco Malfoy.

He tugged on her wrist and pulled her back, she swung around. His other hand pushed her head towards his and he kissed her deeply. Entering his tongue in her mouth straight away.

Y/N let out a whimper and returned the kiss. Draco backed her against the wall, her back hitting the cold stone sharply.

He pulled back, his eyes were heavy which watched his heavy breath.

His finger was raised, he pointed it at Y/N and laughed.

"You— my sweetheart— have been driving me wild."

Y/N could only gulp, his hand slapped the wall next to her head.

"Do you enjoy playing games with me?"

Y/N shook her head quickly, Draco's other hand trailed down her thigh and went underneath her dress. Brushing her inner thighs slowly.

"Answer me!"

"I—I haven't played games."

"You have, you leave me with blue balls, I haven't been able to get rid of them for nearly a week now!"

"That—that's not my fault."

A smirk fell onto his face, his hand stopped moving.

"You're right— maybe it's mine."

Y/N nodded, her underwear now sticking to her wet pussy, his finger grew closer and closer to where she wanted him most. But he didn't touch her, he was teasing her, getting her back for what she'd done to him.

"You know what I want?" He smiled, his thumb brushing her bottom lip, he smudged her red lipstick slightly.

"I want you— to wrap those pretty red lips around my cock."

Y/N moaned at his words, she just couldn't do it, she couldn't let him leave her again when she had all these feelings for him.

Y/N bit her lip and thought to herself— I guess one more time wouldn't hurt, she convinced herself.

Draco searched Y/N's eyes for an answer, then he smirked when he realised she had come to a decision.

Draco looked around and unbuttoned his trousers, he pulled them down along with his boxers. His dick was hard, the head leaking with precum.

"You missed this sweetheart?" He asked wiping the precum off his tip with the pad of his thumb and then smearing it onto Y/N's lips.

Y/N nodded quickly, her tongue darting out to taste his arousal. Draco's hand wrapped around her throat, he pulled her into a hard kiss and then let her go.

"Make me cum" he whispered against her lips.

Y/N fell to her knees, she rubbed up her hand up and down his dick. His hips bucked forward as he felt her thumb brush across his sensitive tip.

Draco's hands tangled in her hair "show me how much you missed me."

He pushed her head forward, his eyes never leaving her. She ran her hand up and down again, stroking the prominent vein on the side, her mouth opened.

Draco guided his tip first into her mouth, Y/N's lips instantly wrapped around it, swirling her tongue to taste him.

"Fuck."

He pushed her head further, forcing her to take more of his thick cock. Her mouth widened, she struggled to take in everything, so what she couldn't she pumped with her hand.

She hollowed her mouth, sucking as hard as she could. Draco groaned at this and gripped her hair harder.

Y/N choked suddenly, feeling his tip hit the back of her throat. Her mouth filled with more saliva, she looked up at Draco, he smirked and pulled her off him.

Multiple strings of her spit were still attached to his his dick from her mouth. Her eyes were watery and her mascara was now running. Draco looked at her like she was an angel.

He traced his tip along her lips and then prodded them, forcing her to open her mouth.

Y/N sucked in a breath, she knew what was coming. She held onto Draco's thighs and he thrusted hard into her mouth. He done this many times until Y/N was sobbing. Her vision was blurry and her mouth was swollen.

"Fucking— love— your— filthy— mouth" he grunted each word. Spit was falling out of Y/N's mouth onto the floor, she looked up at Draco, his head was thrown back, his mouth was parted as he continued to fuck her mouth.

He suddenly pulled out of her mouth and grabbed her forearm. He dragged her up "lift up— your dress."

Y/N quickly wiped her mouth and lifted her dress, Draco looked around again, to see if there were any onlookers. Not that that would make a difference now.

Draco held both sides of her underwear and snapped them, a stinging sensation running through Y/N's body.

He lifted her up, her legs were over his arms as he used the wall to balance his hands on.

"Fuck— I missed you" he whispered, he lined his dick to her entrance and then pushed inside of her.

Y/N's head flew back, Draco let out a strained groan as he pulled out and pushed back in again.

"So tight— you make it hard for me to last long."

She couldn't speak, she was in a total state of bliss, her eyes were screwed shut as he thrusted in and out of her. She moaned his name feeling his cock fill her up sweetly.

Draco moved at a faster pace, the angle made his tip rub against her g spot repeatedly.

Y/N was whimpering, crying his name as she felt her orgasm approach fast.

"You're mine— aren't you?"

Draco thrusted harder, lifting her up slightly higher so he could push into her deeper.

"Fuck— tell me you're mine!"

Y/N's head fell forward, they looked into each others eyes and she nodded quickly.

"Say it— I wanna hear you say it."

"I'm yours Draco."

He slowed his pace, giving Y/N short, deep, thrusts. She was close now, his head leaned in and sucked onto her neck, leaving red and purple marks behind.

He then thrusted one final time hard, which sent them both over the edge. Y/N came moaning his name, Draco let out 5 curse words in one short sentence.

His forehead leaned on hers as he tried to catch his breath. His lips kissed her forehead as he finally let her down.

Y/N pulled down her dress as Draco pulled his boxers and trousers back up. It was silent, no words were spoken between them, both were still reeling from the amazing sex they had just had.

Draco's back was turned from Y/N's, she heard him zip up his trousers "I'm not sleeping with her."

"What?"

"Don't be stupid— you know who I'm talking about."

"Right, I didn't care if you did anyway-"

"You did."

He smiled and turned around, he strolled towards Y/N, he brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face, pushing it behind her ear.

Y/N's eyes were watering, she didn't want to cry in front of him, but all her emotions were coming at once and she couldn't handle them all. She sucked in her tears and remained calm.

"I—I don't want to do this anymore" Y/N whispered, her head faced her feet.

Draco placed a kiss on her cheek "good because neither do I."

Y/N looked at him, she was confused at what he meant by that.

"What does that mean?"

He let out a laugh and smiled "I want you to go back to your room, burn the list of rules and then come back to my room."

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and then widened her eyes realising what he had just said.

"But—but Draco?"

Y/N was worried what everyone would think about her being with a Slytherin— let alone Draco Malfoy.

"I don't care anymore— now be a good girl and do as you're told."

"Right, okay."

Y/N went to walk off but he pulled her wrist, forcing her against his chest. His mouth found hers as he engulfed her into a wet kiss. Y/N pulled away before they got too carried away.

"See you soon— sweetheart."

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #dracosmut #smut #draco x y/n #harry potter #harrypotter #dracomalfoysmut #dracomalfoy #draco malfoy smut

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chubbytummy · 3 years

Text

(first official post!!! pls enjoy and support!!! sorry in advance for any typos! T^T)

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

♡✰ 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 ✰♡

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

synopsis:

(bts taehyung-seokjin centric)

taehyung has never had the best eating habits, indulging in junk food to his heart's content. what happens when it finally catches up with him, and his roommate/crush happens to notice?

tw: weight gain, mild feederism, eructo, mentions of past abusive relationships, mentions of insecurity, language, slight nsfw (barely)

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

♡

☆

♡

it was no secret to anyone around him that taehyung, as sweet as he was, gave absolutely no fucks about his eating habits. that was one thing he would tell you straight off the bat, and he was completely shameless about them too. if it was yummy, it was yummy. and if it was yummy, he was going to eat it. life was short, and wasn't the point of life to enjoy yourself and be happy?

that's what taehyung believed, anyway.

taehyung wasn't shy by nature; a social butterfly, if you will. he loved making new friends, chatting, and bringing people out of their shell. he was naturally charismatic and funny, and with the added-luxury of movie star looks, a deep and sultry voice, and a great physique, he always had a group of buddies around him. that's just how he was. he loved making people smile and laugh, enjoying the warmth and love that radiated off of those close to him. so, as it seemed, taehyung's life was a blissful stream of joy. he didn't have a care in the world, especially about his food.

that was until he graduated highschool and went off to college. you see, taehyung was quite athletic in highschool. participating in track and field and being in dance with his best friend, jimin, gave him plenty of, if not excessive exercise to burn off all those calories he consumed throughout the day. perhaps he was able to get away with his atrocious eating habits back then. however, there was a teeny problem. now, taehyung wasn't pursuing athletics or dance in college-- he was majoring in fine arts. that meant he wasn't getting the amount of exercise his body was used to. turns out, he didn't have as fast of a metabolism like he'd falsely believed, he just did a lot of cardio. so, factoring together the absence of any exercise (minus walks to classes and to the fridge), no changes in his diet, and the constant late-night junk food binges, things quickly started to add up.

literally.

it started with his cheeks. taehyung had been thin, bordering underweight, most of his life, so of course the little bit of newfound plumpness to his face would be noticable. yet, despite his soulmate's comments over 2 am facetimes saying "jesus, taetae, you look so young! drop the skin care routine, bestie," taehyung didn't see the changes. his cheeks poofed out and softened like freshly baked bread, and they always seemed to be puffy, like he'd just woken up. well, he had been taking a lot of naps lately, maybe that's why? he didn't really care, anyways.

the next noticable change was his hips, thighs, and ass. not only was taehyung blessed with a face sculpted by the gods, he also had a body to die for. if there's any higher power, they CLEARLY pick favourites. with a slim, trim waist and a naturally curvy figure, the weight gain only accentuated his hourglass shape. his hips widened generously, thighs thickened like heavy cream, and ass plumped out lusciously, filling up any seat he sat on to the brim and earning him more whistles and lustful stares then he was already receiving. yet, despite the constant catcalling from other students on campus, and the snugness of his pants, taehyung remained oblivious to his altered form.

the final shift in taehyung's appearance settled itself softly on his midsection. although he'd never had chiseled, drool-worthy abs like his new friend jungkook, who practically lived at the campus fitness center, his stomach had always been completely flat. now, it had softened entirely; he had a bit of a tummy. it wasn't very noticeable, at first, due to his knack for wearing baggy clothes, but it began to show over time. it was chubby and pudgy, and spilled over the waistband of his pants when he sat down. his belly was fluffy like the stuffing of a teddy bear, the surface doughy, as if you could sink your hand into it and leave behind a handprint. it was even more noticeable after he'd eaten. taehyung always bloated terribly. whether he'd had a bellyache, gas, or had just eaten something rather filling, his tummy always swelled up and pushed over his pantline and into his shirt. as well, love handles began to form, curling around his middle and warmly hugging his sides.

he was by no means overweight, but he wasn't exactly skinny anymore. he was softer, warmer around the edges. it suited him.

strangely enough, taehyung hadn't really noticed. besides a passing comment from a loved one, or a short-lived "hmm, that's new," in front of the bathroom mirror before dashing off to an already-late-to lecture, taehyung was pretty ignorant.

but how long can you ignore such a growing issue?

♡

☆

♡

leaning back and gazing up at the tile ceiling, taehyung sighed. he was currently in his friend jungkook's tiny dorm, sitting on his bed and waiting for his roommate, hoseok, to return with pizza. he really hoped he'd hurry up already. his belly was growling like it was angry with him. it was getting kinda scary.

"i really don't know, jungkook-ah, he's just... ugh." he mopplingly prompted his chubby cheeks in his hands and huffed.

"what do you mean you don't know, hyung?" jungkook asked crossing his beefy arms and shooting his friend a skeptical look. "you're like... the hottest and most outgoing guy i know. how haven't you scored a date with him yet?"

the "him" in question was taehyung's new roommate, seokjin. well, he wasn't exactly new. he'd been his roommate for over 5 months now, since his last roommate dropped out. yet, honestly, taehyung didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing that worldwide-handsome face in the same vicinity as him everyday. that would always be a shocker, no matter how many times they saw one another.

having a crush was new for taehyung. to put it bluntly, he knew he was good-looking. he definitely wasn't conceited or snobbish about his natural attractiveness, he honestly didn't care about looks. however, he was used to having a secret admirer or two, and unfortunately had to let many people down with his unrequited feelings. he never had any romantic attraction for anyone, even if he knew he was bisexual. in fact, romance really didn't play a role in his life. taehyung liked to paint, watch cartoons, eat snacks and play videogames. he chose friends and food over chasing after boys and girls. he hadn't even watched porn before, that's how uninterested in sex and relationships he was. call him immature or weird, but romance just didn't do much for him. it seemed boring. why would people waste there time on a silly boyfriend or girlfriend when they could be having fun? it just didn't make sense to him.

that was until he met his roommate. now, that was all he could think about. well, besides school and food, that is.

"that's rich coming from you, mr. i have muscles and a six-pack and tattoos and a fucking eyebrow piercing but i'm still too shy to even talk to jisoo." taehyung shot back with a smirk.

at that, jungkook flushed completely. it was true, despite being a 5 course meal plus desert, jungkook was the shyest person taehyung had ever met. he didn't have many friends besides taehyung, his roommate, hoseok, and hoseok's boyfriend. and the latter was just a friend of circumstances. the younger man also couldn't even look a girl in the eyes without blushing profusely and damn near pissing himself from nervousness. jungkook had a slight lisp and an occasional stutter as well, but taehyung found it quite endearing and sweet.

"t-that's not the point, hyung, and you know it!" jungkook replied hastily, still blushing. "why don't you just tell him how you feel? you've been pining after this dude for months!"

taehyung sighed heavily, the sigh morphing into a deep groan.

"because i literally don't know how! jin-hyung isn't going to take my confession seriously if i just say it! he's already rejected half the campus! he needs a gesture! some bold statement," taehyung explained in an exasperated manner, not caring if he was kinda rambling. "he deserves more than some half-hearted bullshit. i have to find a way to catch his attention, something to show him i'm different than the others. that i'm not just another idiot underclassmen trying to win him over! i just don't know what-!"

taehyung took a deep breath, ending his rant. he was beginning to feel upset, having a tendency to work himself up easily. he took a moment to collect himself, or at least try, and looked at the younger expectantly.

"don't look at me like that, hyung." he said after a moment, watching warily as taehyung took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. "you know what you gotta do, so do it." he shrugged, still observing his friend. "leth' talk about something else, okay?" jungkook suggested, not wanting his hyung to get anymore upset.

before taehyung could protest, there was a knock at the door.

"that must be hobi-hyung." jungkook spoke, getting up to let his dormmate in. taehyung stayed seated.

as the elder entered the room, the heavenly aroma of pizza followed, wafting around the dorm and into taehyung's nose. his mouth watered. pizza was the perfect comfort food. it always made him feel sated and happy. he could never get tired of it.

"hey tae-ah, i didn't know you would be here!" hoseok beamed, as he brought the pizza boxes over and placed them on the table. "how are you?"

"stressed and hungry."

hobi laughed loudly, his sunshine-like smile lighting up the room. taehyung always liked him. he was sweet, funny, and very handsome. he had a slim build, was a hip-hop dancer, and taehyung had seen his abs before. he'd be jealous if he cared about looks.

"aren't we all?" he joked, before he turned around and looked back at the still open door. "aish, yoongi-hyung, get your ass in here already!"

a low, "i'm coming, fuck off," emitted from beyond the threshold, before hoseok's boyfriend entered the room with a goofy grin and cases of beer and soda in his arms.

looking up at him, taehyung was taken aback.

the last time he'd seen yoongi, at least long enough to get a decent look at him, he'd been skinny. not just skinny, but nearly malnourished looking. his face had been gaunt and he was tiny in comparison to a healthy body. a good wind could have knocked him over. that was months ago. the yoongi he saw now looked quite different. he was filled out, his cheeks plumped and colored as apposed to pale and lifeless like before. his midsection as well, was that a belly? small, yes, but it was there. he looked so much... different. he wondered why.

taehyung had heard about relationship weight many times, and had seen it first-hand as well. when someone gets into a safe and loving relationship, they naturally gain weight. hoseok had opened up to jungkook and taehyung a few times, admitting that yoongi had been in an abusive relationship in the past. however, he was in a healthy one with hoseok now. honestly, it warmed taehyung's heart to see the once frail and sad-looking boy happy and healthy-looking.

it made him wonder if he would ever find a relationship like that. would he put on weight as well? probably not. his metabolism was way too fast, anyways.

"i brought some beer, jungkook don't drink it all this time." yoongi grunted, setting the packs by the desk and plopping down next to his boyfriend on his bed. "oh, taehyung's here. good thing we bought too much pizza."

the others chuckled. taehyung cocked a brow and frowned slightly. what was that supposed to mean?

"i'm starving." jungkook stated to no one in particular, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and a can of beer. taehyung wouldn't be having any alcohol, though, because it always made his cholinergic urticaria act up, and he wasn't in the mood for an itchy rash. besides, he liked soda much more.

"i thought you were on a diet, kookie-ah!" hoseok fake scolded. jungkook scoffed playfully.

"it's called bulking, hyung." he joked. everyone knew he rarely let himself eat like this. he was extremely disciplined. taehyung might've been jealous. "and what about you? thought you were on a diet!"

"i am." the elder replied. "this is all i'm eating. i've still got that dance competition next week- yah! yoongi, don't get sauce on my sheets, you pig!"

he swatted weakly at the mint-haired boy, who nudged him in return and rolled his eyes. it made taehyung smile.

"you can have some too, taehyung-ah." hoseok spoke after a bit. it was then taehyung realized he hadn't gotten any yet. "i know how much you like pizza."

once again, another comment.

"i mean, i don't like it that much." he mumbled, grabbing a slice and and taking a bite. he knew he was bluffing. pizza was the best.

jungkook snorted.

"bullshit tae, you almost always eat an entire pizza whenever we hang out!"

it was true. on an empty stomach, he could scarf down a whole pizza. more if he was especially hungry.

he decided not to reply, finishing his first slide and heading for a second. sinking his teeth into the slice, he all but moaned. it was supreme pizza, his favorite.

"honestly, i have no idea where he puts it all." the redhead commented, finishing up his slice. that was all he'd probably eat, seeing as he's on a diet and all.

"i-i do!" jungkook teased, stuttering slightly from the excitement. "he puth' it all right here."

suddenly, taehyung felt a finger poke his belly. he froze. he looked down to see jungkook's tattooed pointer finger sunk into his plush middle.

"wow, taehyung-hyung." the younger softly exclaimed. "i didn't know your tummy was this squishy."

taehyung felt himself blushing. not out of embarrassment, but something else. jungkook was still touching his belly.

"no way, let me feel!" hoseok reached over, but all too late. taehyung swatted them away and curled into himself, arms wrapped firmly around his middle.

"don't! i'm ticklish!" he lied. yes, he was ticklish, but that's not why he didn't want them to feel his stomach.

it was a strange sensation, really...

♡

☆

♡

a pizza and a 2L of soda later, taehyung felt warm and fuzzy and full.

hoseok and yoongi had left for yoongi's dorm. taehyung was assuming they wanted some alone time, and he knew yoongi had his own private dorm. he didn't want to think about what they'd do, though. ew, just... ew.

taehyung leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling sated. he gently patted his taut tummy and let out a deep burp, sighing afterwards. that was another thing he was shameless about. if he had to burp, he always just let it out. leaving the trapped gas in his belly only made it hurt, so he didn't hold back. besides, it felt good and it was only natural. he usually didn't even say "excuse me." he didn't understand why he had to. everyone burped; why excuse yourself for something completely normal? unlike jungkook, who'd probably die from humiliation, taehyung wasn't shy about it. the only person he'd be even remotely embarrassed in front of was seokjin, but that's a different story.

"mmm, that was yummy, kookie. i'm stuffed."

jungkook was drinking another beer, beyond drunk by now. he mumbled something incoherent, followed by a hiccup and a groan.

"aw kookie, are you drunk?" taehyung teased, ruffling the maknae's soft, black hair. the younger grumbled again. "tired, little guy? let's get you to sleep, bun."

gently, taehyung guided the nearly-passed-out jungkook's head to the pillow of his bed.

"sleep well, bun." he whispered sweetly, leaving a feather-light kiss on the younger's forehead. he'd probably have to stop by tomorrow morning to take care of him when he woke up with a hangover. he was bound to have a killer one with all the beer he guzzled down, and taehyung knew hoseok didn't do well with vomit. he didn't mind, however. taehyung loved to take care of his friends, anyways.

before he left, taehyung cleaned up, ate the last couple pieces the boys left, and did some of the dishes for them. he also really needed to pee, so he made a quick trip to the bathroom.

once he'd gone and washed his hands, he took a moment to observe himself in the mirror.

i looked really good today, taehyung thought, peering into the mirror and adjusting his gold-framed glasses. despite being quite handsome, he still felt insecure sometimes, especially as of lately. with some of the comments his friends had been making, he wasn't sure what to think. it was almost as if there was some kind of big joke, and he was the only one who wasn't in on it. he really didn't know.

before taehyung could turn away and exit the small bathroom, his eyes caught something in the corner, by the shower.

a scale.

he had forgotten that jungkook did weight training. it was probably his to keep track of that. or maybe it was hoseok's, since he was on a diet and all. it didn't matter. it shouldn't matter.

however, for some reason, he wanted to try it. knowing your weight couldn't hurt, right? it's just a number, anyways. besides, he was curious.

taehyung pulled the digital scale out and stepped on it, waiting patiently for the box to calculate his weight. it couldn't be too much. he was thin, after all.

looking down, his eyes widened.

78.1kg.

he blinked.

huh. so that's how much he weighed.

the last time taehyung had been properly weighed was his physical exam before freshman year. that was nearly a year ago. he was so thin, weighing in at 60.3 kg. since then, he'd gained roughly 17.8 kg.

wait a minute, that couldn't be right, could it? but he had a fast metabolism! not to mention, he's fairly active. well... sometimes. but he does do a lot of walking! something had to be wrong.

taehyung stepped off the scale, allowing it to level back to a clear screen. he then stepped back on.

78.1kg.

this didn't seem possible. maybe it's because of his clothes. maybe he needed to strip down to his underwear like when he had a checkup at the doctor's. quickly, taehyung peeled off his corduroy pants and baggy sweater, leaving him in his undies and tata-themed socks.

what? they were cute!

standing back on the digital scale, taehyung peered down at the number expectantly.

it was the same, the clothes only weighing a little.

maybe it was all the food he just ate, or maybe he had to use the toilet? but that doesn't explain all those kilos...

he placed himself back on the ground, dumbfounded. how did he manage to put on that much? that was like the freshman 15 (lbs) tripled!

taehyung sighed lowly, before turning to face the mirror.

in just his undies, and for the first time since freshman year, taehyung noticed his body.

his thighs were thick, clinging together like chunky glue. gentle stretch marks adorned the insides, which weren't new, seeing as he's always been a bit thicker than his peers growing up. however, they were more prominent. spinning around, he viewed his ass, which giggled almost lewdly with the slight movement. the plump, golden globes looked even plumper than they had. he had always had an ass, but now? he could probably play a pixar mom in a live-action film.

last, but certainly not least, his eyes settled on the most obvious change: his stomach. his tummy hung over the waistband of his underwear, extremely bloated and round from his big dinner and all the soda he drank. yet, despite being stuffed with pizza, it had softness to it. taehyung ran his hands over his belly, pinching the excess pudge. it wasn't too big, but it was noticable. more than noticable.

taehyung wasn't skinny anymore. he had gotten a bit chubby.

and, strangely enough, he didn't care. infact, he liked it.

taehyung knew he ate a lot of unhealthy foods, that was just who he was. why would he deny himself all the yummy things he liked to eat, just to maintain an "attractive" body? so what he wasn't slim like hoseok or muscular and shredded like jungkook? his body was perfectly fine. it did it's job, and that was the important thing.

above all things, taehyung was shameless. having gained weight didn't mean a thing to him. he was an artist, after all, not a model. his figure really didn't matter in the long run. he was still the same handsome guy, just with a little extra chub. and, honestly, he wondered what he'd look like with just a little bit more. just another layer of cream on his body. he's sure he'd like it, especially with how he reacted to having his tummy poked earlier by jungkook.

so, with the new information tucked in the back of his mind, taehyung dressed and left the small bathroom, making his way out of his sleeping friend's dorm. after double checking on jungkook and leaving the wastebasket beside his bed, just in case he woke up sick, the fluffy-haired boy exited the dorm and began his walk down the hallway, back to his own dorm.

after eating, taehyung usually felt sleepy, so it was no surprise to him that he found himself growing sluggish and drowsy as he strode back to his room. it was a pleasant feeling, really. he'd probably take a nice nap when he got back. maybe make some hot chocolate and catch up on some dramas. yeah, that sounded nice.

as he opened the door to his dorm, he was met with a flush of warmth and soft light. faint music played in the background, and a scent immediately met his nose as he stepped in. it smelled delightful. that could only mean one thing.

taehyung hadn't expected seokjin to be home so early. he wished he'd known; he'd like to have put more time into his appearance. welp, baggy sweater and messy-haired taehyung would have to do.

"ah, tae! you're home!" he heard seokjin call from the stove as he shucked off his loafers. he suddenly felt uncharacteristically shy, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right as seokjin walked up to him, all broad-shouldered and stupidly handsome. "how was your day?"

taehyung smiled as seokjin went in for a gentle hug, sinking into his warm embrace and inhaling his calming scent. seokjin was a real hugger, which taehyung appreciated because he, himself, was an absolute cuddle monster and jumped for any physical affection. it didn't help the butterflies in his stomach, however. he'd hope to just digest them already and move on from this silly crush.

"my day was a happy one, thank you," taehyung replied, nearly pouting as seokjin pulled away from the embrace. "how was your's, hyung?"

"better now that you're here." the elder smiled warmly, and taehyung felt his face heat up. seokjin always knew the right things to say to get his heart racing like mad. "come sit in the kitchen and keep me company while i cook?"

the younger nodded timidly, feeling pleasantly small next to his hyung. he followed him like a puppy to the dorm kitchenette, taking a seat at the small bar table.

"so," seokjin began, as he stirred a pot of glass noodles, keeping an eye on the vegetables and pork strips in the frying pan. he was making japchae, one of taehyung's favorite dishes. "have you eaten dinner yet?"

"oh, i ate pizza at jungkook and hoseok-hyung's place," he answered, hand going instinctively to his still-bloated tum, giving it a fond pat. "truth be told, i probably overate." he let out an uneasy chuckle in an attempt to distract himself from the warmth growing in his lower belly. what was happening to him?

seokjin waved him off.

"there's no such thing as overeating if it tastes good," he countered, and before taehyung could understand what was going on, a steaming plate of japchae was placed in front of him. it was a heaping serving, the small plate only making it look bigger. "here, have some of this."

taehyung flushed, gingerly sliding the plate away.

"um, i-i shouldn't, hyung," he stammered, hand still on his middle, almost defensively, as if he were guarding it. "thank you, but i'm still pretty stuffed."

seokjin chuckled deeply, full lips curled into a smirk. he pushed the dish back in front of him. taehyung gulped.

"taehyung-ah, i've seen you demolish three times this and more in one sitting. i'm not exactly convinced that 'stuffed' is in your vocabulary."

there it was. another comment about his eating habits. however, this time, instead of irritation, he felt something... else.

"jin-hyung, i-"

"you wouldn't let all my hard work go to waste, would you?" seokjin questioned, pouting. taehyung felt his heart jump. "i made this all just for you."

"well... alright. i'll have a bite or... two." taehyung finally spoke, unable to look his hyung in the eye. picking up the pair of chopsticks, he hesitantly began to eat.

it was delicious. of course it would be.

in all his time, taehyung had never met as good a cook as seokjin. not even his own mother --who could whip up a mean bibimbap like nobody's business-- could compare to his skills. the younger male couldn't even count on two hands how many times he's had his belly nearly bursting out of his pants from seokjin's cooking. whatever it was he was making, taehyung was sure to gorge himself to new heights every time; now was only proof of that. seokjin didn't seem to mind. infact, he encouraged it.

"taste good?" the elder quizzed, taking a seat in front of the eating boy and gazing at him fondly, if not a bit intently.

taehyung took a moment to finish chewing his mouthful and swallow. he grinned.

