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2plussize · 3 years

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Making of a big boy

(A journey to a big life)

First 50

Matt is a student, 22 years old, and a guy who loves to eat. He looks good with his thick brown head of hair, beard, and brown eyes, and his strong body is not overly hairy. Though he does a lot of sports, he has gained a good 30 pounds over the last years. He weighs 210 pounds on a 5’11 frame, and the flab shows on his middle. He would like to lose a few pounds, but with his hearty appetite .. When we go the all you can eat-buffet, Matt can’t resist the delicious food and eats plate after plate, lining up six times before full. Since it is fun, we make buffets and BBQs a frequent habit. He proves to be a heavy eater, yet I encourage him to eat a bit more. Over time, the diet shows results. Matt is proud that he can now eat more than ever before, eight plates of food plus dessert! But his voluptuous butt now fills a size 38 pants, and the shirts tightly span his full-bodied waist. Although embarrassed that he is already over 240 pounds, he is unwilling to stop the fattening diet and begs me to continue.

Always hungry, he eats lots, and I tease him as he gets noticeably fatter and bursts out of his clothes. With his 260, sports are not so easy anymore. And family and friends pat the pounds on his middle and make mocking remarks about his hearty appetite. Although I assure him of how well the weight suits him, he becomes insecure. In the following months he loses a good 40 pounds. What can I do? I offer him to give eating another try. A deep, relieved smile goes over his face. But in turn for paying his food bills, he has to commit to weigh in at 280 on his 25th birthday. He swallows ... but to nobody’s surprise, he cannot resist the idea of constantly stuffing himself and willingly accepts the challenge.

A bit deceived

To give him a break (and to fatten him), I invite Matt on a cruise in the Caribbean. Endless buffets, ice cream, snacks at any time of the day. Instead of working out in the gym, he prefers to train at the buffet and regularly crams himself to the brim. It does wonders to his waistline, and his swim trunks get skin-tight. Though he got nice and fat at 274 six weeks before his birthday, I can’t withstand to dupe him, manipulating the scales to say 264 and insert 3 inches into the tape measure. He looks incredulously down at his fat spare tire .. and asks me to help him to get fat enough for his birthday. I hard-core feed him now - king size meals, followed by extra helpings, additional desserts. When he wants to give up, I get him to eat more. “Open your mouth .. yeah, well done, and another bite .. you’re a good boy, aren’t you?” On top, he has to drink a pint of heavy cream once a day, whining afterwards that he is terribly full. It turns me on how he blows up, but secretly I feel a bit guilty to fatten him so ..

Finally, it’s his birthday. My goodness, he has become fat! He now easily fills out a pair of 44 jeans, and the shirt we had bought for his birthday sits tight at his waist. A bit shy, he takes it off .. His massive belly bulging out, his doughy hip rolls and ample ass make my mouth water. And he weighs in at .. 291!! I hug him, aroused by the wobbling fat he carries in font of him, and pinch him amicably into his fat hips. Slowly, he realizes my ploy and suddenly feels fat and dumb. - At dinner, however, his huge appetite is back. He packs away two complete meals and five desserts. Oops, I notice that his shirt has popped open (we sit in a private room). He blushes .. I console him by approvingly patting the soft flab that bulges out and calling him my hero - such a masterly eater, and he has gained more than promised! His answer is a proud and grateful smile. He says that eating has become such a delight for him. Then he gets serious. He wants to become a big, massive boy and asks me to fatten him further. It’s out of question for him that he will fatten himself up to 300 pounds by Christmas. Then he wants to double his starting weight to 360 by his 27th birthday at the latest, breaking 400 on his 28th and then … his voice trembles a little … reach the 500, and weigh a quarter of a ton! And finally … he swallows … eating himself into immobility. A bit uncertain, he looks at me and asks if I still love him when he gets so heavy and can’t easily move around anymore. I melt away and whisper to him that he can never be too fat for me!

He moves in

After graduation, he has an office job and moves in with me to live comfortably and eat without limit. Though his parents can no longer comment on his weight, he feels a bit uneasy to helplessly blow up (haha, that’s exactly what I want!). In mid-December though, still “underweight”, he undergoes a fattening diet. He eats tons, often taking naps in between the meals. He puts on well. And right, on Christmas, he weighs in at 300! He simply spends the days topless and proudly shows off his wobbling spare tire. I can’t help patting it ... he is thrilled and trustingly promises to pack on as much as he can. Ok! There is enough food for 4 persons, and the days become an epic feasting. He eats really masterfully. Almost the whole turkey, king-size meals, extra helpings, tons of cookies in between. Ok, he has to give up on the Christmas cake. He is so short of breath that I almost get the doctor. But he insists to try again the next day, and he gets better by the day ... Stuffed to bursting, helplessly gasping and unable to sit upright after the meals, he mostly spends the days on the couch. His huge belly bulges tremendously, and he moans relieved when I give him easing belly rubs. By New Year’s Day, he’s gotten so fat that he can hardly get the size 44 jeans over his voluminous butt, and he wears it officially open, as he can no longer button it. He asks shyly if I’m content with him. I can’t help moving my fat Christmas present to the bed and caress his moobs, his wobbling belly, his massive love handles and his immense butt, not to mention what we do with his thick thighs. I enjoy so much how he now gets out of breath when he gets aroused and clashes at me with his fat belly. When he notices, he whispers to me that he wants to get properly fatter for next Christmas. I can hardly say how much I love him.

In June, on the beach. Matt is a handsome 26 year-old with a solid 320. The manly beard on his cute face covers well his now chubby cheeks and his beginning double chin. It is a contrast to the soft, mighty roll of flab on his waist and his enormous ass. But people scoff at this fat guy .. he gets uneasy. Though still full from a mighty lunch, I order him an extra-large family portion of ice cream, and of course he can’t resist. But he is ungracious, accuses me of feeding him so fat, and refuses to eat. I feel bad. After a couple of days though, he comes around. He hugs me and when his fat belly presses against me, he whispers to me that he wants to get fatter than ever, no matter what people say. We seal it with an epic dinner; after all, he has to catch up.

No sports anymore

Next Christmas though, Matt is down to 310, and not happy. I cheer him up .. why not partly work from home, have more time for eating, and comfortably putting on another 40 by his birthday in September? He looks puzzled, but then he kisses me gratefully and promises to do everything to fulfill my wish. I ask Josh, a young feeder, a slim guy, to help me fatten Matt. Josh skillfully stimulates him and feeds him according to all rules of the art. It dawns on the good Matt that he is now being fattened according to plan ... and he willingly admits himself to his fate. I secretly enlarge his clothes, and we blindfold him when weighing him or checking his girth, so he doesn’t see how well he puts on. He helplessly tries to hide the heavy pounds on his middle. When friends tease him with his weight or his enormous appetite, he answers sheepishly that he likes to eat … but secretly he is proud and tries to stuff himself even more.

At the gym, when the trainer heard his thunderous steps, he weighed him and banished him from the treadmill because he had become too heavy. Though, to train him, we take his bike for a tour around town. He is so plump that I have to help him to get on it and go. He is not amused when I comment that next time we’ll need a hoist to get him up there. At the first uphill stretch, he gets out of breath and has to give up. We are turning back. He realizes that he has become just too fat and heavy for sports, and it’s with a feeling of loss. Josh skillfully distracts him by feeding him all the more fattening snacks. Matt never says no and eat to his limits and beyond, and the pounds keep piling on.

Doubled the weight

On Matt’s big day, we invite the pals of the gainer community to a BBQ. Matt’s belly presses against his shirt, and Josh asks him to take it off to show how properly he’s put on. It dawns on him why Josh had stuffed him to excess the last days. At the official weigh-in he is at … 361 pounds! He can hardly believe it, he has doubled his starting weight! And he is now the second heaviest of the pals and has shortened the gap to Pete, the undisputed gainer champion, to 30 pounds. While Matt is still puzzled, Josh calls for an eating contest! Matt is back in his element and, spurred on by Josh, finally manages a full dish more than Pete. Josh is so proud of his porker .. Matt is stuffed to the brim and looks on helplessly as Josh pats his soft fat roll and massive love handles and raves about how nice and fat he has become. “You have proven that you can eat more than Pete. There’s no question that you’ll be the fattest at your next birthday. . You'll only be dressed in boxer shorts, and we'll be amused by your corpulence and your wobbly fat. And then, we will have fun to chase you. You won’t get far with your weight. We will catch and tie our heavy, fattened pig. There’s a butcher to gauge your sumptuous bacon and to check if you are ready for slaughter.” Matt blushes hard. “I see you panic when he joyfully grinds his knife. You beg for your life, but as a ransom, you have to promise to eat as much as a whole family. We will check weekly if you get fat enough.”

The round gets quiet. I see it flash through Matt’s mind. It’s his dream coming true. To be helplessly fattened. To become a soft, massive boy. Being called fat ass. Seeing the numbers on the scale climb. All the more, to eat for a whole family in one meal and ask for an extra dessert. Not to stop eating, though it gets difficult to handle all the weight he’s put on. To eat himself fatter and fatter. Not being able to move and eventually getting immobile. – With breathy voice, he says: “I’m up to be fattened to the heaviest guy here ..”.

To make sure Matt stays healthy with his weight gain, I take him to a check-up. When the doctor weighs him and takes his measurements, he throws a disdainful look at his bulk. After a few squats (Matt only manages three), Matt lies on the patient couch, breathing heavily, and the doctor asks him how such a young guy can feed himself so fat. Matt feels like a fat pig led to the slaughterhouse and stammers that he has a healthy appetite, but the doctor urges him to lose weight .. He feels bad and loses his joy in eating.

It is only in late fall when he grabs his belly. “I’m way too thin”, he says, looking down. “We have a lot of catching up to do! You know I want to be 400 on my next birthday. I want to eat for three in the next time!” He is down to 325, so a lot to do ..

Growing

Josh moves in with us, and he takes Matt firmly in hand and feeds him all the food he loves. Heavy breakfasts, nutritious milkshakes, pre-lunch rolls with Nutella, pizza, tons of pasta, ice cream, cream cake, three-course menus and additional desserts. Matt whines that he feels like an eating machine - but at the next meal, he has again a greedy appetite. No wonder that he grows well. A thick layer of solid fat spreads over his body, and the dough roll on his waist becomes massive. At our BBQ’s, Matt is proud that he now eats more as Josh and I together. But Josh pushes him to eat another serving and stuffs him like a Christmas goose. Although Matt protests weakly, Josh still feeds him with plenty of cream cake. Matt holds his huge, bulging belly and whimpers softly. Josh knows no mercy, and we repeat this frequently. Matt gets a special recliner as he can't sit upright because of his stuffed belly. He now gains 4 pounds of weight per week and often grabs his voluminous waist in disbelief ... At the end of such a fattening evening, Josh grabs Matts immense soft fat roll and says lustfully: "Next time we grill the fat, soft bacon from this fattened guy". Matt becomes visibly nervous, but as full as he is and too heavy to get up, he just gasps helplessly. And the next day Josh crams the fat Matt again to the brim. He protests only weakly, and Josh relentlessly doubles the amount of cream cake. By the middle of the year, Matt has gained a good 40 pounds and is fatter than ever. Josh caresses Matt's massive belly and praises him for how unbelievably much he can eat now. The big, helplessly fattened Matt, full to bursting, gasps and is anxious that he will be stuffed like this again the next day, including cream cake ... He should be right. And Josh makes fun of making Matt drink a liter of melted ice cream, who is whimpering and pleading for mercy.

Matts parents are a bit concerned that their son is getting so enormously fat. They approve of me and our relationship, but of course they have no idea that I fatten Matt on purpose. He assures them that he will cut down .. knowing that this will never happen. - The next time we see them, Matt has again properly packed on and is a bit nervous. Though he eats almost nothing the 2 days before, they scold him for having gotten bigger again. At home, we take a deep breath. Matt is starving and eats a dinner big enough for three. I tease him that with such a diet, he will be even fatter the next time with his parents. Defiantly, he forces two more pieces of cream cake down .. Well, next time with his parents is his 28th birthday. Matt is fatter than ever at 387, and though he tries to suck in, the heavy pounds press against the shirt. When the parents ask what he weighs now, he says “350”. They look doubtful, but they seem to have resigned with his weight. At dinner, he eats two full three-course meals plus a couple of desserts without them commenting further. At home, I open his shirt, which now stretches dangerously at the waist, and massage his bulging belly. I tell him that his parents will always love him, no matter how fat he gets. He sighs .. but I'm right. Although he hardly can eat any more, I fatten him with cream cake, and he does his best before he falls asleep.

A massive boy

Matt’s appetite remains strong, and he is not in the least willing to stop eating. So to nobody’s surprise he comfortably passes 400. At such a weight, my athletic boy from a few years ago has now become big and massive. His enormous overhang starts having its own will. He feels it jiggle out of control with the slightest movement, and it often gets in his way. When he ties his laces, he struggles with the bulky fat roll, so he gasps and gets a red head from the exertion. He is much slower when moving around. Halfway on the stairs, he has to catch breath. Shopping clothes with him is a special pleasure. Seeing my fat boy being measured by the astonished salesmen, the struggle in the fitting room when he has to pull pants over his enormous butt, or the shirts don’t let them button over his huge stomach, then he gets out of breath and starts to sweat .. his clothes size has gone up to 4XL shirts and 56’’ waist jeans.

In bed though, we have incredible fun. We both enjoy his corpulence beyond description, the massive pillow of dough he wears in front of him, his bulky hip rolls, his thick thighs and especially his gigantic butt cheeks. With his weight, he is not so agile anymore. But I do all kinds of stuff with him, I move and shake him and make him pant, sweat and squeak with pleasure (I sweat also, with a guy more than twice my weight). The way his opulent fat jiggles out of control is incredibly arousing. The bed creaks at all joints under his weight .. Its heavenly! In the mornings afterwards, I reward him with a real big boys breakfast in bed .. when he is stuffed, I pat his fat cheeks and tease him that a good boy eats more and help him work down another piece of cake.

Can’t stop eating

Josh constantly seduces Matt with heavy snacks and fattens him properly up. A month before Matt’s birthday, he intensifies the fattening and feeds him beyond the limits. The brave Matt wonders why Josh takes him so hard, but with Josh’s help, he packs away incredible amounts of food and gets noticeably fatter by the week. And yes, Josh is content that Matt added an extra 14 pounds. He is fat enough for his birthday!

At his birthday BBQ, Josh makes the now very corpulent Matt appear in a boxer specially made for his enormous size. Josh shows him up like an award-winning fattening pig, making the gainer pals grab and pat his ample fat rolls and lets them guess what he weighs now. Matt is bashful and doesn’t know what to say. Then Josh puts him on the scales. Wow! At 434, he now weighs 14 pounds more than Pete- and no question that he finishes the eating contest as the absolute winner. Matt can hardly believe that he is now fatter than Pete and also the undisputed master in eating. The dethroned champion pays tribute to Matt for his record weight and his really gigantic appetite, however, he promises that he will have caught up with him again on his next birthday. Josh pinches lovingly in Matt's fat rolls and boasts that he will fatten him to a quarter ton by then. The fat Matt, pigged out and fatter than ever, becomes thoughtful. It dawns on him that there is no turning back. He is a bit anxious that he will be fattened even thicker, and wonders what his life will look like if he gets too fat to move. At the same time, however, it also arouses him, and so he surrenders to his fate.

Eating helps him soon to forget the cloudy thoughts. He breaks the magic 450 in fall and is in seventh heaven. Two and a half time his starting weight. Christmas sees him happy at an even fatter 460. As usual, he just spends it topless in a huge boxershorts, showing off his still perfect shape. Josh and I are thrilled when his enormous ass and the mountain of fat bulging over his pants wobble with every move or how his belly forms into a tremendous fat roll when he sits down, and how he has to breathe and start several times when he wants to get up. We make Christmas an epic feast again. Matt is stimulated and shows us proudly the gigantic masses that he can now eat. Josh and I are excited as his boxer pants get tight over the days and increasingly cut into his bacon. I ask him not to go out - butchers would be keen to catch this well-fattened guy and get to his juicy bacon.

And finally, on his birthday, he weighs in at 500. My goodness, a quarter ton man .. He looks back on the 5 years of our friendship, grateful that eating has become such a fulfilling passion for him. The additional 300 pounds he’s put on make him feel better and happier than ever, and he can’t wait to put on even more. He tries to get up to give me a kiss, but he is too heavy and drops back, the couch creaking dangerously and his bacon wobbling for seconds. He then tries to bend over for a hug, but he is too bulky and has to give up, heavily breathing now from the exertion. I kiss him and pat his abundant dough. I love this man ever more the more helpless he gets ..

At the birthday BBQ, we make a weigh-in (on a heavy-duty scale). Pete has really taken up the challenge and gained significant weight, but Matt outweighs him undisputedly by over 30 pounds now.

Life is however getting more and more difficult for Matt. It’s hard to find decent clothes to cover his bulk. He gets out of breath when he moves around. We have to help him get dressed, and he can’t bend down because of his belly. At work, he is so heavy and big that he needs a special chair, and his colleagues don’t stop teasing him with his weight .. the situation has become uncomfortable for him. OMG, my depressed boy .. I offer him to finally give up work and live a lazy, fat life. He looks at me, uncertain .. then sobs and whispers that this is what he has always dreamed of, and he is more than willing.

Fat life

Matt’s life is now fully devoted to eating. He often stays in bed. In the morning, he already starts with a nutritious breakfast which leaves him heavily breathing. In autumn, he weighs in at 545, and that means .. he has tripled his weight! He is now too fat to sit upright.

His 33rd birthday, at 612. Getting up has become a challenge for him. He gasps already when we help him sit on the edge of the bed. Josh and I help him to stand up .. one, two, three .. oops .. he falls back on the bed, it shakes dangerously .. he needs a minute .. next try ..one, two, three .. he stands .. he needs a moment to catch breath .. then he walks, and his whole body jiggles considerably .. Ok .. for this heroic deed, I reward him with cream cake, and he packs away 4 ½ pieces. Not content, he says he wants to manage 6 pieces in the next weeks ..

Getting immobile

After Christmas, at 660, we try to get him up, but he gasps like hell and his heart beats extremely, so we give up. We prescribe a strict slimming diet and exercise to our big boy (as far as possible at his weight). Well, he drops below 600, and mobility comes back well. But in December, he is unhappy .. he tells us he has lost a year now with fasting. He doesn’t live to starve, but wants to eat, eat and eat! Eat for a family of four in one meal! Well, we start a fattening diet again. Though the gains naturally go slower at his weight, in fall, he is content to weigh over 650 again.

On his 35th birthday, at 710 pounds, Matt starts to regularly stuff himself senseless .. it’s obvious, he wants to be so fat that he gets immobile. On Christmas, he reaches 750, and finally he is too heavy to get up. He is deeply content when we officially declare him immobile. He begs me to stay with him, to encourage him, to feed him fatter and heavier, and to help him with the daily life. I promise, and I do it with deepfelt love.

To be able to lift him up, we install a hoist over his bed, and we take care that he can be weighed this way also. He is proud every time we weigh him and he has gotten heavier, and we celebrate with a feast. He enjoys that he gasps now and sweats with the slightest move. He aims at breaking past 840 on his 37thbirthday, looking forward to weigh four times as much as the sporty guy I fell in love with, and being one of the fattest persons at all .. and to lead a life full of delicious food, making him ever bigger, fatter and heavier ..