"amazing," he answered, licking his lips. "your cooking always is the best, hyung. it's, like, ethereal."

seokjin let out his iconic windshield wiper laugh, which only made his dongsaeng giggle.

"well, if it's good enough to pull out the 50 cent words for," be mused, leaning a tad closer. "then it's good enough to finish, yeah?"

taehyung's smile faded, as he peered up at the taller man wordlessly.

"you know i don't like leftovers, taehyung-ah. scrape your plate. clean."

he didn't have to tell taehyung twice. something about the subtle command in his tone --the sprinkle of dominance within the seemingly innocent words-- sparked a flame that licked into taehyung's belly.

he continued to eat, and before he could really process anything, his chopsticks clinked against an empty plate. instantly, a crimson heat spread over his face. it was as if he were a different person for a moment.

"all done?" seokjin questioned, taking the plate from the boy as he nodded sheepishly. "good job, tae-ah! you did so well!"

taehyung felt his pants become tighter at his elder's words of encouragement.

"feeling full?"

taehyung's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"i-" a burp interrupted him. he stayed quiet for a moment, hand covering his mouth, before he spoke up again. "excuse me, sorry."

he was blushing like mad. shameless taehyung who?

seokjin snorted. "guess that answers my question."

the slight teasing only increased the tightness of his pants, though he remained oblivious.

to say taehyung was full was a gross understatement. he'd passed the limitations for being full. he felt like if he moved even an inch he'd explode, literally. he looked 7 months pregnant.

"jin-hyung," he began with a taut hiccup, a slight whine to his voice. "i think... i think i ate too much."

and there it was, the rarer side of shameless taehyung. the one who needed affection after overdoing it, and wasn't afraid to beg for it.

"aw, you poor thing," his hyung cooed, helping the younger stand. his belly felt heavy and stuffed to the brim. "let's get you to the couch yeah? how's some hot chocolate sound? sound nice?"

taehyung nodded and hummed, blissed out from the tight fullness. he'd never felt this way from just eating before.

he took a seat on the couch as seokjin scurried off to make hot chocolate, and he used the opportunity to unbutton his pants. although he wasn't exactly too keen on being so unkempt in front of his love interest, his pants were digging into his bloated stomach something fierce. slowly, he undid the buttons and pulled down the zipper, freeing and allowing his tummy to rest atop. he sighed in relief, though it was short-lived when he noticed the slight bulge in his pants. well, that's new?

wait a minute--

oh fuck.

he frantically attempted to pull his sweater down to cover his lower region, but it was too snug around his plush middle to budge much. thankfully, it wasn't entirely noticable.

"here you go, taebear," seokjin said as he walked back into the small living room, two mugs of hot chocolate in his hand. one of them had tata all over it: you can guess whose it is. "careful, it's hot. let it cool before you drink it."

taehyung nodded bashfully in reply as the older of the two turned the tv on, switching the channel to some random drama taehyung had seen bits of but couldn't remember the name of. when jin sat down next to him, he immediately snuggled up to his side, head on his broad shoulder.

this. this was heaven right here.

seokjin smiled sweetly, arm wrapping around the younger. his fingers carded through taehyung's fluffy brown hair, earning a quiet sigh and pleased noises from the latter. taehyung's eyes fluttered shut as his scalp was scratched lightly.

soon enough, after finishing his hot chocolate, he felt himself grow drowsy. his belly felt warm and heavy, rising with every deep breath he took.

just as he had nearly dosed off, he felt something warm slip under his sweater and dance against his stomach. it felt like a hand.

he sighed. he must have been dreaming.

slowly, the palm of the hand traced over his swollen tummy, fingers ghosting over his navel. he all but purred at the feeling.

it began to rub circular motions onto the bloated skin with a gentle pressure, releasing a few soft burps from taehyung, who mewled at the lovely sensation. he began to fall deeper into slumber, the warm feeling being the last thing he could remember before he completely fell sound asleep.

when taehyung awoke, he was in his own room, in his own bed. he was under the blankets, glasses neatly placed on the bedside table. yawning, he looked around, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

had he been dreaming this whole time?

placing a hand on his middle, he was shocked to feel how bloated and round it was.

nope. it was all real.

and it felt completely, utterly, shamelessly good.

♡

☆

♡

"hey hobi-hyung, what's up?" taehyung spoke into the receiver of his phone after answering hoseok's call. he was currently working on an oil painting while munching on the oreos he'd bought at the campus snack venue on his way home.

"hey tae," he heard a strained voice answer. someone was in the background coughing. "could-" hoseok was cut off by what sounded like a particularly loud heave "ugh. could you do me a solid, tae. i'll pay you back, i promise."

and just like that, taehyung was on his way over to jungkook and hoseok's dorm. he'd debated bringing his painting with him, but eventually decided against the idea. he didn't want to make sick jungkook even sicker, nor did he want hoseok to complain about him stinking up the dorm with his paint.

the second he opened the door, hoseok rushed out.

"thanks a million, taehyung," he spoke frantically, clearly frazzled but trying to stay calm, though it was evident he was hanging on by a thread. "i hate to do this to you but you know how i am."

taehyung gave him a reassuring smile.

"hobi-hyung don't worry, it's alright! i don't mind!" he explained, placing a hand on his hyung's shoulder. "how's he doing?"

hoseok closed his eyes.

"ugh, he's just... ugh."

taehyung laughed and shook his head.

"aish, i told that dummy not to drink so much," he playfully face-palmed, giggling. "alright hyungie, head over to yoongi-hyung's. i'll take it from here."

hoseok sighed a breath of relief.

"you're a little saint, you know that, taetae?"

he pinched taehyung's full cheeks, kissing his forehead before rushing off. taehyung blushed and giggled to himself softly.

hoseok was really something else.

upon entering his friend's shared dorm and turning on the light, his eyes instantly landed on jungkook, who looked like he'd seen better days.

"taehyung?" he heard the younger croak from his bed, eyes squinted nearly shut. "shit, kill the lights will you, please?"

taehyung quickly flicked the switch off.

"oh, sorry kookie-ah," taehyung apologized, making his way in the dim room to the bed, where he sat.

"it's alright hyung, my head is just absolutely murdering me right now."

"feeling pretty bad, aren't we, bun?" taehyung murmured softly, rubbing the younger's back tenderly.

"god, 'm never fucking drinking again."

taehyung chuckled, shaking his head. he knew that was a lie; he'd probably be in the same position next weekend taking care of the hungover boy.

"okay, bun," he replied, fondly. "can i get you anything? painkillers, perhaps?"

jungkook shook his head, instantly wincing at the movement.

"no i already took some before you came." he answered. "could you just hold me for a bit, please?" his doe eyes found taehyung's gaze in the dark.

the elder boy swallowed back an 'awwww' as he laid down on the bed, taking the sick boy into his arms. he ran his fingers through the younger's silky, black hair. jungkook sighed.

"thanks, hyungie." jungkook mumbled into taehyung's warm chest. "you're the best."

a soft smile melted onto taehyung's lips. the two boys sat in a quiet trance for a while, the only sound being breathing and the hum of the ac. after some time had passed, jungkook broke the silence.

"um, hyungie?"

"what is it, bun?" taehyung replied, looking down at the boy.

"i-i um..." he began, stuttering from what taehyung assumed was nervousness. his stutter always worsened when he was nervous, the elder noticed. "i'm s-s-sorry about what i said yesterday."

taehyung haulted his movements, cocking a brow in confusion.

"what are you talking about, jungkook?"

"yes'therday," he paused to grimace at his lisp, before going on, "with hobi-hyung and yoongi-hyung." jungkook responded anxiously. "i-i shouldn't have c-commented on your body or how much you eat like that. if someone had made a comment about m-m-my stutter or lisp, i'd have been sad. it wasn't cool of me to point out an insecurity like that. i'm- i'm sorry." his voice broke a tad at the last part, though taehyung nearly didn't catch it.

taehyung blinked, taking a moment to process his dongsaeng's confession.

"okay, kookie, three things," taehyung replied after some thought, returning to stroking the boy's hair. "one: it's alright, don't worry about it. i'm definitely not upset with you, honey. two: your stutter and lisp are perfectly fine. they make you unique, make you you, so don't be embarrassed about how you talk, and don't take shit from absolutely anyone about it. got it?"

jungkook nodded, eyes still glassy.

taehyung smiled and continued.

"and three: what makes you think i'm insecure about my body?"

jungkook froze for a moment, clearly trying to conjure up an answer that wouldn't hurt his hyung's feelings.

"um..."

"is it because i'm chubby?"

jungkook didn't say anything, causing taehyung to sigh audibly.

"i have no reason to be insecure about my body, you know, jungkook?" taehyung calmly retorted, not in a mean or scolding manner, but in a blunt one. "i love my body. my tummy's job is to digest the food i eat and convert it to energy. that's it, and he's doing a pretty good job at it. so, therefore, i have no real reason to be insecure, and i'm not. a little tummy fat never hurt anyone."

jungkook looked up to gaze at his hyung.

"so, it didn't hurt your feelings when i t-touched your belly, then?" he asked, voice still slightly broken. taehyung wiped the stray tears from his dongsaeng's cheeks.

"of course not, kookie-ah," the older boy reassured, lips spreading into a grin. "in fact... i liked it."

jungkook went stiff.

"u-um... i-i'm flattered, hyung, i really am... b-but i like girls..."

taehyung let out a deep, rumbly laugh.

"don't be silly, bun!" he teased, still chuckling. "i wasn't talking about you! i wouldn't date your lame ass anyways, even if you did like guys!"

this earned him a playful slap.

"but you did... like it?" jungkook questioned after a comfortable silence.

taehyung nodded a bit stiffly.

"yeah, i... i guess i did." he admitted. "to be honest... i wouldn't mind if seokjin touched m- woah! sorry about the tmi! literally forget i said that, please. like, erase it from your memory."

taehyung flushed in embarrassment as jungkook burst out laughing.

"yah, don't make fun of me! i'll kick your ass you little shit!"

despite the teasing, taehyung definitely wouldn't mind if seokjin touched his belly. infact, he'd fucking love it.

and, well... this all was... new. he'd like to explore this more in the future.

however, little did taehyung know, he wasn't the only one with a bit of experimentation in mind.

♡

☆

♡

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

hi!! hope you enjoyed this!! maybe a part 2?? please let me know what you think!! love you!!

~ jelly ૮ᴖﻌᴖა

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

#bts feederism #feeder kink #eructo #bts emeto #fantasy feeder #feedist #bts sickfic #feeder series #feederisn

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Everything, Everywhere | The Mikaelson Boys

Hello Lovelies! I circled back to my element and wrote a more traditional Mikaelson Boys fic. Did I reuse the theme of a ball? Yes, I am a weak and lazy woman. Did I make the fic completely implausible and touchy? You know I did, they’re vampires and I will let them touch whoever they want (with consent of course). Anyway, it’s honestly just a cute, kinda steamy romance. I altered some of the points from the universe but you have to squint to see where. You know, my entire gambit. You could use this as a prologue for my other fic, Big Decisions, but this is more than fine as a standalone. Anyways, I hope you are all doing well and that this story brings you joy! Until next time <3

Description: Y/n is part of a founding family and gets invited to a Mikaelson ball. Somehow she manages to enamour three of the brothers. They soon discover she has a few secrets that they’re more than willing to indulge.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x The Mikaelson Boys

Warnings: Kudos to me I think there are none

Word count: 10k (oops)

Tags: Fluff, smut if you squint (more like nudity)

“Are you heading home this weekend?” Lily twirls a strand of blonde hair between her fingers, “Mama told me there’s an event.”

Your best friend lays on your bed as opposed to her own, her legs dangling over the edge. Her eyes are closed, probably halfway to being asleep. It’s been this way since the two of you left for college three years ago, always more in your space than her own. You’re lucky that way, you have a best friend who would follow you across the country if you wanted her to. Honestly, you would do the same. Luckily, though, you decided on only two hours away away from home. Just far enough to find your footing. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

You smile softly at her, swiveling in your chair, “what event? My parents haven’t said anything to me.”

Your family is a founding family, just like Lily’s is. That’s how the two of you became best friends, it was practically destined. You were babies at the same time and your parents brought you to every meeting together. You were inseparable long before you can remember.

Lilly yawns, curling her legs to her chest, “I think it’s some sort of ball. I’m not too sure, I think we got invitations,” Lily rolls her eyes as if the concept of a hand written letter offends her very being, “and they probably just forgot or assumed I would tell you. Isn’t your mom, like, the head of the committee now?”

You nod at her, closing your own eyes for a second, “yeah she’s always got something going on. I swear she forgets she even has a daughter half the time.” You let your mind drift to the other half of the conversation, “Invitations? That’s exciting.”

You don’t have to look at her to know that she’s rolling her eyes again. You crack an eye open anyway just in time to glimpse her do that very thing. You giggle lightly, shaking your head.

Always one for theatrics, “careful, Lil, your tomboy is showing. What would your mother think if she could see you up in arms over a silly, little note, hmm?”

She scowls at you before letting the grin crack through, flipping her middle finger up at you and mouthing bite me.

You lean your head back against your chair, “I’m not even sure if mama wants me to come. She hasn’t said anything about this to me. She called me yesterday and it didn’t come up once. Maybe I should just stay here.”

“Not true,” Lily curls her fingers at you, beckoning you to join her on the bed, “she’s just busy these days. Remember how she was when we were little?”

You move to the bed, curling next to your best friend, “you mean how she was always around? She went from helicopter parent to too busy to text me back.”

You yawn, closing your eyes and letting the lullaby of sleep on your limbs sing a little louder. Lily cuddles closer to you, almost gone herself. You wish you could hold onto these moments. These fleeting minutes of comfort in your best friend’s arms. It’ll be gone all too soon. You almost don’t want to fall asleep. Laying next to her feels like the calm before the storm and you want to soak up as much of it as you can. Your heavy eyelids, however, have other plans.

“You’re coming. If I have to go then so do you. I’m sure this weekend will be different,” her voice is the last thing you hear before you drift off, “I can feel it.”

* * * * * * * * *

Sure enough, when you pull into your parent’s driveway after dropping Lily off at her own house, your mother bursts through the door, a wide smile on her face. You let your own smile drown the nerves you’ve been fighting for the last three hours, practically falling out of the car to get to her. She wraps you in a hug, her familiar honeysuckle and lilac scent trickling around you.

“I missed you, mama,” you whisper against her shoulder and she squeezes you tighter for a second before letting go.

“Oh honey,” she crinkles her nose at you, her face the picture of serene joy, “what’s to miss? I’m always right here. I, however, missed you so much.” She leads you into the house, her arm around your shoulders tight, “Tell me all about everything!”

You suck in a breath as you enter your house, letting your shoulders sag as you pass over the door frame. You’re home, finally. You glance around quickly at everything you’ve missed for the last few months. You glance at family photos, most of which include Lily, and the random trinkets your parents have collected over the years. There are a few new ones and you make a mental note to look at them later.

You settle on a stool at the kitchen counter, leaning your head in your hand, “you first, mama. What’s this about a ball? And an invitation, hmm? You’ve been holding out on me.”

Her eyes widen, telling you everything you need to know. She forgot. You really aren’t that surprised. It makes you feel better, at least the reason she didn’t tell you wasn’t because she didn’t want you to attend. Lily was right, you’ll have to let her say I told you so when you see her next.

“Oh shoot,” she snaps her fingers, rushing to the foyer, her voice floating to you as she turns the corner, “I’m so sorry honey, it completely slipped my mind. I barely had a chance to glance at my own invitation,” she comes back into view, now with two envelopes in her hand, “here you go!”

She hands you the envelope and you almost gasp at how luxurious the paper feels in your fingers. The cardstock is definitely of the more expensive selection and you blanche. Who on earth could be sending this? You read your name on the card drawn in an elegant script. Handwritten. You had been joking with Lily when you thought that but now, looking at it first hand, it almost offends you as well. You could never write like that.

You open it carefully, making sure to not taint the red seal. You’re pretty sure your heart would collapse if that happened. This has to be one of the most beautiful things you have ever touched. You pull the equally luxurious note from the envelope, your eyes dancing over the paper.

Please join the Mikaelson Family this coming Saturday at seven o’clock for dancing, cocktails, and celebration.

Your heart stops. This coming Saturday. Saturday. As in today Saturday. You whip your head up to stare at your mother, your mouth falling open.

“Mama,” this time your eyes widen, “this is tonight!” you hiss, your brows shooting up, “I can’t attend this! There’s no time, it’s two in the afternoon already!”

She rolls her eyes and for a moment you picture Lily and how she would call you dramatic. You can practically hear her voice. Just wear jeans you princess. You scoff at imaginary Lily. You can’t attend a ball in jeans, not that that would stop her at all.

“You can and you should attend,” she places a finger under your chin, drawing your eyes to meet hers, “the Mikaelson’s are new to town and have invited us. It’s only polite that we attend. Besides,” she winks at you and your cheeks flood with heat, “they are quite the handsome bunch. Perhaps you can end this dry spell? Give me some grandbabies?”

You choke at her words, pulling your face from her fingers with burning skin, “oh my god, mama! I’m almost certain you should not be condoning grandbabies! Besides, I have nothing to wear so I highly doubt I’ll be the one pulled from the crowd. Reproduction rates are looking slim, I am sorry to say!”

She laughs, her eyes crinkling, and you can’t stop yourself from joining her, “alright, alright. No grandbabies. Yet. However, I’m not so sure how you can be so certain when you haven’t even looked at what I picked up for you. I quite think you’re going to change your mind, honey bunch.”

Your laughter stops abruptly as she leaves the room for the second time. You hear her jog up the stairs and your interest is officially peaked. She never jogs. What on earth has she done? You rack your brain, trying to picture what she’s going to show you now. You don’t have much time to sit on your thoughts, however, because soon you can hear her feet on the stairs again, still jogging, now humming a tune you can’t place.

When she comes back into view, your mouth falls open. In her hands is a gown. No, not just a gown. In her hands is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. It’s a black, sequined number with a full skirt and a slit that looks like it will rest a touch lower than your hip. The straps keeping it on the hanger are thin, almost nonexistent, and the bodice has a deep but modest dip. When she moves it sparkles like a diamond, catching the sun rays pouring in through the kitchen window. She holds it up, letting it flow to its full effect in front of you, and you gasp, your hands flying to your mouth.

You can feel the tears prickling at the edge of your vision and you silently scold yourself for being so emotional, “mama, where did you get this? It’s too much!”

Her smile falters, minutely, but you still see it and curse silently, “you don’t like it?”

You stand quickly, your eyes wide, “no! That’s not it,” you take the dress from her, afraid it’ll disappear if you don’t touch it, “this must have cost a fortune is all! How can we afford this?”

It’s true, the dress looks like a million bucks and probably costs as much. You’re a founding family, sure, but that doesn’t instantly equate to old money. It doesn’t even mean new money. Your family has never struggled to get by but you also know that something this extravagant would have definitely set your father back a pretty penny. You don’t want your family to waste their hard earned money on something this frivolous, even if it is the most stunning thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

Your mother’s smile returns to its full brilliance and she shakes her head, “it didn’t cost me a thing, honey, don’t worry. Mrs. Jackson down the street owed me a favor and I asked if she had anything particularly pretty laying around. She pulled this from her closet. She also told me to let you know that it’s yours if you would like.”

You hug the dress tiger to your chest, your mouth gaping further, “I can keep this?”

Your mother giggles, bobbing her head up and down quickly. She looks like she’s ready to start jumping. You don’t blame her, you’re half a second away from doing the same thing. You could scream from how ecstatic you are.

“Come, honey,” your mom grabs your hand, dragging you up the stairs with her, “I think it’s high time we start getting ready for tonight, don’t you think? You have some Mikaelson’s to wow!”

* * * * * * * * *

When seven o’clock rolls around you’re standing outside the biggest mansion you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Its white pillars taunt you, each one large enough to hide your body. Twice. You’re alone, spare the people around you milling in and out of the large doors. Your mother had dropped you in front while her and your father went to park the car. Never before in your life has a house made you feel this small. This alone. You pull your shawl, a sheer black number, around your shoulders and shrink slightly.

A hand lands on your shoulder and you jump, spinning around quickly only to be greeted with Lily, whose face is twisted from the laughter pouring out of her. She clutches her stomach from the force, wrinkling the red satin dress she’s wearing. You take a moment to admire how much it suits her. It’s a little bold for your tastes but she wears it like no one else could. Her hair is twisted on the top of her head, a few curls falling to frame her face. She looks amazing, not that you had any doubts.

You lightly smack her shoulder, finally letting a few giggles loose, “you scared me you idiot!” You turn your eyes back to the mansion, swallowing the lump of nerves growing in your throat, “take a look at this place, will you. It’s huge! Have you ever seen a house this big? What could someone possibly need a house this big for?”

“Yeah it’s something alright,” her eyes drag down the hulking facade before meeting yours once more, a naughty smirk now on her red lips, “and I’m sure the inside is even nicer! Let’s go!”

She grabs your hand, all but dragging you over the threshold. Light pours over you, catching the sequins on your dress and making it sparkle delicately, something that would usually make you squeal however your attention is currently elsewhere. That elsewhere is the dual grand staircase in the center of the room. It’s encased in pillars, the feature leaking in from the exterior of the mansion. It’s bronze railings are strung up with thousands of twinkling lights. The staircase is easily the focal point of the foyer.

But not because of the lights.

Lily digs her nails into your hand, pulling you to a screeching halt, “are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?”

Her eyes are glued to the same place that yours are, dragging up and down the staircase with little care to whoever might be watching her little show. You choose a less outright form of gawking, opting to look all around the room while still making little glances at your main focus.

“Yeah, Lil, I think I am,” you gulp, your eyes training on three sinfully gorgeous men, “mama said they were handsome but this,” you let the end of your sentence drop, not having nearly the vocabulary to explain the Mikaelsons.

In total, there are five people on the staircase. Four men and a woman. Each one is gorgeous in their own right. You mull over the woman first. If you thought that you looked nice before you left, that’s pretty much gone now. She’s absolutely stunning. Her blonde hair lays in a sheet over her shoulders, winding almost to her base of her spine. She wears an emerald gown, one fitted to every dip and curve of her body like it was spun by Aphrodite herself. You have to look away, she’s the kind of pretty that makes you feel like you’re not worthy of seeing it.

Your eyes travel to the man next to her and your mouth goes dry. He’s tall. That’s the first thing you notice. If you were next to him he would easily tower over you. Not just because of his height, though. You shift your focus to his arms and the way the sleeves of his tux hug them tightly. You have no doubts this man could rip you in two if he wanted to. He stands at ease, his eyes wandering the faces of those closest to him as he lifts a hand to smooth over his brown hair. At least he doesn’t look to be in the killing mood.

Behind him is a man with blonde hair. Even from across the room it looks softer than silk and your palms itch to run through it. He leans against the railing, a glass of champagne loose in his fingers. His eyes are on the others but he has the appearance of a man who is a thousand miles away. Your heart hurts at the thought but you brush past it. You don’t know him and you’re most likely wrong. Still you give him another brush over, wishing slightly that he would crack even a hint of a smile.

You shake your head, moving to the man at the top of the stairs. He’s alive with something fiery, speaking to the others with animated hands and laughing hard. You can’t hear him over the crowd around you but, gods, you wish you could. It’s probably nothing important but, by the looks of him, he could make anything sound special. He throws his head back laughing, his brown hair flopping wildly. You can’t look at him for long either but not for the same reason you couldn’t look at the woman. No, you can’t look at him because you’re afraid if you look any longer than you’ll be sucked in forever.

When you look at the last man you shiver. It’s not the kind of shiver that makes you feel exhilarated though, it’s the opposite. Your blood runs cold when you look at him and, when his eyes meet yours, you look away instantly. You can feel his eyes burning into your back for a few moments after and you hate it. Unlike the rest of them, this man makes you feel ice cold.

You tug on your best friend’s hand, desperate to get away from the man, “come on, Lil, let’s go find the champagne.”

Lily’s eyes light up at the thought, instantly taking the lead on this new expedition, “girl you read my mind!”

You take one last glance towards the staircase as she pulls you into another room, momentarily catching three pairs of brown eyes before scampering around the corner. Your cheeks are hot when you’re finally out of their vicinity. You hadn’t realized how heavy the air around them had been. Now that you can’t see them your bones feel marginally lighter. Something nags at you though, a loss of sorts. You rub a hand over your chest, massaging the ache away.

Lily pushes a cool glass into your hand, lifting her own to her lips. You follow suit, breathing in the sugary scent before letting the sweet bubbles flow down your throat. They pop, soothing your flaming chest.

“Shit,” Lily breathes, “everything about this screams money. The invitations, the house, this damn champagne. What’s next? A pool of synchronised swimmers?” Her eyes wander the room, her fingers tight around the glass, “I’m not used to this Great Gatsby level of wealth. It’s making my head spin a little. This is my parent’s scene, not mine.”

You nod lightly, her words everything you’ve been dying to say. It’s magnificent but you’ve never felt more out of place. Not even the founders day balls are like this. At least Mrs. Lockwood has the good sense to cater to the modesty of the town. Before you can answer, however, a voice joins your conversation.

“My apologies, my brothers like to go overboard when throwing parties. It’s not quite my taste either, a little too stuffy if you ask me.”

You spin around to the sight of the woman from the stairs and your heart pounds hard in your chest. She’s even more beautiful up close, like a Van Gogh masterpiece. Her voice is accented and smooth, impossibly so. You feel like a peasant in her presence but her smile is light and it helps to soothe your nerves a touch. When you look at Lily, though, her cheeks are beet red and her eyes are wide.

“Oh my, I am so sorry! I didn’t think anyone would hear me besides,” she nudges you lightly, the smile she’s plastered on her face sheepish, “this one here. It really is gorgeous. Perhaps university has lowered my standards.”

You watch Lily fumble her words and you don’t blame her. This girl seems like she was made to insite insecurity and you mean that in the very best of ways. Despite her slight enthusiasm, though, Lily’s eyes flow over the woman slowly. You can tell she’s interested. By the way her stares are being reciprocated, you would say she isn’t the only one. You smile at that.

The woman laughs, her eyes filled with mirth, “your standards aren’t low, this party is just a nightmare. I’m Rebekah, one of the many Mikaelsons you will surely encounter tonight,” she looks over her shoulder, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, “and it looks as though you’re going to get the immersive experience.”

You, too, look over her shoulder and your heart stops. The three men from the staircase, the ones who didn’t make your blood run cold, walk towards you slowly, stopping here and there to welcome guests. The tall one catches your eye and you freeze, a deer caught in the headlights. He says something to the other men and they join in looking at you. You swallow hard, your insides doing somersaults at the sight of them. A deer caught in three headlights, it would seem.

You look back at Rebekah, your eyes blown wide from the panic rising in your chest. She isn’t looking at you, her eyes still locked on your best friend. They’re in the middle of a conversation that you haven't been paying attention to. You tune back in just in time to hear Lily ask about the gardens behind the house. You scrunch your nose. What gardens?

“Yes, they’re marvelous,” Rebekah leans towards Lily, a glint in her eyes, “and much less crowded. I could show you around them if you’d like?”

Oh no. No no no. You can see the gears turning in your best friend’s head and the smile that blossoms on her face. You know what’s about to happen and for a moment time stands still. She’s really going to do it, isn’t she?

She looks over at you, tossing you and apologetic squint before meeting Rebekah’s wondering eyes, “I would love that! Lead the way.”

You watch in slow motion as your best friend wanders away, once more looking over her shoulder to mouth a quick I’m sorry. You roll your eyes at her, murmuring a silent you owe me. You close your eyes briefly, tipping the remainder of your champagne into your mouth. You set your glass down as the alcohol swirls in your stomach, adding a kind of weightlessness to your movements. You embrace it, your eyes scanning the ornate walls. What the hell are you going to do now?

A breeze swirls around you, a myriad of spices hitting your nose just as a honeyed voice breaks your daze, “this house was built in the seventeenth century. As a matter of fact, those are the same walls. I do apologize, we’re a little slow when it comes to modernization. I know it can be a lot to take in, if you need another moment to confront them I do understand.”

You turn quickly, your cheeks hot to the touch, and you find yourself inches away from one of the men from the staircase. You bite your cheek, you really need to figure out their names. Up close you see that you were right about him, he does indeed tower over you. You have to bend your neck significantly to make comfortable eye contact. You almost wish you hadn't, though, his dark eyes flooding your chest with butterflies.

“I think I’ve had my fill of the walls but thank you for your consideration,” you pull your wrap tighter around you, clutching it like it's the source of magic that is helping you keep your composure, “and for the history lesson. This house is beautiful.”

He smiles widely, an action so doused in beauty that your head spins, “thank you, it was my father’s. I am Elijah, I don’t believe we’ve met before,” his eyes flit across your face and you can feel the blush begin to creep down your chest, “something which I’m beginning to understand is a terrible misfortune on my part.”

Your heart pounds painfully, your throat dry. This man clearly has a deep grasp on words and knows exactly how to use them. You wonder for a moment to what extent. What would he sound like in a more intimate setting? What words would he use when no one else could hear him?

Your eyes widen, your chest burning at the thought, “I’m y/n. Perhaps you’ve met my mother, Mary-Anne?” you glance around, trying and failing to locate your mother, “She’s around here somewhere, she has a hand in most of the happenings around town so it wouldn’t surprise me if you do know her.”

Elijah’s carmel eyes fill with recognition, “ah, yes, I believe I’ve seen her in town. Never you, though.”

Though he doesn’t ask, the question is clear in his tone.

“I attend university out of town,” you clutch your chest lightly, your fingers curling around the top of your dress, “I’m actually only home for the weekend. My mother was adamant I attend this evening.”

Elijah tilts his head, his eyes flitting quickly to where your fingers slip down your dress. When he looks back at you his eyes are a touch darker than before. Your heart pounds harder as well and you bite your lip slightly, thankful your mother didn’t make you wear lipstick.

“I see. I suppose that means we must give you a night to remember,” his eyes linger on your mouth for a moment and the heat that was swirling in your chest sinks lower.

“Indeed we shall, brother,” a voice from your left pulls your attention.

You’re greeted with the blonde from earlier, the one who looked like he was on another planet. Standing in front of you now he looks much more aware. His eyes, a touch lighter than Elijah’s, skim down your dress, lingering on the high slit on your hip before meeting yours again. You suck in a breath but there is no oxygen to be found.

“I do hope my brother is giving you a proper welcome,” his eyes flash, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips, “I wouldn’t want you leaving here tonight without a proper taste of the Mikaelson charm.”

The way he says the word taste, the way it rolls of his tongue, is positively sinful. It hits you straight in the stomach, spreading like poison through your already airy body. It anchors you to the ground, to him. You glance at Elijah who’s already watching you like a hawk. You feel naked under his gaze but, for some reason, it isn’t a wholly unwelcome feeling. You actually kind of like it.

You smile lightly at him before turning back to his brother, “I think he’s doing a marvelous job. His introduction skills, however, need a little bit of a touch up.” You giggle at the glimpse of his furrowed eyebrows from the corner of your eye, “Too much talking about walls for my liking.”

“Ah, there you two are,” a third voice joins your arsenal of men, standing on your right and piercing you with a voice accented enough to make the gods fall to their knees, “hogging all the pretty girls tonight, are we Klaus?”

You meet the eyes of the third man, the one who made laughter look like a gift, and your heart sings. He grins at you, his eyes, much like his brothers’, a warm brown. Having all three of them this close to you is more intense than you could have imagined. They make the room feel smaller. Intimate. You’re not sure if you want to run away screaming or move closer to them. They’re magnetic, you’re just not sure if being pulled in or pushed away.

He takes your hand, an action that sends your heart into overdrive. His eyes light up, as if he can hear every rapid beat of your pulse. You scold yourself inwardly. Don’t be stupid, y/n, that would be impossible.

“I’m Kol,” he brings your hand to his lips, laying a kiss that renders your knees weak against your knuckles, “it’s a pleasure.”

Your heart thunders at the feeling of his lips against your skin. You feel like a schoolgirl, dizzy from the slightest touch from your playground crush. His lips are warm and soft. Is this how princesses feel? God, you need another drink.

“So,” Klaus steps towards you, his eyes swirling with something barely contained, “what’s this I heard about us giving you a night to remember?”

Your heart stops on the spot and you almost choke, not missing any of the implications behind his tone, “I have to head back to school tomorrow is all,” you breathe, trying to play off some of the heat swirling under the surface of your skin, “please, don’t let me keep you from the rest of your guests. I’m sure there are quite a few more important people than me here tonight.”

Elijah chuckles, the sound piling on top of the many other ones you’re already holding tight to, “the guest list is merely a formality, it would really be my pleasure to show you around.”

He holds his hand out to you, his eyes warm but challenging. You swallow thickly, a string of indecipherable emotions rushing through your chest, circling your lungs. You know it’s just a gesture so why does it feel like something more? Why does the thought of taking his hand feel like stepping into the rest of your life? You take a breath, squaring your shoulders and slipping your hand into his. Bring it on, destiny.

“Wait just a moment brother,” Kol’s fingers slip around your wrist, dragging down your palm until your fingers are locked together, “stealing her away from me so soon? I’m not sure I can let you do that.”

Elijah and Kol stare at each other, something wild brewing in their increasingly dark eyes. You tense, feeling like the rope in a game of tug of war. This doesn’t feel like a game, though, this feels real. You’re not a rope to be fought over, you get to decide what and who you want. Even if that’s all of them.

You squeeze both of their hands, drawing their attention back to you, “I’m sure this house is big enough for us to all comfortably go for a tour.”

Elijah’s eyes widen, dragging over you once more as if seeing you properly for the first time all night. He, like his brothers, lingers on the most delicate parts of you for just a few moments longer than he should. It’s a hole in his armor, a hint past the gentleman front. You want to leap at it and pull until all that’s left is the darkness swirling beneath his surface.

You glance at Kol who meets your eyes head on, a toothy grin already on his face, “marvelous, darling. What a great idea.”

He begins pulling you, and by default Elijah, out of the room but you halt, feeling a tad off. You look behind you at Klaus and sigh, your heart heavy. He stands tall but you catch his eyes and the way they glance at your hands, both of which are still being occupied. He squeezes his hands into fists, shoving them in his pockets. You tilt your head, pouting slightly at him.

“Mr. Mikaelson, are you coming? Time is of the essence,” you nod your head toward the foyer, a coy smile on your lips, “we can’t can’t afford to waste any now.”

His face lights up instantly, walking towards you with flames dancing behind his eyes, “time isn’t real, love. Tonight we have as much of it as we want. As much of it as you want.”

You swallow hard. You want it all.

Kol pulls you towards him, twirling you slowly, making your dress spin around your legs like a ribbon, “where to first, darling? What do you want to see?”

Your hands land on his chest, your cheeks flushed and legs wobbly from the spinning. His other hand goes around your waist, his fingers squeezing gently, his thumb pressing into your side in a way that makes you want to draw his body closer to your own. Your thoughts from before ring through your head. He makes everything sound special. More than that; he makes everything feel special.

“Everything,” you can’t tear your eyes away from his, you don’t want to, “show me everything please.”

He leans down, his forehead inches from your own. You can feel the heat rolling off his body even through his tux. It’s luxurious and mingles with the last dregs of the champagne. When combined with his scent, a nutty blend of cloves and cinnamon, you feel lightheaded.

“Very well, darling,” his eyes flit to your lips, “everything it is.”

An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you away from whatever mischief is brewing beneath Kol’s honey eyes. He tilts his head at the person who grabbed you, his aura turning from playful to down right frosty.

You turn away, breaking the hold of one Tyler Lockwood. Your ex. You squint your eyes. If you were a cat, your hackles would be raised. You wouldn’t claw his eyes out but you would be damn close. Memories from your senior year pour through your mind, twisting your gut painfully. You blink them away. Contrary to Klaus, you don’t have time for this.

“Tyler,” your voice courteous but cold, “what is it?”

He doesn’t catch your tone or, if he does, he doesn’t act like it. He reaches towards you again, no doubt to pull you into a hug, but you back away. Unlike with Kol, you don’t want to touch him. You definitely don't want him touching you. That part of your life is over.

“Y/n,” his voice is light, happy, “I didn’t know you were back! Mom didn’t say anything. How have you been?”

The atmosphere around you thickens. You don’t have to look at the Mikaelsons to see that their shoulders are tense. You feel them take a step closer to you, surrounding you with some much needed warmth.

You clench your jaw, forcing a smile on your face, “yes, well, I didn’t know if I was going to be home this weekend or not. University and all, I’m sure you understand. I’m fine, thank you.”

He nods enthusiastically and you grind your teeth slightly, wishing the floor would just swallow you whole. You dart your eyes to the side, briefly skimming Klaus as he rolls his eyes. Lily would be proud. Kol and Elijah don’t look amused either. You’re not sure how you know but you have to get them away from Tyler as fast as possible. The air drops another few degrees and you shiver.

“Oh well, no harm done!” Tyler steps closer to you, “say, how long are you in town? We should grab a bite at the grill.”

You drop your fake smile, your heart stinging slightly, “sorry, Lily and I are heading back tomorrow morning.”

You feel the boys once again tense, as if they don’t like the information you just shared. You don’t have time to think too hard about it though before Tyler closes even more space between you, grabbing your hand. You flinch back, hitting something hard and warm. The smell of pine trees, a whole forest of them, swirls around you as a hand circles your waist.

Tyler scrunches his brows, his smile slightly faltering, “tonight, then? I would really love a chance to talk. Catch up a little.”

You almost laugh. He just isn’t giving up. He can never make it easy for you, can he? The hand on your waist squeezes and you look over your shoulder, your heart stuttering. Elijah is staring at Tyler, something swirling under his irises. Whatever it is looks untamed. Not in the good way, like how he was looking at you earlier. No, whatever he’s feeling right now is dangerous. Time to go.

“I really can’t, my night has been spoken for. Maybe next time, Tyler,” you turn to Elijah, “Elijah, did you say that you saw my mother looking for me? Would you mind showing me to her?”

Elijah’s eyes sparkle, clearly taking your hint, “indeed, she was right this way.”

He pushes you gently, blocking you from Tyler as he leads you out of the room. You can hear Tyler call out to you but you keep walking. Two other sets of footsteps join you, Kol grabbing your hand and twining your fingers together once more. When you break into the foyer you let the anxiety that had been building drain. That was more exhausting than you would like to admit.

Elijah leads the four of you silently to a room off to the side of the foyer. He pushes the large mahogany door open, ushering you in before shutting it again. The smell of ink and old pages hits your nose and your mouth drops open at the sight. You’re in the biggest library you’ve ever seen. It’s like something out of The Beauty and The Beast, the ceilings high and the walls lined from top to bottom with shelves upon shelves of books. You break away from the boys, your fingers itching to touch what is no doubt an impressive collection of history.

You hear a chuckle behind you but you don’t turn, your fingers skimming an older looking manuscript. Upon closer inspection the handwritten inscription on the cover reads Vonya i mir. Your heart stops and you quickly pull it from the shelf throwing all common courtesy out the window. This can’t be what you think it is. You flip it over in your hands, taking care not to crack the spine too much. Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy.

You whip your head up, meeting three curious glances with wide eyes, “this is War and Peace! Like, the original manuscript. This is,” your heart pounds, your eyes glued to the yellowed pages in your hands, “this is history. I can’t believe I’m holding this.” Your heart stops, “Oh my, I should not be holding this! This belongs in a museum! What am I even doing, holding it like it’s nothing.”

You set it carefully on a desk behind you, looking apologetically back at them. Your cheeks heat rapidly. It’s very much not like you to go into a stranger’s home and start groping their collectables. You pull your lip between your teeth, lowering your head.

A hand gently grabs your chin, “you didn’t mention you’re a classic literature major, love.”

A small smile toys on Klaus’ lips, his thumb skimming over your jaw. Your heart stutters when he says love, warmth spreading through your chest. You reluctantly move your head from his hand, turning to motion at the manuscript.

“That’s because I’m not. I am a history major, with a focus on Russian culture. I’ve read War and Peace more times than I care to admit,” you smile lightly at the book, thinking about the hours you’ve spent pouring over it, “never in Russian, though.”

You glance back at Klaus, your hand flying once more to your bodice. He studies you carefully, his head tilted to the side.

“And what do you think of it? Do you prefer the war or the peace?” He steps towards you, his words filling the almost nonexistent gap between your body and his.

Your breath catches. He’s close enough to touch and, gods, do you ever want to just reach out and pull him against you. First Elijah, then Kol, now him. You’re really gunning to end that dry spell in one night and three ways aren’t you? Heat creeps up your neck, your ears flaming at the thought.

“You can’t have one without the other,” you glance over his shoulder at Elijah and Kol, both of whom are hanging on to your every word, “war is inevitable but peace,” you look back at Klaus, “peace is fundamental.”

Klaus brushes a strand of hair from your cheekbone, sending shivers racing up your spine, “fundamental to what, love?”

His voice is low, his accent wearing down any reservations that you had at the beginning of the night. Your mother’s voice rings through your ears. Give me some grandbabies. She had clearly been joking but your body clearly has no concept of satire, heat pooling between your legs at the thought of making those babies. You close your eyes, sucking in a deep breath. It does nothing to quench the heat. You’re in the thick of it now and there is no escaping the white hot fire growing inside of you.

You sink your head into his hand, “happiness.”

An arm hooks around your waist, spinning you into a pair of spiced arms. Kol. You crack your eyes open and, sure enough, you’re correct. You shouldn’t have been able to guess that already. You’ve known them for no longer than an hour. This is insane. He lowers his face towards yours and your heart slams against your ribcage, his lips inches from yours. You swallow hard, your hands finding the lapels of his jacket. Instead of kissing you, however, he rubs his nose against yours. Oh. That feels nice.

“What makes you happy, darling?”

You laugh softly, his question catching you off guard, “I’m not sure, to be honest. I haven’t had many opportunities to find out.”

“Well then, If you could do one thing that you think would make you happy what would you do?” Kol lifts a hand to your face, his thumb, like his brother’s, skimming your jaw.

You don’t have to think about it, the answer is on your tongue as soon as he asks the question, “I would leave this town,” you glance down, the truth of your statement making you feel all too guilty, “and I’m not sure that I would ever come back.”

His thumb stills and you hold your breath. Perhaps you should have answered with something a little less full on. You haven’t even told Lily that you want to leave and never look back so you honestly have no idea why you just divulged one of your greatest kept secrets to three men you just met. Maybe because it doesn’t matter. Who are they going to tell, right? But no, that doesn’t feel right. You didn’t just tell them because. You had a reason, you just can’t put a name to it.

“I see,” he draws his thumb over your lips, an action that both surprises you and steals the air from your lungs, “and where would you go?”

Again, your answer is effortless, “everywhere, Kol. I would go everywhere.”

Kol smiles, his eyes lighting up with his grin. Your heart skyrockets, fireworks shooting through your chest from the slightest tilt of his perfectly red lips. They look soft; perfectly kissable. If only you had half of his self-assurance. What you wouldn’t give to run the tips of your fingers over his lips.

His hands draw back down your sides, “what was going on back there? You didn’t seem pleased to be speaking to that,” Kol clicks his tongue distastefully, his accent thickening, “boy. Is he the reason you want to leave?”

You pull back slightly, your hands tightening on his coat. How are you even supposed to answer that? The story is a long one and there are very few enjoyable moments to lighten it. Tyler is not the reason you want to leave but you surely wouldn’t be doing yourself any favors by staying for him either. He’s part of a long past, one you’re not going to tell them about. Not today, anyway.

“It’s a long story,” you gently remove yourself from his hold, “one that I assure you none of you would care to hear. But to answer your question, no. Tyler has nothing to do with me wanting to leave. That’s entirely my own, for better or worse.”

He nods, the understanding clear in his honeyed eyes, “in that case, darling, tell me something else.” He pulls you back to his chest, “Do you like the stars?”

* * * * * * * * *

They left the party. Their party. They just up and left the party that they were hosting. You’re shocked. You were shocked when they dragged you out of the mansion and you’re still shocked now, laying on a blanket a few miles away with your mouth hanging open. You hadn’t thought anything of it when Kol asked you about the stars. You thought he was continuing with his little game of twenty one questions. You didn’t think he was serious! Who the hell just leaves the party they’re hosting?

Elijah shuffles his hands through your hair, pulling pins from it left and right and letting the hardwork your mother put into it fall. Yes, indeed you’re laying across the lap of one of the most eligible bachelors you have ever come in contact with, your face pressed against his warm thigh. Your fingers are wrapped around a bottle of the sweet champagne from earlier.

“You know,” you murmur quietly, your eyes locked on the spray of stars above your head, “when you host a party, it’s usually expected that you attend. Running away is frowned upon.”

He laughs and you can feel it through your entire body. It awakens the butterflies sleeping in your chest, sending them fluttering to your guts where the beating of their tiny wings create an inferno so large it sets you on fire from the inside out. You always wondered what it would feel like to be burned alive. You would have never guessed that it would make your toes curl.

“I thought that was what you wanted,” he drags his fingers through your scalp, the final blow to your once styled hair, “to run away. Here’s a start.”

You rub your cheek against his thigh, your face heating when he tenses at your action, “we’re pretty terrible at this running away thing then,” you hum, pulling yourself to your knees, “we only made it five miles. If I focus I think I can still hear the music. We’re lousy escape artists.”

A breeze blows over your shoulders and you shiver, your thin shawl doing nothing to veil you from the night. You’re just thankful it’s still warm enough to be outside at this time of night. Soon the nights will be getting colder and you won’t be able to do this. It’s one of the many reasons you long to move away. A pair of hands draws over your shoulders and you shiver again, this time from something entirely unrelated to the elements. You smile lightly. Maybe not. The Mikealson’s have more than proven that they are a force of nature.

Klaus’ voice is like ocean waves in your ear, cresting your skin with every low syllable, “well this is just the beginning, love. How far we go is up to you.”

He’s joking, of course. He has to be joking, right? You turn to look at him, seeking out his eyes in the darkness. They burn into yours, no hint of humor anywhere on his face. His gaze pierces through the night and your breath catches, your heart pounding at all the possibilities of what he meant. You bring the bottle to your lips, using the cool liquid to stall while you gather your feelings.

Kol takes your hand, bringing it to his mouth, “So, darling,” he kisses one of your knuckles, his lips like heavenly fire, “how far are we going?” Another knuckle, another kiss, “what is it you want?” He nips lightly at your fingertips and you gasp, the feeling akin to tiny zaps of lightning against your skin, “where do you want to go?”

Your head is spinning, the champagne settling once more over your bones, “I wouldn’t know where to start. There are too many places,” you swallow hard, “too many things.”

Klaus’ fingers toy at the straps of your dress, skimming down your arms with them in tow, “the first place that comes to mind, love. What is it?”

Elijah pulls you towards him, his hand sliding up the slit on your thigh and curling around your hip. His fingers whisper over your bare skin and you tighten your hand on the bottle. Not out of fear, though. No, you use the bottle to keep your hands busy. If your hands were empty you can’t be sure where exactly they would be. On who they would be.

Elijah squeezes your hip and you gasp again, this time louder, “New Orleans,” it’s the first place that comes to your mind, “I want to go to New Orleans.”

Time stills when you finally answer the question. You can hear the wind rustle through the trees and crickets chirping in the distance. Three smells, each of their own element, wrap around you. Klaus’, like water, pouring over your back. Kol’s, like fire, burning up your arm. Elijah’s, like earth, sliding down your hips. You, the air, curl around each of them, pulling them close with your very essence.

And then, with a far off howl, time unfreezes and Klaus rips the straps down your arms, “New Orleans, hmm,” He sweeps your hair back, his nose skimming down the side of your neck, “a woman after my own heart. When shall we go?”

You laugh, the sound breaking through the almost reverent atmosphere, “we can’t just leave, Klaus. You have to plan things. I can’t just drop everything and run to New Orleans.”

Kol pulls your arm through the strap, furthering the tantalizingly slow process of peeling the dress from your body, “but you want to, darling. Am I right?”

His lips find the crook of your elbow and you almost moan, “of course you are but it’s not practical.”

Elijah tugs at your hips again, pulling you onto his lap. Kol and Klaus move with you, clinging to you like shadows. Kol’s hair tickles your arm, the soft strands brushing against you as his blazes a trail of open mouthed kisses up your arm. Klaus nips the back of your neck, his fingers wrapped in your hair and pulling lightly. It should feel wrong, you know it should, but by god how could something this ethereal possibly be wrong. Your body feels like it’s made out air and for the first time you’re free to breeze wherever you choose.

“Neither are we. It’s simple,” Elijah leans down, grabbing your jaw and steering you to meet his eyes, “would you like to go, y/n?”

Your heart stops when it hits you that they’re dead serious, “to New Orleans?”

It’s dark but you can still make out the smile on his face. It says it all, his words only reaffirming what your brain has been screaming at you.

“Not just New Orleans, darling, everywhere,” Elijah murmurs, his lips just in front of yours, his peppermint breath fanning your face delicately, “do you want to go everywhere?”

Just like that, your heart restarts, a rush of adrenaline spreading over your bones. Very rarely in life are you presented with the opportunity to go everywhere. You can’t even fathom what everywhere means. Surely there isn’t time to go everywhere, right? You suck in a breath, one that makes it feel like before this moment you were never truly breathing at all. Who cares if there isn’t enough time, you think to yourself.

You slide your arms around Elijah’s neck fast, nodding your head furiously in lieu of all the words that refuse to form a coherent sentence. You tangle your fingers in his hair, the strands like silk against your skin. You don’t take your time to admire it, though, you just yank his mouth to yours, smashing your lips against his and hoping it says everything that you can’t.

His hands squeeze your hips again and this time you don’t hold back, moaning into his mouth with the force of the tropical storm building under your skin. Your dress feels much too tight all of a sudden, the sequined material biting into your flesh. You shuffle, pulling your other arm from the strap before wrapping it back around Elijah’s shoulder, your fingers digging into his back through his tux jacket. That needs to go too. Now.

“Darling,” Kol’s husky voice whispers against your skin, his face buried in the other side of your neck, “as beautiful as you look right now I’m about half a second away from ripping this dress off your body.”

His words barely register but you catch the important parts, peeling your lips from Elijah’s just far enough to utter, “please don’t rip it, it’s the prettiest thing I own.”

His hands, which are curled around the back of your bodice, stall momentarily, “well that won’t do, now will it?” He muses, his mouth skimming your shoulder with each word, “New Orleans is fine, you won’t need many clothes at all I’m sure. But Paris will demand more of us, darling. We’ll have to fix this.”

Your heart shudders, along with your body. Paris. Surely now he’s joking.

He opts instead to use the zipper rather than tearing it apart, his knuckles softly skimming your bare back as it becomes exposed to him. Inch by inch, cool air wraps around your skin. When he gets to halfway, his mouth begins following his hands. He nips at the bumps of your spine, biting down harder when he gets to the base. Your hands, which are still on Elijah’s shoulder, tighten as flames roll through your body.

Klaus’ hands slip around you, tugging this time at the front of your bodice and pulling it down to reveal your bare chest. He pushes the fabric down your stomach, trailing his fingertips over your ribs as you arch into his chest, a string of incoherent praises falling from your lips. You’re pretty sure you murmur his name somewhere in there though, because his chest rumbles against your back and, before you know it, he pulls you up to your feet.

“Klaus, what are you-” your words are cut short from the night, swallowed instead by lips which taste too much like oranges and rum for you to even consider trying to repeat yourself .

His tongue slips into your mouth, his hands flying into your hair, pushing it away from your face and using it to tilt your head to an angle that makes you see stars. The cold air sweeps over your breasts and you shiver again. It doesn’t last long before a pair of hands are sliding up your exposed sternum and over your chest, cupping your breasts. Kol’s cinnamon musk furls in your lungs as he pulls you into his now bare chest. His skin is hot against yours but you wouldn’t expect anything less from the flame made man.

Klaus detaches from your lips, pressing them once more against your swollen mouth before moving down your neck. He pulls your skin into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the dip in your throat. He courses a river down your front with his mouth, stopping to leave little love bites all over your collarbones and shoulders before heading south. He falls to his knees, shrugging his jacket off before pressing his lips to the valley between your breasts.

You moan, loudly, and thread your fingers through his hair, tugging him harder against you, “god, you’re too good at that,” you roll your head against Kol’s shoulder as Klaus lips flow over your skin, finding your nipple between Kol’s fingers, “we should not be doing this.”

Another pair of hands, the last pair, pulls your face to a pair of lips, the last pair of lips, “Is that what you think, darling? Do you want us to stop?”

Elijah’s lips skim over yours as he speaks, sparks igniting with each touch. You don’t have to think about his question.

“No,” you press your mouth against his assertively, “please don’t stop. Never stop.”

With that Klaus pushes the rest of your dress off your body and, well, the rest of the details of that night remain between you, Kol, Klaus, Elijah, and the stars.

* * * * * * * * *

You lean your head against the cool leather of the seat, your eyes closed as the wind whips your hair behind you. You’ve never ridden in a convertible before but, much to the trend of Mikaelson fashion, it’s luxurious. Elijah slings his arm around your shoulders and you smile, cracking your eye open to glance at him. His hand is on the wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead of him. He looks peaceful. Happy. He looks over at you, tossing you a wink before turning back to the road. Butterflies flutter through your chest and you welcome them with open arms.

You glance in the rearview mirror, your grin growing when you see two sleeping men. Kol is leaning back, his mouth half open as soft snores fall from his mouth. You giggle quietly. Last night must have exhausted him. He wears his slacks still but now, instead of his jacket, he wears a wine colored hoodie. His hair is mussed and you swallow thickly, thinking back to how it felt between your hands.

You move to Klaus, shaking your head slightly to defuse your slowly heating skin. He, too, no longer wears his jacket but, unlike Kol, he only has a t-shirt on. His arms are folded under his head as he leans against the seat. His body is relaxed, his legs spread in front of him. You yawn looking at him, fighting the urge to crawl over your own seat and into his lap.

“Are you tired, love?” Elijah’s voice mixes with the wind, floating over you like music.

You meet his glance for a moment, smiling sheepishly, “yes but it’s nothing.”

“You should try to sleep,” his voice is slightly concerned, his eyes slipping over your bruised skin before turning back to the highway, “we still have about seven hours before we’re even in Louisiana.”

You stifle another yawn, pulling the sunglasses on your head over your eyes as the sun breaks over the trees blurring past you, “not yet, Eli. I don’t want to miss anything. I’ll sleep when we get there.”

You hear your phone beep from the bag at your feet but you ignore it. That’s another thing that you’ll wait until the Louisiana state line for. Instead you lift the book on your lap, your fingers skimming delicately over the words on the cover. Vonya i mir. Your heart warms as you open it to the first page, settling into the leather seat. Elijah looks over at you and chuckles, the sound even more musical than last night. This is going to be the easiest seven hours of your life.

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morganayenneferburnham · 3 years

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Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me A very short summary of the fic: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes. Word count: 2.1k A/N: Here is the 2nd chapter! If anyone wants to be added to my taglist just send me an ask or a message 😊

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

“I’m going to bed. I can’t work on the more difficult tailoring for either of us until I’ve had at least a few hours of sleep.” Everyone else had gone to bed about an hour ago, leaving her and Nikolai alone for the first time since they’d met. While he had been a lot more pleasant in the last hour all she could think of now was her bed.

She slowly got up and left the room. Her head felt like it was going to implode. She was already dreaming of crawling in bed under her soft blanket, letting her feet navigate the familiar hallways and stairs.