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 3 years

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Snowmelt

Hey hey, @12timetraveler! Merry late Christmas, I was your @rdr-secret-santa!

Summary: After testing your luck with the weather during a hunting trip with Charles, the two of you are stuck inside a cabin in Ambarino until the snowstorm passes.

Warnings: Smutty smut smut

Word Count: 2,534

A/N: I was hesitant on writing this since I’ve only written Charles once, and never in this perspective. I hope I did him justice for you!

You knew the weather would get worse.

Ambarino always had that bitter chill in the air, one you were familiar with each and every time you and Charles traveled up here for hunting. Between the two of you, a decision of whether to stay or leave would be based on subtle patterns observed within nature. This morning was still and quiet, not a cloud in the sky. The sun carved a path for you and the elk within the mountain forests.

Despite this, however, a feeling in your gut told you to not dwell within the wilderness for too long. Charles assured you that you’d be gone within the hour, but time escaped you. One hour melded into two, and you took advantage of nature’s bounty. Even with satchels full of small game and both horses laden with carcasses, the impending storm arrived with a powerful rage.

What was once a clear sky turned a smoky gray, thick flakes and bitter wind battering your barely covered face. Charles led the way, his lantern and the slightly visible Appaloosa pelt of Taima a comforting sight. His voice carried with the wind, assuring you were with him at all times.

An indescribable amount of time passed before Charles managed to find an old cabin which thankfully had no dwellers. Removing your nearly frozen limbs from your horse as he took both steeds, you trudged through the thick snow to hurry inside. Scant on furniture aside from a small table and a worn bed in the corner and the lack of many provisions, it seemed as if this place had been abandoned for a while. Thankfully there was a fireplace with some wood, which you took the liberty of igniting. Just as the flames began to kindle, the door opened again to reveal Charles.

“Just brought the horses into a small barn closeby,” he spoke as he shoved the door closed. His large body trembled with a slight shiver. “Guess we should have called it earlier.”

You half-smiled and nodded at him. “We got a little greedy.”

He chuckled in response, stepping closer to hold his hands out toward the growing fire. “I suppose we did. No telling how long this storm will last, hopefully we can leave in the morning.”

“If not, we have days of beans,” you pointed out, turning to pull out two cans from your satchel. “Might as well make the best of it.”

Charles smiled warmly at you. “Might as well,” he agreed.

Within ten minutes the little cabin had warmed up significantly, illuminating the walls with an amber glow. The two of you settled at the table with the beans, thankful to have something hot in your belly after spending the day in the cold. Your snow-soaked outer clothing hung above the fireplace to dry. Idle chatter kept you busy during the otherwise silent meal, occasionally quieting down to hear the howl of the wind from outside.

Despite the satiation, a deep chill settled within your bones. Even the warmth of the fire wasn’t enough to combat it. The clothing that remained help a slight dampness that didn’t seem to completely dry. After dinner, you settled on the musty fur rug in front of the fire, not tired enough to sleep, a slight shiver overtook your body.

“Still cold?” Charles’ voice sounded from behind you. After dinner he took the liberty to straighten up the bed before you settled in for the night.

You sighed. Wrapping your cardigan tighter around your shoulders, you nodded. “It’s taking forever for me to warm up. I think my clothes are damp.”

With his body coming into your peripheral view, he knelt down. The tubbing of the fabric on your body indicated his touch. “They are,” he stated, sitting down completely next to you. “Come here.”

You didn’t have an opportunity to ask what he meant, when his arms wrapped around you. He pulled you into his lap, the heat from his body immediately encompassing you. Without hesitation you leaned against his chest, a smile forming on your lips. “Thanks.”

His own lips pressed against your crown, squeezing you tighter against him for a moment. “You should take those clothes off,” he murmured quietly.

You peered up at him with curiosity.

“Gotta let them dry,” he pointed out. “And let you warm up properly.”

“Wouldn’t I be colder?” you asked, and he shook his head.

“Body heat warms you up, and it’s faster when you’re not covered in damp clothes,” he explained.

You took a moment to consider his words. It did make sense after all. With a small nod you began to awkwardly strip of your layers. He’s seen you in much less, so it didn’t bother you in the slightest.

He helped you, his deft hands easily removing the fabric. From your cardigan, to your shirt and pants, you were now down to the union suit that remained dry. The slight chill in the air soon disappeared, and you felt much more comfortable.

“Better?” he asked once you settled back into his lap.

Smiling up at him you leaned up to place a kiss on his lips in thanks. He reciprocated, wrapping his strong arms around you gently to hold you to him. His mouth moved softly against yours, his fingers tangling into your hair. You absolutely loved when he did that, as if it was his own way of claiming you.

After a moment, he pulled back, peering down at you with a soft brown gaze. Those gorgeous eyes could melt you in the spot with the heat of the desert. It was one of the many things that you fell for early on. Eyes that held wisdom that you’d never even learned about if it weren’t for him.

Your fingers carded through his thick raven hair, locks dampened and glistening in the faint firelight. Some days you couldn’t comprehend how gorgeous he was. Without a second thought, you helped yourself to another kiss. Deeper and more passionate than the second, Charles did not hesitate to meet you with equal eagerness.

Losing control over your hands, gripping hair to clothing to arms. Every inch you wanted to take for yourself. He seemed to act in the same manner, his grip on your waist pulling you even closer to his frame. Through your union suit his light touch left a tingle against your skin. Within mere moments you were feeling much warmer, much faster than you’d ever thought. A small fire of your own stoked in your belly, first as a spark erupting into something stronger.

Charles seemed to pick up on this. With you flush with his torso, his hands roamed your back, from your shoulders all the way down to your butt. A touch growing more fervent with each passing moment. One hand rounded to your front, popping open the buttons with ease to expose more of your skin.

Pulling back as he reached halfway down your abdomen, you gave him a look.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

“No fair when you’re still mostly dressed,” you pointed out with a smirk, reaching forward to run your hand down his chest. Even through the fabric the build of his muscles was apparent. You couldn’t wait to see.

He chuckled in response, catching your hand and bringing it to his lips, warm and soft, pressing them to your knuckles. “You’re right, I should fix that.”

Before you could respond, he wrapped his arms around you and stood up, carrying you with ease to the bed in the corner. Upon laying you against the spread, he towered over you with an almost intimidating air. You shuddered involuntarily, watching as he slowly shed his layers, once by one, until he was down to his own union suit. As he began to unbutton, you sat up and gripped his hand.

“I want to do this part,”

He nodded silently, his hand going limp as you took to your duty. With ease each button became undone, slowly revealing his gorgeous skin from underneath. Pushing aside the woolen fabric, your hands immediately went for the expanse of his chest, internally sweeping aside the remaining confinements. First his upper torso was exposed, pulling his arms out before stepping from the leggings.

There he stood before you, his cacao skin bare, holding a faint golden shimmer of the flames. You gazed him up and down, admiring every inch with a smile. He met your eye and leaned toward you, hand raising to caress your chin. His thumb traced your lips, gazing at you with such love before finishing what he started with you. And soon you were as nude as he was.

Yet with you on the bed and him still standing, you wanted to tackle him then and there.

His even gaze swept over your naked body slowly, drinking in the sight like a hungry predator. Biting your lip, a surge of excitement shot through you. He drew closer, placing his hands on either side of you, caging your figure in as he climbed onto the bed, the frame groaning beneath his weight. He bent down to place his lips upon the crook of your neck, creating a path of gentle kisses down to the valley of your breasts. His fingers toyed with your hardening nipples, alternating his mouth and hand to give each equal attention. You moaned and tilted your head back, whispering his name, running your fingers through his hair once again.

His deep voice hummed against your soft skin with satisfaction. It didn’t take much longer for him to seek your center, his touch gentle through your wet folds. He soon found that sweet sensitive button of flesh that left your body singing for him. Your hips ground into his palm, desperate for further contact. He chuckled and slid a finger in, making a small noise to find how soaked you were already.

You were not unaware of the presence soon pressing against your inner thigh. Reaching for it, your hand wrapping around his girth. Hot to the touch, he pulsed in your grip with excitement. It tugged a smile out of you, soon accompanied with a long moan as he continued to worship your body. Sliding the length through your fingers, you’d memorized every inch of the velvet surface a hundred times over. Each and every moment still felt like the first.

“You’re soaking,” he murmured to you, dragging his lips back up to the junction of your neck. “I know that’s not from the snow.”

Heat crept into your cheeks and you giggled shyly. “It is very…warm in here,” you joked.

He hummed in amusement, drawing a lazy trail back up to your lips, eliciting a sweet but short kiss. “Are you ready, love?” He asked, peering down at you in anticipation.

Hell, you were always ready. With a single nod, your hands moved to his shoulders. He kissed you again, deeply and passionately, as he adjusted himself to line with your entrance. Gliding the smooth head through your folds, soaking himself with your juices, he effectively slid within you.

God, you could never not love the way he stretched your walls with that initial invasion. You’ve had others before, however no one matched him. Well-endowed yet never reckless with use. A soft sigh escaped your lips as he buried himself to the hilt.

A warm hand caressed your cheek, boring his eyes deeply into yours with silent anticipation. He always waited, assuring that you were completely ready beforehand. You offered him another nod, tucking a loose lock of hair behind his ear.

The first few thrusts always stole your breath away. Heavy hips rolling against your more delicate frame with the most precise angle and pressure to build your peak. His name passed your lips, over and over, your fingers gripping his neck, his broad shoulders, his long hair, his muscular back. He busied his mouth to mark and abuse your soft flesh, leaving no area of your neck and chest untouched.

Within moments, his hand snaked between the two of you, honing on your center again. With a fresh wave of pleasure, you moaned loudly, tilting your head back for your voice to carry into the cabin’s old walls. You were thankful you were alone out here.

“That’s it, I love hearing your voice,” Charles crooned, his own voice husky from his ecstasy. “Give me more,” he demanded in smooth, low voice. Hastening his touch on you, his hips quickened as well.

And so you did, caving in to his wish without hesitation. Your moaning soon turned into a loud whine. Constantly stoking your inner fire, building it into a blaze deep within your belly. It wouldn’t be much longer until you burst.

Except he slowed down, favoring long and slow strokes to reach deep, pulling along that sensitive area that had you keening. Your back arched, head thrown back into the pillow to call out his name once again. Legs tangling around his torso. Nails scored his flesh, earning a low groan from him. Your name graced his lips with a deep growl.

“Love, let me feel you,”

Your body responded faster than your conscious mind. I mere seconds, your peak crashed over and rippled every inch of your body, manifesting itself as a high pitched squeal. “Charles!” you shouted out, your legs tightening around him, quivering as he milked the last of it until you whined of overstimulation. He eased his touch on you, pressure just barely there but still tangible enough to further tease you.

His lips found yours, drawing you in for another deep kiss. His hand left the space between your legs to wrap around your waist, holding you tight and abruptly pistoning into you, a sign that he too was close. You could do nothing but hold on while he used your body to chase his own release, unleashing a guttural groan into your mouth.

Within moments, he ripped his lips away to utter a strained, breathless swear. Your legs fell limp as he pulled himself out swiftly, just in time for his hot seed to spill across your belly.

He panted heavily above you, his frame shaking and he sunk down to press his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes and slid your hand to the back of his head, burying your fingers into his thick hair as you pulled him in for another kiss. He melted to your touch, relaxing yet careful not to place his full weight upon you.

Moments passed before he rolled to your side, taking a huge breath before his arm immediately sought your waist. You obliged, rolling over to allow your back to rest against his chest.

It was silent, the two of you lost in a fatigued bliss while Charles’ breathing returned to normal, and your now sweaty body began to slowly cool back down.

“I’m nice and warm now,” you quietly said with a faint giggle.

Charles chuckled with amusement, pressing his lips to the back of your neck. His hand traced down your arm to take your hand, entwining his fingers with yours. “Me too. I suppose it’s not terrible being snowed in up here.”

#rdr secret santa 2020 #Charles Smith #Charles Smith x reader #Charles Smith x reader smut

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enchantedblackrose · 3 years

Text

All the Pieces Pt 2

Sirius Black/Fem Reader

Warnings: light swearing, kinda long, unedited. I broke canon and will probably continue to do so in other parts now?

Part 1|| Part 3|| Part 4|| Part 5

Part 2 of ?

No more secrets from you I would lose to love you And I have never felt so Like a man that's been set free I can spread my arms now - Pieces, Dan Powell

Your questions wait longer still as you watch Sirius step hesitantly into your living room. It's not completely conscious, but you can't stop looking at him. He's so skinny and looks defeated, but then that fresh morning sunlight dances across his face. For a second you see glimpses of the boy you knew years ago.

Sirius clears his throat. The sudden noise startles you and you nearly jump.

"Shower!" You yell, though you're not sure why it comes out as a shouted demand.

"'m sorry, what?"

"I mean, you must want a hot shower?"

Disbelief creeps onto his face. "I would love a hot shower so don't take this wrong, but you must have a hundred questions for me?"

"A thousand actually," you smile, "but they can wait."

Your compassion causes a warmth to fill Sirius that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your presence. He nods his gratitude, not trusting himself to speak.

You direct him to the top of the stairs and inform him of the fresh towels in the linen closet and the second bedroom he may use. Before he closes the bathroom door, you tell him you'll see if you can scrounge up any other clothes for him.

"And then if you want," you say, "we can set those damned robes on fire." Sirius laughs as you walk away.

Never being one able to throw anything away, you know for certain you have some old clothing belonging to Sirius. Not trusting the old rickety steps of the pull down ladder, you apparate to the attic.

"Lumos." The tip of your wand illuminates enough of the storage space that you easily find the light fixture and gently pull on the chain. You put out your wand.

Immediately you spot the desired trunk and the sight of it causes you to draw a sharp breath. Your habit of saving everything while at times like this is beneficial, it often brings you some pain. You sit in front of the trunk, opening it slowly.

Photos and a small midnight blue velvet jewelry box sit on the very top. You pick them up and hesitate before setting them aside.

Next you pull out a large leather jacket, followed by men's pants, several shirts, including tees with the face of David Bowie, another with the Stones, and even one with ABBA. You throw your head back in laughter; you really do keep anything and everything, but this is why. Even these mundane items hold precious memories.

You set the clothes beside you and thumb through the photos: Sirius kissing you on the cheek, Sirius kissing James on the cheek, you and a very pregnant Lily at her baby shower, you and Remus laughing with a pink haired, confused Sirius in the background, Peter attempting to rollerblade, Sirius in his dog form, the marauders near the Whomping Willow at school, you and Sirius slow dancing at James and Lily's wedding. You sigh before gently placing them back in the trunk. You pick up the little box, the delicate fabric still plush and smooth in your hand. But you decide to return it to the trunk without opening it.

Sirius should be getting out of the shower soon and you want the clothes ready for him when he is. You turn off the light before disapparating to the guest bedroom. The clothes were well preserved and a few incantations later they are freshly laundered. You leave them at the end of the bed.

You retreat to the kitchen to prepare brunch. The food is mostly done when from above you hear the water stop, squeaks of doors opening and shutting, the creaking of floorboards and then Sirius barking a hearty laugh. You smile to yourself.

"You always were a pack rat," he says, appearing after a minute. You see he opted not to wear any of the muggle musician shirts, but instead he's in a solid black t-shirt and dark jeans. Both hang loosely on his thin frame. You say nothing about his playful quip, mostly because it's true. You indicate for him to sit in one of the wooden kitchen chairs. "That said where's your engagement ring?"

Your heart sinks as you think to that blue box upstairs.

"Sirius," you warn, your voice low.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. Though you not wearing it was the second thing I noticed about you." He offers a smile, but you don't relent, refusing to dive into this conversation when there's still so many answers he owes. Seeing your hardened expression, he holds his hands up signaling he still means no offense.

You sigh. "What was the first thing?"

His grin widens into a full smile. "Your eyes of course. They're just as I remember. Beautiful, full of goodness and emotions. I could always tell what you were feeling."

Despite yourself, you feel heat rise to your cheeks, blushing over Sirius Black's words like you were still a schoolgirl. It's mortifying to adult you and you take a large sip of orange juice to avoid eye contact.

Sirius smirks slightly, but begins to eat. The array of food mimics a small buffet: chocolate chip muffins, pancakes, bacon, toast, oatmeal and scrambled eggs. A glass pitcher with orange juice sits beside jams and butter.

Sirius takes more than a bit of everything. A mostly comfortable silence falls over the table as two of you eat. Even when you have finished, you refuse to bombard Sirius with questions, allowing him to enjoy the meal.

Finally, getting his fill, he peers at you across the table. It's finally time for you to learn the truth.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," you reply without missing a beat. And so Sirius starts with Peter's betrayal ("literal filthy rat! How could he?" you cry) and ends with knocking at your door.

Your eyebrows furrow. Sirius told you his story and you're still left with questions.

"What's on your mind?" He asks knowingly.

"How did you know where I was? Remus stays here once in a while, did you know that? What's Harry like? Merlin, Peter escaped? He's out there free and you're...do you think he knows where You Know Who is?" You rapid fire questions without thought or pause, but Sirius chuckles.

"I can only answer one at a time, darling. Slow down. Breathe, maybe. I'll answer them all." He shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly. "Dumbledore came to that tower where I was held and told me, in his way, that I may have a friend here. That he would send an owl to that friend explaining my innocence. Remus and I had little chance to chat dealing with that treacherous rat, and Snape," he sneers "and the full moon, of course. But I am glad to know you and Remus maintained your friendship," he pauses as if wanting to say more, but thinks better of it.

Both a sad and happy smile plays on his lips as he answers your next question. "Harry is a carbon copy of James, with the same knack for trouble, though he has Lily's eyes. I'm hoping he has her common sense, too. He's got a good head on his shoulders and the right sorts of friends surround him." Sirius's expression goes dark. "Peter will go wherever he thinks he'll be protected. Voldemort is out there, and I'm willing to bet Peter will do anything to get to him."

Another silence falls over the two of you and you shudder at the prospect of Voldemort returning.

"I'm sorry if I asked too many questions," you finally say after a long moment.

"You didn't."

"You're welcome to stay here. For as long as you need."

"I'd like to. I'm not sure how long, but a couple nights at least if it's no trouble."

"It's no trouble. Er, does your hippogriff need anything?"

"Buckbeak? Nah. There's plenty for him to hunt and he's free to roam a bit, right? I'll introduce you two later."

You laugh. "I'll show you to your room. You must be exhausted."

He catches your wrist before you walk away. His touch makes you feel as though you're on fire. You ignore the sensation and look Sirius in the eye as he speaks. "Thank you. Your kindness is truly unmatched, y/n. Always has been." You don't know how to respond. As if on cue, he yawns and then frowns. "I haven't asked anything about you."

"There will be time for that later. C'mon." You smile reassuringly but mentally you're thankful to prolong any more heavy conversations.

Sirius follows you up the stairs into the bedroom. Your eyes scan the room and you frown. The pale green wallpaper accented with tiny pink rosebuds and the bed donned with oversized blankets and half a dozen throw pillows is a stark contrast to Sirius. You mumble something about not being able to redecorate this room just yet. But Sirius just smiles. You draw the curtains shut in an attempt to block the midday sunlight.

"I think you should have everything you need? Of course help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I'll head to town to get some things."

His face is solemn. "Y/n, stay with me?" He clears his throat. "I mean...will you. Please?"