“Y/N! Wait.” Nikolai had followed her down the hallway and caught up to her before she had a chance to reach her room. So much for my well-deserved rest.

She whirled on her heels “What do you want, Sturmhond?” Her tone had been harsher than she’d meant but she was exhausted. The last thing she wanted was to spend one more moment in the privateer’s company.

“Please, call me Nikolai.” His easy-going flirty tone was gone. He sounded genuine now, almost pleading. “Listen, I know I haven’t made it easy on you. I need you to know that this job is important to me too. I am taking it seriously despite my natural devilishly charming demeanor. My country depends on our success.”

She took a moment to consider this new version of the man standing in front of her. He had almost slipped back behind his mask, but she could tell he was sincere. She understood the urge to hide all too well. “I’m sorry Sturm – Nikolai.” She amended. “I’ll try to sleep for a couple of hours. I should be better company when I wake up.” She genuinely smiled at him for the first time since they’d started working on Dirtyhand’s crazy scheme. “I’ll do all I can to make this job a success. If only so that Kaz won’t kill me.” She laughed softly “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” he replied with a quick bow. He left her standing in front of her door and walked back towards the slat’s main floor.

She would have to consider the different personas Nikolai had shown her, at some point, if she hoped to understand him. However, that was a problem for another day. All thoughts of the privateer left her mind when she slipped into sweet unconsciousness. — She woke to loud knocking on her door. She groaned. She was going to kill them. Whoever the idiot was. It felt like she’d only just gotten to bed.

She opened the door with enough force to almost rip it off its hinges. “What the fuck do you – ?” She was standing face to face with Zoya Nazyalensky. Oh, she thought, guess I just shut my chances straight to hell.

Zoya smirked at her. “Good morning to you too. Everyone’s waiting for you downstairs.” She turned to walk away but shot a glance over her shoulder before disappearing down the stairs, her eyes trailing Y/N from head to toe and back up appreciatively. Raising an eyebrow, she added: “You might want to get changed before joining us.”

Y/N had forgotten she was only wearing her short lacy, somewhat see-through, nightgown and felt her cheeks heat up. “Yeah, sure, tell Kaz I’ll be there in a minute.” She stammered. She leaned back against the door as soon as it closed. Oh, well maybe not straight to hell? She quickly got dressed and tailored her cheeks back to normal before making her way to the others. The last thing she needed was to be teased by her friends for being so flustered over Zoya fucking Nazyalenski. She took a deep breath before entering the room.

“How long did I sleep for? Feels like I just went to bed.” She grumbled walking through the door.

Nikolai looked at her apologetically “Judging from when I last saw you, I’d say you probably slept for two hours?”

“Alright” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “I guess that’s all I could really hope for.” She let herself fall on the couch next to Nikolai. Kaz raised an eyebrow at her. Interesting, he thought. There had been an empty armchair, but she’d chosen to sit next to the privateer. Maybe there is hope for the job yet. Torturing her is just a nice bonus.

She turned in her seat to face Nikolai. “I’m going to get started on the more advanced tailoring. It might get a bit uncomfortable. Changing bone structure always is. Let me know if you need a break.”

He’d only nodded at her in reply. She raised her hands to his face cupping his cheek with her left hand and running the fingers of her right hand down the line of his crooked nose. “Zoya, I’ll need you to tell me if the changes I’m making get too close to his actual features. Everyone else can piss off.” The crows took her dismissal seriously and scurried off to make other preparations.

Y/N settled into her work making corrections when needed following Zoya’s comments. She leaned back to admire her work after about three hours. She’d straightened Nikolai’s nose, made it slightly larger, raised his cheekbones and brow, and rounded his strong jaw to make him appear a bit younger. “Alright, I think this should work? The only major thing left is changing your eye colour. I’ll touch everything up once more after that.” Zoya had approached to examine Y/N’s work, staying quiet. “It’d probably be easier to make them hazel instead of green.”

“No,” interjected Zoya. “His eyes are usually hazel. You should make them blue. Nice work. I don’t think I’d recognize him in the street.”

Y/N beamed at Zoya. “Blue it is! That’ll take a while. Do you need a break, Nikolai?”

“I’m alright. Do you need a break? You’ve barely slept, and you still need to tailor yourself.” Well, she thought, that’s new. When did he become so considerate? He had let her work mostly in silence since she’d started that morning. He might not be so insufferable after all. Still a bit too full of himself to her taste but not insufferable.

“I’ll take a break after I’m done with you. I’ll need you to be very still for this.” She took a good look at him. “Zoya, can you make sure no one comes to bother me while I’m finishing up?” she called.

“Sure thing. I’ll get coffee. I have a feeling we could all use some.” As soon as Zoya left the room Nikolai’s shoulders bunched.

“I’m going to start now. You need to let me know if anything’s wrong alright?” Her voice was soft. She almost sounded worried.

He flashed her a bright smile. “I have full confidence in your talents, my dear.” He straightened his back once more. “Let’s do this.” She could tell he was tired and was only putting on a show. She wished he’d stopped hiding behind the self-assured ruler persona he’d mostly shown so far but she didn’t want to push him. She said nothing, opting to get back to work instead.

By the time Zoya got back with coffee Y/N was done tailoring Nikolai. Zoya let out a low whistle. She’d almost dropped the cups she was holding.

“He looks nothing like himself!” She exclaimed. “Once this job’s done you need to come with us to Os Alta. Genya would never forgive me if she didn’t get to meet you.”

Y/N smiled at Zoya and handed Nikolai a mirror. Genya Safin was the most talented tailor in recorded history, a member of the Grisha Triumvirate. Y/N couldn’t believe she’d ever take interest in a barrel rat like her. “Zoya’s right. You’ll have to come with us, or I fear our dear Genya will attempt regicide again.”

“She wouldn’t attempt it, moi tsar. Genya doesn’t fail. She would succeed in getting rid of you.” Zoya sounded amused at the idea.

He shrugged. “She’d probably murder you, my prized general, as well.”

The crows filed in after Zoya to take in Y/N’s work. Sturmhond’s strawberry blond curls were gone, replaced by chestnut brown ones with just a touch of red when exposed to direct sunlight. His green eyes were now a deep blue, slightly bigger than they had been. His shoulders were narrower, his skin tone lighter and his facial structure completely altered. He truly looked nothing like the privateer, or king, he truly was.

“Well done, Y/N.” Kaz’s raspy voice sounded from the back of the room. “Go rest and tailor yourself. Meet us back here in three hours. We’ll go over your covers again once that’s done.” The girl nodded and made her way back to her room on the second floor. — Nikolai couldn’t help but be impressed by the work Y/N had done on him. He was used to Genya’s skills, yet he never thought he’d meet another tailor as talented. He was pretty sure Y/N had even been faster than Genya ever was. She must have had years of practice to be able to perform such advanced tailoring this efficiently.

“How does it feel, Lantsov?” Nikolai jumped. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed Kaz standing in front of him.

“How long has she been working for you, Brekker? I’m pretty sure you have one of the most talented tailors of all time on your crew. How did you manage it? Where did you even find her?” Nikolai just couldn’t wrap his head around Brekker’s luck. How does he always manage to have the best of every field on his crew?

Kaz chuckled. “While I appreciate your new-found interest in my tailor. I’m gonna need you to focus on the task at hand until we’ve pulled off this heist.”

Nikolai had been about to reply when Y/N’s voice cut him off. “I am not yours, Kaz Brekker.” She was standing in the doorway.

Nikolai was suddenly very glad he’d been sitting. The grisha had done just as good a job on herself as she had on him. Her usually dark auburn hair was now a vibrant shade of red. Her beautiful green eyes had been replaced by a darker brown. She hadn’t needed to change her complexion, but it looked like she had changed most of her bone structure. Her face was rounder, her lips narrower, her cheeks fuller. She’d even tailored her body, reducing her natural curves to make her seem slightly taller. Nikolai would have never recognized her. Her voice, still captivating, was the only thing that hadn’t changed. He found himself looking for any trace of the girl he had spent hours observing, and even grown to appreciate, in the last few days. Even though this tailored Y/N was beautiful, he had to admit he already missed her true features.

Jesper slung his arm around her shoulders. “You surpassed yourself, love.” He guided her towards the couch. “I have no doubt the job will be a success if everything goes as smoothly as your tailoring.” He only released her to push her down by Nikolai’s side.

Jesper’s attempt to calm things had been evident to everyone, nevertheless, it had seemed to work. Y/N leaned into Nikolai’s side and took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. “Do we look like Kaelish newlyweds yet?”

They spent the next few hours going over every single detail of their new identities. Covering everything that could come up in conversation at the party. Y/N had comfortably settled on the couch never straining too far from Nikolai, playing the role of the perfect little wife. The smell of her hair was intoxicating, and Nikolai was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the proceedings. All he wanted to do was wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to his own body.

Eoin and Ainsley were 24 and 22 years old. They had met two years before getting married. They had had an unusually long engagement, lasting a full year, because Ainsley’s father had gotten sick, and she’d had to take care of her sisters. They had only been married for a few months but were looking into expanding the business to support Ainsley’s family. They wanted to get settled a bit before thinking of building their own family. That’s why Ainsley was working with her husband rather than stay behind at the mansion. How the engagement came to be had already been covered multiple times. Kaz made them rehearse telling the story over and over again.

Only once Kaz was satisfied did they get to take a break and sit down for a quick dinner, which had consisted of sausages, fried potatoes, and bread rolls.

“We’ll go over everything again tomorrow morning. I’ll make sure your clothes are ready by 3 bells. You’ll need to be at Van Verent’s house by 6 bells. Go get some sleep. All of you.” No one dared contradict Kaz, as they were all half-asleep on their feet by the time they were done. —- Tagged: @power-of-words23

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edendaphne · 3 years

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“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 19

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 19: ATTACCA

Music glossary: Attacca - "To attack at once"; used as a direction in music at the end of a movement to begin the next without pause

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(Mood music: "The Conversation" - Pearl Django)

Being mere months away from graduating lycée meant that their group of friends didn’t have as many classes together, due to their diverse individual interests and talents. However, they always made sure to make time to hang out after school before their extracurricular activities began.

And thus, Adrien, Nino, and Alya made their way to the classroom where the art club gathered to meet up with Marinette. From there, Adrien would make his way to either fencing lessons or Chinese, depending on the day of the week. Marinette would join him on days when he had Chinese (as she’d become determined to master the language ever since her uncle visited from Shanghai a few years back), Alya would go to her journalism club, and Nino would travel to his part-time internship at the local recording studio.

“–and the backlogs just keep piling up!” Alya spoke as they walked, voice full of vigor and excitement. “I’ve had to recruit yet another mod to help me keep order in the forums! Especially since the Ladyblog has started going international and we’ve had to organize servers in different languages. You wouldn’t believe how crazy it’s gotten in there recently!”

“Dang, babe,” Nino interjected. “Sounds like things are super rough for you right now.”

“Not really, more busy than anything. Especially because I have that big research article due next week, there’s just not enough hours in the day to try to read everything that goes on in there. But I have my mods report to me daily, ‘cause I always like to stay on top of everything that goes on in the chats!”

“What’s gotten everyone so riled up in the Ladyblog lately?” Adrien chimed in. “I don’t recall it being nearly this busy last year.”

The trio entered the art club’s classroom and settled down at the table where Marinette sat, getting her various sketches organized. The art teacher was quite easy going, so they didn’t have to talk in hushed whispers and could come and go as they pleased.

“Well, to be honest, it’s because of Chat Noir,” Alya replied.

Adrien tried to contain his surprise. “R-really? What– uhhh, what do people have to say about him?”

He winced inwardly. He knew he shouldn’t ask. But curiosity got the better of him today. Maybe learning the news through the filter or Alya’s paraphrasing instead of reading the negative comments firsthand would lessen the sting of what people said about him.

Marinette whipped her head around at the mention of his alter ego. “Wait, what about Chat Noir?” she inquired.

“Girl,” Alya replied, her voice filled with renewed exuberance. “You would not believe how much we’ve had to censor and moderate all the inappropriate things people have been saying!”

Adrien flinched in his seat. “Wow… do people really hate him that much?” he asked, trying to conceal the dejection in his voice.

Alya busted out into loud guffaws. “Hate?! Dude, most people don’t hate him; they LOVE him! By ‘inappropriate’ comments, I mean the kinda stuff you wouldn’t want your grandma to catch you reading! There’s a whole giant section dedicated to his new fan club!” she said as she removed her glasses so she could wipe away the tears of laughter.

“WHAT?!” Adrien squawked in confusion, his face feeling hotter than the ovens back at the bakery. “A fan club??”

Marinette burst into uncontrollable snickering. “Has it really gotten that bad?!”

Nino joined in, “Bro! Adrien, I can’t believe you haven’t heard Alya rant about these rabid fans before! They call themselves the ‘Noir Nation’, and the kind of things they’ve been writing would make adult romance authors blush like schoolgirls!”

Alya nodded, thoroughly amused. “And that’s not including all the fanfiction people have been writing.”

“Wait– the WHAT?! There’s fanfiction?!!” Marinette gaped in shock, as if she’d been hit in the face with an enormous pie. “Alya, how come I never knew about this?!”

“Why? You wanna read em? Girl, you’ll get no judgment from me. If you wanna check ‘em out for yourself, just go check under the hashtag ‘Ladynoir’.”

Marinette stammered as her arms flailed in her bewilderment, accidentally knocking her phone off the table and onto the floor, her eyes bigger and rounder than Adrien had ever seen them. “They have a ship name?!” she screeched.

“Just mind the ratings though,” Alya advised. “Some of them can get pretty steamy. You wouldn’t want someone to catch you reading those in public,” she added with a wink.

Marinette continued to sputter incoherently. “NO, I am NOT gonna read it!! It would be different if they were fictional characters, but I could never read fanfiction about real people!”

Alya raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Mm-hmm… Sure.”

Marinette’s hands flew to her face, trying to hide how red her entire face had gotten, and released a long squeak that resembled a hamster on helium. As shocked as Adrien was about these rather unexpected news, seeing Marinette’s over-the-top reaction brought a wide grin to his face and he busted out laughing.

He bent over to retrieve Marinette’s phone, since she was too busy being mortified to notice it had fallen to the floor. As he was about to hand it back, the screen lit up and Adrien saw the lockscreen wallpaper: it was the same photo of Ladybug and Chat Noir that he himself had saved earlier that day. He smiled, not exactly sure what to make of it, but finding it adorable that she’d liked the photo enough to set it as her lockscreen.

He tapped her shoulder, waiting for her to respond. She emerged from behind her impromptu hand shield and turned her head, then her eyes widened once again as soon as she saw what Adrien was showing her. She jolted straight up, stiff as a board, and her eyes met his, cheeks turning tomato red. He winked at her, amused about this little secret between them, and handed back her phone without a word.

Marinette accepted it with a meek-sounding, “Thanks,” looking like she wanted to explain the photo, but not able to do so unless she wanted Alya and Nino to find out that she was potentially a… ahem– “Ladynoir” shipper.

Switching the conversation to something else (which Marinette seemed to be eternally grateful for), the group chatted until it became time for them to scatter to their next destinations.

With a wave, Adrien exited the classroom and headed towards fencing practice, one of the few activities he decided to stick with despite not being forced to participate. Fencing, along with Chinese lessons, were not only enjoyable, but were also quite useful. Sadly, he didn’t have access to a piano anymore, so he wasn’t able to pursue that hobby for the time being. Hopefully later down the line, when things had settled down and he’d found his own place to live, he’d be able to finance one.

Thinking about the future had become an exciting pastime instead of an anxiety-inducing one, and it was all thanks to his friends and those he cared about. He smiled as he reached the door to the locker rooms, continuing to daydream of what was to come.

(Mood music: "Recollection 3" - Shirō Sagisu (BLEACH OST, "The Diamond Dust Rebellion")

Adrien finished getting dressed for fencing, his head still blissfully floating in the clouds. He stored his belongings into his assigned locker, shutting it with a loud clang, which echoed through the empty room.

Huh...? Empty?

He swiveled his head around, surprised that there was no one beside him. He stood up and began walking down the large room, peeking down the other locker rows looking for his classmates; but there was nobody.

Where was everyone? There’s no way that every single one of them was running late. Had his lessons been cancelled and he’d somehow missed a text message or email? He began heading back towards his locker to check his phone for any schedule changes.

Before he reached his destination, however, heavy thudding footsteps broke the eerie silence. Adrien whipped his body around to greet whoever they belonged to.

The owner of those footsteps was one of the last people Adrien expected to meet here.

“Gaspard?!”

Adrien stood agape, face to face with his old bodyguard, whom he hadn’t seen in a couple of years; not since he’d resigned and moved out of the country. Nathalie had mentioned that in his resignation letter, Gaspard said that he’d become involved in an overseas business venture involving the market of rare action figures. Nevertheless, Adrien couldn’t help but suspect that his father’s ill temper and poor treatment of their employees was the true reason for his departure.

Adrien’s first reaction was surprise and joy, and he rushed forward to greet and embrace him. However, as he approached and got a better look at the man’s face, Adrien’s mood instantly morphed into confusion and apprehension. There was something odd about his eyes.

Something wasn’t right. Why was Gaspard here? And why now?

He came to a halt about a meter before reaching him. An oppressive weight seemed to press in all around him, and he had to suppress a shiver. “Wait. Gaspard, did–” he gulped, “–did my father send you?”

His old bodyguard did not reply, but took a heavy step towards him. Adrien stepped back.

“Please… I can’t go back. I live somewhere else now, and I’m very happy there. Whatever he told you about the situation, it’s a lie.”

His bodyguard continued to approach him, his stare vacant and unsettling.

Fighting the urge to panic, he pleaded, “You don’t have to do this. If he’s offered you compensation, I can match it; it’ll just take me a bit of time. But we can work something out, right?? For old time’s sake?”

He continued walking backwards until he bumped into something firm, but it wasn’t a wall; it was another person. Before he could turn around, they grabbed him by the shoulders, detaining him and preventing him from running away.

He was about to shout for help when something sharp jabbed him on the side of the neck, injecting a cold liquid. Adrien’s eyes grew wide in terror.

Shit.

Adrien swore as he jerked away, elbowing whoever was behind him and managing to break free. Rubbing at the spot where the syringe had stabbed him, he glanced back to take a look at his other assailant, only to see... another Gaspard?

Why are there two of him??

This was wrong. Gaspard didn’t have a twin; he knew that for a fact. He’d worked for the Agrestes ever since Adrien was a toddler and was too young to even pronounce his name correctly (hence the nickname “Gorille”, which stuck around for years afterwards). Additionally, there was something uncanny, otherworldly, even, about the way these two men looked and moved.

He shook himself out of his stupor. He didn’t have time to contemplate any possible explanations. He had to get out of there fast.

He sprinted towards the exit, but only managed to travel a few paces before he lost his footing and tripped. He fell to the ground hard, almost hitting his head on a nearby bench. As he struggled to get up, he realized that his fingers and toes had already gone numb.

Not good.

Time was running out. Adrenaline coursed through him and, with a grunt, he hefted himself to his feet and scrambled towards the exit, as fast as he could despite a heavy limp. Though his heart was hammering and his legs felt like they were filled with sand, he pushed himself, concentrating on reaching the door.

After taking a few steps, however, he realized that even if he did manage to exit the locker room, the area beyond was an open courtyard. Meaning he wasn’t going to be able to reach someplace safe before getting caught. He had no choice but to transform into Chat Noir, and hopefully Plagg’s powers and strength could help him escape and find somewhere to hide.

He’d scarcely uttered the first syllable in the transformation phrase when he was tackled to the ground. A giant hand swiftly covered his mouth and Adrien felt his hands get bound together with thick zip ties behind his back. A muffled scream of writhing frustration made its way up his throat as his limbs became more and more useless by the second.

No… This can’t be happening! Please, this can’t be how it all ends!

Just when his life had finally gained a semblance of normalcy and he’d found happiness again, it would get ripped away and he would disappear without a trace, leaving everyone to wonder what had happened to him. Leaving his friends to think that Gabriel had pulled him from school and they would never see him again. Leaving Ladybug to wonder if Chat had abandoned her forever. Leaving her to fight Hawkmoth alone. Again.

He couldn’t let that happen. He thrashed and struggled as furiously as he could, fighting the feelings of overwhelming helplessness that threatened to consume him. Nearing despair, he was too distracted to notice Plagg phrasing through the wall, away from the skirmish, in search of the only person who could save him.

(Mood music: "Run" - Ludovico Einaudi)

Marinette fidgeted with her pencil, her feet wiggled and bounced under her desk. She didn’t understand; when she’d arrived at the art club, her head had been filled with inspiration and ideas that she’d been excited to draw and execute. However, at the moment, her mind was filled with noise and disquietude.

Having had enough, she excused herself to visit the restroom. Once she’d walked far enough from the classroom, she opened her purse to talk to Tikki about her current dilemma.

“It’s the same feeling as last night, Tikki! Except that would mean one of three possibilities. Option A.) It’s nothing and I’m going crazy. And— don’t give me that look, Tikki! I can see what you’re thinking and I don’t have time for your cheeky sass right now!” The kwami snickered while Marinette cleared her throat and continued, “Option B.) that Chat is here, at this school, which is impossible because his school’s on the other side of the city, that’s why he always leaves the house super early for his long commute.”

Tikki opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something, but then didn’t (...or couldn’t?).

Marinette resumed, “Or, C.) that my–– what do I even call it? My ‘Spidey sense’??–– that it’s got a long distance mode, and Chat is all the way across Paris and he’s in trouble! But what am I supposed to do about that from here?! I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking!”

Tikki shrugged. “Follow your instincts, Marinette. There’s no harm in taking a quick look around the school, right?”

Marinette groaned. “UGH! It doesn’t make sense!! Am I going to get interrupted like this all the time from now on?” She shook her head resolutely. “No. I can’t just go off on random field trips every single time I feel a random fit of anxiety. I’m sure it’s just leftover jitters from last night. I’m supposed to call Master Fu after school anyway; he can help me figure everything out. I’m just gonna go back to class and forget about it.”

Tikki frowned, not quite convinced, but deciding not to press further.

Marinette made her way back to the classroom in a frustrated huff. But as her hand reached to turn the handle, the feelings of danger and urgency multiplied tenfold. Without a word, she sprinted away in the opposite direction, not even knowing where she was running to, only knowing she had to get there immediately.

She reached the large common area of the school downstairs. Her head whipped around, frantically searching for something, anything. In her haste, she didn’t notice a small black creature zoom into her open purse.

A few moments later, she felt a frantic tugging at her shirt from below.

“Marinette!! Over there! Check the locker room, quick!!!” Tikki whisper-screamed as she peeked outside the purse, her tone uncharacteristically frantic.

Marinette nodded, then sprinted to the locker room.

“Wait! You should transform first!” Tikki added.

No time!

“Marinette, wait!!”

Despite Tikki’s protests, Marinette raced towards the double doors, tackling them open.

Three sets of eyes landed on her as she skidded to a halt, but only one pair consumed her entire attention. She gasped in horror, hands flying to her face as she stared at what was occurring in front of her. Adrien let out a desperate, muffled scream urging her to run.

His panicked voice snapped her out of her dazed shock; but instead of running, she stood her ground, eyes darting back and forth across the area searching for something useful. The room was remarkably barren except for a lone broom a short distance away from her. She grabbed it and leaped towards the closest attacker (the one holding Adrien down), swinging it like a baseball bat.

The man didn’t even try to avoid the hit; the broomstick merely bounced off the side of his face where Marinette had hit him. She frowned in confusion, then tried hitting him again, bringing the stick down on the top of his head like an axe.

SNAP.

The end of the broom flew off, and Marinette stared in shock at the broken broomstick.

“What the hell are you?!” Marinette exclaimed, shifting her grip on the shortened wooden stub.

She pounced at the second bodyguard, bringing her weapon down in a stabbing motion; but he swatted at her hand, disarming her. She yelped in pain, leaping backwards to get some distance between them.

She was outmatched. The only strategy available was to use their own size against them. With a feint to the side, she shot at his legs for a takedown, hoping to catch him off balance. He called her bluff and shoved her backwards with his giant palm, then kneed her in the stomach.

Winded from the impact, Marinette doubled over with a gasping wheeze, fighting with all her might to keep herself from collapsing onto the ground. She forced herself upright and attacked again. With a clumsy jerk, she lunged forward, swinging wild punches at her opponent. The shots connected but his expression barely changed; it was like beating a breathing punching bag.

The bodyguard backhanded Marinette across the face. Pain shooting across her cheek, she staggered, almost losing her balance. In her daze, she watched helplessly as the man reared his arm back. There was no chance to dodge. His fist connected with her abdomen, delivering a liver shot that shut down her entire body. She crumpled to the floor as if boneless. She tried to call out Adrien’s name, but her mouth merely opened in a silent scream.

Marinette could hear Adrien’s distressed screaming, but it sounded distant, like they were underwater. The edges of her vision grew black and fuzzy, the entire room dissolving around her. She had to consciously force her lungs to inhale, but couldn’t fill them all the way, as if a boulder had been placed on top of her chest.

Faintly, she felt herself getting picked up off the ground and carried away over someone’s shoulder. Disoriented and semi-blinded, the sudden movement and rough jostling made her head spin and gave her vertigo. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

A few moments later, they stopped moving, and she heard a door burst open. Where were they? Before she could gather her senses, she was in the air, thrown several meters away, landing with a hard thud. A sharp pain traveled down her body as she rolled into the wall across them. The shriek that tried to escape her throat emerged as a strained, shallow whine.

The man stomped out, leaving her alone in the room. “Stop…!” she rasped out, managing to tilt her neck upwards, head pounding.

The bodyguard slammed the door shut, followed by a bang and a clattering sound that could only mean he’d broken the doorknob of whatever room she was in.

Marinette's vision became more and more blurred. At the verge of losing consciousness, she fought to keep her eyes open as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

No, she couldn’t pass out! She had to save Adrien! Stay awake, Marinette, stay awake!!

She bit down on her lip hard, focusing on the sharp sting, on the swelling that was already forming around her right eye, forcing herself to feel the pain her body was in. At this moment, feeling pain was better than falling unconscious. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly regaining her senses.

She reached down to open her purse and get Tikki’s help… only to be met with emptiness. Panic settled in her gut as she realized that sometime during the skirmish, the purse had slipped off her shoulder. She sat up, slowly, so she wouldn’t risk feeling faint again from the change in positions.

She squinted, adjusting her eyesight to the darkness of the room. It seemed to be some sort of supply closet. After a failed few attempts to stand, she crawled towards the door instead, careful not to bump into the crates and shelves that filled the area.

The girl eyed the broken doorknob wearily. She was pretty proficient at lockpicking and breaking into things, but not as good at breaking out. Her only hope was that Tikki would be able to find her… if she was even nearby.

She swore to herself. Why had she rushed in and attacked two grown ass men (who, incidentally, may or may not be supernatural to boot!) instead of hiding and creating a strategy?! Now she was useless, Tikki was gone, and Adrien was surely on his way to get auctioned to the highest bidder in the criminal black market and ransomed off for an enormous sum. Great job, Marinette. Adrien’s been abducted and it’s all your fault.

Gathering all the determination she could muster, she tried to call out for help. But her voice was still too hoarse, and only a weak croak came out. She clenched her fists, grumbling irritably. Time for a different approach. Somehow, she needed to make noise.

After a brief search, she found a hard, metallic object that she could use to hammer on the door. She tested it out; it was surprisingly effective. She doubled her efforts, making as big a racket as possible. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of time before somebody heard her, let her out, and she could go find Adrien.

She couldn’t let anything else happen to another loved one. Not again.

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I'M REEEAAAAALLY SORRY FOR THAT CLIFFHANGER JSHDKFJHSKDF ᕕ(╯°д°)ᕗ I tried splitting up the sections differently but it didn't really flow as well.

But the next chapter is almost done, so I'll have it ready by next weekend!!

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Enemies AU #enemies to lovers #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #ML AU #aged up #Eden writes

156 notes · View notes

ikeromantic · 3 years

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Rhythm in Kind

A Nobunaga Oda fanfic, approx. 2700 words of fluffiness, featuring a bellydancing MC. Inspired by a conversation with @scruffymctee ^_^

It was mid-afternoon and Nobunaga was having trouble focusing. He’d taken Hideyoshi for a walk around the castle to calm his restless spirit.

Hideyoshi was trying to engage him in a discussion on current patrols. He was doing his best to keep the conversation alive, despite getting only the occasional nod or grunt in response. His voice fell into rhythm with his footsteps as they walked Azuchi castle.

Nobunaga let the words wash over him as his mind wandered. It wasn’t like him to be so distracted, but for the last several weeks his mind was not on his goals. His thoughts insisted on drifting toward the odd, brazen woman that saved his life. She was beautiful. Unpredictable. And breath-takingly honest.

“My lord?” Hideyoshi was frowning at him.

“Yes?” There was no way he would admit he’d missed the question entirely. He stopped and turned to face Hideyoshi. This turned out to be a mistake.

The door behind Hideyoshi was open to the room beyond it. Warm sunlight spilled through the windows, bathing the room’s sole occupant in a golden glow. It was her - the girl that claimed she was from the future. And she was . . .

Hideyoshi turned to see what caught his lord’s eye. He let out a strangled sound as if his breath couldn’t decide whether to move in or out. His mouth hung open and his body froze in place.

Nobunaga barely noticed his friend. His attention was eaten entire by the girl. His little fireball. She’d tied her kimono strangely, the obi sitting at her hip with a large bow at the side. Her arms were held at a low angle, eyes closed, and her hips were moving, up - down, a shiver, then her chest rose and a serpentine wave rolled down her belly.

The girl didn’t notice them. She was humming something, a strange melody. And she was moving to it, flowing across the room with delicate steps.

This was some sort of magic. Nobunaga was certain of that. A human body - even a woman’s - didn’t move like that. Flowing, graceful, with little staccato gestures layered atop the sinuous motions. It lit a fire in him, one that spread from his chest to his loins. A heat more intense than the fires of Honno-ji had been the night he almost died.

“She . . . is . . . possessed,” Hideyoshi stuttered. His face was bright red.

Quite suddenly, Nobunaga didn’t want his friend there. Didn’t want him to see the girl. To be . . . affected by her. He wanted this for himself. His desire grew in leaps and bounds.

Her legs flashed through the gap in her kimono. Thigh and calf tense as she rose and then with languorous sensuality, rolled her hips.

“You may go.” Nobunaga dismissed Hideyoshi.

“My lord, you can’t be alone with -”

“Go!”

Nobunaga’s raised voice broke the moment. The girl’s eyes flew open and her cheeks flushed a deep red. “Y-you!” She sounded half angry, half distressed. “You spied on me!”

Hideyoshi looked at his lord for a heartbeat. His body was tense as a bowstring, jaw set in firm, harsh lines. He was wise enough not to say anything as he turned on his heel and left.

Nobunaga waited for his steps to fade. His eyes were on the girl as if there was nothing else in this world to see. In that moment, there wasn’t.

She stood there, back straight, fists balled at her hips. Staring defiance at him despite her embarrassment. There was so much fire in her. Was it any wonder, Nobunaga thought, that he felt the heat?

“Why are you staring at me? What do you want?” She made the words an attack. Clipped and short.

He entered the room, slid the door shut behind him.

“I already finished my work today!”

Nobunaga smiled.

“Are you going to say something or just creep on me?”

“Please. Continue.” He gestured toward her.

Her cheeks went an even deeper shade of red. “I - No! I can’t . . . not with you - you watching!” She crossed her arms.

“You would deny me?” Nobunaga raised one eyebrow. There were few people willing to say no to him in Azuchi. Fewer that were women. Perhaps, just this one. “Most would be pleased with my regard.”

“I am not most.” If she could have struck him dead with a look, he’d have died in that moment.

Nobunaga nodded. “I know.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. She waited to see if he would back down and he wanted to see if she would give in. Finally, she sighed.

“Look. I don’t dance in front of people, ok? This is just . . . something I enjoy. For myself. I’m not some kind of professional. I can’t entertain you.”

He considered her words. Did she think he saw her as a performer? How interesting. And that was a dance of some kind. “I have never seen dance like that. What is it called? How did you come to learn it?”

His questions seemed to please her. Some of the tension bled from her shoulders. “It’s called bellydance. Though-” she laughed, “there are a lot of different kinds of dance that people call bellydancing so this is just my version.”

“And how did you come to learn it? Is it very common in Japan?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I have a dear friend that bellydances. She is much better than I am at it. She taught me some. Some I just . . . try to copy what the girls in the videos do. I’d show you what real bellydancing looks like if my phone worked here.”

“I only want to see you dance.” Nobunaga’s lips twitched up in a small smile. “I do not know this kind of dance, but I think you are very good. You should be proud of yourself.”

Something in her gaze softened at his praise. A crack in her fiery armor. “I - no, you only say that because you haven’t seen anyone else.”

“I say it because you are beautiful and talented. Now. Will you dance for me?”

He could see she was thinking it over. Reluctance warred with something else in her expression - an emotion he couldn’t pin down. Nobunaga wanted to take her by the chin and run his thumb down the line of her jaw. To meet her gaze and pierce the wall she’d put up between them since that first night at Honno-ji.

“If - and only if! I agree to dance for you, I’d have some . . . requirements.”

Nobunaga gestured for her to continue.

“I need some music to dance to. And noone else can watch. I don’t want an audience. People here already look at me strangely. And it can only be one time. Just once. I don’t want to have to dance for you whenever.” She gave him a meaningful stare.

“Done.” He didn’t want to agree to that last requirement, but perhaps she could be persuaded to change her mind later. Nobunaga was a very persuasive man.

She watched him with some suspicion but agreed to perform for him. After some discussion, they set the date for three nights hence. They would meet in his tenshu. The musicians would meet with her ahead of time so she could explain what she needed - a process she was clearly nervous about.She insisted she was no musician herself, but that she could hum the melody and give them the beat - if this was enough. Nobunaga was certain it would be. After some debate, she was satisfied - or at least, less nervous.

Then she left and Nobunaga set about planning. Azuchi had several accomplished musicians. Players of fue, drum, and koto. Even his warlords could play, as music was an important part of their education. Nobunaga just had to find a musician he wouldn’t mind sharing his little fireball with while she danced . . .

The day of the performance arrived and Nobunaga still hadn’t decided on a musician. The idea of anyone else seeing her dance displeased him. That beauty was for his eyes only, and he couldn’t bear the thought of sharing it. He’d considered and tossed aside several solutions. A screen the musician would stay behind. Putting them outside the room. Blindfolds.

Every option had a fatal flaw. The girl would know the depth of his possessiveness. His . . . interest. And, of course, there was no fool-proof way to keep someone present from peeking. So even if he were willing to reveal his own weakness where she was concerned, it would be a pointless gesture.

In the end, Nobunaga realized there was only one solution. One he should have decided the moment he came upon her dancing.

******

The chatelaine arrived in Nobunaga’s tenshu at the agreed upon time. She wore an oversized haori, hiding her clothes under the heavy silk. She was barefoot, her nails painted red, and her skin was dusted with gold, glittering in the lamplight.

“You came.” Nobunaga smiled. He’d known she would, yet it was a pleasure to see she did not continue to resist him. At least not in this.

“I said I would.” She stopped just inside the door and looked around. “Where are the musicians? I need at least a drummer . . .”

He nodded. “And you will have a drummer.” He took out a shimedaiko from one of his shelves. Until today, he hadn’t touched the drum in years. He preferred to listen to others play - those with genuine skill - but today, he would have to do.

The girl’s eyebrows rose. “You?”

Nobunaga sat and placed the drum into position. “Give me the beat and I will play.” Her skepticism only made him more determined.

She shrugged. “Alright. The rhythms are split into two sounds. A deeper Dom and a lighter Tak. This one should go . . . dom-dom tak-a-tak dom tak-a-tak.” She mimicked playing with her fingers against her thigh.

It didn’t seem a hard rhythm to play though it took him a moment to follow. Nobunaga played it for her and after a few moments she nodded.

“Ok, I can dance that.” She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. “Just try not to speed up ok?”

“I will.” Nobunaga watched as she closed her eyes, clearly remembering some other place and time. He felt a little jealous that in her world, she must have danced like this many times for all sorts of people. Her friends. Perhaps a lover. Was that what she remembered? He might have asked, but she chose this moment to shed the haori and when she did, he found himself unable to make any sound at all.

Beneath the heavy silk of the haori, she wore a kimono that she’d . . . altered. It fit tight through her chest and flared at the hips. The sides were open to reveal the smooth skin of her legs. And she wore some tasselled scarf around her hip that swayed provocatively even before she began to dance.

Nobunaga took a sharp breath as her hips lifted. Then she was moving, her legs flashing, hips swaying. Her chest rose and dipped to the rhythm he played. Tremulous waves rolled from her chest to hip, and up again.

His heart was racing and his face felt hot. It was all he could manage to continue to play the beat she’d provided. There was a connection between them in this - a bond. He didn’t want to break this spell they wove between her body and the music of his hands.

She opened her eyes and for a moment, their gazes met. Her lips were parted in a sensual breath, her cheeks were pink, and in her eyes there was a languorous heat. Her hips rolled forward and dropped, then she turned and he couldn’t see her face. Only the sinuous roll of her hips as they shook, the tassels swaying.

Nobunaga could not have looked away if his life depended on it. He wanted her dance to go on forever. And he wanted to put the drum down and pull her into his lap. Kiss her gold-dusted skin from those soft pink lips to her innermost places . . .

His thoughts colored the rhythm of the drums. Though he kept the general beat she’d asked of him, he found his hands slowing, sliding over the taught drum-skin as they would caress her flesh. It turned the sound to a sensual one. Less staccato and more glide.

Her body followed the changes, moving in slow, tense circles. She danced around Nobunaga, letting the edges of her skirt brush against him. Every touch sent a shock of need through him, a desire he’d never felt for any other woman.

The air between them was hot, crackling with shared passion. Nobunaga felt he would burst if it went on, but he couldn’t bear to stop. The fires in his heart flowed to every limb. He burned for his fireball. He ached.

She knew the effect she had on him. Her lips were turned up in a small, pleased smile. Teasing, she shimmied her chest, bending, dipping just out of his reach. Or so she thought.

Nobunaga could resist her no longer. He stopped playing and reached for her. His delicious little fireball. She squealed as his fingers curled around her waist.

“Wicked girl,” he said hoarsely, barely trusting himself to speak. He wanted to kiss her.

“T-this wasn’t part of the deal,” she gasped.

“Do you always look so delicious when you dance? Or only when you dance for me?” Nobunaga’s fingers trailed down her shoulder. The thin fabric did nothing to disguise the heat of her skin beneath.

The girl squirmed as if she would like to escape, but only wound up with an arm over his shoulder, and a leg around his waist. “You! What? I - I don’t look . . . “ Her pleasure at the compliment warred with her anger at being manhandled.

Nobunaga simply held her loosely, enjoying the way she moved against him. “I cannot decide if you tease me intentionally and I should be wary of you, or if you are simply this adorable.” He stroked her arm, though he wanted to do so much more. He knew she would resist him, run from him, if he did. Patience was the way to make this little fireball his own. Force would only extinguish her flames.

Her lips opened and closed as if she’d been about to say something, then changed her mind.

“When we are alone, you can say whatever you will to me,” he told her.

“Well. Well I don’t intend to be alone with you! Lecher!” She pushed against his chest and he reluctantly let her go.

Nobunaga watched her as she straightened her clothes and shrugged the haori back on.

She glared at him.

“Thank you for dancing for me. I will count the days until your next performance.” He would have her here every night, he thought.

“No. No. This was a one-time deal. Besides, I told you! I’m not an entertainer! I dance because . . . because it reminds me of home. Of happy times. It makes me feel beautiful and strong and . . .” She looked down, unwilling to meet his gaze.

Nobunaga stood. He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head to face him. “You are always beautiful and strong.”

Her eyes were wet with tears she refused to shed. He hadn’t realized she missed her home so very much.

“I cannot-” He paused. Nobunaga hated admitting he couldn’t do something. “I cannot give you back your home. But I will do all in my power to see you safe and happy, here.”

She flung her arms around him and pressed her face to his chest. He could feel her tears soaking the cloth of his kimono. Though comforting was not his best skill, Nobunaga wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back as she cried.

“I . . . I miss my friends. My m-mom,” she wept.

Nobunaga kissed the top of her head lightly. “I would be a friend to you. If you let me.”

She took a shuddering breath and looked up at him. “I - I will. Under all that scariness, you aren’t so bad.”

“Scariness?”

The girl laughed softly. “Yep. And . . . I guess Hideyoshi can be my Sengoku mom. He’s not really scary either.”

Nounaga wiped her cheek with his thumb, removing a tear drop before it could fall. “He mothers us all.” This earned him a brighter smile.

She lifted up on the tips of her toes and brushed a light kiss across his lips. “Thank you.” Then she was gone. Out the door and down the steps.

Nobunaga still felt the warmth of her against his chest. And the petal-soft touch of her lips.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen nobunaga #oda nobunaga #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #bellydance #fluff

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lynkhart · 3 years

Text

MAJOR spoilers for the C2 finale of Critical Role so read at your own risk of you haven’t caught up!

I have so many feelings regarding Caleb and Essek’s intertwining character arcs I needed to explore, so strap in folks, you’re in for a bit of a ride! (But seriously though, this is like 4000 words long, I basically wrote an essay 😂)

At the start of the campaign, Caleb Widogast was dripping in guilt and self loathing and refused to believe he could ever absolve himself of his sins. Essek Thelyss was a cold, aloof individual who betrayed his people for selfish goals, and their differing yet mirrored narratives have been an absolute delight to watch unfold.

In the beginning Caleb truly hated himself. He shot down any attempt at a compliment, described himself as a ‘disgusting person’, outright rejected the idea that he was worthy of love, and never let the blame shift from him for what he’d done. When Beauregard and Veth/Nott pointed out that he was coerced and manipulated into killing his parents, he reacts in an incredibly visceral way, and I’ve seen several comments likening it to a victim of child abuse who was groomed into believing they were as responsible as their abuser, and I think that’s exactly how it was meant to be read. He doesn’t see himself as a victim, only a murderer, and punishes himself for it every day. We see this in the way he presents himself, dirty and unkempt because in his mind he doesn’t deserve to feel good about himself in any way. Other than Nott/Veth and Beau to a certain degree, he purposefully isolates himself from the rest of the group and it’s a long time until he feels relaxed enough in their company to drop his defences a little.

(Speaking from a purely meta point of view, Liam did an absolutely phenomenal job of showing this through body language and I’d love to see someone do a compilation video of it. He starts off very hunched and guarded, leaning his body away from the closest person to him and avoiding eye contact and physical touch; but by the end stands tall and sure of himself.)

Early on there were a few moments where he had the option to do some pretty dark shit, and I’m sure there’s a possible timeline where he gave into his desire for revenge and really lost his way, but I’m glad he stuck it out and worked through his trauma in the way he did. His PTSD and disassociation when casting with fire was tragic, but over time he was able to work through it thanks to the constant love and support of his friends who kept him from going off at the deep end.

Molly’s death was the catalyst for change in a lot of the party, and Caleb is no exception. On the verge of leaving the group prior to his death, the grief they shared, combined with their frantic attempt to rescue the other half of their party put things in perspective and gradually he learned how to be a person again, to care.

Altering time to save his family had been Caleb’s only goal in life, and so when Essek and by extension, dunamancy was introduced, you could see his eyes light up at the possibilities.

A huge turning point for him is aligned so closely with Essek’s redemption arc which feels quite apt I think. When Essek confesses to his crimes, Caleb delivers a beautifully iconic piece of dialogue where he acknowledges their similarities and how much he himself has changed as a person since meeting the Mighty Nein. (Source - CR wiki)

‘You listen to me. I know what you are talking about. I know. And the difference between you and I is thinner than a razor. I know what it means to have other people complicate your desires and wishes. And I was like you. Was. I know what a fool I have been for years. You didn't account for us. Good. That is life. Shit hits you sideways in life and no one is prepared. No one is ready. These people changed me. These people can change you. You were not born with venom in your veins. You learned it. You learned it. You have a rare opportunity here, Thelyss. One chance to save yourself, and we are offering it.’

This is not the same Caleb we met back in the Nestled Nook inn way back in the first episode. While not yet fulfilled or entirely convinced of his own worth, he knows he’s on the right path. That alone is progress enough, but that he uses his own experiences to help another escape those same chains of guilt says such a lot for his development. When he tells Essek that his ‘venom’ was learned, he’s also talking about himself and his own history of being manipulated and gaslit, with the implication being that it can be un-learned just as efficiently.

Caleb Widogast is selfish no more, or at the very least, doesn’t let his goals undermine anyone else’s anymore. Contrary to what he himself might still think, he is in no way a bad person. He loves fiercely and cannot abide seeing those he cares about in pain.

Early game Essek is what Caleb could have been if he’d rejected his friends and focused solely on his own selfish goal to undo his mistakes. Both are impassive at first and see the Mighty Nein as means to an end...until they get to know them and then their fate is sealed. The Power of Friendship wins once again!

At the beginning Caleb said he wanted to ‘bend reality to my will’ (sic) and in the end he does just that, though not in the way he originally intended. Destroying the T-Dock, and by extension the one thing he’d been building towards from the start, the chance to go back and change time, for me personally was the absolute peak of his journey. I rewatched the scene where Caleb revealed the truth about his parents death today, and it was really jarring to see just how far he’d come since then. It made me oddly proud actually.

I always felt like his plan to save his parents was the one thing holding him back from truly accepting their deaths, which is why the final scene of him in the cemetery with the letters for them hit so hard. He never truly gave up hope that they’d be reunited, but ultimately he realised he was merely postponing the inevitable and never allowing himself to live his own life. While time travel shenanigans would have been incredibly interesting to explore in game, choosing to let the past lie and not go back for them finally allows him to grieve and move on, and perhaps most importantly of all, to forgive himself at last.

I know some people were annoyed by Caleb’s decision in the finale to spend the rest of his life teaching rather than continuing to adventure, but I see it as the natural conclusion to his whole arc and his own personal victory.

He looked Trent Ikithon in the eyes, a man who he’d spent years wanting to kill and run from in equal measure, stripped him of his power and his voice (and ultimately his ability to harm anyone else) and finally spared his life so he had to live with the indignity of his defeat for the rest of his miserable existence. You couldn’t have asked for a more damning rejection of everything he’d been brainwashed into believing as a child. His dismissal of Trent’s position in the Assembly played into that as well. He never really wanted power for the sake of it; he had no desire for politics, he just wanted his family back, and while he didn’t get the one he started with, he made a new one for himself in the end.

As Caduceus once very wisely said:

‘Pain doesn’t make people; it's love that makes people. The pain is inconsequential; it's love that saves them.’

Caleb gets to break the cycle of abuse and teach a new generation of mages the way he should have been, with kindness and respect, and I’m pretty sure he’d have introduced a handsome drow as a guest lecturer from time to time. 😉

Speaking of...

Essek described himself as selfish and as a coward, forever putting his own wants and desires first, yet over the course of his journey with the Nein we see his priorities change drastically.

Having friends gives him people to care about, something he’s never had before, and it changes his outlook on life completely. For me, the first time we really see this is when he joins them for dinner in the Xorhaus and stops levitating. It’s a subtle thing, but meaningful. He explains that it had become an expectation of him, a quirk he’s known for, and so to feel comfortable enough around the Nein to drop that pretence is quite bold I think.

Much later, when he chooses to destroy the mini beacon they discover in Aeor in order to give everyone a long rest before the final confrontation with Lucian, he’s essentially giving up everything he betrayed his people for, just to keep his friends safe. The existence and context of that single artefact could have had an earthshattering impact on the Dynasty’s entire culture, forcing them to reevaluate their entire belief system and attitude to the Luxon, something he’d wanted from the start, something he helped start a war for, but he offered it up as a sacrifice without a second thought.

I’d say that’s a pretty big morality shift, and I’m super interested to see if Matt reveals if his alignment changed in the post campaign Q&A. I have a feeling he set him up as a potential BBEG but the party was like ‘no, you can’t have him, he’s ours now’ and that was the end of that. 😂

I think it says so much about the other characters too, that they befriended this person they barely knew, and when he was revealed to have done such terrible things, their first reaction was to give him comfort and an opportunity to atone. Jester held his hand while he confessed, and afterwards, while they didn’t immediately forgive him, they saw the good in him and wanted him to be better, which ultimately feels like what the entire campaign was about, leaving places (and people) better than they found them. It’s obvious that he’s never really had many friends before and has therefore never had the opportunity to be emotionally open with anyone, so seeing him gradually warm up to the Nein and allow himself to soften around them was really lovely to watch.

(Obviously, from a realistic moral perspective, he still fucked up big time. He’s still a godsdamned war criminal and really should have been put on trial for what he did, but I think from a narrative and personal point of view, his redemption arc was far more satisfying, so I’m glad it happened the way it did. (And not to derail but the rest of the gang have done some pretty horrific stuff as well, though perhaps not quite on the same scale)

He has a few moments towards the end that I absolutely love because they show that beneath the guilt and anguish, there’s an incredibly sweet and sensitive soul in there, just wanting acceptance. His dry jokes which often don’t quite hit, (the ‘I will punish the bakery’ line is such an under-appreciated one 😂) his simple joy at learning to garden in the Blooming Grove, and realising that he’d never been asked what his favourite food was before was actually kind of heartbreaking, because it highlighted how lonely his life must have been until that time. There was a moment pretty early on I think when he cast disguise on the party and Jester asked if he could cast it again to change the look of her outfit a bit and while he seemed to find it amusing, he refused, not wanting to waste a spell on such a frivolous request. Cut to their time in Aeor where he burns a fly spell just so he and Caleb can flirtatiously swoop around each other for a couple of minutes, all the while trying to beat Lucian to the city.

His breakdown when Molly’s resurrection failed really cemented to me how much he’d grown as a character. He never met Molly, his only knowledge of him was secondhand, through the eyes of his friends, but seeing it fail just broke him because he knew how much it hurt them to go through it all over again.

His comment to Caleb about not admitting defeat and wishing he could do more did get me wondering at the time if he was going to try and do something crazy, perhaps sacrificing himself via the Temporal Dock to make amends or somehow forcing another reroll, but I’m glad he didn’t. The conversation following that with Fjord was one of my favourites- he shows him acceptance and belief in his potential for the future, something he’s lacked for a long time, and when Caleb bluntly affirms afterwards that he is indeed an official member of the Mighty Nein, it’s the start of the rest of his life, and something he’s exceptionally grateful for.

It all leads to that final moment in Aeor with Caleb, when, presented with the opportunity to alter time and undo everything, he chooses to accept his decisions and carry the weight of his sins for the rest of his long life. That’s...huge.

He’s essentially choosing to live the rest of his existence as a fugitive, forever on the run, with no guaranteed peace or safety. He chooses to spend his life making up for his deeds, rather than looking for an easy way out.

I think that may have had a big impact on why Caleb ultimately made the same decision, as if Essek had been up for altering his timeline I think he’d have struggled to resist it himself. The conversation they had earlier in Aeor about their priorities and resisting temptation really comes to mind as well.

Now, to the relationship.

It was subtle, and not as ‘in your face’ obvious as the other characters, but I’ve been watching and hoping for a long time and I must say, it feels good to be vindicated.

(And if you have any doubt, both Matt and Liam confirmed on Twitter that their post finale relationship was 100% romantic)

I’d been hoping that Shadowgast would be a canon endgame relationship for a while, so the finale, and the aforementioned T-Dock scene in particular had me quite literally shaking with emotion as I watched live. Here you have two men, both damaged and guilt-stricken in their own ways, who find in each other a kindred spirit and a path to redemption.

They’re both very guarded and closed off people, but Essek in particular has a definite shift in the last arc of the campaign especially when it came to his interactions with Caleb. At the start he was quite aloof and stoic, though charming, and they had an instant connection through their shared love of the arcane, (anyone who couldn’t see them making heart eyes at each other when Essek was describing the different types of magic he could teach Caleb was clearly blind) but by the end he was incredibly open to showing his vulnerabilities and that takes a lot, especially for someone whose primary focus was to stay in control of every aspect of his life. The ‘Caleb, I’m scared’ moment during the Trent fight in particular made my heart ache.

No, we didn’t get a dramatic declaration of love or a cinematic mid-battle kiss, but I’d argue that their relationship was just as, if not more intimate than any of the other main characters were. They understood each other in a way the others didn’t, their shared guilt, feelings of inadequacy and their obsession with magic forged a deep connection from the get-go. Neither of them are big fans of PDA I think, though Caleb is tactile as hell (forehead touches and kisses, oh man, I’m so weak for those 😩👌) and some of their most iconic moments have them putting themselves in harm’s way to protect the other. Essek shaking off his forced guilt trip immediately after the now infamous forehead touch in ep140 was beautifully poetic, as was using his fortune’s favour to pull Caleb out of the rubble moments before. Caleb trying to include him in his Sphere of Invulnerability in the finale and Essek staying close to him the whole fight despite being obviously terrified of Trent was the icing on the cake. It’s clear that they care for each other a great deal; whether by the finale they’d consider it love is up for debate, but we know that’s eventually where it ended up and honestly, I love that. I deeply appreciated the fact Matt and Liam both emphasised that they took their time with their relationship, letting each other heal in their own way before they took the next step. All too often in media, and real life too sadly, a romantic relationship is seen as some kind of quick fix, and that a lover will somehow complete you or make all your problems vanish. They knew this wasn’t the case here, and that made it all the better.

While I would have *loved* to have seen them together as a couple right to the very end, the change in their relationship felt right, if bittersweet. I doubt they ever stopped loving each other, and if anything, choosing to shift to a deep and lifelong friendship over a romance that would cause them both so much pain is one of the kindest things you could do for someone you love. After all, friendship isn’t a downgrade, just another way of experiencing that same love, and it wasn’t as though they broke up and never saw each other again, it was pretty strongly implied that they remained a major feature in each other’s lives, they just changed their label slightly. Caleb would hate to have forced Essek to watch him wither away, and although his eventual passing would hurt Essek regardless, incompatible lifespans being what they are, having a period of time to adjust to it, to give them a buffer between the inevitable heartbreak was actually really sweet.

Their romance was no accident, they knew going in that it had a time limit, that it wasn’t going to be forever for one of them, and the fact they did it anyway says so much. They began their adventure wholeheartedly believing that they were both, in their own way incapable of love, only to later find it with each other. Whether their relationship lasted for a couple of years or multiple decades is irrelevant, what matters is that while it did they had a happy and fulfilled life together.

I know some folk wanted Caleb to use the transmogrification spell on himself so he could live on with Essek as another elf, or make him human instead, but that would have been way out of character for both I think. If they could have backwards engineered one of the rejuvenation stations in Aeor and used it to extend Caleb’s life by a hundred years or so, so he’d have a similar lifespan to Veth, now, I could have seen him possibly doing that, so he could spend more time with his best friend too, but nothing further I think. He longed to be reunited with his parents too much to postpone death unnaturally like that.

That both Caleb and Essek ultimately chose to live with their mistakes and make peace with themselves was incredibly cathartic, and I couldn’t imagine it playing out any better.

The fact Matt has explicitly stated Essek is Demi too means so much to me personally because the latter is a label I’ve been identifying with a lot recently, and it’s so rare for aspec relationships to get any representation! It has honestly given me a lot to think about over the last few days, and I really appreciate it.