Wordlessly you nod. You let him climb into the queen sized bed first. Once he's settled, you get in, laying next to him. He moves you closer. Your head rests on his shoulder. He breathes in your scent as his arms wrap loosely around you. You drape an arm across his chest, assuring him his touch is welcomed. His grip tightens slightly as his breathing slows. You watch the rising and fall of his chest until your eyelids flutter shut.

Light tapping on your front door pulls you out of your dreams. Confusion hits first as you're heavy with the weight of a man's arms around you. Sirius. You smile as you become more awake, remembering the moments just hours ago. The knocking grows louder. Urgent, even. Panic sets in.

You shake Sirius awake. He bolts upright in bed, his breathing labored. You place a hand on his chest to calm him. For the moment at least. "Someone's at the door." You tell him in a harsh whisper . Sirius's eyes widen. "Transform," you urge. "And for Merlin's sake stay here." He wants to argue, but knows you're right. You wait until he becomes a large black furry mass of a dog. You close the bedroom door behind you, earning a low whine from Sirius in the process. You hurry down the stairs, clutching your wand in your dominant hand. Fear courses through your veins. You feel your heartbeat quicken with each step.

Drawing a deep breath, you swing the front door open. The sight nearly stops your heart.

"Finally y/n. Is he here?"

Taglist: @oingo233

#sirius black x reader #sirius x you #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfic #adult sirius #sirius x reader

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 years

Text

Phosphene | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader (she/her)

✦ word count — 6k

✦ summary — Damian’s plans are never bad; one of them even found the cure to your insomnia.

✦ warnings — mentions of the experience of being fat but not in a bad way, hints of angst, insomnia, anxiety, a little jealousy sprinkled there, Damian being petty, mostly fluff; this was an excuse to write Damian fluff.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

The plan was simple according to Damian, you would have to visit the area where the type of flora the imported species that was causing people to hallucinate lived and wait there until people went to retrieve it in order to catch them.

You had thought he was joking at first, but there were no records left of the shipments that had brought the flower to the country. Without them, catching whoever was behind this would be impossible.

“What if it was your mom again? No offense.”

“None taken.” He swatted a hand. “It wasn’t her, I’ve never seen that type of flower near any of the League’s headquarters.”

“Well, you should take someone else.”

Damian lifted an eyebrow. “Raven will drive me insane, Blue Beetle is unbearable, Beast Boy doesn’t take anything seriously, Flash is...” He saw you wince as he mentioned your ex-boyfriend, “Well, you know how he is.”

“But he’s fast. You could send him on his ow—“

“Absolutely not. I am the leader of this team.”

Ah, yes, you forgot about his stupid pride for a second there. “Cyborg?”

“Busy with The League.”

You groaned. “I will slow you down.”

He now lifted both eyebrows, glaring at you.

“That wasn’t a joke about my weight,” you defended yourself. “I’m... tired.”

“Because you need fresh air and this mission is perfect for that,” he insisted. “It’ll be fun.”

“You hate having fun.”

He ignored your comment. “Don’t make me force you by saying it’s an order.”

You knew he’d never do it. You gave in, everyone around you did so all the time and you weren’t immune to his stubbornness.

The problem with the stupid mission, apart from how drained you felt, was knowing there was nothing you would really contribute. Everything would be easier if Damian would just take Wally, he would save you from endless headaches AND finish the mission quicker.

Damian was already in the living room, waiting for you with his duffel bag in hand and backpack hanging off his broad shoulders. He opened his mouth, about to ask if you hadn’t forgotten anything, when Wally’s voice interrupted.

“Can we talk before you leave?”

You shook your head at Wally’s question. “I would appreciate it if you covered for me with my family, though.”

“We’ll talk when you’re back?”

“Yeah,” you promised. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

Damian pushed the button to summon the elevator, impatient to leave already. You followed him inside as the doors slid open, silently standing beside him.

His glance shifted between the buttons and yourself throughout the elevator ride. He looked like a child who wanted to ask something they knew they shouldn’t.

In your experience, knowing he shouldn’t do or say certain things had never stopped Damian. After three years of being around him almost every day, you were used to his bluntness. You had been told he used to be worse as a teen, but you didn’t really understand what they meant.

Traveling by bus wasn’t something you ever imagined Damian doing. He never had enough time for that, and with the amount of wealth his family had it was also pointless. He had explained it was to go unnoticed with less hassle.

“Are you sure no one will recognize you?”

“Relax.”

Yeah, you wished you could. You had a bad feeling, Damian would dismiss it because you were tired so you kept it to yourself throughout the ride.

As the bus made the first stop, he asked if you wanted anything from the gas station store. Shaking your head, you took time to look out of the window.

As a sheltered kid, you had never been out that much. You had stumbled into being a superhero by mistake, when you discovered you were decent at fighting while at work.

Your family had owned a shop for a while, a client had gotten too aggressive and you broke his nose almost as a reflex. You started training boxing soon after; your mom thought it would be a chance for you to lose weight.

The weight loss didn’t occur, your body type would only change through surgery and you didn’t have the desire to get a procedure. You were fine with your body, and with your personality for the most part.

Something cold fell onto your lap. Looking down, you found your reusable water bottle. When had he snatched it off your backpack?

Damian took his spot next to you. “You look worried.”

You shifted your head to face him, grasping the bottle in your hand so it wouldn’t fall as you shifted your body too. “I’ve never been around nature that much,” you confessed.

“I’m with you.”

That was oddly comforting. Scratch that. It was comforting, period. Damian knew how to do everything, you would trust him with your life and your loved ones’ safety in a heartbeat.

A yawn broke through you. Not now, you thought. Rolling your head to the other side, you rested it on the window, the light would keep you from falling asleep.

Giving in to your exhaustion was tempting, after many long sleepless nights anything would be helpful. You were on a mission, Damian needed you to be alert; that was why you were there, not to fall asleep.

And who even feels the need of falling asleep in a bus but not on the comfort of their bed?

You let the desire of closing your eyes win. Familiar splashes of color appeared against the dark background, slowly fading as they molded with the pitch-black canvas.

Your head bounced as the bus followed what you assumed to be a bumpy road. Your first name was whispered softly, in a tone no one else had ever used. Blinking to adjust to the light, the first things your eyes could make were grey cloth and olive skin.

Lifting your head, you found Damian’s eyes on you. “We are about to arrive.”

”I’m sorry for falling asleep on you.”

He allowed a pause to linger between you. “It’s fine, you said you were tired earlier.”

Rubbing your eyes, avoiding Damian’s face at every cost as you tried to guess what time it was, you found yourself wishing you would’ve bought a watch for these types of scenarios — then again, you weren’t the adventurer from the team.

The place was packed. Couples and families alike were out and about all over the area, Damian had said they would, but you had underestimated how many people he was talking about.

“Wouldn’t it be better if we slept in tents and wore our suits? There’s a lot of people around.”

“That would look more suspicious. We’re here vacationing like everyone else.”

Lifting both hands in mock surrender, you walked past him and into the building.

You let him chose whether he wanted the bed closest to the door or not. He did, throwing his belongings onto the mattress to then pull out a map.

Approaching him, you leaned over to look at what he was seeing. He explained the path you would have to walk through to find the flowers. The hotel was too far away from the area.

“We should sleep. We’re waking up at dawn.”

“I’m not tired anymore,” you assured him.

His eyes lingered on you, silently asking if you were sure. When your only answer was the tilt of your head, he shook his own. “Then rest some more.”

You walked back to your side of the room in order to find some clothes to change into. You hadn’t really packed pajamas, but a pair of leggings and a t-shirt would be enough and had more utility.

You saw Damian pull a pair of sweatpants out from your peripheral view which prompted you to grip your clothes and get into the bathroom so he could have enough privacy.

He was already in bed when you came out, the only light left was the one emanating from the lamp at your right. Dropping the clothes you had taken off into your duffel bag, you turned the lamp off as silently as its switch made it possible.

You laid on the bed with your legs stretched out. The silence, comforting and mildly warm, was your only source of entertainment. It didn’t cross your mind to bring a book or something to pass the time so you would have to make do with your own imagination, the ceiling fan, and the silence.

Exploring the area didn’t sound so bad, but you would attract too much attention by walking around the trees with a flashlight in hand in the middle of the night. Besides, you didn’t know which kind of creatures could be lurking around in the darkness.

You needed a better plan to locate the flowers, and Damian’s permission.

He huffed on his bed. Turning around to lay on his side in hopes to finally fall asleep. He was thankful over the fact that you didn’t need to keep the lights on like Reyes, but frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t sleep anyway.

Groaning, he sat up. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“How did you know I was awake?”

“Your breathing is too even for you to be asleep.”

You sat up on the bed too, looking for your sneakers. Once you had tied the shoes on, you stood up.

Damian threw a sweatshirt on, groaning as his left shoulder cracked.

Seeing you go through your backpack, he placed a hand on your forearm to stop you. “Only bring some water and a flashlight, no knives.”

Quirking an eyebrow, you looked at him through your eyelashes. “You are the one who trained me to use knives.”

“That’s exactly why I know when you should or shouldn’t carry them.” There was a hint of lighthearted teasing in his voice.

Under your feet, the old floor creaked. Walking down the hallway and crossing the lobby had been a cringing nightmare.

The two of you walked in verbal silence, letting the whooshing of the wind and the crickets’ chirping mix with the crushing leaves.

Damian would check the compass from time to time, making sure you were following the right path. The action reminded you of the reason you were there in the first place.

The soothing smell of earth made you feel like you were far away, perhaps in a dream.

Damian burst the soothing bubble by breaking the silence with a question. “Why did you refuse to speak with West?”

“Some things just don’t work out the way we want them to.”

Wally had been a good boyfriend, sweet and goofy. He always cheered you up when you were sad and took you out on cute dates. You had innocently assumed it would be enough forever, how couldn’t it be when he treated you so well?

Sadly, he wasn’t what you wanted in a partner anymore. You wouldn’t call him immature because he definitely wasn’t that; Wally was too... lively, too chirpy, somewhat hyperactive. You needed peace, enough stress knotted your muscles already without the headaches he triggered.

“Sounds like you don’t want them to work.”

“He gets on my nerves sometimes, I think it’s fair to say it doesn’t matter if I want things to work or not.”

“And you wanted me to take him with me instead.”

“He’s better at this than me.”

Damian lifted his bottle of water, lips grazing the edge of it as he said, “You sell yourself too short.”

You opened your water bottle too, shrugging. “He’s the sporty type.”

“I would hope so.”

You laughed against the lip of the bottle, “Why did you ask?”

“I imagined you wouldn’t like to get mauled by a bear without talking to him.”

“Are you saying you will let a bear maul me?”

He turned serious. “You know I would never.”

Silence fell between you again, as comfortable as always.

By the time you arrived at the point where the specific kind of flowers bloomed at, the sky was starting to appear dark blue instead of pitch black.

“Why don’t we steal them and then track whoever comes looking for them?”

“Because we wouldn’t have proof they’re the ones doing it.” Damian added, “But we should be closer, you were right.”

“Say that again?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

Smirking, too pleased with yourself to ruin the moment, you asked, “What are we going to do?”

“Have you ever camped?”

You shook your head.

“Okay. Stay here and make sure no one gets close, I’ll make a phone call.”

“I didn’t bring my knives,” you reminded him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose with a hand, he sighed deeply. “You have your fists.”

He walked past you in the direction you had come from together. Before he could be too far away, you called for him, “And if I’m overcrowded?”

He craned his neck backward to give you a smirk. “Choke some of them with your thighs.”

Looking down at your thighs, you frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

You never found out what Damian meant by that. No one came near the area, seemingly due to how early in the morning it was. If you were to steal some flowers, you would personally do it at night when tourists were busy partying or sleeping.

Then again, stealing flowers wasn’t your expertise.

Damian took longer than you felt comfortable with, but he brought yours and his belongings with him alongside a few other things.

In silence, he slanted his head, motioning for you to follow him.

You snatched your duffel bag from his grasp. “What did you do?”

“I bought the camping essentials I found at the store.”

“I told you I’ve never gone camping!”

“I haven’t forgotten. But last night you wanted to sleep in a tent, didn’t you?”

You shook your head. “I said it because I can stay awake for long periods of time.”

“We’ll take turns.”

You would rather not. Camping as a fat person was a no-no. Well, not really, but many factors could ruin the experience for you and in that case for Damian.

The last thing you wanted was to put up his grumpy version.

You avoided him throughout the day, exploring the area near where he insisted on camping.

He really should’ve listened to you and taken someone else. Someone who wouldn’t get nervous. It wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t have known the reasons behind your reluctance.

Calling it insecurity would be reductive when you were comfortable with yourself. It was annoyance over not having control of the circumstances in which you would go camping for the first time.

“I think we should get some sleep,” he said from behind you.

You would only trouble him. There was only one tent, you didn’t know how narrow it would get and for the past four months, there hadn’t been a single night in which you didn’t end up tangled in the sheets over how much you twisted in attempts to find a comfortable position.

Sleep had become elusive even before you broke up with Wally. You tried every treatment in existence with no positive results, there was simply something wrong in your brain.

Damian was sure you wouldn’t come in if he didn’t force you, expecting otherwise would mean not being familiar with your antics. He didn’t want to pressure you, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing you were out there alone.

You could defend yourself rather well, it was irrational on his behalf to be so worried. His brain chose to nag him about it still so he listened to it.

He found you with your feet in the river, looking at the rippling water as you made slow movements with your fingers.

“It’s nice out here,” you commented, feeling his presence.

He hummed softly, taking a seat next to you. It smelled like a proper river, unlike Gotham’s.

“Did you get some sleep?”

“No,” he admitted, using his fingers to make movements in the water too.

“Do you have a lot on your mind?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“No.”

He hummed again. Your peaceful semblance was a nice addition to the scenery, with the moon shining in your eyes.

“I can take care of the morning roundabout if you want.”

“You should sleep a little first. We can set schedules later.”

You could’ve sworn his voice carried worry.

His sloppy steps halted as he held the tent open for you to get in. With a sigh, you complied and kneeled on the sleeping pad. At least he wouldn’t force you into a sleeping bag.

When he didn’t make a move to lay down, you begrudgingly did so. His ability to bend you to his will was annoyingly astounding — or astoundingly annoying, it changed day to day.

Damian immediately laid down next to you, facing the ceiling of the tent.

Your hand brushed his by mistake. “Sorry,” you whispered. Damian didn’t answer, he was already asleep.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Mission briefings were everything but fun. Damian’s dry orders always made someone complain — or worse, they sometimes forced the leader to repeat himself.

You were dreading this particular one. Everyone was in a prickly mood due to how much the flower thing was stretching and you could only assume this mission would be part two to stopping whoever was placing the orders.

Damian handed you a large box. Opening it, you found a deep red dress in your size.

“Where are ours?” Jamie asked.

“You are not attending the party as yourselves. (Name) and I will tell you when it’s safe to get in.”

“Why (Name)?”

“Would you prefer I take Raven?” Damian mocked.

Garfield shook his head. “But you don’t need a date to go to a party.”

Wally shifted in his seat.

“You want Bruce Wayne’s son to attend a party by himself without raising suspicion?”

Snorting, you only stared at him in hopes he would give more details. Of course he would say that.

You had to give it to Damian, he had good taste. The dress fitted you perfectly, it hid your thigh holster better than you thought it would when you took it out of the box which was a relief.

He had told you to not carry them, but the knives surely would come in handy if something went wrong.

With his hand on your waist, he guided you into the venue. People, eager to impress him, swarmed around him to compliment him and yourself. Their eyes would linger on you, but you didn’t care about what they could have to say; they wouldn’t dare to say it in front of him either way.

You leaned to speak into his ear, “Have they approached us yet?”

“Let’s dance.”

You both made your way toward the dancing area, inpatient for his answer. There was something off about that place and you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

Now with both hands on you, he leaned forward so only you could listen to him. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“I have a bad feeling.”

His touch turned into a grip as the words left your mouth. Your body responded to it by pressing closer to him, hands firm on his shoulders as you searched for his eyes.

“I’m with you.”

Nodding, you barely mumbled, “I never said I was scared.”

His mouth twitched upward. You tilted your head as his gaze fell on your nose. If his eyes continued the path...

Damian was pushed off you. As a reflex, you withdrew a knife from your holster and pointed it at whoever had interrupted.

“Woah,” Wally exclaimed, “It’s me.”

You turned to look at Damian but he was focused on the railway. A gun went off outside, prompting Wally to run in aid of your friends.

You slipped your knife back into the holster before it would grab anyone else’s attention. It would be hard for Damian to explain why his date had been carrying a weapon and you didn’t want to get him into trouble because you hadn’t listened to him.

Approaching him, you wrapped an arm around his waist. “Did they escape?”

Throwing his arm around your shoulders, he answered with another question, “Are you injured?”

“No.”

If looks could kill, Wally West would’ve fallen dead in the middle of Damian’s office thirty seconds ago. Not only had he made Damian look like a fool, but he had also let Marconi’s men escape.

Loosening his tie, he didn’t even try to control his voice. “What the hell was that?”

“Oh, you’re mad because people might know we are acquainted?”

“I am angry because you almost got (Name) hurt.”

“She’s the one who carried knives!”

Damian inhaled deeply, holding his head higher than usual. “There was no need for you to intervene.”

Wally gritted, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I am the leader of this team.”

“You were flirting with her.”

Narrowing his eyes, Damian placed both palms on the desk. “I’m going to ask you to leave if you can’t separate your obligations with my team from your personal life.”

“So you weren’t flirting?”

Damian shook his head, exasperated.

He left the office before his head would explode. He was supposed to talk to the others too, but he didn’t want to.

His insomnia was getting worse, between his responsibilities at Wayne Enterprises and the newfound ineptitude of 70% of the team, he was close to combust.

Damian was confident in his leadership, he was more skilled than the team could even imagine. If he wasn’t so fucking tired, he would’ve solved this problem all by himself.

His legs carried him to the bedroom area. He had the intention of taking a shower and trying to get some sleep but they went out of the window when he heard your laugh.

Pushing your door open, he stuck his head inside. You beckoned him in, following his movements with your tired eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded. “I didn’t hurt myself. And I’m the one who carried the knives...”

Damian set his jaw. Sitting down on your bed, he nodded upward at the TV. “What are we watching?”

“The cooking channel.”

“You hate cooking.”

“I hate following recipes for things that don’t need measurements,” you clarified.

He kicked his shoes off, swinging his legs onto the mattress as he rested his back against the bed frame.

Knowing he wasn’t a fan of cooking shows that didn’t entail some type of competition, you surfed through the channels in search of something that wouldn’t warrant you a whiny Damian.

His whining was fun, but you were too tired to not punch him. Remembering what you had wanted to ask since he entered, you breathed in. “Did you fight with Wally for not following your orders?”

“Something like that.”

His dry tone made you shift so you could gaze at him. Apart from his tiredness, he looked really angry still — the frown hadn’t disappeared from his face, his clenched jaw could’ve popped in front of you and you wouldn’t be surprised.

“We’ll catch them.”

Damian stared at you for a prolonged moment, mapping out the shape of your nose and how sunk your eyes were. Your blinking slowed down to a passive rhythm and he felt himself focusing on his own rhythm to mirror yours.