To conclude, here’s a bit of shameless self promotion. I wrote this after watching the finale and honestly feel like it sums up my feelings on the nature of their relationship pretty well.

‘A casual hand on a shoulder, a waist, a wrist; a gentle kiss placed on a forehead is common between them now, an intimacy born of trust and mutual affection. Over time it grows, like a fire born of seasoned timber; gradual and steady, no spluttering kindling that flares and sparks, but a slow burn, one which lasts.

Their love is embroidered into every aspect of their lives together. Acts of service, of comfort, of understanding.

Sometimes a kiss leads to more than a kiss, sometimes it doesn’t. Either way they are content.‘

So yeah, I love these two wizard boys so very much and I couldn’t be happier with the conclusion of their stories. ❤️

#Critical Role #Critical Role Spoilers #CR Spoilers #shadowgast #Essek thelyss #Caleb Widogast #C2ep141 #C2ep141 spoilers #critical role finale

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Who Are You (and what will you become?)

1(you are here)| 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: “Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.”

The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side.

“So tell me, M. Wayne, why do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?” (all biodad bruce can be read as stand alone but are posted in chronological order)

__________________________________________________

At the tender age of nineteen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng has already become a jaded woman. It doesn’t shine through very often, hidden behind a carefully crafted facade of Parisian-brand carefree attractiveness and pigtailed youthfulness, but there exists, in Marinette, a certain bitterness.

“For a vigilante, you’re not very secretive,” Marinette remarks, keeping her tone measured, almost playful, so as not to draw attention to herself.

“Marinette.” Bruce inclines his head and allows the bartender to serve him a whiskey sour. He doesn’t drink alcohol because it alters his mental state in ways that are unpleasant, but ordering a drink helps him fit in, and with Marinette, the person he wants to talk to, right at his side, he can’t have his normal ginger ale substitute. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mmm.” She takes a sip of her French 75, playing up an interest that Bruce knows is a lie. “M. Wayne, you say that as though we’re familiar with each other.”

“Sabine and I were close,” he says.

Sabine is one of the few people who knew about his existence as Batman that didn’t live in Gotham. Many years ago, they were friends. Colleagues. (More.) Of course she told her daughter about who he was. How could she not have?

Sabine is-- she was--

“Close, you call it,” she says with mock awe, words slurring together. “Closer than close, really. Too close for comfort— at least, too close for you.”

When Bruce and Sabine’s paths crossed all those years ago, he was struggling trying to raise Dick. Sabine was equal parts a mother and a mentor to Dick in all the ways that Bruce couldn’t be. When she left for Paris so abruptly after the two of them parted ways, Dick didn’t take it very well. Even moreso when communications halted permanently. The fact that the radio silence coincided with Marinette’s birth is something only Bruce is privy to.

However awkwardly he and Sabine left off, it doesn’t change the facts. Bruce’s lips thin. “I’m here to offer you a home.”

Swirling her French, Marinette taps at her phone, swiping away at a few messages that she’s not interested in. “I’m nineteen and more than capable of taking care of myself. Though I suppose it stands to reason that it would be difficult for you to know that, what with how busy your extracurriculars keep you.”

“I’m not doubting your capabilities.” He’s looked into what Marinette has been up to over the past nineteen years of her life. He’s never been particularly concerned with her upbringing, not with a woman like Sabine at the helm of her childhood. Bruce was right not to be worried; Marinette has grown into a multi talented, extremely well connected entrepreneur based on her own hard work. Judging by the crowd that she runs with and the multiple charities that she supports both financially and with her own time, she will be a force to be reckoned with in a few years; Tim regularly extols the virtues of the brand MDC, and if he knew that he was sisters with the designer, he’d never stop raving about her. MDC is already being compared to the likes of Dior and Gabriel when they were first starting out. Her finances aren’t anything to scoff at, and at a few galas and charity parties that he’s had to entertain, anyone who's had the privilege to wear an MDC original talks about how sweet and kind the head designer is while complimenting the CEO’s business savvy.

Bruce has to admit that he’s impressed by how she manages to keep her identities separate. No one suspects the head designer to also be manning publicity and business.

He’s been watching her for the past day, and he has to say, for somebody whose parents just died, she carries herself with remarkable ease. If not for the red around her eyes and line of shots on the bartop, Bruce would believe that Tom and Sabine’s death didn’t phase her at all.

“There’s a but, isn’t there?” Marinette says bitterly.

She’s right in that assumption. As skillful as Marinette is in her field, she has no practical combat experience. A brief stint in fencing and martial arts but nothing beyond that. Even if she practiced martial arts for years, that wouldn’t be enough to convince Bruce to let her go off on her own. Martial arts as a hobby is an entirely different game than fighting for one’s life.

Marinette is simply not the kind of person who can face down a League member and come out of it alive.

“It’s for your safety.”

For the first time since entering the bar, Bruce sees a flash of true emotion cross Marinette’s eyes. It’s hard to see the color of her eyes in the dim lighting, but it’s impossible not to see Sabine in how her eyes narrow. Perhaps the dim lighting makes it easier to; in the light of day, Marinette’s eye color— it’s too similar to the shade he sees in the mirror.

“My safety? What about my parent’s safety?”

At that, Bruce internally cringes while keeping his face carefully blank. Tom and Sabine… their end wasn’t pretty. Not the most gruesome deaths he’s ever seen, but it was up there. Bruce never thought the League would do something as cruel as desecrating the corpses of the people they murdered. They may be assassins for hire, but most times, they do have some sort of morals.

The worst part about it is that their death is most likely a result of Sabine’s past relationship with him. Last month, a tabloid that drew comparisons between Marinette and Bruce. It didn’t take long for another person to dredge up pictures from when he was still with Sabine. Tom and Sabine didn’t have enemies well-off enough to hire the League. But Bruce? Bruce did.

“I’m not interested in any protection you have to offer me.” Marinette shakes her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not like you. I won’t become a vigilante out of rage or as a coping mechanism. I’m not going to go chasing after the League in a foolish pursuit of misguided justice.”

But Marinette doesn’t understand. She has a target on her back with her newfound association to him.

“I haven’t been active in your life--”

“Understatement of the year,” Marinette mutters.

“--but I’m not going to let you die when I can prevent it.”

Downing the rest of her French, she takes the Moscow Mule away from Bruce’s hands, eyeing the liquor up on display. She drinks the cold alcohol and revels in the burn that slides down her throat. Marinette swipes on one of the notifications she’s received on her phone in order to respond to it. “You’re a good man, Bruce. But your desire to protect me— what does it stem from? What do we have in common? Why would you use your time and effort on what’s essentially a stranger?”

Bruce has no good answer for this, but he has an obvious one. As soon as it leaves his tongue, it feels wrong. “We share the same blood.”

He can’t bring himself to call Marinette his daughter. That means that he would be her father and he’s not deserving of that title.

Marinette pockets her phone, eyes trained on a set of unusually shaped glasses on the shelves. “If that’s your answer, M. Wayne, let me tell you something. Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.”

The bartender comes around and tops off the whiskey sour. The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side. Bruce can’t tell whether the bartender knows Marinette or not, but he certainly looks concerned enough to, with how his eyes shift between Marinette and himself rapid fire. When the bartender’s gaze settles on Bruce, mouth turned downward, clearly suspicious of his presence, Marinette just waves him off with a gentle smile.

Her smile turns up the same way Tom’s did. She’s right; family is more than blood.

“Your answer to why you want to protect me is that we share blood, but you speak nothing of our relationship. Shouldn’t that have been the first thing you brought up?”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably on the bar stool. Marinette just laughs at his apparent awkwardness. “Talking of blood relations seems to be something you don’t enjoy, and yet the entire premise of your protection rests on it. Tell me, M. Wayne, do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?”

Even as inebriated as Marinette must be, she brings up points that he himself wondered on his way to Paris. Wanting to see Marinette safe goes beyond a simple duty to morality and virtue. Though Bruce is known for adopting kids with tragic backstories, it simply isn’t feasible to adopt every single one he comes across. To bring Marinette into his family at this age, to expose her to the life he lives would be beyond cruel. In essence he’d be replacing two parents with a ticking time bomb: himself.

“Don’t consider me a parent, just a guardian. It’s in my best interest to see you safe, and the best way to do that is to have you move to Gotham, where my colleagues and I can assure you around the clock protection.”

At first, he distanced himself from Sabine and Marinette because he didn’t want to disrupt her current relationship with Tom. Even if the two of them insisted that he could still be part of Marinette’s life, it just didn’t feel right to have the title of father when he wasn’t the one to put in any of the hard work. Then, as Tom and Sabine grew more comfortable in their life together, settled down and opened up a bakery, he was blindsided by Jason’s death. As his daughter grew older and older, there were just too many things in his own life for him to ever hope to kindle a relationship with Marinette.

Marinette laughs, but it’s really more of a bark. Her voice is too hoarse for it to come out any other way. Bruce can’t imagine how much she’s cried this past week. “If you wanted to keep me safe, where were you a week ago? Where were you two years ago? Where were you when I was thirteen? M. Wayne, I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you throughout the years, and I’ve always brushed them off as nothing more than tabloid gossip. But perhaps they got one thing right about you: you’re a liar.”

Marinette stands, swaying slightly.

“This— if you truly want me to uproot my life, I need more than you saying it’s in your best interest. I need—” Marinette reaches up to her earrings and allows her eyes to flutter shut. She needs more than a distant guardian. She needs someone to confide in. Someone she trusts. “It was nice meeting you, but I don’t need your pity. Not now.”

As she weaves through the crowd, Bruce can’t help but wonder whether he made the right decision all those years ago to not be apart of her life.

@biodad-bruce-month

Late to the game as always. This will be a multichapter fic but all parts can be read as one shots (and also as always anything posted to tumblr is never checked for accuracy and stuff so whoop)! They’ll be released in chronological order. If you want to get tagged in all things maribat, instead of commenting it under a fic, I’d appreciate an ask or a dm instead! I haven’t been able to go back through all the previous comments and create a taglist yet but perhaps. eventually.

#bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #first meeting #maribat #bio!dad bruce #marinette dupain cheng #bruce wayne #referenced character death #aged up! marinette #miraculous ladybug #dcu

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stardust-kenobi · 4 years

Text

First

Obi Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Obi Wan finds out that you’re a virgin after an evening with him at the bar. You asked him if he would be your first.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: vanilla smut, soft obi wan🥺

A/N: This wasn’t requested. I do have a few requests I have received that I will be working on this week. This one was mostly taken from a fic I wrote with a different character a while back. It was edited to fit Obi Wan💕

gif cred: @princessxkenobi

The liquor coated your throat as you threw back the remains of your fourth, unnecessarily strong drink. Your eyes met the dark, dimly lit ceiling of the bar as your head was tilted backward. You weren’t wincing at the awful flavor anymore as your taste buds became practically numb. You confidently slammed the glass onto the bar, nonverbally announcing you were ready for some more alcohol.

The very busy bartender was quick to replace your glass, reminding himself of the money he’d be making off of you this evening. Your best friend, Obi Wan, had accompanied you to the bar tonight. It was not often that he’d let loose but this evening, he’d thrown a few drinks back himself. Anakin had joined you two as well, but he left so that he could spend some quality time with Padme. The two of you remained in the bustling and rowdy crowd, clinging to the bar and chatting the time away.

An odd looking, clearing intoxicated man approached you on the left. Obi Wan stood next to you on your right.

“Hello, pretty thing” he slurred his words. You attempted to scoot away from him. Obi Wan had not noticed his presence yet.

“I said hello” he repeated himself, this time with a sour, demanding attitude.

“I’m not interested” your words were blank and empty of emotion. Obi Wan perked up, now fully aware of the situation.

“Bitch” the man spat at you.

“Excuse me. what is the problem here?” Obi Wan intervened, thankfully.

“This whore right here. That’s the problem” his verbal hostility heightened the dramatic nature of the situation. Obi Wan moved to step in front of you and protect you, he opened his mouth to defend you but he was rudely interrupted.

“What? Is she fucking you? Is that why she won’t fuck me?” He inquired, putting harsh emphasis on his words.

“Alright I think it best if you le-” Obi Wan began, fully prepared to physically throw this man out of the bar if necessary. A fun, drunk driven idea found its way into your thought process.

“Yes, we are” You interrupted proudly and shot to your feet from the bar stool. You turned to Obi Wan behind you and flashed him a please-go-along-with-this look. His expression was still angry.

“Aren’t we, Obi Wan?” You continue and wrap your arm around him sloppily and place your other hand on his slightly exposed chest.

You felt the effect of the alcohol intensify as you moved. Obi Wan’s expression had transformed from pure irritation directed at the man, to satisfaction directed at you and your newly formed plan.

“Yeah.. You heard her” Obi Wan attempted to sell the lie while you’re wrapped around him. You could tell he was drunk too. It was subtle, but you’d been around him enough to pick up on his inebriated signals.

“Prove it” The man blurts out suddenly. Obi Wan looks down at you clinging to him with a clueless look on his sweet face. You assume he has no idea how to play this out and decide to take it into your own hands. There was no time to give silent messages to each other now. You moved your face toward his, tension growing exponentially. You grasped his shirt and pulled him into you. Your uncoordinated motions caused your lips to crash onto his harder than you’d intended. Nonetheless, Obi Wan’s lips moved so passionately against yours.

Although this kiss was all for show, you felt a warm tingling feeling in your stomach. The man stood next to the two of you and watched, completely speechless. You smirked slightly against Obi Wan’s lips, silently communicating to him. You move your hand from his chest to his groin and grope him firmly. Obi Wan jumped at the contact then groans quietly into your mouth. After a few long seconds of passionate kissing, you pulled away with a sly look on your face. You nodded your head and raise an eyebrow to the man’s annoyed face. You turn back to Obi Wan, observing a surprised, yet satisfied look plastered across his expression.

“Ah that ain’t nothing, y’all just made out” He said, tremendously unconvinced and displeased. You threw your hands up in frustration and Obi Wan belted out a hardy laugh for more reasons than one. Normally this would be out of character for him. His mood would have turned way too serious very quickly had that situation occurred while he was sober.

“Seriously? Do you want to watch us fuck for you to be convinced?” You rhetorically ask him, hoping he wasn’t actually going to say yes. Your filthy words were shocking to you as they flew off your tongue. Obi Wan jolted his attention to you, you didn’t see it, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Really I just want to see you without any clothes on, so yeah sweetheart that would be great” He responded, earning an uproar of laughter from himself.

“Fine, we’re going to right now. But you’re not coming, sir” You announced. You wrapped your fingers into Obi Wan’s hair and plant another kiss on his lips before guiding him by the hand around the corner that was unoccupied and lacking light.

Once you both had escaped the man’s presence and came around the corner, both of you broke character.

“What are we doing, y/n?” He whispered and giggled drunkenly, following you closely.

“Shh let’s just get in here” You suggested. Your mind began to wander as you contemplate whether you were ready to lose your virginity tonight. The idea both terrified and excited you simultaneously. Was this still a joke? Was it serious now? Everything was a little blurry for you at the moment.

You both scurried into the unoccupied area and you peak around one last time to make sure you weren’t followed. Once you found yourself in the quiet and darkness, all you could see was a silhouette of Obi Wan’s figure and his crystal blue eyes somehow still glistening. There was silence as you admired him in this setting.

“So…are we really gonn-” Obi Wan started to inquire.

“Oh no!” You cut him off and instantly realized how harsh your words came out of your mouth.

“Right, right. Of course, that was stupid, I shouldn’t have asked that” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, displaying his slight embarrassment for asking. You then felt heavy guilt on your shoulders for reacting in such a way. You wanted Obi Wan, more than any other man you’d known, but you were afraid of losing your innocence. Especially not when you weren’t prepared for it. It was your nerves speaking, not your true desires.

“Obi Wan…” You began. He motioned politely for you to stop explaining yourself before you even start.

“Y/n you don’t have to say anything, really” Obi Wan said apologetically.

“Let me.” You firmly demanded. “Look, Obi Wan. I know we were doing this as a joke to mess with him, but i’m a little drunk right now and I just feel like telling you this.” You fiddled with your fingers for a moment then looked at him. You weren’t sure if he could see your nervousness. “I’m a virgin” you stated suddenly and boldly, getting it out, finally.

Obi Wan looked at you for a moment and you’re almost able to read his mind through his gestures. He didn’t know what to say, that much was obvious.

“Oh. I see.” He finally broke the silence. He rubbed his beard softly. “Why haven’t you ever told me that?” He inquired, sounding offended and hurt that his very close friend never mentioned her sexual history.

“I was…ashamed…I don’t know” You weren’t sure what to say at this point. You leaned against the wall and hide your face in your hands. Truly you had no need to feel ashamed but you present yourself as such a mature woman at times, you felt a fool for admitting you had no experience in that specific department.

“Y/n, you have nothing to be ashamed about” He assured you softly and places his hand on the wall above your head. He was dangerously close to your face, you could smell the hint of liquor on his breath that was also present on yours.

“I know, I just…I want to, y’know…have sex” You continued. “but I haven’t had the opportunity with someone I really care about.” You kept your focus on the ground below you and feel Obi Wan’s hand rest on your shoulder to provide emotional support. You could tell that his offered consolation was hesitant as he grew nervous for what he’d say next.

“I care about you, darling” Obi Wan began, “and I think you’re…” He paused for a moment and audibly swallowed, “absolutely beautiful.” The last words trailed off toward the end. He was too shy to confidently express his admiration, even with his altered mind. You blushed, of course unnoticed by Obi Wan in this low lighting. “And I’m not just saying that because we’re both drunk, I really feel that way” he continued. You smiled softly and turned your attention to him. He met your eyes in the same moment, reading your mind in the same way you were able to read his before.

His hand slowly grasped your face, gently pulling you closer to him. He was trembling subtly. Your heart began to flutter as it did when you first kissed, except this time it felt deeper, and more real. His soft lips graced yours so tenderly. There was a level of passion in this kiss that you’d never felt in your life and you soaked in every bit of it. You allowed your lips to dance with his for as long as you both allowed in that moment.

You pulled away, and nervously breathed out.

“I’m glad that one was real” He chuckled.

“Me too” You agreed and leaned into his arms. “Obi Wan?” you requested his attention.

“Yeah, y/n?”

“When I decide that I’m ready, would you be my first?” You spilled out of your mouth. You feared what he might say in response.

“I’d love to, Y/n.” He flashed a friendly, comforting smile. “It would be an honor” He confirmed and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Somehow this conversation was more heartwarming than sexual. You knew he cared about you so deeply and for you to ask him that probably made him happy knowing you trust him in that way.

“We should probably stay back here a little longer, maybe that guy will get bored and leave.” You suggested. Obi Wan nods in agreement.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it if he tries to bother you again” he firmly reassured you.

In the weeks that followed that unexpected night, you and Obi Wan had developed a beautiful, slow paced relationship. For a while, it was unofficial and overall, unsure. The flirting skyrocketed and the constant sexual tension grew more obvious to you with every moment you spent near each other. One night when the moons glowed brighter than usual, and everything felt right, Obi Wan told you how much he really loved you, and officially asked you to be his, making you feel complete. You two, of course, had to keep the business of your courtship a secret, considering he was a Jedi, and all. Most people assumed you were only friends, as you always had been. You were still a virgin, and Obi Wan was willing to wait as long as you needed.

“You’re worth it, y/n” he would always remind you.

You were once faced with a difficult situation regarding the secrecy of your relationship when you were approached by Mace Windu, asking for an explanation of your extended amount of time with Obi Wan. Somehow, you were able to lie to a Jedi and get away with it, but it surely was a close call. To Master Windu’s surprise, Obi Wan very sternly put him in his place about interrogating you. This put quite the strain on their relationship. But again, Obi Wan assured you,

“You’re worth it, y/n”.

This altercation forced the two of you to be more secretive in the future.

That was a week ago. Today, It was a calm, pleasant day. The sun was peeking through the infrastructure and partially shining through the balcony in Obi Wan’s room, a good indication that it was approaching dawn. Obi Wan was peacefully still snoozing off the previous night. You’d stayed the night with him unintentionally. You’d been there late, and fell asleep on his couch. He covered you in a fleece blanket and let you sleep rather than waking you and making you leave. Although the sun crept itself onto Obi Wan’s relaxed face through the wide balcony and neighboring window, he remained at rest. You sat in the chair next the bed, legs curled up, watching his chest gently rise and fall, admiring the sound of his peaceful breathing.

You studied the lining of his jaw that was speckled with thick hair, yet still so soft. His lips were ever so slightly parted. You smiled to yourself and turned your attention back to the rising sun. You became so lost in your thoughts you were slightly startled by Obi Wan’s voice.

“Good morning, love” His voice was gruff, sleepy, and so adorable. You turn around to look at his fatigued smile and head still rested on his pillow.

“Good morning, Obi Wan” You sweetly replied. “It’s a beautiful day and you’re lazy butt is just sleeping it away” you teased.

“Get over here, you” He chuckled and pulled the covers back with enough room for you to snuggle in there with him. You happily obliged.

You placed your back to his bare chest, asserting yourself as the little spoon. You’d never seem his so exposed and it made your heart flutter.

“You might feel, um-” Obi Wan began. Before he finishes his statement, you felt a bulge press against your ass. You were pleased to feel this but you assumed Obi Wan was likely embarrassed by it. “It’s uh, because I just woke up, that’s all” he tried to explain himself.

“Hush” You attempted to shut him up. You grinded your hips back into him, causing him to groan quietly. You teased him further and rotate your hips slightly. One of your favorite things to do was tease him relentlessly.

“Darling” He growled and pulled you closer into him, if that was even possible. You turned to face him, planning to act on something you’d considered for a while.

“I want you, Obi Wan” You whispered. “I want you to make love to me”. His eyes widened happily. His mind was racing and it was obvious to you. You were so nervous to even bring it up, but he was never going to be pushy about it, so you had to make the first move.

“R-right now?” He stuttered.

“Well, I mean, if that’s okay” You shyly responded. He smiled ear to ear and looks away, then back to you.

“Oh it’s more than okay, Y/n, but” Obi Wan paused and sat up in bed, “I want to get myself cleaned up for you first. It’s your first time, you deserve for it to be special”.

You melted at this gesture and felt relief knowing that he wanted to do this as well. Obi Wan ran his fingers through his messy hair then reached for your hand, pulling it to his lips and planting a kiss softly on your fingers.

“I’ve just been thinking about it a lot recently and…I know that I’m ready” You admitted.

“Tonight” He replied, “Are you okay with doing that here?” He inquired as if he was asking himself simultaneously. You nodded your head in approval to which he positively replied with a nod as well. You kissed him on closed lips quickly before rising to your feet.

“Then I will see you tonight, Master Kenobi” You smiled and exited his room slowly, closing the door behind you.

You had spent the day letting your nerves get the best of you and over thinking the endless possibilities of what could happen.

As the sun got lower, your nerves rose higher. The sun just barely crept over the horizon now. You took a sharp breath in and decided it was a good time to go to him. Your stomach was tied in knots and your legs trembled subtly with every step. You were so excited and so terrified at the same time. As you get near his quarters, you walked yourself through what was going to happen again. The door opened to reveal his robe apparel that was more formal than usual. He scanned your body and admired your flowing evening gown.

“Wow…you look…beautiful” He seemed damn near speechless. You looked normal at best, but he was still amazed at your appearance somehow.

“Thank you Obi Wan, you look very handsome yourself” You reciprocated the compliment. You kept reminding yourself to calm down and steady your hands. Just in time, too, because Obi Wan grabbed them delicately and led you into his bedroom. You were in awe of the mood he had set. The room was lit only by about 30 candles. There were rose petals that circled the bed, creating a romantic atmosphere. He turned to you, seeing the nervous smile on your face, and closed the bedroom door behind you.

“This is wonderful, Obi Wan” you express your gratitude for this preparation.

“Only the best for you, my darling” he whispered.

Obi Wan took his gentle time initiating the events to follow. He approached you hesitantly, displaying signs of anxiousness. He smiled warmly at you and minimized the distance between you two standing in the middle of his bedroom. You felt like you were awkward, not knowing what to do with your hands. He raised his palm to your flushed cheek and rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone. He leaned into you slowly, as if he’s never kissed you before, and placed his ready lips upon yours. As both your lips move gracefully together, you felt yourself begin to relax. Obi Wan repositioned his idle arm to wrap around your waist and pulled you into his warm body, leaving no space between you two. Your tongues meet, increasing the passion of the kiss. He shuffled his feet toward his bed, keeping his grip on you so that you move together. He faced your back toward the bed and lays you down gently before hovering over you, only breaking your kiss for a moment. He ensured that you were comfortable before continuing.

His hands traveled to your neck and gently caressed your collarbone. He removed his lips from yours and presses them against your open neck. You moaned so softly, having your mouth now absent of his touch. Obi Wan sprinkled kisses all over your chest above the line of your dress. It took so little from Obi Wan’s physical affection for you to become incredibly aroused. A warmth formed between your legs you were familiar with, although it was never acted upon. Your fingers fiddled with the clasps on your dress before he noticed your attempts.

“Let me, Y/N” He whispered into your ear and continued what your trembling fingers began. He first pulled your cardigan off slowly and worked on pulling your dress off your shoulder. You lifted your body and helped him slide it to your feet, leaving your body more exposed than you’d ever been in front of a man before. Your gown left no room for a bra, so with the absence of your gown, so was the exposure of your breasts. You felt so self conscious but you couldn’t let that ruin the moment. He removed his robes and under shirt before you were given a chance to assist and left his broad, hair speckled chest open to you. You traced your fingers on his chest and admired his masculine shape.

Through a few more kisses, and traveling curious hands, Obi Wan reached the hem of your panties and he flashed you a look that requested consent. You nodded in acceptance to have your body completely given to him in its most bare form. Chills shot down your body as he slowly removed them from your curves.

You were absolutely nude now and you looked away from him shyly. Obi Wan did not take notice of this and moved himself back to get a thorough look at your body. He released a low, melodic growl from his throat in appreciation for your figure. You felt another chill cascade over the surface of your skin.

“Stars, y/n, you are perfect” He praised you. You chuckle quietly and bite your lip. After his long look of appreciation, he lowers himself to lay next you, planting several more kisses on your lips. His wandering hand that wasn’t placed behind your head traveled to your thighs. He traced your folds with his middle finger and felt how achingly wet and ready you were for him.

“Oh y/n, did I do this to you?” He whispered seductively into your ear. You nodded, unable to create words. His fingers rubbed your clit delicately, finding the perfect rhythm to get you going. You began to squirm lightly under his touch and produced innocent whimpers into his ear. Obi Wan took his time with every move he made, making sure to put your pleasure first. He then slid his middle finger inside of you slowly. You gasped and it was immediately followed by a whimper. He pumped his finger in and out of you, careful to only use one to begin with. His thumb remained at your clit, still rubbing at the same pace as the thrusts of his finger.

“Yeah, that’s it. You’re doing so good sweetheart” He praised you again so tenderly, encouraging your sweet sounds of pleasure.

You moved your lips to intertwine with his while his skillful fingers do wonders to you. You make no effort to cease your moans into his mouth, it seemed to turn him on every time you did. His mouth then diverted its attention to your breasts, sucking tenderly at your nipples.

“Obi Wan” You called to him through your moans.

“What is it, darling?”

“I want to make you feel good” You pleaded.

“I have to take care of you first” He insisted. His fingers increased their pace only slightly and you begin to feel your stomach tighten gradually. Each motion of his hand felt better than the last. A sensation you had felt only in your own times of private intimacy with yourself began to grow inside of you, stronger than what you’d experienced before.

“Oh my god” You moaned deeply as a wash of ecstasy floods your body beginning at your clit and radiating throughout every inch of you. Your back arched and he placed his unoccupied hand under your arch suddenly to keep you on your high.