You bit down your bottom lip, gnawing on it. Stretching his hand, he stopped you from drawing blood by pulling your lip out with his thumb. He breathily concurred, “Yeah.”

Your eyes followed the movement of his hand as he withdrew it. Silently handing him the tv remote, you laid on your side, curled up as you went back to stare at the tv screen.

Damian allowed his body to relax as he skipped channels. Growing bored, he switched to Netflix.

You sighed deeply beside him, humming to yourself. He turned the lights off, then the TV.

Harsh knocking against the door woke him up. Looking down at the weight on his chest, he felt his breath hitch.

Whoever was knocking got fed up and forced the door open themselves. “Hey, (Nickname), have you seen Rob—“

Damian placed a finger against his lips, motioning for Raven to shut up.

She nodded enthusiastically, surprised by the tenderness of Damian’s touch as he lifted your head off his chest and placed it onto the pillow.

He left the bed slowly, picking his shoes from the floor and using them to gesture for Rachel to leave the room. He followed her, putting his shoes on once away from your bedroom.

“Did you need me?”

“Is there something going on between—“

Damian cut her off, “You were looking for me. Tell me what for.”

“Victor found a lead.”

Your bedroom door creaked open. Damian turned around to see you tumbling towards the kitchen, undoubtedly in need of some caffeine.

Glaring at Raven, he ordered, “Tell everyone to get ready.”

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Damian deviated his eyes to the side in order to rest them, placing a bookmark on the page. Logan was soundly asleep, with his head against the window like you had been that time on the bus.

He remembered vividly the tremble in his fingers as he moved your head to rest on his shoulder so you would be more comfortable, and the way his heart skipped a beat when you sighed contently against his skin.

Turning to the other side, he saw your hunched over form, hovering over the small table in front of you. How you could have the patience to fill a coloring book in the middle of a flight after such a tiring fight was a mystery.

Wally beside you caught him staring, again.

Damian thought he couldn’t dislike the mission more; oh, how wrong had he been. First, he hadn’t been able to bend the plans this time, the only thing he could do was give orders and split the team in the most efficient manner.

And it had worked, but at the cost of his sleeping pattern getting worse. The mission served two purposes, the first was obvious; the second one was more complicated, he came to a few conclusions — they made all the sense in the world in his opinion, but sense wouldn’t change the fact that he couldn’t sleep without you.

There was something in the heady smell of your shampoo that his monkey brain found soothing. He needed to sneak into your bathroom and check which brand you used. Or ask you. Yeah, that.

You were probably making up with your ex-boyfriend while he longed for sleeping next to you. And he hated it.

Moving your head left to right as you scratched your itchy nose, you found yourself wafting Wally’s sweet cologne.

Wally awkwardly nodded upward. The two of you hadn’t spoken much throughout the mission. You nodded back before scratching your nose again.

“Bored?”

Looking down, you shook your head. It wasn’t even worth mentioning at this point, or feeling some kind of shame for it — what embarrassed you was the conclusion you had come to a few mornings ago.

You couldn’t sleep without Damian. There was something about him, maybe his stillness, that relaxed you to the point of being able to sleep eight hours. Your pre-insomnia self had never slept more than five.

“Then?”

“Lots in my mind. I’m worried about—“

“Robin.”

You whirled your head to look at him, wide-eyed.

“I’m not surprised.” Hurt laced his hushed voice. “There’s always been something going on between you two.”

“That’s not true. And I’m worried about a lot of things.”

“He’s been staring at you the entire mission, he hates me, you said you didn’t trust Alexis and he broke up with her, you always give him the benefit of the doubt when his ideas are bad... I could go on and on.”

“Well, Damian’s ideas are never truly bad...”

“You call him Damian.”

“So?”

“No one else from the team does. He’s Robin to us, we are our superhero aliases to him and nothing else.”

“It’s not like you guys have ever tried to see him differently!” Your indignant whisper-shout surprised you while Wally hadn’t even flinched.

He hung his head backward. “You’re defending him again.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Is that why you worry about him to the point of no sleep? Because I know you never cared about me that way.”

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t love me, I know you did.” Wally gave you a sad smile, “But if I made you choose, you would pick him.”

“I wouldn’t pick someone who makes me choose between them or a dear friend.”

Shaking your head in frustration, you picked another marker and went back to your coloring book.

He had been the first relationship you took seriously, the first person you had truly loved in a romantic sense. How could he say those things? Even if they were true, they were uncalled for.

Wally leaned closer to you. “I won’t get mad, just stop lying to yourself.”

You were the first one to leave the plane after landing. Wally’s words made all the sense in the world, that didn’t mean you wanted them to.

No. The truth was that you wanted them to make sense and that bothered you more. You wanted to believe you weren’t the only one in a dilemma.

A stupid dilemma at that. Damian was your friend, you could tell him you needed him in an entirely platonic way — it would be a nice compromise and a pathetic cop-out at once.

Damian placed a hand on your shoulder as you passed him on your way to the living area. “Can you come to my office?”

“Just let me check my phone.”

Nodding, he slowly slid his hand back until it fell onto your arm for a fleeting second before he withdrew it.

Your skin buzzed the entire time it took you to answer texts from your family. Now that the mission was over, you would be able to see them — and to put up with their reaction to your break up with Wally.

Telling them that you had feelings for someone else wasn’t an option, and explaining it was Bruce Wayne’s son would make you sound insane to them.

Sat directly on his desk, with his cellphone in his grasp and frown upon his face, Damian was waiting for you.

From the doorway, you asked, “Are you okay?”

He didn’t look up. “No.”

The answer took you aback. Without invitation, you entered the office. Closing the door behind you, —carelessly and louder than you would’ve liked— you approached him.

He looked fine. Tired, but fine. You knew for a fact he hadn’t been injured, and the mission had been a success so his crankiness was worrying, to say the least.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like I’m worried?” You saw him nod. “Do you want me to scoop my eyes out?”

“Do you look at other people like that?”

“Yes.”

Damian huffed.

“What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.”

“Stop acting like a brat with me, Damian.”

He put his cellphone to the side, finally lifting his head.“Is that really what you want?”

“Preferably. Your act, whatever thing you come up with on the next minutes, won’t push me away.”

“You are driving me absolutely insane!” He wiped his mouth after having spoken so abruptly. “You distract me, I can’t sleep without you next to me, your stupid ex-boyfriend being so close to you killed me the entire mission—“

“Three days?”

He glared at you. You said it so easily, like three nights of no sleep and headaches were pleasant.

You rested a hand on each of his shoulders. “I can’t sleep without you either.”

He opened his legs for you to stand between them. You did so, feeling his hands on your lower back. “Is this awkward?”

Shaking your head, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “We’ve been in more awkward situations.”

His arms snaked around you, pulling you flush against him. You inhaled the smell that lingered on his clothes, vanilla and almonds with a hint of something earthy.

“Couldn’t you tell me this in my room? Or yours?”

Damian rested his head on your shoulder. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“What did you want?”

“To keep you from spending more time with West,” he mumbled the admission.

You shouldn’t have found it so funny, but there you were shaking out of laughter.

He whined against your neck, “Don’t laugh at me.”

You slipped your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp. “It’s silly, though, he’s my teammate.”

“And your ex-boyfriend who wants you back.”

“Not anymore.” Feeling him tense under your touch, you elaborated, “He knows I like you.”

Damian’s embrace tightened. He hummed on your skin, nuzzling against your t-shirt. You played with his hair for a few more minutes until he started to get heavier against you.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warned.

He hummed again.

“Damian,” you tried to make your voice come out sternly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be harsh. “You’ll wake up sore. At least let’s go to the living room.”

Reluctantly, he pulled away from you. He couldn’t contain a whine as your fingers slid off his hair, making you giggle. He grabbed said hand, practically dragging you out of the office.

Thankful for not bumping into anyone, you made it to his bedroom. You imagined he had stopped there because it was the closest one to his office.

He didn’t let go of your hand as he sat down on the bed and kicked his shoes off. You had to wiggle your fingers off his to round the bed and lay down without pulling him with you.

As soon as your back touched the bed, Damian rested his head on your chest, sliding his hand between the mattress and your back.

Your fingers went back to his hair, which was what he had been seeking in the first place, massaging circles on his scalp. It didn’t take much for his breath to even out.

When you woke up, Damian was laying on his side, hugging you tightly from behind with his other arm. His light breathing fanned on your shoulder, tickling up to your neck.

Torn between leaving the bed to follow your routine and staying in the comfortable position against his chest, you shuffled as slowly as you could until you were facing him.

Damian had never looked that serene. Anyone who didn’t know him would have assumed he didn’t have a single responsibility or weight on his shoulders if they could see him at that moment with his mouth ever so slightly parted.

Your heavy eyes lid closed. You weren’t sure as to what time it was, you only knew that the light of the day was gone already, but the comfort of Damian’s frame and his light breathing was better than anything you had to do.

Nestling your face on his chest, you felt his hand move down your back.

Sleepily, he said. “We could go out to dinner.”

His deep voice made you feel more awake. Draping an arm over his torso, you joked, “Are you asking me out?”

Now with his hand on your thigh, he spoke more seriously. “More than that. But first things first.”

You hummed. As nice as it sounded, you didn’t want to get up.

Damian pinched your thigh. “Come on, I’ll give you an excuse to wear the red dress again.”

You lifted your head off his chest. “Do you have a fixation with that dress or something?”

“I mean, I bought it for a reason...”

You playfully hit his chest. He smirked, fingers trailing up your thigh, giving you goosebumps.

You sighed, “Do you think the team will say anything?”

“It’s not like I care.”

You knew he cared deep down, but fighting him on it would be losing your time. It wouldn’t affect him either way, not like it would to you if they looked at you differently or judged you.

Damian left a kiss on your forehead. “I’m with you,” he reminded you.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size fanfiction #robin x reader #robin x plus size reader #damian wayne #robin #dc x reader #dc x plus size reader #batfam x reader #batfam x plus size reader

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chaolie · 3 years

Text

Fundywastaken week, Day 6 - Coronation

Another thing I managed to write for @fundyfiles' fwt week! Do I know anything about actual coronations? Nope. Does this make sense in the context of the actual dsmp timeline? Probably not. But does it make up for it by bringing up the "Eret adopts Fundy" storyline and the vibes it has? Hopefully! This is also on my Ao3!

Characters: Fundy, Dream, Eret

Words: ~1.6k

After a day or two short of two weeks, Dream finally returned from one of his journeys, and the first place he headed to was Fundy’s house. Exploring was always a hobby of his, and his boyfriend was used to him being away for days at the time, but it usually took him about a week to get back. That’s why he couldn’t help but feel a bit worried while stepping into the New L’Manburg’s land. He hoped Fundy wasn’t upset, or scared for him, the last thing he wanted was for his boyfriend to lose sleep over his absence.

“Dream!” came a gasp from his side as he walked. He was still far from Fundy’s house, but it was the middle of the day, so it wasn’t too surprising that the fox hybrid was walking around the wooden paths of the small country rather than hiding inside.

“Fundy!” he smiled, turning to see his boyfriend running in his direction at a concerning speed.

“You’re back!” was all Fundy said before reaching Dream and trapping him in a tight hug. Well, that was a relief.

“It’s good to see you too,” the man laughed, hugging Fundy back. They stayed like that for a moment before the fox hybrid’s grip finally loosened.

“Oh, I missed you so much!” he exclaimed, stepping back to see Dream better but keeping a hand on the man’s arm. “Did something happen to you?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m okay, don’t worry!” he assured once he fully acknowledged the question. “I was going to return faster, but just as I was turning back, a huge storm started. I didn’t lose supplies or anything, but I had to wait it out,” he explained, and Fundy nodded slowly.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he smiled. And just then Dream noticed that the smile, while sweet, was also a tired one. Oh no.

“Are you okay, though? You look tired,” he pointed out, and Fundy groaned in annoyance.

“I bet you’re tired under that mask, too,” he accused, and Dream couldn’t argue with that. “I just have this thing on my hands, and it’s… complicated,” he sighed. Immediately, Dream grew more concerned.

“What’s wrong? Maybe I can help?” he offered, and Fundy snickered quietly.

“Some support would be nice,” he shrugged. “I’ve been trying to sign those stupid adoption papers for like, what, a week? But everyone keeps making up new rules that don’t even make sense! And I know, I get it, it’s to make it safer for future cases, but… I don’t see any other adoptions happening around!” he complained, and Dream could do nothing but stare.

“...Uh, Fundy?” he finally urged himself to say. “I, uh, this is weird to ask, but… Who are you adopting, again?” he asked. Fundy looked at him, and a confused frown appeared on his face.

“I’m… the one getting adopted?” he answered slowly. After that, an even longer pause came,

“...Okay,” Dream nodded finally, doing his best to wrap his mind around the situation. “That’s new. So, uh… by who?” he asked finally.

“Eret,” Fundy answered quickly.

“Oh, that’s nice. They’re a good person,” Dream hummed, and Fundy nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. And I basically grew up with him anyway, so… it’s really nice,” he pointed out. The slight tension the ‘big reveal’ caused was basically gone already. “Now if only everyone could gather around to sign the adoption papers so it’s official,” Fundy groaned.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy. And I’m sure you can organize a meeting soon. Maybe tomorrow? Or even today?” Dream suggested, and a smile reappeared on his boyfriend’s face.

“I wish,” he nodded. Just then, Dream realized something.

“Hey… Being Eret’s son… won’t that make you a prince?” he pointed out after a moment of thought. Fundy chuckled at that.

“I mean, technically? But she’s not sure if that’ll be official, we have to ask the guy behind all the rules about that and… Wait,” he paused, turning to look at Dream. “...Aren’t you the one making them?”

“...I suppose I am?” Dream answered, just remembering that yes, that is a thing he’s responsible for. “Hm. Do you want to go visit Eret and settle that now?” he offered. Fundy nodded briefly.

“Sure. And, uh, what’s the decision?” he asked, slowly starting to walk. Dream shrugged.

“Do you want to be the prince?” he asked. Fundy didn’t take long to answer.

“I mean, that’d be cool,” he muttered, and Dream hummed in understanding.

“Then you will be the prince,” he announced.

A few minutes later, they were already at the entrance to the castle. Fundy was the one to knock on the giant door and, when no answer came, carefully step inside. Dream followed close behind, but still left some space between himself and his boyfriend. After finding the throne room empty, Fundy headed straight for the door to the castle’s garden and pushed the door gently. There, he saw Eret.

“Oh, hello Fundy!” they greeted him with a smile, getting up from the little bench they were sitting on and approaching.

“Hi!” he smiled back. Before she could say anything else, Dream came into view.

“Dream. It’s good to see you,” Eret said, his expression dropping to a more serious one. “I wanted to speak to you about something,” he added, and Dream nodded.

“I think I know,” he answered, glancing in Fundy’s direction. Despite knowing how the conversation would end, the fox hybrid still looked a bit nervous.

“Good. So, if I were to have a child… how would my status as a king affect them?” Eret asked. While Dream could’ve made his answer sound more official, or come up with some rules to make sure his decision couldn’t be exploited… he figured this situation was stressful enough. For Fundy, and for everyone else.

“He will be considered a prince,” he answered, motioning to Fundy. “And I suppose we should start planning a coronation ceremony?” he added. Just as he assumed, giving that answer removed some tension from the situation.

“...Of course,” Eret nodded. The relief on his face was clearly visible. “Do you want to discuss the details now, or later?” he asked.

“Hmm…” Dream wondered for a moment. “I won’t lie, I think I should rest before we start that,” he decided finally. He was doing his best to push back the tiredness from his journey so he could see Fundy first, but now it was truly catching up to him.

“Alright then. See you later, I assume?” they said, and Dream nodded.

“Uh- I’ll be back later too, I’ll walk him home first,” Fundy decided, stepping closer to the masked man again.

“Sure. Have a good day,” Eret waved her hand before returning to the bench they found her on.

“Bye!” Fundy waved back before turning to leave, Dream following close behind again.

Just a few days later, everything was fully settled. All the smallest details for the coronation were planned, even the crown was prepared for the day it would finally be put on Fundy’s head. More importantly, though, the adoption papers were finally signed, and the fox hybrid was halfway into moving into the castle permanently. Dream and Eret were also starting to somewhat get along, mostly for Fundy’s sake, but it was surely an improvement nonetheless.

Just a day later, it was finally time. A few decorations appeared around the castle and the throne room, Fundy finally got some royal-like clothes, and the crown was shined for the last time before the ceremony. It wasn’t a big event in itself, there wasn’t an entire crowd of people that got to come to watch and no loud announcements. Still, there was no doubt that the coronation would be memorable.

Fundy slowly walked into the room where Eret and Dream both waited and carefully approached them. He was still getting used to the texture and shape of the new clothes, and the last thing he wanted was to fall, but he still couldn’t help but admire the room. The decorations were all colorful and pretty, the clothes the two other people wore were very fancy, and the second, smaller throne at Eret’s side was, while still a work in progress, quite admirable. Fundy walked up the wooden, carpeted stairs and finally stood in front of the other two. They both smiled at him.

“Step a bit closer,” Dream instructed, and Fundy did so with a nod. The masked man cleared his throat. “Fundy, I hereby crown you the prince of this kingdom and the successor to the crown. I trust that you will carry that title responsibly and with honor.”

“I will,” Fundy promised, and Dream nodded before turning to Eret.

“Will you do the honors?” he asked, and she nodded.

“With pleasure,” they answered, carefully picking up the crown and taking a step closer to place it on top of Fundy’s head. The moment he felt the weight of it, Fundy couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s fully official, then,” Dream hummed and held out his hand for Fundy to shake. “It’s an honor… hm. Your Highness,” he added, and the fox hybrid could hear the grin on his face.

“...I swear, if you start calling me that in normal situations-” he muttered quietly, and his little threat earned a couple of chuckles.

Did the coronation feel very formal and serious? Did it feel well planned? Of course not, it happened just four or so days after it was first mentioned! But it would go down as a big event in the history books. And at the moment, it felt… nice. Comfortable. And that’s all that should matter, isn’t it?

#fwtweek2021 #fundywastaken #fundy #dream #eret #c!fundy #c!dream #c!eret #my writing #fwt #mcyt #dream smp #If i got a nickel for every time i wrote dream asking 'will you do the honors' and eret saying 'with pleasure' while speaking about fundy #id have two nickels. which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened twice. the other time is much angsty-ier tho

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makeste · 4 years

Note

Are there any headcanons that you would like to share? About anything you want.

anon in the absence of specific guidelines I have managed to make this post pretty much entirely about Bakugou. I apologize if you really wanted to know all of my headcanons about Kouda or something lol. but all joking aside he really is the character I think about the most and so probably like 80% of my headcanons are about him, including close to 100% of the headcanons I actually have a solid enough grip on to put into words. anyway here goes.

he does not know how to tie a tie. he was a rowdy little free range knee-scraping grass-staining run-don’t-walk child whose parents only ever managed to wrestle him into formal attire a handful of times for special occasions when he was younger, and then he went to a middle school that used gakuran-style uniforms so he never learned then, either. his dad offered to teach him when U.A. rolled around, but he was all, “fuck off dad, I know how to tie a stupid tie,” because by that time he had grown into a cocky little brat confident in his own skill and naive as to the reality checks of the world, and he genuinely believed with the conviction that only a fifteen-year-old can muster that when the time came he would just magically know how to do it. on the first day of school he got as far as draping the loose tie over his neck and holding one end in each hand before staring at the mirror and abruptly realizing the hole he’d dug himself into. and so rather than admit defeat, he just straight up decided not to wear it. which became a permanent life choice once he got to school and saw how badly Deku’s tie was tied and realized there was no way he could ever risk that kind of humiliation.

in a similar vein, I know there’s a popular fanon that because of his parents’ influence Katsuki has a good sense of fashion, but my own personal headcanon is that this could not be further from the truth lol. it’s not that he has a terrible sense of style, mind you; it’s just that he doesn’t care about it at all. he’s a nerdy jock who spends all his free time studying and lifting weights. this kid literally only wears one color, and that color just so happens to be the easiest possible color to coordinate. he owns like three pairs of shoes max. he wears his pants three sizes up and they drag so much that the hems are all frayed from him constantly stepping on them (literally canon, and one of my favorite details from chapter 218). he just doesn’t give a fuck, so long as the clothes are comfortable and don’t look stupid. he has about a million things he’s more concerned about than what he or anyone else is wearing. in fact I’m 90% sure that his mom still buys most of his clothes, and about 70% convinced he does not even know what size he is.

he’s good at household chores (because he’s good at everything), but hates doing them. aside from cooking, which he enjoys, he will bitch and whine nonstop if forced to do tedious-yet-necessary things like washing dishes and folding laundry. that said, he is a perfectionist, and he also has a lot of experience because his mom made him do chores all the time during the seven trillion times he was grounded while growing up (that’s his estimate, btw, so it may be slightly exaggerated. he was not an easy kid to raise. when your kid’s fuse is about a millimeter long and he has a tendency to literally blow up whenever he throws a fit, you end up with a lot of objects in your house that have been replaced at some point), so if you do actually manage to get him to do the chore, rest assured that chore is getting fucking DONE.

when he was very little he watched an Avengers Endgame-style All Might film where a bunch of bad guys attacked earth and various assorted heroes tried and failed to stop them. then at the climax of the film, All Might showed up and said “I am here”, and everyone got super pumped up and excited because they knew the heroes were going to win with All Might on their side. this scene remains Katsuki’s favorite scene in anything. not the fight -- just the moment where All Might shows up and grins and the audience knows right there and then that he’s going to win. this is the feeling that inspired his dream. he wants to be the one who shows up and everyone is like, “we’re good now; Katsuki is here.”

when he was six or seven he got into a big fight with an older boy over that scene because he said it was fake and that there was no way All Might could have beaten those guys in real life. Katsuki insisted he definitely would have because All Might never loses. the other boy replied that everyone loses sometimes. Katsuki kicked his ass and got suspended for a week.

ten years later, Katsuki watched All Might battle All for One at Kamino and realized two things. one, that the other boy was right and that anyone can lose. and two, that he, the one who had so proudly defended All Might back then, was going to end up being the reason why he finally lost.

for a long time afterwards, he couldn’t bring himself to watch that movie again.

when he and Izuku were three years old their moms sent them out on a first errand (google Hajimete no Otsukai if you’re unfamiliar with this tradition, I promise you it is the cutest fucking thing you’ll ever see) to buy ingredients for katsudon. Izuku was full of bouncy childish enthusiasm and could rattle off the full shopping list of ingredients front to back, but when the moment finally came his confidence wilted as soon as their parents were out of sight. Katsuki also had a moment of panic when they first rounded the corner and he couldn’t see his house anymore, but rallied once Izuku burst into tears and he realized that he had to be the one to take charge. he proceeded to morph into an absurdly over-the-top caricature of his own mother for the duration of the errand, to the point where in addition to telling Izuku to stop crying he also ordered him to stand up straight and tuck in his shirt. the two of them went on to complete the errand flawlessly and their moms were PROUD AS FUCK and took a billion pictures. Izuku and Katsuki have only a few scattered memories of this milestone in the present day but it’s enough to send both of them absolutely reeling with embarrassment whenever they’re reminded of it.

he and his mom don’t often get along but sometimes they’ll bond over roasting a mutual target. they have watched many a trashy reality TV show together for this purpose. Masaru lives for these moments but never comments on them lest he spoil the rare moments of peace.

Katsuki is perfectly capable of using keigo (i.e. normal polite Japanese with no rude language/cursing), otherwise he would not be one of the top students in his ivy-league high school. code-switching is a thing guys! anyways his teachers are aware of this, because all of his essays and homework assignments are written normally. he merely chooses to go about his daily business acting like a wannabe yakuza stereotype because that’s just his personality, and he’s not about to start censoring himself and acting like some weird little goody two shoes robot person just to please people he mostly doesn’t give two shits about. but if you put a gun to his head and told him you’d pull the trigger if he said “fuck”, he would probably be all right; he’d just have to concentrate.

when he was little he went through a phase of collecting cicada shells and leaving them EVERYWHERE -- in the bathroom sink, on his mom’s pillow, you name it. Mitsuki often tells people this is when she started getting gray hairs. one time she opened a box of cereal and there was one in there and a little bit of her soul died that day.

he generally doesn’t care who calls him Kacchan. it doesn’t particularly bother him and it never occurred to him to pretend like it did just for appearance’s sake. also secretly for some reason the thought of Deku ever calling him anything else really bothers him. he’s not sure what it would mean if that ever happened, or what he would do.

all of his workouts are designed to strengthen his arms and back and shoulders because those are the parts of his body that take the most abuse from his quirk. other than that he avoids building up excess muscle anywhere else because the more weight he puts on the harder it is to fly around. for this reason he is never going to end up being a big bulky guy like All Might. one day Deku is going to surpass him in muscle, but he doesn’t care because he’ll still be a match for him in firepower and speed.

he’s one of those kids who will not so much as take a sip of alcohol until he’s twenty-five. partly because he’s experienced enough concussions that he doesn’t particularly want to give hangovers a try, and partly because he’s a control freak and honestly afraid of getting drunk and making an idiot of himself somehow. the rowdier members of class A try virtually every trick in their wheelhouse and then some to try and persuade him over the years, but not even the reverse psychology “aw, don’t worry, it’s okay if you’re... scared :)” thing works, because that’s only actually effective when he secretly wants to do the thing.

then one day he just wakes up and is all “you know what, I’m gonna try it”, and for the next few days his google history is basically just “how many drinks does it take to get drunk” and “how to avoid getting drunk” and “how to prevent hangovers.” somehow word gets out through the grapevine (he probably told Todoroki, who is the one person in class A you’d think wouldn’t be a big ol’ gossip but in fact IS) that Bakugou is finally going to get his drink on that weekend, and pretty much EVERYONE shows up at the izakaya that Friday night excited as FUCK.

Katsuki proceeds to drink a grand total of two beers over the span of several hours, and drinks like five glasses of water in between, and literally nothing happens to him at all except that Kaminari almost fights him out of frustration. the rest of class A never fully gets over their disappointment.

he actually knows like 90% of class 1-A’s names by this point. there are still a few people he doesn’t and will never know, though. twenty years from now Aoyama will still be “that weird fucking french kid” in his mind.

he had no idea who Eri was until the Christmas party. sometimes he’d hear the other kids talking about someone named Eri, and from context clues he somehow ended up thinking it was one of Aizawa’s cats. when Eri came to the party he had a brief moment of curiosity wondering if she was Sensei’s niece or something, and then he heard someone say her name and he was all “THAT’S ERI?!” and his entire worldview was briefly shaken up.

he pulled Kirishima aside to ask him and Kirishima basically gave him Eri’s whole entire life story which was way more than he actually wanted to know. he’s now kind of terrified of ever being in the same room as her for fear of having to interact with her because he’s pretty sure he’d do or say the wrong thing. most of the time being intimidating is something he strives for and puts a lot of effort into, including when he’s around kids (who are basically just smaller, sloppier adults in his mind), but he doesn’t want to be the guy who scared an abused kid, so he basically just hopes the others will have enough common sense not to ever go “oh hey you know who should totally interact with each other?? Eri and Bakugou!”

that being said, if circumstances ever arose which forced Katsuki to protect Eri, the two of them would totally bond and they would have a really sweet relationship in which Eri looked up to him just like she looks up to Deku and Mirio and the rest, and where Katsuki was constantly trying to be on his best behavior around her, like genuinely, sincerely trying, and kind of failing at it a lot but still being sweet in a gruff sort of restrained-disaster way.

...and after sitting there for a while trying to think of more I couldn’t come up with any so I guess that’s it! basically most of my headcanons are about how secretly boring Katsuki is. honestly if it weren’t for him having the vocabulary of a 52-year-old sailor whose foot was caught in a bear trap, he and Iida would probably be best friends.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bnha meta #bakugou meta #bnha headcanons #don't think there're any spoilers here except for the detail about his pants in 219 lol #sorry if I have spoiled anyone for that #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #long post #oh whoops it was actually 218 my bad just edited #wait a second the christmas party is spoilers isn't it lol whoops #bnha spoilers #there we go

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mercurygray · 3 years

Note

Hello bartender, it's your pal @softspeirs, I would love a tall, cold glass of angst (with some affection if it suits) today. "I'm so sorry" + ... Nixon and an OC of your choice?

Sorry this took me a bit @softspeirs - I took a couple of Thursdays off. But this was a great prompt! And I... really didn’t need those feelings.

The reports were correct.

She'd had it all secondhand, some company runner who'd reported it to his CO who'd reported it to Speirs wondering if someone who wasn't him would tell Dick, or Joan, or someone who might be able to do something about it.

But Speirs hadn't told Winters, and hadn't sent Joan. He'd sent her, and so here she was, Sergeant Marjorie "Mom" Gordon, tapping on doors and checking to see that Lewis Nixon was still among the living.

And the reports were correct.

The room serving as Nix's bedroom-slash-office was tidy, in its own way - the bed was made (mostly) the dirty clothes were in a heap (but all on the same chair) and there was small collection of used glasses accumulating, but only on the dresser.

And then there was the man himself, sitting at his typewriter, with the same rumpled, unloved, unwashed aura the room was giving off, a man stewing in his own grief. They'd all heard his announcement, when they'd been moving out, about his wife and the dog and his son - impossible not to, when he was shouting about it like that. But Marjorie thought this, now, was more than that - it was the divorce, and the demotion, and the death they'd all seen, all of it stuffed in and shoved down until the man himself, over-full with such things, was starting to come apart at the seams.

She tapped on the door and he looked up. "I was sorry to hear about Kathy."

"Yeah, well. It was time, maybe," Lewis said with characteristic disdain, rising from his chair and taking his glass over to the window, looking out into the fading light of the afternoon. "Sick of being married to a screw-up. Plenty happy to keep cashing my checks, though, never complained about that."

"I don't think anyone here would accuse you of being a screw-up, Lew."

"Could accuse me of being a drunk, though," he said bitterly, raising his glass a little in toast. "And she'd be right. Sad, sick man who can't deal with the world as it is. If you can't fight 'em drunk..."

"Is that really how you see yourself?" Marjorie wanted to know.

Lew turned back, his face nearly snarling. "Isn't it how you all do?"

Marjorie felt her heart constrict, almost as if he'd struck her. "That's not who I see at all. I see a guy who stops to pet stray dogs, who always wants to make his freinds laugh. I see a warm, tender-hearted man who cares too deeply and loves too much, who's had a few too many people take pot-shots at the heart he's wearing on his sleeve." This was all hard to say, staring down the twin barrels of Nixon's outraged eyes, but it was true, and she kept on with her truth. "I see a man who gives and gives and gives because he's scared that everyone he loves will leave him if he stops breaking off bits of himself. I see a man in pain." She took a deep breath. "And I'd like to give him a hug, if I can."

Lewis nodded, his lip quivering under the combined weight of everything, what he'd told himself and what Marj had just said and no sooner had she wrapped herself around him than the floodgates opened and he was sobbing into her shoulder and she was rubbing his back, as if somehow that would help him get it all out. It's all right to cry, Lew. She meant something to you and losing people is hard. And Lord knows we've all done enough of losing lately.

It was a few minutes before he slackened off a bit, breathing more, sniffling less, able, finally, to speak. "Jesus, I -"

"I'm not gonna tell anyone, Lewis," Marjorie promised quietly, still rubbing his back.

"Not even Joan?"

"Oh, Joan knows you cry already, it's fine," she assured him. "I don't think she'd be friends with you otherwise."

He snorted, an ugly sound, but remained in her arms, warm and imposing. She missed this, a little - hugging him reminded her of Allen, all big shoulders and broad chest, and for a moment it wasn't just her doing something for him, but him doing something for her. "Thank you," He murmured, and Marj smiled.

"You're welcome.”

If you’re new here, Marjorie comes to you courtesy of my fic The Darkening Sky, which you can read on AO3!

#i have written a thing #marjorie gordon #lewis nixon #look marj shows up for her people #and lewis is joan's people so by transitive property is marj's people #1940s girl gang #mercurygraypresents

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hollyxqx · 4 years

Text

LOVER, LEAVER // JIMIN // 04

↪ PAIRING: Reader/Park Jimin (initally reader/Jungkook) ↪ SUMMARY: There’s only so much cheating you can take from your boyfriend when he’s on tour before you take matters in to your own hands. ↪ WORD COUNT: 8.4k

↪ WARNINGS: mentions of addiction/drugs | smut w/ premature ejaculation lol | there’s a DUI (don’t yell at me these are the laws where i live) | angsty people being messy

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | FINAL

Namjoon has become a semi-permanent feature around the apartment lately. It's a good thing, even if at times there's an awkward passing of each other in the hallway or moments of slightly uncomfortable silence.

There's been no apologies exchanged between the two of you since whatever that was one month ago in Hyerin's living room. Not that you wanted to give one or particularly receive one, but you would settle for the stiff politeness you exchange for Hyerin's benefit. He was meeting you halfway, effort equal to yours.

Not much else had changed in those thirty days, aside from your renewed contact with Jimin. It's tentative, hesitant, almost shy even like you don't know each other as well as you do but it's truly a welcome intrusion into your days. Perhaps Jimin's slowness is because he doesn't want to scare you away again.

The topic of Jungkook has yet to come up. You feel as if it's inevitable and dread it.

Jungkook is on your mind nearly daily, whether you like it or not. Since the night Hyerin had told you he was in one of the most inebriated states of his life he had barely been in contact with any one of his regular group of friends, occasionally you'd hear dribbles from Hyerin that he was okay but you were familiar with this pattern. You were worried. An underlying sense of doom twisted your insides whenever his face appeared in your thoughts.

You're not made of stone, even if you wish you were. Two years of affection don't vanish in the blink of an eye, and you always will want him to be happy. He might be telling his friends he's doing (and Hyerin quoted) fucking amazingly right now, but you know that's a lie he's telling himself.

When you see Hyerin for the first time that day you practically all but squeal with excitement, her tiny bump protrudes her slim figure now, nearly five months gone. It's been a few days since you'd last seen her in person and you swear she's grown already. She walks slowly into your shared place after staying with Namjoon for the last few days. He follows behind her.

The first thing you do is bombard her in the doorway, hands instantly going straight to her bump. "God y/n, you're obsessed." She laughs, playfully annoyed but her hand joins yours when there's a flutter as the baby rolls as you coo.

"I swear you've literally grown in the last 5 or whatever days." You tell her, marvelling at her stomach. It's the first time a close friend of yours has been with child and keeping up with her progress has been exciting.

"Well, all we mostly did was eat, didn't we?." She looks to Namjoon who nods silently. "That might be me growing, not baby."

They come inside and you make yourself scarce, disappearing to your own room to give them some space, and well, avoid Namjoon.

Lately much of your time has been spent looking for graduate work. It's unfulfilling and you've yet to find anything substantial but it keeps you occupied. You sit at your laptop and scroll endlessly. Eventually your eyes start to burn and water with the strain of staring at a bright screen to long, followed by an accompanying rumble of your stomach, which means it's definitely time for a break.

You open your bedroom door and listen for a few minutes. It's silent which means you'll likely be undisturbed. The faint sound of a television can be heard but you're sure it must be the one in Hyerin's room, so you head to the kitchen.

As you pass the living area you see Hyerin sleeping on the sofa, head resting on Namjoon's shoulder while his arm drapes lazily over her. You can only see the back of his head so you have no idea if he is awake or not. You don't hang around to find out.

The kitchen is pretty bare these days since your roommate has entered the nausea phase of her pregnancy and is still deciding what makes her sick and what doesn't. You settle for toast. It's not exciting but it's quick.

"Y/n?"

You look to the sound of your name, surprised to find Namjoon standing behind you. He looks as uncomfortable as you feel. "Hey..." You saw slowly. You sound awkward trying to pretend to be chill. "Um. Do you want some food?"

"No." He says. "Thanks."

The silence hangs like a lead weight. You silently scream at him just go away, neither of us wants this!

"I wanted to," He begins. Then coughs. You wait. His eyes look at anything but you when he tries again. "I wanted to apologise to you."

Oh. You're not sure if this is much better than the awkward silence. "That's alright, honestly." You dismiss.

"It isn't. I've been thinking a lot about what you said." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and stares at his shoes. You feel like you're on a hidden camera show or something. You've never seen him act like this before. He's practically shy at this point. "About this baby not wanting me."

"Namjoon," You sigh. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, I was just upset and feeling protective about my friend."

"No, that's not what I mean." He shakes his head. "You did mean it. But it's okay, I fuckin' need to hear it."

You just stare silently at him.

"I mean, you could have said it a bit more kindly." He jokes, trying to relieve the tension. You offer him a small smile. "The sentiment was true, and I had never thought about it like that until you laid that truth bomb on me."

"Oh." You hear yourself say.

"I had a dad who didn't give a fuck about me, y'know?" He scratches the back of his neck and looks away. You could swear he was blushing. "Didn't want me and bailed on mom the second he could. If he were to come into my life now, I'd tell him to get lost. Hated that guy my whole life, yknow. I don't want a kid to feel that way about me, ever. Wasting their entire life resenting me." He takes a deep breath. "I just wanted to say thanks, I guess."

You guess your words were part of the impact on the recent change in his behaviour. You hadn't intended them to be but you're glad they did. The toast you were making pops and both you and Namjoon jump a little.

"You don't have to thank me." You leave the bread where it is. "I'm sorry I was so rude about it."

"I'm sorry I called you a bitch."

"I kind of was."

You both laugh a little. Tension relieves slightly and the awkwardness isn't as palpable anymore.

"Things are going well," He states, referring to Hyerin. "I don't know what's going to happen with me and her, but I'll be here for that kid no matter what, which I guess is the important thing."

"This might sound insincere and I promise it isn't, but I think that's really honourable of you Namjoon."

He shrugs the compliment off, but looks a little happy nonetheless. "Anyway, I'll leave you to your food."

Just as he's about to leave you want to take advantage of the moment and ask about Jungkook. You call out to him and he freezes looking at you expectantly. You almost bottle it and lose your nerve. "Is...is Jungkook okay?"

His entire face changes, expression unreadable. "He's alive, if that's what you mean."

"That's not what I mean."

"Y/n," He lets out a long breath. "No. No he's not okay."

"Is there anything I can do?" God, you feel so guilty and so helpless.

"I don't think there's anything any of us can do right now." Namjoon says sadly. "You can't help someone who won't help themselves."

On that note, he leaves the room.