“Mmm, that's it, love” He moaned. Your intense whimpers faded slowly and your limbs trembled slightly.

Obi Wan then removed his fingers from your pussy slowly. He pulled his trousers off of his body for you as you floated off your high. His cock sprang free from the tight grip that once restricted it. You were in amazement at his size and couldn’t help that your jaw literally dropped. He nervously laughed at your reaction to him. You were hesitant, afraid that you weren’t sure how to handle or pleasure him the same way he was pleasuring you. You sat on your knees while Obi Wan laid flat on his back. He looked at you as if to wonder what your next move was.

You gripped your hand gently around his pulsing cock that was desperate for your attention. You parted your eager lips and moved your face toward what you held in your hand. Your lips made contact with his tip and he breathed in briefly and sharply. You lowered your mouth onto him until his dick is met with the back of your throat. Steadily, you picked up the pace and bobbed your head up and down onto his length. Obi Wan’s moans were soft and innocent to begin, but they were growing louder and more intense with your increased pace.

His fingers found their way to the back of your head and intertwine themselves in your hair. He guided your head as you move.

“Fuck” he mumbled in the most sexy way, causing you to internally melt. He doesn’t allow you to spend as much time on him as he did for you. He gently lifted you from his cock and pulled you up to his face, passionately kissing you. You instinctively placed one leg on each side of Obi Wan’s hips. You intended to lower yourself on him but he stops you suddenly by wrapping his arm tightly around you and switching places with you. It was clear that he was more focused on making this pleasurable and easy for you during your first time.

“Are you nervous?” He whispered intimately, hovering over you. His eyes were dimly illuminated by the candles filling the room, revealing only a hint of the bright blue that you knew was there. Your fingers traced his shoulder delicately, down to his arms, to his hand placed next to your head. You get so lost in his eyes, you momentarily forget he even asked you a question.

“No” you answered confidently, “I trust you”.

Obi Wan smiled at you and then diverted his attention south. He grabbed his member and lined it up carefully at your soaking wet entrance. With tremendous caution and patience for you, Obi Wan pushed his hips into you. There was a sharp discomfort inside you and you winced, noticeable to Obi Wan.

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to” he assured you, “I don’t want to hurt you”. He finally buried himself completely inside of you. You were so tight wrapped around him that he almost lost it immediately. It was such a wonderful new feeling to experience being this close to Obi Wan. Your body adjusted itself quicker than you anticipated to his size. He began to thrust slowly, still giving you time to adjust to him. A soft whimper escaped your lips, notifying Obi Wan that you were experiencing pleasure rather than pain now. Once his thrusts find perfect and steady rhythm inside you, he began to groan softly with you.

Your eyes met and locked on each other while he continued to curl his hips passionately into yours.

“Does that feel good, Y/n?” He moaned and kissed your neck gently.

“Yes, Obi Wan” You managed to mumble through your new feeling of pleasure.

Obi Wan becomes louder, his moans sounding so sweet to you. He couldn’t hide his pleasure on his face, and neither could you.

He swiftly moved your leg around him, placing his body behind yours, still deep inside you. You were both laying on your sides. He wrapped his arm around your waist in front of him to gather better leverage on fucking you deeply. There was something about this position that hit new sweet spots inside of you. You couldn’t help but let profanities fly from your mouth.

“Oh fuck, Obi Wan, yes” You breathlessly moaned. His hand moved from your waist to gently rubbing your still very sensitive clit. You twitched at this contact but he still lightly rubbed you, intensifying your pleasurable experience.

“Oh god, I’m gonna c-” you cried, unable to form the full sentence. That same euphoric feeling overcomes you again as Obi Wan continues to pound into you steadily. This time your orgasm was stronger, and you attempted to cover your mouth to muffle your sounds before Obi Wan protested.

“No, darling, I want to hear you” he purrs. You released what you tried to suppress into the air. You come down slowly from your high. He released his fingers from your clit and thrusted a little harder now.

His groans and whines were getting a little more choppy, indicating he must be close. He buried his face into your shoulder to muffle his sounds. His body tensed and he roughly gripped your hip as he reached his high.

“Y/n” He mumbled your name and growled while he released himself in your pussy, filling you.

He took a moment to recover before removing his dick from inside you. He laid flat, you do as well and move to lie against his chest. Neither of you speak for a while, and rather enjoyed the silence of being in each other’s presence. He kissed your forehead before breaking the silence.

“I love you, Y/n.” He stated suddenly. You smiled ear to ear, unable to hide how over-joyous you were to hear that. You’d heard it before, but it just felt different this time.

“I love you too, Obi Wan”

#obi wan #obi wan kenobi x reader #Obi wan x reader #Obi wan Kenobi smut #Obi wan smut #Star Wars #Obi wan x y/n #Obi wan fanfiction #rots #aotc #my work

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 5: Overprotection

Disclaimer: Dick was adopted when he was 12 in this fic. Just for math’s sake.

—*—*—*—*—*

“What.”

Damian stared at his father, face carefully blank. Bruce grimaced, shifting.

“I said, you have a half sister. Biological.”

Four sets of eyes bored into him, from all of his sons. They were gathered not in the Batcave for once, but just one of the sitting rooms in the Manor.

“... and what, Father, does that have to do with the French class visiting Gotham?” Damian asked again, posture steadily growing stiffer and more and more stone like. He was trying hard to suppress emotions, but not even he was quite sure what those emotions were yet. Anger? Fear? Resentment? Probably. He might have detected some excitement there too, deep, deep down. Bruce took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for this.

“Well. I’ve kept up with her life, but last time I checked she had no idea that she was adopted. When her birth mother died, it was right around the time I adopted Dick. She was still an infant, and I knew I was not equipped to handle taking care of a baby—“

“Father,” Damian interrupted again. “You sent her off. Have her up for adoption,” he said slowly, as if realizing that that would have been his fate had his father known about his existence earlier, as well. It was almost ironic, considering how Bruce seemed to have a problem with adopting other children nowadays. Bruce nodded.

“She was adopted by a couple in France. Paris, to be exact. I’ve kept up to date, asking them to just send me a letter or email once or twice a year about the general stuff she’s been up to. Nothing too invasive. A few pictures. And last time I asked them, they said that she had no idea about being adopted or that I was her father,” Bruce sighed again, running a hand over his face. “But I think she does.”

“Why?” Jason asked, confused as everyone else to the change in subject. Except Tim and Damian, who seemed to be quickly connecting the dots.

“Oh boy,” Tim breathed. Bruce just nodded.

“Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She is the one who organized the trip for her class to come here, to Gotham. She is the one who entered and won our international internship competition, and turned that into an excuse to get her entire class to come here for two weeks. To get to know the place she will be living for her internship next year, after she graduates Lycee, France’s version of highschool essentially.”

Tim winced. He had been in charge of the internship competition, and Bruce had given him free reign. He had chosen the winner without even thinking to run it by his adoptive father.

“Bruce—“ Tim tried, but the man just held up a hand.

“I don’t blame you. I haven’t been paying too much attention to her life, and I didn’t expect her to do something like this. But we know now that, if she does know and this isn’t a giant coincidence,”

“Unlikely,” Dick agreed, wincing. “Possible, but unlikely.”

Bruce huffed in agreement. “Then, we know she is very resourceful, determined, and has skills that impressed Tim enough to choose her out of tens of thousands of contest participants worldwide.”

“The minimum requirement for a Wayne,” Damian finally managed to bite out, still coping with this proverbial slap in the face but doing his best to handle it. He was seventeen damn it, and had come a long way from who he used to be. He could handle this. He could. He would.

Bruce rolled his eyes, and then leaned forward with his hands braced on the table. “Okay. So now we need to make plans.”

“Plans?” Jason asked, frowning. “For how you’re gonna tell her without getting your faces plastered over every tabloid in the city right?”

“No,” the older man shook his head. “Plans to keep her alive, unharmed, and unaffiliated with us until she leaves. I will not be making any public appearances unless absolutely necessary, so trips to the Tower are out of the question—“

“Are you…” Jason’s eyes were wide. “Trying to keep her out of our Shitshow? Because yeah, kudos to you even if it took you way too long to learn, but if she went through all this trouble to come here then it's probably too late.”

Dick nodded. “If she’s anything like you and Damian, there’s no way she’ll back off easy. Avoiding her will only make it worse on you, and probably the rest of us too.”

Damian stared straight into his father's eyes, glare sharp and searching. “What is this about, Father? You have not worried this much about any of us—“

“Because none of you were as naive!” He barked, quickly catching himself and taking a breath. “You all had a way you could benefit from this life. A way I could help you. But Marinette has both of the parents she has known her whole life, they treat her wonderfully. They care. She’s never had to worry about constantly moving, or fighting, or going hungry. The only deaths she has ever experienced have been from afar and due to natural causes. She designs as a hobby and has no problem with socializing or handling emotions in a healthy way— introducing her to our life holds no benefit for her. The only thing it can give her is unnecessary danger and risk and secrets.”

“Yeah, well. I guess Batman doesn’t know everything, does he?” A new voice startled them all from the doorway, making everyone's head whip over to see who had managed the near-impossible and snuck up on all of them.

Standing there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, was a short part-Asian woman in her late teens. Her midnight black hair was cascading down her back in one thick braid, tied off at the end with an indigo ribbon. Her eyes were a piercing cobalt blue, matching those of Bruce perfectly. Her jaw was clenched, and the infamous Bat-glare coming from her was directed right at the person who made the expression infamous in the first place.

“Marinette,” Bruce breathed, shoulders squaring. “Your plane isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.”

“It won’t,” she agreed. “I took a portal here. You see, my extensive research into Batman’s known habits and tactics, which I started after I figured out about your alter ego last year, informed me that you tend to go to the extremes to protect people you deem incapable of protecting themselves, and are also prone to idiotic self-sacrificing behavior in the form of purposely making yourself look like an ass.”

Jason chuckled. “She’s got you down to a T, B,” he quipped with a grin despite the caution still in his eyes. “But let’s back up a bit, little Spitfire. What’s this about a portal?”

Marinette pushed off the doorframe, walking closer to the scattered group. Tim and Jason were spread across one sofa, Damian on the other with Dick, and Bruce was occupying an armchair. Marinette just walked until she stood where she could easily be seen by everyone, but also had nobody at her back.

“The portal is part of a bigger story. Like, the fact that father dearest wanted to protect me so badly that he placed the JLE in Paris, but didn’t realize that relations with that branch were so bad that the JLE never informed him or the JLA about getting kicked out of France and reassigning themselves to Italy. Bruce never kept a close enough eye on the city, because he wanted to keep emotional distance, and therefore was completely blind to when a supervillain showed up and terrorized Paris for almost five years,” she continued, her glare never leaving Bruce’s face.

“I found out about being adopted when I was eight. I found out who my biological father was when I was thirteen. Last year, I finally put in the work to connect Bruce Wayne to Batman. And yeah, I never told Maman and Papan, because they have never completely understood me. They wouldn’t have understood that I was fine with having no contact with you, back then. That my snooping had nothing to do with being unhappy with them as my parents. They would have immediately assumed they were inadequate when I am merely curious by nature. But then I ended up being chosen to be one of the child heroes that fought said domestic terrorist that showed up five years ago. And I sure as hell couldn't tell them that a magical artifact showed up on my desk one day and that the god inhabiting it told me to fight the monsters the villain made and just, just go with it. I couldn’t tell them when I went from being one of two Parisian heroes to being the leader of a team. I couldn’t tell them when my elderly mentor, unable to fight by our side but who had at least provided emotional support and knowledge, passed away and gave me his title and responsibilities. I’m sick and tired of being protected, Monsieur Wayne,” Marinette didn’t seem to notice the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m sick of it. I know you were trying to keep me safe, but I fought a war I wasn’t prepared for. I died, thousands of times. But my own powers and the powers I have my partners brought me back to life. Over and over. I don’t need protection, damn it. I don’t need you to distance yourself, because you're the only fucking person I can call a parent who might understand,” she held out a hand, her scowl turning into a gentle smile. “I have so much I need to talk about. Before I drown under all these secrets. Please. I’ll go back through another portal before my parents notice I’m gone, but I’ll be back in town tomorrow when my plane lands. Just. Please, don’t push me away. That’s all I ask. I want to get to know you, all of you. I… I need family who understands.”

“Thousands.” Bruce repeated, all of them still recovering from Marinette’s very sudden, info-dumping speech. “You died… thousands of times?”

Marinette laughed, but it was a sad sound. No mirth there. “I gave my friend a magical artifact that reverses time, and the artifact that gives me my own powers can reverse any damage from a fight I use it in. Even death. Sending untrained teenagers to fight a villain three times their age makes some kind of failsafe like that kind of necessary.”

“Fuck,” Jason cursed under his breath. “Well. You’re welcome to join the living Zombie club,” he offered. The girl snorted, giving him a watery grin in thanks.

“I’m sure you know about my stance on powers and metas,” Bruce decided to say, wincing immediately after. That wasn’t what he meant to say. At all. He earned another brief glare for it.

“I’m not a meta, and I only have powers when I use the artifact to transform, thereby borrowing powers from the miniature god that the artifact houses. Think of it like doctor fate, but my gods are actually not parasites and my powers are much more… specialized. I had to learn combat on my own, and I was able to train in my sleep with the past users of this artifact. That includes people like Fa Mulan, Joan of Arc, and someone you actually know— Hippolyta. I’ve mastered more fighting styles by now than I care to remember, and I’ve done gymnastics since I was three. I don’t know if my parents told you that in their letters. I even won the gold in the nationwide France gymnastics competition two years ago. I assure you, I don’t rely on my powers nearly as much as you might think.”

Bruce swallowed. “I can… greet you when your class arrives.”

Marinette grinned. “Well, that’s a start.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Idk what happened, I don’t know if I like this at all but oh well. I’m posting it anyway. Maybe one of you will like it. I… couldn’t really find any other way to do this so oh well. Also, I think Mulan was a past Dragon..? But I put her as a Ladybug because I Can.

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl @iamablinkmarvelarmy @meme991001

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic brucinette #day 5 #not my fave at all

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yamag00ps · 3 years

Text

We don’t tell lies, Tadashi

pairing: yamaguchi x reader

genre: best friends to lovers

contains: pure FLUFF

word count: 2.2k

summary: he wasn't necessarily lying to you, was he? I guess he was lying by omission, but there's no need to get technical..

note: this is my first time writing for haikyuu!! enjoy some yamaguchi lovin’ :) p.s. play kina grannis’s cover of stand by me when you see the “*******” (I promise it enhances the fluff) & here is part 2

“We don’t tell lies, Tadashi!”

Ever since you were both ten years old, you have disciplined him into always being honest--well, with you, at least. You couldn’t really care less when he lied to his parents about breaking the vase in their living room, or when he lied to his teacher about forgetting his homework at home. What mattered to you was that he was always honest with you, specifically.

“We don’t tell lies” has become an inside joke between the two of you growing up. As silly as the backstory of it was, the sincerity of the saying never faltered. You both had no problem with being honest with one another ever since--whether it was as trivial as you telling him he had spinach in his teeth, or as serious as him telling you that he disliked whatever boyfriend you had at the time. Neither of you could find this honesty with anyone else, making this friendship all the more special to the both of you.

However, ten years later, here Yamaguchi was, pacing his room, two doors down from you, grappling with the biggest secret of his life--the only thing he has ever kept from you. Technically, he never told you a lie. The only reason he hasn’t explicitly stated his feelings for you was because...you never asked.

At least, that’s what he tells himself to feel less guilty about it.

He thinks he’s done a good job at keeping his feelings at bay over all these years. He always fell back on the fact that he would rather keep you around platonically than lose you romantically. Although he knew the strength of your friendship could probably overcome anything, it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take yet.

Tsukishima mocked him frequently saying, “We don’t tell lies, Tadashi,” whenever he would catch Yamaguchi staring at you a second too long.

“Not funny,” Yamaguchi replied every time.

He wasn’t necessarily lying to you, he was just waiting for the right time, and he didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. He was hoping you’d understand this thought process when the time came.

It was summer break and a handful of players from the training camp decided to have a reunion, including the teams’ managers. A large lake house was rented for four days and split amongst everyone. Now, Yamaguchi had no intention of confessing to you during this little vacation. Why would he risk ruining the fun, right?

That was until he found out that not one, not two, but THREE different guys had planned to confess to you on this trip. He wanted to be upset, but he didn’t really have a right to be. It made sense why they would, seeing as this reunion was the first time a handful of them would get to spend real time with you since all of the volleyball events in high school. He cursed himself for not confessing to you before the trip.

One of them even came to Yamaguchi for advice on the first night, asking if you had a boyfriend. Not wanting to encourage him, Yamaguchi dryly replied, “Not sure.” Again, technically he wasn’t lying .. What if you were secretly talking to someone and you just haven’t told him about it yet? The mere thought of that possibility made him sick. After finding out about the other two confessions that were planned, he knew he had to get to you first.

Every time he noticed you talking to any of the three, he would conveniently swoop in and join the conversation. Fortunately, you were oblivious to his intentions because you were best friends, after all. He ignored the way the other three would scowl at him when you weren’t looking.

Tsukishima would watch from a distance and snicker to himself. Sometimes he would help Yamaguchi out too. Although, he’d be a lot blunter about it, openly teasing whoever wanted to confess to you saying something along the lines of, “It’s okay man, you don’t have to look too desperate.” You’d gasp and smack Tsukishima in the chest, missing the smile Yamaguchi was struggling to hold back. Usually, these interruptions would do the trick, and whoever it was would become discouraged and not confess.

However, Yamaguchi knew he could only buy time for so long until someone successfully confessed to you. That is how he found himself standing in front of your door at 3am, on the third night. Honestly, his journey from his room to yours was a blur. One second he was in his room giving himself a pep talk in front of the mirror, and the next he was at your door, any bit of confidence he had slowly dissipating the longer he waited to actually knock. He knew you were awake because you had texted him a photo of him and Tsukishima on the lake five minutes ago.

As he mentally gave himself another pep talk while pacing the hallway outside of your room, you opened your door. You jumped a bit, not expecting to run into anyone.

“Oh shit,” you quietly laughed, “Hi, I was actually just about to..”

You decided not to finish that sentence and asked instead, “Everything okay?”

“Oh! Yeah, hey. I, uh.. I was just-- um..” You waited for him to continue. He took in your sleepy self, snugly wrapped in a black silk robe. Your hair was in a low ponytail that had clearly been slept in. Fuck. He’d be damned if he didn’t take this chance to see this every night for the rest of his life. He’d been staring at you for too long.

“Sorry! Um.. your robe looks really.. Nice. Comfy. Wish I had one.” He awkwardly laughed and scratched his head. Looking anywhere else but you, he desperately searched for a way to recover from that painfully awkward compliment. To his relief you smiled and thanked him, telling him it was a gift.

At this point, it was very clear to you that he had something on his mind. You knew him well, so you waited patiently, not rushing him at all.

It’s just her. Talk to her. She will listen, she always does.

You were leaning on your door frame, arms crossed with your shoulders relaxed. Your head was tilted as you watched him expectantly. He took a step closer to you, forcing you to look up at him to keep eye contact.

The gentle look on your face was the last push he needed. Everything he had prepared to say escaped him as he took you in again, but he didn’t care anymore. It was time to trust his gut and be as honest as possible, instead of tiptoeing around his feelings. The look in your eyes grounded him and he knew there was nothing to be afraid of.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers. He says it as if he’s sharing a secret that he’s been holding in for years. Your eyes widen as he takes another step towards you.

“What..” you breathe, studying his expression, searching for clues.

This wasn’t his first time telling you this. Growing up, it was never uncomfortable for him to compliment your appearance. You often asked him how you looked and he would respond honestly every time. But this time, you both knew it was different as he looked down at you with both a fondness and a fire in his eyes, completely aware that he was inches away from completely altering the dynamic of this friendship.

The silence was deafening as your gaze flicked to his lips, and his to yours. Before you could fully process what was happening, you grabbed the front of his shirt and closed the gap between the two of you. Despite the desperation that led to it, the kiss started off gentle and slow. His hands leaving the comfort of his pockets and moving swiftly to your waist. The kiss mimicked the desperate feeling of finally inhaling that much needed breath of fresh air after being underwater for too long. Your hands moved to the nape of his neck as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, you heard a group of guys making their way up the stairs. You both jolted, breaking the kiss. You peaked around Yamaguchi’s frame as he looked over his shoulder towards the stairs. You quietly giggled at the fact that his grip on you tightened as if he was going to lose you to whoever was coming up.

“Yamaguchi?” Hinata questioned. Your hands lowered to rest on Yamaguchi’s chest as you remained hidden behind his frame. He inhaled sharply and was sure you felt his heart beating out of his chest at the feel of your hands on him. He quickly cleared his throat.

“Oh, uh hi Hin--”

Without thinking, you grabbed his hands on your waist and yanked him into your room. Hinata, Nishinoya, and Tanaka watched in confusion as your door shut.

“Wait, Yamaguchi’s room is next to mine, over there? Isn’t that Y/N-san’s room?” Hinata voiced as Nishinioya and Tanaka shared a glance, putting two and two together. The two erupted into laughter and high-fived.

“Okay Yamaguchi, we see you!” Tanaka stated loud enough for you two to hear.

“We give you our blessing!!!!” Nishinoya and Tanaka cracked up, shaking their head at a very clueless Hinata.

**********

Back in your room, you had your back pressed against your door with Yamaguchi still towering over you, hands still on your waist as you both listened to chaos in the hallway. You hid your face in his chest as you listened to Tanaka and Noya rat the two of you out. He shook his head and you both laughed, lightening up the atmosphere. As the trio’s voices faded, you finally looked up at your best friend just to find him already gazing at you, completely smitten.

“I have my own room, you know. I paid for it and everything,” he teased.

“Oh? Okay, go ahead then. Get your money’s worth,” you playfully began to push him off of you. It was no use as his grip on your waist tightened. You giggled as he moved you back to your place against the door.

“But you, on the other hand,” he grabbed one of your hands off his chest and kissed the back of it, “Your company is priceless.” You blushed at this. This was a stark difference from the shy, stuttering mess he was when you first opened your door. You rolled your eyes and attempted to look away until he took the same hand and turned your face to his again. He couldn’t get enough of looking at you with such little proximity.

“Is this why you were pacing outside of my door?” You asked quietly, hands reaching around his neck again.

“Oh no, I was actually on my way to confess to Tsukki.” His left arm hooked around your back while his right hand massaged your side. He loved being this close to you.

“Oof, am I currently cockblocking him?”

“Yeah, but I don’t mind this plot twist.” You hummed in agreement.

Your hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck. He leaned down to rest his forehead against yours. It was only then that you realized you left music playing on your phone. It was your “Sleep” playlist. Kina Grannis’s cover of Stand By Me played quietly. You briefly turned your head to where your phone sat on your bed.

“Dance with me, Tadashi,” you whispered and giggled. You rested your head on his chest and he held your right hands up as you swayed to the music. You quietly sang along while Yamaguchi shut his eyes in pure bliss. Years to come, he knew this would be one of his favorite memories between the two of you.

I won’t cry, I won’t cry.

No I won’t shed a tear.

Just as long as you stand, stand by me.

So darling, darling, stand by me.

Oh, stand by me.

Oh, stand, stand by me.

So darling, darling, stand by me.

Oh, stand by me.

Oh, stand, stand by me.

As the song ended, you started to speak, head still on his chest.

“I’m sure this goes without saying but I really like you, Tadashi.”

He scoffs, causing you to raise an eyebrow and pull away from him. He slightly shook his head and you were ready to scold him for that reaction until he cradled your face in his hands and kissed you again. He broke the kiss and started laughing. You looked at him incredulously. You just confessed to your best friend and here he was laughing ?

“What is so funny?” you asked, his hands still on either side of your face. The way your cheeks appeared a bit smushed as you whined was so endearing to him.

“How long have you felt this way?” He asked with a stupid grin on his face. The fact that he was getting a confession out of you, was so unbelievable to him that it was laughable. You narrowed your eyes at him, not sure if you wanted to answer him truthfully, already dreading however he planned on teasing you.

“For a while,” you replied honestly.

“Mmm, so you’re telling me you’ve been lying to me about this friendship..” Your eyes widened, knowing exactly where this was going.

“Tadash--” you began to argue, but he shut you up with a kiss again, turning your words into a whimper. You pouted into the kiss.

“We don’t tell lies, Y/N.”

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

A/N: WHEWWW who knew yamaguchi could be such a little SHIT. I wanted to write this b/c yams doesn’t get enough love!!!!! Also I had a dream about this so I kinda just ran with it. here’s part 2

ALSO. people often write about yamaguchi as this extremely shy boy who can barely hold a conversation and while that CAN be a bit true with strangers I think it’s important to remember that he can be such a little shit if he wants to be (his best friend is literally tsukishima come ON) AND y/n in this is a childhood friend so they’re already very close heheh

#yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi fluff #yamaguchi x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #hq scenarios #yamaguchi x you #yamaguchi imagine #haikyuu x reader

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emwritesfootball · 3 years

Text

I Want You | Dominic Calvert-Lewin

Word Count: 2,051

A/N: Yet another piece for @footballffbarbiex's On The Big Screen Challenge. Since I'm on the midseason finale of the episode of Grey's Anatomy that this is based off of, I figured I'd post this now. This is based off of Jackson and April, the scenes from the season 9 finale and season 10 episode 12, altered for the football world. I've had this sitting in my Docs since 1 January lmao. Enjoy xx

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The gasp of the crowd of almost 40,000 at Goodison Park was simultaneous in the 38th minute when Dom was taken down by the opposition’s defense right as he was about to score. The tackle had been brutal and uncalled for, earning the centreback a straight red card from the referee while Dom stayed on the ground.

As if sensing catastrophe the medics and physio were on the pitch almost immediately. You held your breath, one hand clutching the fabric of the Everton jersey you wore while your other squeezed Lucas Digne’s hand. Your boyfriend tried to soothe you as best he could, but you were distraught. Dom was clearly in pain and clearly injured, and you couldn’t do a damn thing but watch him get carried off on a stretcher.

“I have to go to him,” you muttered, but Lucas stopped you.

“He’ll be fine, Chérie,” Lucas said, his voice low as his thumb rubbed circles over the back of your hand. “You know we’ve got the best medical team - they’re gonna take real good care of Dom, okay?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip to quell your unspoken fears.

Your mind was reeling as Richarlison took Dom’s place on the pitch, your stomach sick with nervousness for Dom. When you’d first started playing for the women’s team, Dominic had been your sidekick; he’d shown you around the stadium as well as the surrounding city. It hadn’t been long before you were falling for him, the two of you hooking up after an intense friendly between the men’s and women’s teams.

Over time, you’d started to fall for him, your friends-with-benefits relationship no longer enough for your heart. It had all gone wrong after a pregnancy scare - Dom telling you he was all in and saying he’d marry you and the two of you would raise the kid together. When you’d found out you weren’t pregnant and told him that he no longer had to worry about getting married, Dom had ended things then and there, both of you hurt for different reasons.

Soon after, he started “dating” (sleeping with) one of the physios. You hadn’t had any intention of getting involved with his teammate, but Lucas had come into your life as a friend while you’d been with Dom and things progressed after your break up. Now, you were engaged to Lucas, with a wedding coming up in less than six months - after an incredibly public proposal that you couldn’t say no to - but there was a part of your heart that still yearned for Dom.

The second Lucas let go of your hand, you were up out of your seat, flashing your pass as you raced through the tunnels at Goodison Park until you finally managed to locate Dom. The ambulance was silent while its lights flashed and you knew you didn’t have much time. Emergency personnel were loading him onto the ambulance and you were reacting within seconds.

“DOMINIC!” you shouted, panic racing through you. His name felt foreign on your tongue - you tried not to utter it if you could help it - but in that moment, it was all you had.