***

The latest job interview feels like it went well, but so did the last three. You don't pin any hope on it as you walk to the subway, portfolio under one arm, empty paper coffee cup in the other. It gets tossed in the bin at the station. You learned your lesson the first few times; don't get too excited. Although it's hard not to when you want something so badly and it feels within your grasp.

At this point you don't mind working for free, you still have your job at the restaurant. Some money for your hard earned degree wouldn't be unwelcome however.

You sit on the platform waiting for your train, feeling uncomfortable in your outfit. It's very corporate - heels, pencil skirt, blouse. Not very you at all but the interviews require it. According to the electronic information board your train will be here in 4 minutes. Your leg shakes impatiently.

You happen to turn your head at the exact moment Jimin steps on to the platform. His painting studio is nearby which you conveniently forgot, it makes sense for him to be here. You're the one on strange territory, not him. Still, it's a shock to the system. It's been three months since you've seen him in person. His hair is darker, the sandy blonde gone and he's a little leaner; but it's Jimin.

He spots you and slows down momentarily. He's as surprised as you are.

"Hey." He breathes when he reaches you.

"Hi." You smile.

He gestures to your portfolio with a nod of his head. "How'd it go?" Earlier you'd told him through text your plan for that day.

"We'll see." You say as you shrug. "I don't want to get my hopes up."

"Don't worry, I'm sure it went well." He assures with a warm smile. You think he looks as good as ever. "Are you headed home?"

"Yeah." You say. "I can't wait to get out of these clothes. I'm done being secretary barbie for today."

Jimin laughs. "I kind of like it." You give him a sceptical look. "What?" He grins, shooting his best innocent glance. You shake your head. "Listen, y/n, do you want to grab a cup of coffee?"

"Now?"

He nods.

You have nothing better to do, so you agree.

***

It's not strange being with Jimin like this. Which is strange in itself. You anticipated some awkward tension after so many things were unsaid, uncertain and unclear but there was none. He was just Jimin. The same sweet, kind man you'd met two years ago, let into your bed and then proceeded to break his heart. You're not sure if he's selfless or just a glutton for punishment.

He tells you work is great, better than it's ever been which makes you happy. He's talented so it's not a shock but a welcome surprise. He's recently moved to a bigger apartment that he loves. He even thinks he's ready for a pet, although you're sure that last part is said slightly in jest.

You fill him in a little more on your life, texts exchanged you can only say so much. Jimin gets an update on Hyerin which makes him smile. You tell him about Namjoon - the argument and subsequent apology. The only topic left is Jungkook. It feels like Jimin senses it too because a tension seems to form.

"So..." He says.

"So." You mimic.

He licks his lips. "How is everything...else? Are you still single?"

"Yes, I am." You almost want to laugh at the way he asks the question.

"Me too."

"Are you prying about Jungkook?" You tease.

"Kinda." He laughs. "I didn't know how to bring it up since we were having a good time."

"It's ok." You offer him an encouraging smile. "I haven't seen or heard from him. You?"

"Actually yeah." says Jimin. You raise a brow in surprise. That was unexpected. "A few texts here and there that are erratic to say the least. Sometimes he hates me, sometimes he's sorry. It's kind of worrying actually."

"Namjoon kind of alluded to the same sort of thing. He's worried too."

Jimin nods solemnly. "I always try to reply as best I can, just so if something - touch wood - bad, happens Jungkook knows that door of communication is still open. But he never really responds to me. Just texted more incoherent thoughts." He lets out a long sigh. "Even though we were both shitty friends to each other, I've known him too many years. I have to be there for him no matter what."

A few moments of contemplative silence pass. The coffee shop is rather quiet at the moment, the only other people in the small cafe is a teenager, nose buried in a laptop and a couple in the corner. The boy has shaggy black hair, and is holding onto his girl like she's a prized possession. Sadly, it reminds you of Jungkook during happier times, he always was a little possessive but in a charming way that made your heart swell when you saw him.

You're not entirely sure what to make of the information you've just received. At the very, very, very least, you're glad that Jimin is still there for his friend regardless.

"In spite of all that I'm glad we ran into each other today." You say as lightly as possible. It makes Jimin smile.

"I am also. I've wanted to ask you to meet up so many times but I knew you wanted space." He blushes a little. "I'm glad fate intervened."

"I think it was better this way, actually."

You finish your coffees and Jimin walks you home. His arm occasionally brushes against yours as you walk. When you reach your building the two of you pause in front of it. You wonder if he's going to kiss you and it makes your heart thud wildly. The jury's still out on whether you even want that or not.

"Thanks for walking me home."

"No problem."

He stares at you for a beat. "Can we do this again?"

"Coffee? Uh sure." You reply, slightly confused. He shakes his head.

"No. Or yeah, whatever you want. I just want to see you again. Maybe...like a date?" He gives you such a hopeful yet promising look that's so endearing it almost physically hurts. You open your mouth to reply and as if he anticipates that your about to refuse him he hurries out, "We can take it really slow. No pressure. Just spending time together."

"Alright," You agree, softening. "I'd like that."

Jimin leaves, looking as if he just won a prize of his own.

***

You smile as you remove your jacket and shoes at the front door, mind still entirely occupied with thoughts of Jimin. Your quickly brought back to earth by the voices of Namjoon and Hyerin. At first glance it doesn't appear as if they're arguing but one look at Hyerin's face and you can see something is most definitely up.

"Hey..." You begin cautiously, looking between them.

"Hi." Hyerin strains a smile. "I expected you much earlier. How'd it go?"

She means the interview. "Good I think." You look hesitantly at Namjoon. "I ended up bumping into Jimin, actually."

You wait for judgement to pass across his face but he remains stoically blank. Thank god.

"Oh," Hyerin seems surprised. "Ok."

"What's going on? There's a weird mood in here guys." You ask after a tense moment and silence.

"Jungkook." Namjoon answers with a sigh. You tense immediately.

"What's happened?" You ask, fearing the worst.

Namjoon shakes his head. "He keeps showing up to recording sessions drunk. Or worse. I'm worried."

You're worried too.

***

Inexplicably, the first official date with Jimin is a little awkward. Which is odd, because the accidental crossing of paths a week earlier wasn't in the slightest. Maybe it's because it's officially labelled as a date now, you don't know. Either way, you know he feels it too, stretched silences drawing on a little too long between you.

At the end of the night you allow him to kiss you. It's brief but familiar. You knew you missed the physical side of a romantic relationship but kissing him showed you just how much. As you lay in bed that night, the sensation of the kiss not entirely gone yet, you have to sternly remind yourself that you're taking it slow. You're too used to giving into your desires when you're around him.

The second date is far better, both of you overcome whatever hurdle caused the uncomfortableness in the first one. Jimin treats you to an over priced but amazing meal at a top end restaurant. It feels so grown up, you're not used to dates like this. Jungkook was the first real boyfriend you'd ever had, and his dating style was a lot more casual.

You never exactly had an official first date with Jungkook. Most of the time you spent together involved getting naked together in his apartment enough times that you became a couple. Sure, you went out together but it was mostly to parties or bars. That's just who he was and you accepted that.

The third date Jimin brings you to his art studio. It's an unusual setting for a date, but you go along with it when Jimin promises there's a surprise in store. His eyes twinkle and you can't help but feel a little excitement spark in you. It's an intimate, private piece of him to share with you and it feels special. Different.

His studio is where he does his creating. It's a reasonably large white space that's littered with paint splashes, tarp that protects most of the floor, and works in progress propped up on easels. Although Jimin looks out of place now dressed smartly in slacks and a button up shirt, you can completely imagine him hard at work in here.

"Stop being so coy," You whine impatiently and Jimin chuckles as he strides determinedly across the vast space. You watch, unsure what you're allowed to touch or not touch. "I like surprises but I'm too impatient for the suspense."

"Well, you're just going to have to deal with it." He informs you, before disappearing inside a door on the opposite side of the room.

You gaze around the room as you wait for him to return, absorbing all the visible artwork. There's a lot of rustling before the sound of a crash resonates and Jimin swears.

He truly is talented. No wonder he's been so successful as of late. Your eyes land on a particular work. It's a brightly coloured butterfly, except it's done in watercolour and he's allowed the rainbow paint to drip and run down the canvas. It's beautiful and you wonder why he hasn't sold it yet. An egotistical part of you speculates that it might be inspired by you, given the affectionate nickname he has for you.

When Jimin returns he's holding a canvas against his body but the painted side is facing away from you. You wonder what on earth he's up to.

"Sit." He instructs, pointing to the chrome stool at his desk. You give him a puzzled look but comply anyway. "Close your eyes."

"Jimin - "

"Shush. Now close your eyes."

You sigh and do as he asked, clasping your hands in your lap whilst simultaneously feeling a little ridiculous. There's some shuffling and scraping of metal on the floor and even with your eyes closed you can sense that he's switched some of the lights off. "What are you up to Jiminie?" You ponder aloud.

"You'll see."

You sense some movement behind you and you can tell Jimin is close to you. His hands rest on your shoulders as he leans down to whisper, hot breath ghosting against the shell of your ear. "Okay. Open your eyes butterfly."

You're met with an image that sucks the air out of your lungs. It's you. Jimin has painted you.

Except it's not you. Not regular, every day, flesh and blood you. Painting you is bold and vibrant, he's captured you in a way you've never viewed yourself. The image is clearly based on your face, except you appear more like some mythical fairy. There's flowers woven into your flowing hair that's much longer than yours, covering your naked chest. The only colours on the canvas are red and some pink.

"Jimin..." You begin, attempting to search for the right words that convey just how overwhelmed you feel. His eyes bore into you expectantly. "This is incredible. You're so talented! It's me right?"

He laughs. "Of course its you."

"You made me look beautiful, I almost didn't recognise myself." You admit, blushing. "No one has ever done anything like this for me before. Why did you paint this?"

"You've kind of been a muse to me for a while now." He confesses.

"A muse? Me?"

He nods. "Yeah...it's kind of embarrassing. Ever since the first time we met you've always been a source of inspiration. So thank you, I guess."

"Why me?" You blurt. "I'm just so ordinary, I wish I looked like this." You gesture to the canvas.

"It's more than just how you look, you know. You're beautiful, of course, but you're strong and tough yet still somehow soft enough to be kind, even when people don't deserve it. Not all strong people have that in them y/n but you do."

"I don't know what to say." You whisper, swivelling round to face him.

"That's why I chose the colours I did. Red for the passion and fire within you, and pink because you're sensitive and compassionate. I felt that it suited you."

"I don't deserve you, Park Jimin." You tell him as you pull him in for a kiss. "You might be the sweetest boy I've ever met."

"You do deserve me."

He kisses you fiercely, cupping your face with his hands. The angle is a bit uncomfortable as you're still sitting whilst he's standing but you don't care. The rush of affection you feel for him right now is the only thing on your mind.

"I love the painting." You breathe against his lips. "Thank you."

You separate, albeit reluctantly but he locks your hands together. "This is my one creation I won't ever sell. I'm going to hang it somewhere, maybe my gallery so everyone can see it. I just needed the inspirations approval first." He smiles.

"You more than have it. I'm so lucky I have someone so talented in my life."

Standing now you lock arms around his neck and kiss him slower and deeper than before. Jimin's hand at the small of your back presses you flush against him. His hand slides lower and lower until he's giving the plump flesh of your ass a rough squeeze. It's too easy to get carried away and you badly want him to take you then and there.

He groans pulling away, biting your lip as he does so. "Taking it slow, yeah?" He asks breathlessly. "Does that mean no sex right away?"

"That's probably for the best..." You can't help but kiss him again. You remember how good it felt and it takes everything not to say fuck me against the wall. "There's time."

He presses his forehead against yours and smiles. "Whatever you want, butterfly."

***

Hyerin is at the point of her pregnancy now where her maternity leave has began and days are spent nesting and preparing for the upcoming baby. Preparations unfortunately (and sadly, for you) include her moving into Namjoon's apartment with him. This means two things. One; things are still on a good track for the couple and you're glad and two; you now need to find a roommate, short of getting a fabulously paying job within the next few days.

The painful silence on the employment front is enough to make you uneasy but you're always sure to wear a brave for your friend. She has enough to worry about, you think, and you know the decision to move out wasn't done lightly or with malice either. Hyerin even offered to help you find a new roommate but you waved her off. Read: enough to worry about.

You continue with the job search and fruitless interviews and plough forward, facing no other choice. On the last day Hyerin and you will be living together you both agree to go shopping together. She needs a few more items for the baby and you well, you need a distraction from life for a few hours.

Aimlessly you stroll around a mall that's a forty minute drive away, Hyerin's recommendation because she wanted somewhere with aircon since lately she's been uncomfortable almost all the time. Even though she complains multiple times about her size on the journey you still she thinks she looks great.

She shows you pictures of the newly decorated nursery and your heart warms. Hyerin doesn't have to verbalise it outright, you know she's extremely excited. When you enter a baby clothing store she's cooing and aw'ing over every tiny item and ends up buying more than she wanted to. She looks at you at the checkout and shrugs, as if to say oh well.

"How's Jimin...?" She asks coyly, peering at you out of the corner of her eye. You hold the door for the makeup store open for her and she waddles through. She's aware you've been seeing him, but neither of you have had much time to catch up on details.

"Good. Great." You can't help the smile that stretches your lips.

"You're happy." She informs you and you nod. "I wouldn't put you two together but now that i've seen you with him, it makes sense you know."

"I like him." You cock your head. A year ago you might agreed with her but the more time you spend with him the more you enjoy his company.

"I've never spent much time with him, but I trust your judgement. Would it be strange for the four of us to spend time together?" She hums, swatching a lipstick on the back of her palm, before frowning at the color.

Your stomach twists at the thought. "Maybe in ten years when everyone's forgotten what I've done." You joke. "Namjoon is Jungkook's bestfriend. I wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable."

"It's a shame you started like that."

"Nothing's official."

"Yet." She counters.

You offer a non-committal hum, still unsure if that is exactly the route you want to go down with Jimin. It's easy now, just to see where it goes and take things slowly.

Bored of shopping and after only buying one dress for yourself (that you weren't particularly excited about, but felt the urge to treat yourself regardless) the two of you make the mutual decision to grab a bite to eat. You're more than happy to let Hyerin choose the venue.

She scrolls lazily through her phone while you wait for the food to arrive. You have a text from Jimin sent forty five minutes earlier telling you to have a nice day and you smile at your phone, warmth radiating in your chest.

"Oh my God."

You look up at Hyerin's voice. She has a hand over her mouth and her eyes are wide as she stares at the screen. Instantly you know something is wrong. Fear immediately prickles at your skin, anticipating a problem with the baby.

"What?" Panic is at the edge of your voice. "What's wrong?"

She hesitates and it only serves to worry you further. "I hate that I am the one to show you this but..." Nothing more is said when she slides her phone across the table to you. Frowning you squint at the device, open to a webpage.

Jungkook has been arrested.

Time feels completely frozen as you scroll, reading as fast as your eyes will allow. Your heartbeat is thrumming, uncomfortable and loud in your ears as you try and absorb as much of the information as the article had written. In the middle of the page their was a tacky tabloid picture of him being roughly escorted by police, hands linked behind his back with cuffs. It's even more unfortunate that this was such a public affair.

You swear under your breath at the reason he's in this position, the glaring words taunting you. Drunk driving and disorderly behaviour.

"Are you ok y/n?" Hyerin asks cautiously.

"No." A hot tear splashes on her phone and you wipe it away quickly. "This is bad. It says he's in hospital. Right there at the bottom."

"What for?"

"Apparently he caused an accident and ended up injured. It doesn't give details."

You share a look across the table of fear mixed with worry. Silently you slide her phone back to her. You had anticipated something bad happening as a result of his drinking but not this. Jungkook was a public figure and it pained you to see him immortalised like this. It pained you to know he had taken his recklessness to a new level. It pained you that all of this was happening.

"Let's eat quickly and then go home. I'll call Namjoon and see if there's anything we can do." You friend tells you gently, knowing you well enough to know you won't be able to sit still for the rest of the day. Maybe there was nothing you could do but you could try.

***

"He asked for you."

You stare at Namjoon, astonished. Those were the last words you expected to leave his lips. Standing at your doorway, looking as worried as you felt he patiently waited for your reaction.

"He hates me." The first thought that enters your mind slips out before you can stop it. Namjoon shrugs.

"I'm just the messenger."

Everything about this feels like a bad idea. Your entire body tenses, as if on high alert. Jungkook wants to see you. He could have called you but he didn't, which makes you feel apprehensive. He wants a face to face, which to you, feels like a horrible scenario waiting to be played out. The last time you met in person did not go well.

"I'm on my way now, if you want to join me." Namjoon jingles his car keys at you for emphasis. The idea of not being entirely alone with Jungkook feels slightly more tolerable.

"Fine." You offer reluctantly. He spares you a few minutes to get ready and gather your things before the two of you head to the hospital together.

When you had phoned Jimin a few days prior to share the news it was no surprise to you that he was already aware. You wondered if he had been to visit Jungkook or had plans to, or if Jungkook even wanted that. You don't voice this aloud to Namjoon.

It's mostly quiet in the car and you stare out the window, hoping Namjoon doesn't feel uncomfortable. There's no tension between you anymore but you're not exactly best buds forever. He puts the radio on and you're thankful it eases the silence.

"What do you think about rehab?" You ask, still looking out the window. "For 'Kook. Do you think he needs it?" You clarify.

"I would love it if he went." Namjoon sighs, out of the corner of your eye he grips the wheel a little tighter. "Maybe this will be a wake-up call for him."

Hyerin had told you that Namjoon had been completely sober since they had agreed to try and be together for the sake of their unborn child. It had surprised you to an extent but Namjoon had never been as bad as Jungkook, never appeared as if anything was a problem (not infront of you anyway) and apparently he had no issue maintaining a sober life these days. Jungkook always did do everything better than everyone else.

Anticipation brings a slight tremble to your body as you trail behind Namjoon on your way to Jungkook's hospital suite. He agrees to go in first to tell Jungkook you're here. Your knee shakes when you sit on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs outside the room.

Every second that passes as you wait feels achingly slow. The low voices of the two men rumble through the thin wall but you can't make out exactly what is being said. You're not sure if you want to. Maybe you could run, it's not too late.

The door clicks open and Namjoon gestures for you to go inside. He doesn't follow.

Jungkook lies in a white bed in the center of the room, propped up on a few large soft pillows. The first thing you think when your eyes land on him is that he doesn't look good. He's thinner and bruised from the accident. "Hi." You whisper for some reason. The room feels too quiet.

"Hey, come sit." He croaks hoarsely, gesturing to a chair next to the bed. His eyes follow you as you cross the room and you feel awkward.

You don't know where to start. "How are you?" It feels redundant but it's the best you've got.

"Battered n' bruised." He smiles but it's clearly forced. "Thanks for coming."

"I was surprised you asked for me. But I'm glad you're okay. Pictures of your car were online. It looked wrecked."

He shrugs. "It's worse than it looks. Modern cars are actually pretty safe. Just a few broken ribs but I'm golden."

Jungkook rubs tiredly at his face, stifling a yawn. There's a new tattoo on his hand. You wonder if there's more. "Don't take this the wrong way but I thought you would be in jail."

"I was injured so they took me here. I have a trial in a few weeks. Probably will just get a DUI." He explains. "I'm sorry we had to meet like this but I've wanted to for a long time. Thought you'd take pity on me and visit."

"It's not pity that brings me here. " You say quietly. He's staring at you so intently you can't meet his gaze for much longer and opt to stare at your lap. "I care."

Jungkook reaches for your hand. Confused, you go to take it but stop for a moment. There's undeniable injection sites in between the blue black ink of his tattoos. He's been shooting up. What you don't know exactly but you know taking anything intravenously means things are bad. You take his hand, albeit shakily. You say nothing about what you noticed.

"I'm in trouble baby." He says. You've never heard him sound so vulnerable before. Your heart positively aches in your chest. "I'm in so much trouble."

"What's going on with you Kook?" You press, squeezing his hand.

"I think I'm out of control." To your complete and utter despair he blinks away a few tears. "I could have killed someone just because I wanted to get fucked up."

"You've always liked to get drunk Kookie..." You say joylessly.

"I don't know when it went from getting drunk to have fun and this. It's not fun anymore."

"It was so stupid of you. So stupid." You sigh. "You are better than that."

"I want to be."

He's gripping your hand so tightly, so desperately you die a little inside. He's broken. "You can get help, there's professionals who are trained to help people exactly like you. All you need to do is take it."

"I want to." He whispers.

"Do it." You are almost begging. "Just. Do. It."

"I'll get Hoseok to look into it for me. Take some time off and sort my head out." He offers you another smile but it's somber. You hope more than anything his words are genuine. Not much else is said between you, other than you offering whatever support and reinforcement you can give.

You hold his hand until you leave, kissing him on the forehead before you go.

***

Jimin strokes your hair absent-mindedly as you lay together in his bed. Your head rests on his chest as you scroll through your phone whilst he watches television. It's so sickeningly domestic, it surprises you how much you enjoy it. You find yourself googling rehab centre's in the area for Jungkook. It's not much but you want to help.

Something Jimin's watching makes him laugh and you peer up at him. "I love this show." He smiles when he notices you looking at him. "You should watch it with me."

"Yeah, in a minute." You mumble, going back to your device. You're composing a few links to send to Hoseok, even though as Jungkook's manager he is fully capable of doing it himself you just want to ensure Jungkook has the opportunity to consider all the options possible.

"What are you doing?" He asks. "It must be important to have captured your attention like this. Job searching?"

"No. I'm looking at rehab places for Jungkook."

"Oh." Jimin replies quietly. He understands why when you explain to him that you went to visit Jungkook. There's an arduous history that comes along with dating you, he knows that. In an ideal world, there wouldn't be but you think he likes you enough to put up with it. You hope. "That's nice of you."

"It's the least I can do. I'm giving Hoseok a list and then I'm all yours, babe. Hold on."

With a heavy sigh you put your phone on his nightstand and snuggle into him a little more. You hook one of your legs around his waist, as if you can't be close enough to him. His hand grips your thigh and holds it there. "Do you want to stay tonight?" He hums. Since you've rekindled things you've yet to actually spend the night together. Tonight you don't want to be alone.

"Please." You reply.

Sensing you might need it, Jimin swoops in for a kiss. Having not had sex yet every time you kiss lately it seems to get real dirty real fast. Neither of you show much self restriction now. It's almost too easy to slide over so you're lying on top of him, knees pressed into the mattress either side of his narrow hips. His hands grip your ass outside of your clothes, encouraging you to grind against him. It doesn't take him long to get hard from this.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if you're the last girl he's been intimate with. A possessive part of you hopes so but the thought goes as quickly as it comes.

Jimin has been so patient with you, so it's your turn to take the lead and let him know you're ready now. Breaking away from his lips you sit up, crossing your arms across your torso, pulling your shirt up and over you head. He watches you, dreamy and glassy-eyed as if he can't quite believe what's happening.

"You sure?" He breathes, eyes drinking in your newly exposed chest.

"Positive."

Resuming the kiss, his hands explore your body, feeling every inch of you. He quickly snaps your bra off and you help him slide it down your arms. You whine when his hands cup your breasts, thumbs grazing your nipples. You're extra sensitive there anyway but going a long time without being touched only heightens the sensations. Jimin keens at your reaction and grins against your lips.

"Mm, you like this." He whispers, tweaking one of the hardened buds. You only moan your agreement, rutting against him. Feeling how hard he is against you only makes your stomach lurch with arousal.

"Touch me Jimin, do anything you want. I've missed this." You tell him desperately, already feeling a little light headed.

"Fuck," He says wet mouth against your neck as his hands slide underneath the back of your leggings. "Take these off."

You roll on to your back and quickly wiggle the clothing down your hips while Jimin whips his own shirt off. He's on you in an instant, using his hips to push your legs apart. You're barely focusing on his sloppy kisses over your chest because you're too busy trying to get his pants off. He laughs at your failed attempt and his breath tickles.

"Get naked." You demand. "We've waited long enough."

The belt he's wearing slides through the loops on his pants and hits the floor with a thud. Briefly he stands to kick off his jeans and you can't help but ogle the outline of his hardness through the tight grey boxers slung low on his hips. Naked skin on skin makes you feel almost drunk when he's back in your arms. His body is warm and familiar and god, so soft you melt into him easily.

You're hot all over from his touch. His hands consume your body as if it's the first time he's every touched you and wants to explore everywhere.

The time for teasing can wait. You're already gripping his impossibly hard length underneath the material of his underwear, slowly stroking him up and down. He hisses at the contact.

"Do I need a condom?" Somehow there's still a rational part of his brain functioning right now, despite the handjob. Truth be told, you'd forgot that little detail.

"No, tested right after Jungkook."

"I'm still clean." Jimin assures you.

"Good."

He slides down the bed, ungracefully struggling out of his underwear. You bite back a laugh. He's adorable. "Can I eat you out first?" He pleads, already hovering dangerously close to your cunt. You agree eagerly. His beautiful mouth was always fantastic between your thighs.

Jimin's tongue drags through your wet lower lips from top to bottom and you shudder involuntarily. Lately you've been so busy you don't even remember the last time you'd masturbated so his touch is nearly overwhelming. It takes a few cursory experimental licks before he finds his rhythm again. You fist is hair keeping his head firmly in place so you can roll your hips against his face.

He pulls away so quickly you think somethings wrong. "Jimin - "

" - I need to be inside you, now. The friction of my cock against the bedsheets was already getting too much." He laughs, crawling over you. His cock slides against your dripping, now aching, pussy and you groan. "I haven't had sex since you." He whispers, face hovering over yours.

Your hands grip his shoulders while he glides into you. The stretch is a little much at first and he stills for a minute, watching your face for any reactions after seeing you wince. "Okay?" He murmurs, nosing your cheek and peppering a few kisses across your skin.

"Okay." You repeat. "Fuck me." You whisper running a thumb over his plush lip. You can't help but gaze at his face, eyes blown out. He's gorgeous in such a delicate yet sexy way. "Please."

He slowly begins to move his hips, in and out, in and out, in and out and your eyes flutter shut with pleasure. All you were thinking about was how perfect he feels. Your legs fall open a little wider and your back arches against the bed. "Yes, Jimin - right there - god."

His breath is hot against your skin from exertion. He feels so good, filling you up like this. The more he works his hips the better the stretch is. You claw at his ass, encouraging him to go harder.

"Oh, shit, shitshitshit." He moans loudly, driving into you forcefully. He stops for a moment and you look at him, expecting him to rearrange your position or maybe he wants something different. His eyes are tightly screwed shut and his head hangs, as if he's in pain.

"...Jimin?"

"I'm sorry."

You're lost. What is he sorry for? Then it dawns on you.

"Did you just - "

"Yeah."

He's embarrassed and he avoids your gaze. This has never happened to you before, you've heard the stories of guys coming too quickly but thankfully had never experienced it. Until now. You try not to look too upset at the loss of an orgasm tonight because you can already see how annoyed with himself Jimin is. "I'm sorry, it's been a while and you felt so good...and yeah. Fuck this is embarrassing."

His now softening cock slips out of you and you can feel the tell tale sign of his release being to leak out. "Hey," You pull him down to you, and reassuringly kiss him. These things happen. You hadn't expected to last long either. "It's okay. Don't worry about it, next time will be better."

"I wanted our next first time to be unbelievable." He shakes his head, burying it into the crook of your neck with a frustrated groan. "Let me at least make it up to you now."

He props himself up on his left elbow as his right hand makes it's way down your body, over your bellybutton and straight to your neglected center. Languidly circling your clit with the pads of his forefinger and index you sigh in pleasure. "Do you want my mouth, butterfly?" He licks your neck up to your jaw, kissing the side of your parted mouth.

"I've got your cum in me." You huff, feeling a little self conscious and well, gross. You can't imagine that will be an enjoyable experience for him.

"I don't care." He's already moving down your body before you can protest further. "Want to feel you cum on my face."

"Jimin." You whine, trying to close your legs.

"Shit, ok. Hold on." He tells you, jumping up from the bed and disappearing into the adjoining bathroom in all his naked glory. Puzzled, you can only watch and anticipate his next move. He returns with a washcloth and gently cleans you up.

"You are so freakin' cute sometimes." You grin, unable to quite comprehend his thoughtfulness. Your heart clenches. No guy has ever done anything like this before for you. Although it's not a major display of affection, or even a big deal really, the simple gesture reads; I want to take care of you.

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." He shrugs. When he's done he disposes of the cloth and before he can resume eating you out you grab at him, crashing your lips to his.

"I like you so much." You mumble against him.

"I like you too."

Jimin kisses you slowly for a few moments more, hands wandering down your ribs before gripping the flesh of your thighs. He spreads them once more, before shifting so he's in a more advantageous position. "Can I? Now?" He breathes. You nod.

When he licks into you, your eyes flutter shut and you allow yourself to just enjoy it. His thumbs rub circles on the soft flesh of your inner thighs. He keeps his eyes trained on you, reading your body language. "Ji-min," You breathe. "Want your fingers. Fuck me with them."

The bed creaks as he shifts to comply with your request. Two fingers slip inside you as you clench down, Jimin moans against your clit. Your hips start moving of their own according, rocking against his mouth. When you cum it's so intense you almost sit up completely as your muscles contract. His hands anchor you down.

"Oh my god." You exhale, panting.

"I'm hard again." He laughs. "So sexy." He murmurs, kissing all over the inside of your thighs.

"You wanna go again?"

"If you do."

When Jimin fucks you again he's spooning you from behind, a hand curled underneath your thigh to hold you open for him. He peers down and watches his cock disappear inside of you, moaning at how wet you are. This feels like heaven to you. You clutch his free hand and lock your fingers together.

He cums with a loud groan against the back of your neck. Sweet praises are whispered in your ear as he holds you tightly to him. "You're my favourite, butterfly."

You tenderly look at him over your shoulder. "You're my favourite too."

***

Spending time with Jimin makes you feel like you're floating with pure, unwavering happiness whenever you leave him. He's so sweet and generous - you feel safe with him. Jungkook might have destroyed your ability to trust easily but Jimin is unknowingly building it back up for you. It might be because it's not what he says, it's what he does, all to let you know he cares.

When you leave his place the next morning, full of the breakfast he's made you (with coffee; he remembers how you like it - milk and no sugar), you catch yourself smiling unconsciously several times. You'd feel ridiculous if you weren't so happy.

There's a few moments where you feel guilty for being so elated, worrying about Jungkook. You make a mental note to contact Hoseok in a few days to check in. Hopefully Jungkook is in rehab by then, or at the very minimum taking serious steps towards it.

Home feels empty without Hyerin now. You need to find a roommate, and soon, but the idea of replacing her isn't one you're ecstatic about. She suggested her friend Taehyung, the person you'd met once when he was roped into helping you move. He might be your only hope at this point.

Your phone chimes as you settle into you room. When Namjoon's name appears on your screen it brings a frown to your face, he texts you so infrequently it can only be bad news. Your heart begins to race as you swipe the message open.

from: namjoon jungkook's disappeared from the hospital. He was supposed to be discharged today and no one can reach him. I know you care about him still so i thought you'd want to know. Let me know if he calls you ok?

You swear loudly as you re-read the message. If you know Jungkook as well as you think you do him leaving the hospital without telling anyone was an escape. You appreciate Namjoon reaching out but you almost wish you didn't know that information. Jungkook is in trouble and there's nothing you can do.

MASTERLIST

#jimin fanfiction #bts jimin fanfic #jimin ff #jimin smut #jimin angst #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook ff #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts ff

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mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years

Text

Guardian of creatures; AU! Queen x oc female x reader Chap. 10

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well happy New Year and happy 2021! Hopefully we have a better year than last year was and a new year means new fanfics! And to top it off I’m gonna start off with a new chapter for my GOC story. Also I’ve got 8 new chapters of my new Borhap Disney AU series so I hope you all love that but for now I hope you all enjoy this chapter here. Also I hope you all enjoy the little surprise at the end.

And if you need a refresher playing Seraffel is Jensen Ackles and Thor is Jared Padalecki.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@glitter-at-the-panic

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@kinole009x

@queen-paladin

Chapter 10,

Preparations beings

__________________________________________________________

With no time to spare, John and Serafina use their magic to further disassemble the mansion and soon there stood a suitcase and it soon locked up. John took the suitcase while going up towards Seraffel (both boys were now back in their dragon forms) while Serafina went up to Thor.

You noticed that now she was growing slightly hesitant towards the storm dragon. Her hand held up midway towards his snout but she stopped herself. You then watch as Thor nuzzles his snout right into Serafina’s chest. Deep, soothing rumbles come out of his throat that almost resembled the soft sound of thunder.

“Come on. We can’t stay here. Everyone pick a dragon and prepare for a long flight.” Freddie said as he slithered his way towards Thor and wrapped himself around the storm dragon’s back. You noticed how unlike before when Freddie used his coils to subdue the Wyvern, he wasn’t squeezing or even trying to strangle the storm dragon.

Brian joined John on top of Seraffel and of course Roger went with Freddie and Serafina. Now it was up to you to decide which dragon you would go with. But before you made any decision, you suddenly found two giant dragon heads leaning barely an inch away from you. You stared into the deep ocean blue and amethyst eyes of these great beasts you had only read in stories. Both had a slitted pupil, like a cats as they pierced your very soul.

You could feel each intake and breath of air they exhaled as they stared at you. The earth almost seemed to move underneath you as they let out soft growls. It was then Seraffel made the first move and pushed his head against you. From his throat, deep yet loving growls came out as he kept pushing himself against you, his scales rubbing up against your stomach.

“Push your weight against him.” John said to you. You looked up at your teacher and did as he told you. Seraffel’s growls became more loving and affectionate as he now allowed his brother to do the same. This time you felt Thor’s snout actually stroke and nuzzle your back as affectionate growls came out of him.

“They’re thanking you for reuniting us.” Serafina said with a soft smile. You smiled and decided to give them affection back. You gently headbutted the side of Thor’s face as he circled his long neck around you in an affectionate dragon hug. Seraffel’s head soon came back into the game and you did the same thing.

His eyes closed as he gave your forehead a gentle headbutt back. He also gave you a dragon’s kiss. His cold tongue nipped at your left cheek while your right cheek was also licked by Thor’s warm one. A perfect mixture of warm and cold.

“You’re welcome.” You said to them. The two dragons stared down at you before bowing their heads to you and actually letting you soft purrs. You then walk over to Seraffel and he gladly moves his blue-finned tail closer to you. You grab a hold of his tail and he slowly lifts you up onto his back and Brian helps you get situated.

“You might want to hold on tightly.” Brian tells you. You wrap your arms around the Elven lord’s waist and he tells John that we’re ready.

“Volant Seraffel.”

“Volant Thor.” Both John and Serafina say at the same time and soon your stomach lurches downward as you are first hovering over the ground, but soon the ground becomes smaller and smaller as the air grows a little bit colder. The clouds wisping past your bare arms, never did you think you’d ever get to feel what an actual cloud feels like but there you were.

Soon the clouds disappeared and all you could see was the full moon and a sea of stars.

“Not many can say they’ve truly earned a Dragon’s loyalty.” Brian’s voice said to you. You look at him and he turns to you, a soft gleam in his eyes (in fact they almost seemed enhanced underneath the light of the stars. A richer color of blue). “Only two other people I know of have earned that level of trust. And you’ve been taught by them.”

“So—these two are really John and Serafina’s children? I mean they’re dragons. But John and Serafina are sorcerers. How did they—”

“Adopted.” Ohh okay that makes sense. “They were adopted by John and Serafina at birth. But it doesn’t make them any less their own. You see, they were abandoned by their nests well over 700 years ago. Serafina still could sense life within their eggs so she and John took it upon themselves to see if they could hatch them. At least give them a chance at life unlike their real families did.”

“That’s so cruel.”

“It’s nature. Especially for dragons. For them only the strong survive. Any egg that doesn’t hatch along with the rest of its nest is considered infertile. So they abandon their unhatched eggs without a second thought.”

“How long did it take for them to finally hatch?” you ask him.

“Those two waited on those eggs hand and foot. Then finally when last leaves of Autumn fell and the first kiss of Winter came; Seraffel was the first to spring right out of his egg. Three months later during the first spring thunderstorm, Thor arrived.”

Wow so these dragons are just three months apart from each other. But they’re so big since they’re technically considered runts. I mean if it’s the same sort of situation like with other animals like dogs or pigs when you get the runt of the litter, John and Serafina must’ve really loved and cared for these dragons to get this big.

“Can I ask—why John and Serafina never really……”

“Had children of our own?” John suddenly spoke up. You turn to see John staring towards Serafina riding on Thor. Seraffel let out a growl towards Thor before letting out a few grunts and huffs. Thor let out a soft rumble before flying a few feet ahead. “It happened just shortly after the two of us ran away from the cult. We had been caught in an ambush. Serafina and I had gotten trapped by my psychotic mother and her vicious sisters and cousins. My mother gave Serafina a curse. A dark curse that almost killed her had it not been for Brian and Roger. But—it had severe consequences.”

“You see, Serafina had taken a blood curse. And a curse like that destroys you from the inside out. Severe internal bleeding, organs slowly shutting down till finally……” Brian stopped and took a sharp breath in. “No living sorcerer has survived it because there’s no counter spell to reverse it. Thanks to Freddie’s advance knowledge of brewery and Naga magic she miraculously survived. However it had come with a price.”

“One was her natural appearance. As I’m sure you recall from when Freddie showed you our past, she had black hair and brown eyes. Well it changed her hair and eye color to the color of blood. First it was her eyes then her hair slowly but surely became blood red. Then—we found out she had become infertile.”

Infertile? You mean as in…….

“John and Serafina longed to have a family of their own. Especially once all this mess had been put behind them. But when they asked Freddie about her other symptoms after her hair started to change, he gave them the cold-honest truth. Serafina could never bare any children. Not even he could change that.” Brian explained solemnly.

Poor Serafina. Not only did she lose her entire family but she also lost a shot at making one with the man she loves. You could tell by John’s posture that it hurt for him to even speak of it.

“We were both devastated, especially Serafina. She felt like she had failed me because she knew how much I wanted to be a father. But I assured her it wasn’t her fault. None of it was. But I guess fate was on our side because eventually we found these two.” John placed a comforting hand to Seraffel’s neck who let out a soft purr as he leaned against his father’s touch.

“Then how come you guys weren’t around when I first met you all?” at that point John went quiet and lowered his head down. You saw his shoulder softly shake but Brian placed a comforting hand on your master’s shoulder and he whispered in Elvish to him.