“Miss, you’re going to have to stand back,” one of the EMTs said, putting his hands on your shoulders.

The tears started to fall right then and you couldn’t stop them. “I...I need to see him. He’s my husband!” You stammered out the words in-between sobs, barely aware when the medic let you go and you rushed into the ambulance, the door slamming behind you as it lurched forward and started to race to the nearest hospital. You tried your best to stay out of the way while the medics worked, fighting back tears with every concerned look or sentence they shared with each other. Dom looked out of it and you hoped he’d been put on some painkillers, especially with the state of his arm. You hoped and prayed that his arm would be the worst of it, but you couldn’t be sure. You took his good hand in both of yours, pressing a kiss to the back of it as you whispered, “It’s okay, bubs. I’m here.”

***

People didn’t start arriving until almost two hours later, Dom’s girlfriend included. You didn’t know how many tears you’d cried in that timespan, your body physically exhausted from the day’s events. Lucas immediately found you in the waiting area, pulling you into a hug. “I was so worried about you, Chérie,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“S-Sorry,” you stuttered, feeling a new wave of tears coming on. “I just...I panicked and managed to convince them to let me ride in the ambulance with Dom and I…”

“It’s okay,” Lucas said, taking your face in his hands. “I’m glad Dom had you by his side.” Of course Lucas knew about your history with Dom but you’d always reassured him that he was the one you wanted and not Dom. Now, you weren’t so sure.

You snuck into Dom’s room right before visiting hours were set to end for the night. Lucas was waiting for you in the car park, warming up the car. A part of you felt guilty for what you were about to do, but after today you couldn’t stay silent.

Relief flooded you when you saw him sitting upright on the hospital bed, shirtless, his arm in a sling. The relief quickly faded, however, and all the other emotions you’d bottled up for the last six hours came bubbling up.

“What the hell, Dom?!” You screamed, rushing toward him. Tears were falling hard and fast as you shoved him, the nurse in the room who was checking his vitals came rushing over to stand between the two of you. “You could’ve died!” Sure, it was a little over-dramatic, but you had honestly thought you were going to lose him in the moment when he’d been down for over five minutes on the pitch.

The nurse calmed you down, not wanting to cause a scene. You didn’t either, but your emotions were so heightened it was almost like you were back in the ambulance scared out of your mind. “I’m fine, I swear,” you said, reassuring her when your breathing had slowed and you were starting to think properly.

“Okay,” she said, nodding and making her way towards the door. She turned to Dom, saying, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Dom gave her a grateful smile, turning his attention to you. “Don’t,” he said, his voice weary. “Whatever it is that’s buggin’ you, just keep it to yourself, alright?”

You froze, staring at him. Your mind was racing again and you were so consumed with flashbacks of him lying motionless on the pitch that you couldn't speak for a few moments. Dom stared back, lost. He vaguely remembered your presence in the back of the ambulance but up until this moment, he had been so sure that he’d just dreamed you up, the painkillers playing tricks on his mind.

You took a deep breath, needing all the air you could get in order to say what you wanted to say. “I want you...Dominic.” His name was barely a whisper on your lips, but Dom heard you as if you’d screamed it from the rooftops. You ran a hand through your hair, your voice breaking as you repeated the phrase. “I want you.” Your voice wavered on the last word and Dom wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

He said your name, disbelief colouring his tone, but you cut him off.

“I haven’t been fair to you, I know,” you began, stepping towards him until you were standing at the end of his hospital bed, “And I’ve-I’ve really hurt you-”

“You’re getting married,” Dominic said slowly, unsure if he was trying to convince you or himself of the reality the two of you were facing.

It was like you hadn’t heard him. “When I saw you lying there on the pitch after that collision and I thought you were gone, I-”

“You’re getting married.” He said it again, this time with more conviction.

You dried your tears, your resolve returning. When you spoke next, your words shocked both of you. “Unless you can give me a reason not to.”

Dom stared at you, unable to say anything. He internally weighed his options. A few months ago, getting married to you was all he could think about - now, he wasn’t so sure. The two of you had been through unbelievable hurdles in your relationship, but you were engaged to another man who also happened to be one of Dom’s teammates and Dom knew he couldn’t stand by and fuck up the team dynamic or your relationship with Lucas.

***

Ultimately, he’d said nothing that night and the two of you hadn’t spoken about it since. You continued planning your wedding to Lucas while maintaining a stilted version of a friendship with Dom, which was how Dom had ended up in the congregation at your wedding.

“Give them the strength to commit their love to one another. Unshakeable through any storm; unbreakable in the face of any stress; a promise we simply refuse to break.” The pastor spoke, but Dominic barely heard any of it, except when he said, “And you, YN and Lucas’s closest friends and family, are here today to bear witness to their union. Will you promise to love and support their marriage in all the days to come? If so, please respond ‘we will’.”

Everyone responded, a chorus of “We will,” filling the quaint chapel.

Dominic didn't know what to do. He was acutely aware of his physio girlfriend by his side, but even more so aware of the fact that if he didn’t do something right now, he would lose you to his teammate forever. In that moment, nothing else mattered but his love for you and the love that he knew that you had for him.

The pastor continued to speak, but Dom heard nothing. He leaned in to his girlfriend, unsure what to say. “I, uh-” he started, pausing.

“What?” She asked, looking at him with curiosity that quickly turned into understanding.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m happy to be here today to be able to do this for you. I-” The pastor paused mid-sentence as Dominic stood up, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

You and Lucas were holding hands, your backs still to him. Finally, both of you turned to look at the commotion, shock written all over your face as your gaze connected with Dom’s. He flushed, giving the room a nervous smile before sitting back down.

The pastor chuckled nervously and for a brief moment, Dom wondered if he’d ever had anyone stop a wedding before. “YN and Lucas, I have known the two of you for quite some time and I’m happy to be here today-” he started again, and that’s when Dom knew he had to say something.

Dom took a deep breath, his mind made up.

“I love you,” he said, his voice deep and sure as he stood up for the second time. “I always have.”

You stared back at him, your eyes wide. If you were being honest, a part of you had dreamed about a moment like this - Dominic standing up and professing his love for you - but you hadn’t been prepared for it to actually happen.

Dom continued, “I love everything about you. Even the things I don’t like, I love.” You could feel Lucas fuming next to you. “And I want you with me.” Everyone was looking around in disbelief, but it was like nobody else existed but you and Dom in this moment. “I love you and I think that you love me, too.” He paused, his voice wavering. “Do you?”

You could feel Lucas’s eyes on you; your family’s, too, but there was only one person in the world you wanted right now and it wasn’t the man at the altar next to you.

“I do,” you said, your gaze fixed on Dom. “I do,” you repeated, stepping down off the altar and running towards the man who had been your whole world for longer than you cared to admit.

#my writing: dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin oneshot #dominic calvert lewin one shot #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #dominic calvert lewin x reader #dcl oneshot #dcl one shot #dcl imagine #dcl imagines #dcl x reader #amys2021challenge

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thewritewolf · 3 years

Text

No, Really

Summary: Adrien can no longer deny it - he is in love with Marinette! The only problem is, she has made it absolutely clear that she is definitely not interested in him. But when he discovers that Marinette might be harboring feelings for Chat Noir, Adrien decides that there is only one way to get together with her: Reveal his identity.

Trouble is? She doesn't believe him.

Hello and welcome! This fic was written for the @totographszine, which was publish for free here. Go check it out, the wonderful @anna-scribbles even did some excellent art of this fic in there.

Read on Ao3

Without any further ado... Enjoy!

Adrien was in love with Marinette. There was no getting around that any more. But, unfortunately, it didn’t seem that she felt the same way.

Ever since he had come to terms with his feelings, he’d been trying to flirt with her. A few cheesy lines here. Some lingering touches and eye contact there. Compliments scattered throughout the day. Although, as he had realized now, it was harder to compliment her more than he already had been. How had it taken him so long to figure out his feelings?

The worst part of it was that she even flirted back! Which may sound great, but his experiences with Ladybug had taught him that flirting back could also mean friendly banter. It was a frustratingly similar experience, which he chose not to dwell on too hard.

And just like with Ladybug, he was at least appreciating the friendship that he could share with Marinette. Now that she had begun to open up to him, he was learning all sorts of things about her. Her favorite foods, what exactly tickled her most, her little mannerisms.

One day he learned the most important little fact about Marinette of them all.

“What is it with you and crushin’ on celebs, girl?”

Adrien recognized Alya’s voice at once and his eyes widened when he realized who she was likely talking to on the other side of the locker.

Sure enough, Marinette let out an irritated groan. There was a sound of a locker opening.

“What makes you think I have a crush on him? Just because I drew him in my notebook—”

“Oh sure, if you were just drawing him, that’d be one thing. But the hearts and kissy faces tell a whole different story.”

Adrien stood stock-still, listening as intently as he could. It felt as if his heart had

stopped beating. Had he failed to win the hearts of both his crushes? Would he ever get a lucky break just for once?

“They weren’t—that’s—no! Those were …” Marinette sputtered and eventually mumbled something that sounded a lot like “spades.”

“Spades.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, girl, if you want I could probably mention your name the next time I see him. Sure it’d be harder to pull off than with blondie, but I’m down.”

“Drop it, Alya,” Marinette said half-heartedly. The locker door was shut and they walked toward the entrance. For a moment, he was scared they would turn around and see him eavesdropping. “I’m sure Chat Noir doesn’t want to have my number pushed into his hand.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he suddenly jolted to life. Chat Noir?

“Maybe. We’ll only find out if we give it a shot.” Their voices got more distant as they walked away. “At least we know you’ve got a type now.”

“Alya!”

In his heart of hearts, Adrien hoped that type included boys with green eyes and blond hair. Would it be too much to ask that she fall for him a second time? Not just as Chat Noir but as Adrien?

It was there, standing alone in the locker room, heart pounding in his throat and feeling light headed, that Adrien was suddenly struck by a plan. And while he was no Ladybug, he was pretty confident about this one.

After all, he didn’t need to make her fall for him twice. She just needed to find out who Chat Noir was.

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

His first opportunity took way too long to arrive. The need to confess his secret identity to her had been weighed against his duty not only to Paris but to Ladybug. He was as certain of Marinette’s trustworthiness as he could be, but he needed to be sure that she and only she heard him.

Besides, it made confessing his feelings a little easier too, which was honestly weighing just as heavily on his mind. Sure, safety of Paris and fighting Hawkmoth and all that, but there was also his poor battered heart to take into consideration. Ladybug had been gentle with her rejections, but they still stung as much as being tossed into a wall by a dozen akumas.

It took over a month for a golden opportunity. The four of them had been studying in Marinette’s room when Alya had left to go babysit her sisters, taking Nino along with her. Adrien watched them slowly pack up and amble over to the trap door, silently screaming every time they stopped for another little chat. But eventually, they did leave. Nino’s cap disappeared below the floor and the trapdoor shut behind them. It was late enough that Sabine and Tom had gone to bed already, but not so late that Adrien would have to leave yet, at least not for a couple hours.

Swallowing against the suddenly dryness in his throat, Adrien looked at Marinette. All thoughts of the physics homework in front of them banished the moment he saw her tongue poking out the side of her mouth, her brow furrowed in concentration.

How could one person be so cute?

Her bright blue eyes flickered up at him. “Something wrong, Adrien?”

There wasn’t going to be a better time. It was now or never.

“Marinette … I’m Chat Noir.”

The sound of her pencil scratching along the paper stopped as she stared at her homework. There was a long moment of silence wherein Adrien silently panicked. After a few seconds that stretched into infinity, which Adrien spent praying that she would say something, anything, she finally spoke.

“Yeah, okay.”

She said it with a snort and a chuckle. It was like when he was experimenting with different jokes for her and he found one that didn’t quite land but didn’t completely fall flat.

She returned back to her homework, and the sound of the pencil resumed.

“Okay? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Um … I suppose I can add a ‘haha’ in there too? If it makes you feel better?”

“You’re not supposed to laugh!”

“Then it’s not a very good joke.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Adrien said, crossing his arms haughtily. This was not going how he had planned in the slightest.

Marinette raised an eyebrow as she sat up. “There is no way you are Chat Noir.”

“Why not? I’m cool!”

“Exactly, and Chat Noir is a massive dweeb.”

Adrien gasped, scandalized. “Take that back!”

“I will not. Besides,” she continued, raising her hand, “there are plenty of things Chat Noir is that you aren’t and vice versa.” She raised a finger for each point. “Chat Noir is loud, outgoing, with a sharp tongue, and he’s a flirt to boot. Plus the whole massive dweeb thing.”

“And what about me?” Adrien pouted, almost dreading the answer. “Adrien Agreste me, I should say.”

“You’re quieter, to start with.” There was a faint blush on her cheeks. Maybe it was easier for her to describe someone who she thought wasn’t present. “You’re considerate and kind and a perfect gentleman.” She smirked and chuckled. “At least, you usually are.”

Adrien put his hands together and brought them next to his lips as he took a deep breath. He was suddenly reminded of all the times he’d made reservations or tried to set up an account on some website under his own name, only to have it deleted because it “couldn’t possibly be actually Adrien Agreste.” By this point in his initial planning stages of confessing to Marinette, they were already organizing their first date between passionate spells of making out, not trying to determine if he really was himself.

But Adrien was nothing if not adaptable.

With a wide, toothy grin worthy of his alter ego, he leaned forward, putting himself dangerously close to her face. The faint blush she’d been sporting flared to life and spread across her entire face. Her eyes went large as he purred out a reply.

“What an unfortunate alley cat I am, baring my soul to a beautiful princess and she doesn’t even believe me. Whatever shall I do?”

“W-wow, you’ve … you’ve really practiced this, h-haven’t you?” She put on a brave face and scooted backwards.

“You could say that. You could also say I’ve got a lot of experience with the whole Chat Noir flare.” The smile became more genuine as he added teasingly, “And it looks like you think Chat Noir might be more than just a massive dweeb, hmm?”

“Y-yeah?” She got back some of her composure—not much, but enough to start bantering back at him. “And what else is he then?”

“A cool cat, maybe,” he said, tossing his hair and running a hand through it. “Or, even better, a fine feline.” He grinned and finger gunned at her.

Marinette snorted. “You’ve definitely nailed down some of that Chat Noir full-of-yourself stuff. Congrats on getting your research done at least.”

“Not research. Just living the life, Pigtails.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Very creative nickname.” She smirked and crossed her arms. “Then again, it’s better than princess or my lady, so I’ll take it.”

“Hey now, Ladybug likes me calling her that, even if she tries to hide it.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Somehow I doubt that. But seriously, whose idea was this? It feels like Alya had a hand in this. I just know it.”

“Why would Alya get me to try to tell you I’m Chat Noir?”

“She never gives up on her ships is all.” Marinette’s eyes went wide and she threw her hands over her mouth. “Forget I said that!”

“But I—”

Her hands went straight for his mouth. “Forget!”

He held his hands up in surrender and she backed off.

“Come on, though. What’s so hard to believe about me being Chat Noir?”

“I just can’t see you and Chat Noir being the same person. You’re both so different!”

“Okay, first off—yeah, I can be quiet sometimes,” Adrien admitted. “But you’ve seen how I am with my friends, when I’m comfortable. I can be just as outgoing as I am in the mask!”

Marinette massaged her temples. “So what, you’re saying you have to be with close friends to be as confident as you are making terrible puns in front of all of Paris?”

“Well, the mask helps a little,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “After all, then I don’t have to think about how what I say will impact the company or get yelled at by my father. I get to just … be wild.” He gave her a timid smile. “I suppose sometimes I go a little overboard, huh?”

Her blush deepened. “Y-yeah. I guess you do sometimes.” She cleared her throat and schooled her expression back into a skeptical one. “Assuming you are Chat Noir, of course.”

“Of course.” Quietly, he added, “You know, Adrien me isn’t the only one who is ... kind. I’ve done it plenty of times in the mask.”

“I mean, yeah, you do the heroics and everything, but I was talking about something—”

“Gentler?” he said with his best Chat Noir grin, which made her eyes widen like saucers. His voice was still barely above a whisper. “Like when I comfort akuma victims or sponsor animal shelters?”

“I—yes, like that,” she admitted in the same soft tone. A little stronger, she poked his chest and gave a small smirk. “But don’t you think Ladybug will be mad that you revealed your identity? You promised not to do that, you know. Assuming you really are Chat Noir.”

“Maybe I should have asked her about it first,” he admitted, even as something tickled at the back of his mind. How did she know about the promises between them? “But I’m sure she’d understand if she knew. The value of love is something we both agree on.”

“I mean, I guess, but—wait, what?”

“And I suppose you’ve noticed how, no matter what side of the mask I’m on, I love to flirt with the person I love?” She gasped, but he just shook his head and laughed. “Finally get there? I mean, I’ve been flirting with you nonstop for like a month.” He smiled. “Maybe you and Ladybug should hang out. The everyday Ladybug and the real-life Ladybug. Both of you can be really dense when it … comes to … realizing … oh my god.”

Adrien saw the exact moment that she realized that he had figured her out. One moment she was watching him attentively. The next, her eyes had widened in panic, her pupils shrinking down to tiny pinpoints. He knew that if he did nothing, she’d start flailing her arms around and denying it.

The distance between them turned to nothing as he leapt toward her, laughing. She grumbled as he pulled her close, squeezing her tight against his chest, but she didn’t try to break free.

“Don’t be so proud of yourself. You only got lucky,” she said as she returned the hug.

“Luck or not, I finally found you … my lady.”

He looked down at her face at the same moment that she looked up into his. A moment laden with meaning passed between them before they both broke down laughing again. At long last, they had finally found each other.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #ml fanfiction #my writing #Totographs Zine

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

The Winter Soldier (Chapter Five)

Summary: (Y/N) and Sam are visited by Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, and the novelist makes a life-altering decision.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Brief discussion of PTSD

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Five (Previous Chapter)

Yawning loudly into her hand, (Y/N) poured some milk into her bowl of chocolate Cheerios, grabbed a spoon and sat on a stool at the kitchen counter. She turned on her laptop and began reading through the day’s top news headlines while she ate her breakfast; thankfully, it appeared that the manhunt for Captain America was still going on, which meant that S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn’t yet apprehended him.

The backdoor of the house opened and Sam entered, breathing heavily and covered in a layer of perspiration; a smile brightened his face once he noticed her presence. “’Morning, Booksmart!”

“Hey Sam, you have a good run today?”

“Yeah, it was okay.” Sam wiped his brow with his sleeve, his expression suddenly sheepish. “Um…thanks again for last night, (Y/N). It really meant a lot to me.”

The night before, Sam had another intense nightmare about the last Air Force mission he’d flown with his partner, Riley. (Y/N) was woken up by his loud moaning and thrashing from the room across the hall, so she quickly threw on her bathrobe and went to him. As she’d done countless times over the past year, she’d carefully wrapped her arms around him and spoke soothing words until his eyes had eventually fluttered open, and as his face filled with pain, Sam flung his arms around her and they fell asleep in each other’s embrace. It hadn’t been the first time she’d helped him through one of his nightmares, and she doubted that it would be the last.

“I’m your best friend, Birdbrain, it’s in my job description. That, and annoying you whenever I think you deserve some annoying.” Her soft smile turned into a frown as Sam opened the refrigerator and pulled out the carton of orange juice. “I swear to God, Sam, if you drink straight from that carton I’m gonna have to kill you. That’s disgusting!”

Sam’s loud laugh was cut short by a knock on the backdoor. They exchanged matching looks of confusion before Sam headed for the door, (Y/N) following closely behind. He raised the blinds and opened the door to reveal Steve Rogers and Black Widow standing on their back porch, both covered head-to-toe in grime and looking completely worn-out. “…Hey, man.”

Steve’s weary eyes glanced between the two of them. “I’m sorry about this. We need a place to lay low.”

Black Widow’s smile was apologetic as she elaborated, “Everyone we know is trying to kill us.”

(Y/N) and Sam exchanged a look before he opened the door wider and said, “Not everyone.” With looks of gratitude, the pair hurried into the house and Sam closed the door behind them, careful to close the blinds and lock the deadbolt.

“We haven’t been properly introduced; I’m Natasha Romanoff.”

(Y/N) smiled politely and shook Natasha’s outstretched hand. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” After Sam introduced himself to her, (Y/N) gestured to the hallway and continued. “You guys are welcome to use our shower if you wanted to clean up a little; I think I may even have some spare clothes somewhere…”

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

After showing Steve and Natasha the bathroom down the hall and letting them use Sam’s bedroom for some extra privacy, (Y/N) dug through her closet until she found the clothes that her brother and girlfriend had accidentally left when they’d visited last; she’d been meaning to send them back, but it would seem that the two fugitives they were harboring had more use for them. Pausing a moment in front of the closed bedroom door, she placed the box on the floor and hurried back to her room to get dressed before going back to the kitchen. When she got there, Sam was in the middle of scrambling eggs so she quietly began buttering some toast.

“They didn’t look too good, Sam. What do you think happened to them out there?”

“Not sure, but it must’ve been pretty serious for them to come here of all places for help. You mind finishing up the eggs while I go change out of these workout clothes and tell them the food’s ready?”

(Y/N) gave him a small smile and took the spatula from him. “’Course not.” Sam patted her shoulder and left the kitchen, and to distract herself from her worries, she began absentmindedly humming to herself while she finished scrambling the eggs.

“Hey, a tune I actually recognize.” (Y/N) glanced away from the stove to see Steve standing near the refrigerator. “You really enjoy music, don’t you?” When she tilted her head in confusion, he elaborated, “I took a wrong turn in the hall and caught a glimpse of your room. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many records and CD’s in my life.”

(Y/N) shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess I do. There’s something comforting about music to me…it makes me feel like no matter what happens in my life, good or bad, music will always be there for me.” She cringed at how cheesy her words sounded out loud and quickly added, “That probably doesn’t make much sense, though, just forget it…”

Steve’s mouth curved into a small smile. “I think I understand a little…thanks for the clothes, by the way.”

Switching off the burner, (Y/N) took the pan of scrambled eggs and began dishing the food onto two plates. “They fit all right? My brother and his girlfriend visited a while back and forgot some of their things here, they’re about your guys’ size…”

“Yeah, they fit great.” He adjusted the hem of his dark grey shirt before glancing back up at her. “So, were you humming ‘Pistol Packin’ Mama’ just now ‘cause something good’s happening or something bad?”

(Y/N) thought for a moment before answering. “Both, I guess. You guys are both safe, which is obviously good, but something’s going on. Something that must be pretty bad for you to come to the two of us for help.”

Steve stared at her with curious eyes for a few seconds before giving her a brief nod and accepting the plate of food she handed him.

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

“So, Hydra’s been infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D. this whole time…” Sam said, his eyes trained on his clasped hands. After they had eaten, Steve and Natasha had explained everything that had happened, from their mission on the Lemurian Star to the missile strike at Camp Lehigh where they discovered that the terrorist organization had been growing and thriving within S.H.I.E.L.D. for seventy years. “And they’ve been using this Winter Soldier guy to silence anyone unlucky enough to uncover their existence…”

“And they’re planning something big so they can try to take control of the world. Again.” (Y/N) finished, glancing away from Sam and across the table at Steve, who nodded mutely.

Natasha paced beside the table with her arms crossed over her chest. “So, the question is: who in S.H.I.E.L.D. could launch a domestic missile strike?”

“Pierce.”

“Who happens to be sitting on the top of the most secure building in the world,” (Y/N) pointed out, rubbing her forehead as a headache began to form and wishing that she could play some of her music to calm herself down.

Steve frowned, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “But he’s not working alone, Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.”

“So was Jasper Sitwell.”

Natasha’s comment made Steve sigh. “So, the real question is: how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a S.H.I.E.L.D. officer in broad daylight?”

“The answer is: you don’t.” (Y/N) hadn’t noticed that Sam had stood until he dropped a familiar file onto the table in front of Steve. When the super-soldier picked up the file and shot him a questioning glance, Sam added, “Call it a resume.”

“Sam…” (Y/N) jumped to her feet and stood in front of her friend as Steve and Natasha glanced through the file. “Are you sure?”

Sam gave her a comforting smile and nod as Natasha spoke. “Is this Bakhmala? The Khandil Khandil mission, that was you?” She glanced at Steve with an impressed smile. “You didn’t say he was para-rescue.”

“Is this Riley?”

(Y/N) gently took Sam’s hand as he nodded, knowing how difficult his decision was for him. He wouldn’t be getting back into all this if he didn’t believe that it was the right thing to do, she thought grimly, his hand tightening slightly around hers as the others continued to read over the file.

Natasha flicked through the pages of the file, looking up at Sam with a furrowed brow. “I heard they couldn’t bring in the choppers because of the RPG’s. What did you use, a stealth chute?”

“I’d check the next page if I were you.” (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile, remembering when Sam had told her about his military service and shown her the pictures of the EXO-7 Falcon pack. That’s when she began calling him ‘Birdbrain’ in retaliation to his awful nickname for her, but her plan backfired when he ended up taking the insult as a term of endearment.

Steve and Natasha flipped the pages of the file and the super-soldier’s eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked up at them. “I thought you said you were a pilot.”

“I never said pilot.” Despite the serious situation, Sam couldn’t keep the smirk off his face as he spoke and (Y/N) rolled her eyes in amusement.

“I can’t ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason-”

Sam cut off Steve with a wave of his hand. “Dude, Captain America needs my help. There’s no better reason to get back in.”

“…Where can we get our hands on one of these things?”

“The last one’s at Fort Meade, behind three guard gates and a twelve-inch steel wall.”

Natasha shrugged when Steve glanced at her. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

(Y/N) frowned as the three of them began collecting the files and standing, suddenly getting the feeling that they were preparing to leave without her. In that moment, she knew that she had a decision to make; if she stayed, then her life and career would continue normally as long as all three of them managed to stop Hydra, but she knew she’d feel guilt for not doing her part to help and if they couldn’t stop Hydra, then the organization would succeed in taking over the world and countless lives would be destroyed. But if she left with them, she would become a target; her life, her family, her career…it would all be at risk if Hydra put out a warrant for her arrest; if it meant helping save the world and everyone in it, though, then there was really only one right answer…

“I’m coming with you guys.”

“Um…” All three of them stopped and looked at her, and Natasha was the first to break the silence as she glanced over at Steve. “I thought you said she was a writer.”

“Yes, I am a writer, but I’m still coming with you.”

Steve shook his head, his jaw set with determination. “(Y/N), it’s bad enough that Sam’s being dragged into all this but at least he knows what we’re up against. You’d be putting your life at risk by coming, not to mention your career.”

“You’re right, Steve.” (Y/N) squared her shoulders and stared down the super-soldier, her back straight and her arms crossed. “I’m not a soldier, or a spy or even a goddamn Avenger, I’m just a civilian who wants to help save the world that I live in. You three are about to risk everything to stop Hydra, and I’ve got no right to do any less than you, no matter what my occupation is. It’s true that the price of freedom’s a high one, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay. Besides,” She couldn’t keep the smug tone out of her voice as she spoke. “I already know how to abduct Sitwell in broad daylight without alerting Hydra.”

Steve kept his eyes on hers for a moment before turning to Natasha, who had an impressed look on her face as she shrugged. “I like her, and we could always use another person on our side, Steve.”

“I’ve known (Y/N) for over a year now; if she says she can help, then she can help.” Sam gave her a small wink, and (Y/N) felt a rush of gratitude for her best friend. “I’ll keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.”

Steve sighed and turned back to her; she only raised her eyebrows in expectation as she waited for his response. After a moment, he finally gave her a nod, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile. “You’re in. Now, you said you had an idea about getting Sitwell…?”

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

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BenknAqQQnOWY8NmSa23V

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @cminr @momc95 @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @khuang3 @supersouthy @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @becausewelie @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum

Chapter Six

“The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #falcon #natasha romanoff #black widow #captain america fic #captain america the winter soldier

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