Now you didn’t know much about the language but there were a few words you did pick up. Basically Brian was telling John to calm down and you heard him mention Thor and Seraffel’s names. John then rested himself against Seraffel’s neck, clinging onto him and stroking his black scales.

“In the summer of 1309, we had another run in with John’s family in Scotland at the time of the battle of Bannockburn. A few years after William Wallace had been beheaded and his limbs cut off to be displayed to the 4 corners of England and Scotland……”

“It’ll take all night for you to explain it!” John snapped. The tremor in his voice trying to hold back a sob but mostly came out in anger. He levitated himself over Brian and sat between the two of you. He placed both index and tall finger at each side of your temples and said. “I’ll show you what happened that day. But just know it wasn’t her fault.”

His fingers glowed purple and soon you felt your mind being flushed down a vortex and you found yourself hovering over a battlefield.

A whole bunch of witches and wizards were fighting. But the clothes told you the difference of who was on what side. You recognized the black robes from John’s family while wizards with not only swords and shields on hand but waving the Scottish flag with pride showed you that this was a wizard duel between the English and the Scottish sorcerers.

They were badly outnumbered but you soon saw Seraffel and Thor working together to help the Scots out. Thor sent down lightning bolts upon John’s entire family while Seraffel covered them in ice barriers. Soon you felt yourself being pulled a certain direction and you saw John and Serafina battling against John’s parents, his brother and cousin Crowley.

“Give it up Johnny boy, you can’t last much longer!” Crowley sneered as his quickly stuck out his tongue in that sneering way.

“Your magic is nothing compared to a troll’s level. Slow and miniscule.” John sassed.

“Why you little—”

“He’s stirring you up cousin. Besides, we’ve got something bigger on our side.” His brother Draco said.

“What are you talking about?” Serafina sneered lowly as she aimed her wand at Draco. It was then Ronan rolled up his sleeve and there you saw the very mark that had branded itself on your chest, however his was a black marking (like someone had put charcoal on his arm). A green light shined from his forearm as he soon let out a yell.

It almost sounded like a roar as his arm glowed brighter and brighter. You turned to the sky and saw a large black storm cloud of smoke charging right for them. It brushed past Thor and he looked down curiously before he then let out a roar towards Seraffel and the two of them proceeded to fly towards you.

The black smoke landed with a hard thud and soon revealing himself before them was John’s grandfather Grindelwald. In his hand he held a skull with an orange tube around it and at the end of the tube was some kind of golden piece to it that almost resembled an upper-class cigarette holder.

At his appearance, his brother and cousin bowed, his mother smirked maliciously as she raised her wand to her head giving a crazed tilt of her head like an insane person.

“As Sorcerer Supreme none can resist a spell he casts. No effect on the bloodline itself, but to others they submit.” He spoke in that low, soft, whispery voice of his. His eyes turned directly towards Serafina as he took the golden end of the tube and put it in his mouth inhaling deeply. The inside of the skull glowed, it’s eyes shining a bright yellow before he exhaled the smoke right towards Serafina.

As the smoke slowly encircled around her, she suddenly began to fidget and lose absolute control of her body. She was screaming as she held her head in what seemed to be pain.

“Serafina?” Serafina continued to try and resist the spell she was being put under. “Serafina my love what’s wrong!?”

“Witness true strength John. The strength of will over magic.” Soon Serafina’s fighting ceased as she now stood tall but her eyes were now pure white as she stood erect, staring directly at Grindelwald.

“See brother, in the face of it. You…..are…..nothing!” his brother Draco snarled. Grindelwald then turned towards John but didn’t say a word. Soon slowly turned towards John was Serafina.

“What did my grandfather just tell you?” you then saw his mother take something out from behind her back. It was the urn. The very same urn that was in the NY Times office.

Oh no you knew where this was going now. You watched helplessly as John’s brother and cousin held him down while Serafina slowly walked towards John, under the control of Grindelwald, her wand at the ready while John’s mother opened up the urn cackling.

“Serafina! No, no, no my love you’ve got to snap out of it! Please! This isn’t you! Serafina no! Melda!” he said ‘my love’ in Elvish. “Serafina!” She then soullessly spoke out a chant as her wand glowed pure white.

Aldruon En Lenthranall

Losolomirus Nor!

As the blast headed towards John, you saw a younger version of Seraffel and Thor land in their human forms before John, taking the shot for their father.

You found yourself pulled back to reality and as you breathed heavily you looked at John who was looking down with tears in his eyes.

“They used me as bait. To get rid of our Aces. Of course that’s all they saw the boys as. It destroyed us, especially Serafina. That urn could only be opened by the very magic used to seal whom or whatever is inside. So for 200 years we searched for the urn, when we ran into one of my aunts about it. She told us that they had melted the urn. At that point we—we feared that our boys were lost forever. Until you came along.”

So when you touched the urn back in the storage room, since you had been taught Serafina’s magic…..that’s why it was able to unlock so easily! It all made sense now. You were the one to free these two after 600 years.

“And now the boys are forever in your debt for freeing them and reuniting them with their parents.” Brian finished.

Seraffel and Thor continued to fly long into the night and as the sun began to rise overhead, they slowly descended downward. You moan as you start to wake up from your slumber.

“Where are we?” you said with a yawn.

“We’re going to see an old ally of mine and Serafina’s. Not only that but the boys need to rest, especially Seraffel.” John said. As you looked down you saw nothing but sand. Sand for miles on end, but what also caught your eye were some of the most familiar landmarks you’d ever seen.

The pyramids and the mighty Sphynx. Holy shit you were in Egypt! You had always dreamed of coming to Egypt and now you had arrived at last! The land of the pharaohs, one of the most vast cultures of mythology and History known to mankind (next to Greece and Rome).

Seraffel and Thor landed on the ground and you all got off their backs. John and Brian helped you off and soon both Seraffel and Thor shifted into their human forms. Meanwhile you saw Serafina go over to Freddie and cling onto his arm and he leaned up against her as she waved her fingers down towards his tail and soon you actually saw Freddie’s tail turn to human legs.

“I’ll do my best to also convince the muggles here that you are a normal human Freddie, but the spell itself won’t last long I’m afraid.”

“Just as long as we get moving as quick as possible.” He told her.

“Right so we’ll need transportation, new clothes, and some supplies like water and food.” Brian said as he took out his bag and pulled out some Egyptian pounds and gave them to each and every one of you. “Buy only what you need and don’t. draw. Attention. To. Yourselves.” He emphasized and eyed everyone, especially Roger.

“You act like as if I’m gonna screw everything up.” Roger snapped offensively.

“Well anything in a dress or skirt you do howl over like the hound dog you are.” John sassed as he counted his pounds. Roger growled.

“Enough you two we don’t have time for your petty squabble. Anymore lip from you two and I’ll swallow you both do I make myself clear!?” Freddie hissed.

“Yes sir!” both Brian and Roger said.

“Right now let’s get our supplies and be done with this village.” Serafina guided Freddie towards the marketplace of the village nearby while John went along with Brian and Roger to make sure they didn’t cause trouble.

“Guess that leaves you with us kid.” Seraffel said.

“Yeah guess so. Hope you don’t mind.” You answered the ice dragon.

“Not at all. Plus we can get to know our savior a bit better.” Said Thor as the three of you went towards the market to buy yourselves some new clothes first.

You told them everything about your life and how you met their parents along with the rest of their little ‘family’. After your tale and now with new clothes on, you asked the two dragons.

“Now this is just me asking out of curiosity, why couldn’t we just keep flying on you guys? I’m sure we’d get there a lot faster and find this ally of your parents’.”

“True but there are complications.” Thor responded. “One, due to this intense heat, Seraffel won’t last very long flying so close to the sun.”

“I really don’t get why their informant had to be here in the hottest continent of all!” Seraffel growled lowly.

“And two, there are stricter laws about—you know creatures like us exposing ourselves.”

“You mean Egyptians are prejudice against dragons?”

“Not just dragons but other creatures as well.” Thor said.

“Look you know how you humans have your customs and traditions?” Seraffel started off. You nodded. “Well the supernatural world has their own rules and laws. Some are slightly flexible like Europe and in America, but for other countries like Russia and some countries here in Africa, it’s illegal to expose yourself to the humans. If we even so much as put one claw out of place, we’d get slammed by the Wizarding community of this country.”

“And cause we’re also on the run from our great grandfather as well as the rest of our dad’s psychotic family, we risk exposure to them as well. Last they know we’re still in New York.” Thor finished for his older brother. You nodded in understandment and soon you found Serafina and Freddie with your transportation.

2 camels and 6 horses. Freddie was already on top of one of the horses who was already going uneasy, probably feeling his snake-like skin and probably his tail too. Serafina gently stroked the black horse’s muzzle whispering in Elvish to him which made him calm down.

“Pick your ride.” Seraffel and Thor took the camels while the rest of you took the horses. You found yourself riding on top of a yellow mare with a white mane and tail. She tossed her head back whinnying happily and you gave her a pat on her strong neck.

“Seems you’ve picked yourself a good one. She likes you.” Brian told you as he steadied his pure white horse. John tacked the supplies onto the backs of Thor and Seraffel’s camels.

“Now make sure those don’t fall off. I know how stubborn camels can be.” He told his boys.

“No worries dad we got this.” Thor said assuring his dad. “And Seraffel, keep this over your head so you don’t overheat. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us through the desert.” He handed Seraffel a dark brown fedora with extended brim (to you it almost looked like a cowboy hat).

He took the hat and placed it on his head. John patted his son’s leg and looked up at him worriedly.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay riding by yourself?”

“I’ll manage pops. And if I keel over I’ll give you and mom a heads up.” John nodded then hesitantly walked over to his pure black Arabian horse and rode up beside Serafina who was riding a chestnut brown mare with a heart-shaped white patch on her forehead. John’s black stallion lovingly licked and nipped at Serafina’s mare (of course they would get a mated pair of stallions, only fitting).

“Alright, let’s move out. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover if we want to reach the tribe before we’re discovered here.” Freddie said and soon you all rode out of town and into the desert.

God no wonder why people complain about the desert! It was dry, sand literally blew everywhere even without the assistance of the wind, and to put it all out it was TOO FUCKING HOT!!!

You tried to shield yourself with your own hat that you managed to buy and take a sip of your water. Serafina told you that out here you have to ration your water intake cause it can easily go away if you continuously drink it. As you rode by Serafina you asked her.

“So just who is it that we’re going to see that lives out in the middle of the desert?”

“He goes by the name of Ardeth. John and I met him shortly after we ran away and took refuge here. Of course we underestimated the power of the desert and got ourselves lost. During a sandstorm we somehow managed to find him and he saved us. Took us to some water after five days without water.”

“What exactly is he like?”

“Mysterious. I’ll only say that.” But you could tell that Serafina was hiding something. It was like she was trying to hold herself back from saying something else. “We didn’t stay for long cause he had to keep moving along. The Medjai sorcerers are a nomadic tribe after all. Moving from one place to another, even if they travelled alone.”

“And he was the only one to find you and John?” she nodded.

“Our encounter was roughly 10-15minutes long but he—he seemed wise, knowledgeable about the land. But he told us if we ever needed help again to go to the Medjai tribe and say his name, then they’d know we’re on their side.”

“You mean there are cults that don’t agree with John’s family?”

“Yes. And those are the cults that we side with. Most of Europe, mainly England’s wizards follow the Sorcerer Supreme, no matter who sits on the throne. But there are some cults that since the reign of Thomas Riddle Deacon have broken off from the loyalty of the Sorcerer Supreme because they refused to follow in the lead of a mass murderer. As punishment some of them were wiped off the map, while others went into hiding. Only coming out till this war begins, and the Medjai have our trust.”

“So there really is going to be a war?” you asked hesitantly. Yes you have taken this training and agreed to help out but you were still scared. After all you’ve never really fought in a war before, you were but a child during the Great War and that was with moral guns and ships, this time you’re facing dark wizards with spells that can kill you with a single phrase and a quick flick of their wrist.

“Yes dear. But with any luck you won’t have to fight in it. Only do what you’ve been destined to do.”

“I—remember seeing a brief vision when I first met Freddie. Of me in a battle but……what exactly am I supposed to do?”

“Only you can decide that. When the time comes you’ll know just what you’re destined to do. But for now we focus on getting to the tribe. There John and I will have to speed up your training in order to at least be deemed strong enough in real combat.” You nod and you all continue your way throughout the desert.

The sun continued to beam down upon your heads and it felt like an eternity before the sun started to set.

“Let’s set camp up right here.” John said. Roger got off his horse and immediately fell to the ground exhausted and dehydrated. You exclaim his name and race over to him. You could hear him panting but he assured you.

“I’ll be fine. Just a little dehydrated.”

“Do you want me to get you some water? How long can you survive like this?”

“With some shade and rest I’ll be right as rain. Don’t worry kid I’m fine.” He stood up but you could tell from his staggering footsteps and faint but heavy breathing he wasn’t. Guess Seraffel’s not the only one you all should worry about.

“He’s as stubborn as a mule but there’s no changing his mind.” Freddie spoke beside you. “I’ll see to it he at least gets some water in his system.” His tail now fully out, slithered towards Roger and the two of them proceeded to have a quiet conversation.

“(Y/n), come help Serafina and I set up these tents.” John called out to you. You walked over to them and like normal people do, you helped them set up the tents so that everyone had a place to sleep for the night.

The Deacon clan would share a tent together, Freddie took one for himself, while you, Brian and Roger took the last one. As dusk came and the hot air finally became cool enough you all had a quick but plentiful dinner before retiring for the night. Almost immediately as soon as you head rested on your sleeping bag pillow, your eyes fell shut and you went to sleep immediately.

*3rd Person POV*

Soon the rest of our travelers fell into a deep sleep knowing they still had a long journey to the Medjai tribe. Taking advantage of the cool night air, they left their tents open to allow the cool air to enter inside.

In the Deacon tent, Serafina and John were cuddled up together as usual along with Thor and Seraffel circling around them. The four of them slept peacefully unaware that a mysterious glowing figure was walking towards them.

The figure stopped beside John and Serafina’s tent and as the figure stopped, the sound of thunder quietly rumbled in the night sky. Serafina woke up to the sound of the thunder and could feel a couple of drops of rain land on her forehead.

“Thor! Did you cause this?” She softly hissed to her youngest son. He groaned out tiredly.

“Mom….I’m trying to sleep.” That’s when a deep, ghostly voice said to her.

“It was I who caused it.” Her body stiffened and she suddenly felt a cold brush of air flick at the back of her neck. She crawled out of her tent and when she looked to the right she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

A giant specter. The ghost stood probably well over 11-12feet tall. He wore ancient blue wizard robes along with a red cape that fluttered behind him. His face was well defined with cheekbones so sharp you could swear you’d cut your hand if you’d slap them. His eyes soulless and blue with a pure white pupil. He also sported a goatee style like beard and a small smirk grew upon his cupid-bow lips.

“Well don’t just sit there gawking like a codfish. Get up.” The ghost said to her in a teasing tone.

Serafina couldn’t believe it. Her mouth dropped as she couldn’t believe just who this ghost truly was. She had seen many creatures before in her lifetime, and specters were no different but never did she believe she’d ever meet the ghost of…….

“Ba—Balthazar?”

“As I once told you and my descendant……” the spirit before her disappeared into an Egyptian man with shoulder length black hair, Arabic markings on each cheek that said WARRIOR and LOYALTY. He had deep brown eyes and stood about 6 foot and was a strongly built man in black Egyptian robes.

“You can call me Ardeth.” He said with a quirked grin across his lips.

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reyesstrand · 4 years

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25. “What the hell were you thinking?!” and/or 31.“You haven’t lost me.” if they inspire you? 💖

thank you for the prompt!! this one kind of got away from me and is longer than expected but i guess that just means more of these two!!

all prompts are from this list. also available on ao3!!

It’s been a year and a half since they moved to Austin, and TK finally feels like he’s found his home.

He misses Manhattan, and it sits in his chest like a dull ache; he misses the pre-shift, morning stops at the local deli; he misses the constant buzz of the city; he misses late-night train rides and rescues on the tallest high-rises along the New York cityscape. But he’s forged out a place for himself here in Austin — he’s found his new-favourite hole-in-the-wall diners and the best clubs downtown and savours the weekly backyard barbecues Grace initially makes mandatory after she finds that most of the crew has some form of lingering homesickness, but has now just become a tradition that all of them look forward to.

TK’s also come to appreciate his dad’s team of doctors; Owen’s now entering his second six-month round of chemo, though his scans are continuously getting better and everyone seems to be hopeful, TK still finds himself anxiously standing by his father’s side throughout it all. Owen teases that he’s going to wear down the floor because of his pacing whenever he’s able to tag along for appointments, but TK shoots him a glare, because he can’t let his dad know just how badly he needs him to be okay.

Carlos is always there, and he’s the light at the end of the tunnel.

He’ll have dinner ready if he’s able, after a long day of waiting in treatment rooms; sometimes, though, he’s just there when Owen retreats to his room for a nap and TK wants to cuddle up with him on the couch.

It’s where they end up today, after TK does the dishes despite Carlos’ multiple attempts to shoo him away from the sink. Hands barely dry, TK lets out a long sigh as he drops onto his and his dad’s couch, where Carlos is already sitting after TK sent him to relax after making dinner. It’s wordless, between them — Carlos opens his arms and TK rests against him, relishing in the quiet comfort provided by a pair of strong arms wrapping around him.

After a few long moments of silence, Carlos presses a kiss to TK’s hairline before saying: “I’ve been thinking that you need a break.”

“Hmm?” TK’s already half-asleep against Carlos’ chest, though he knows he wants to be able to stay up and make conversation with his boyfriend. He’s also vaguely aware that it’s barely eight, but his eyelids feel weighed down with lead.

“You’re just proving my point, Ty,” Carlos says softly, TK finding it unfair that he seems to want to talk to him even though he’s now running his fingers through his hair. “You’re running on fumes.”

“I’m fine,” TK insists, the words spilling out on auto-pilot. He really does feel fine; he knows he’s exhausted, but so is his whole team. Plus, he’s not the one with cancer; he’s not the one left feeling weak after sitting through hours of treatment that’s supposed to save him. But even when TK does have bad days, he automatically turns to his sponsor or his therapist or Paul, in a pinch, because he won’t let him weasel out of talking about his feelings. TK tries to prove himself — he sits up and keeps his eyes open, though he’s unable to stifle the yawn that pushes past his lips. “I’m just a little tired.”

Carlos gives him a look. “You’ve looked worn out for weeks now. And I thought maybe you could take a few days, we could go have a little roadtrip or something so you can relax.”

TK sits up straight at that, suddenly alert.

“I can’t just leave my dad, or my team,” TK says, listening for any creaking floorboards at the top of the stairs. The last thing he needs is his father walking in on a conversation about his well-being, because he’ll never hear the end of it. “I’m fine, Carlos, seriously.”

“Baby—”

“I swear.” TK cuts his boyfriend off, offering him a small smile to try and prove it. “As amazing as a trip alone with you sounds, I just—I just can’t leave him right now, okay? I told him I would be by his side through all of this, I can’t just take a break when he needs me.”

Carlos looks like he wants to say more, but just sighs and takes TK’s hand, running his thumb along his knuckles. Finally, he whispers, “I think I should head home.”

“Hey, wait,” TK says, as Carlos moves to get up. “I’ll think about it, okay? But for now I just…”

“I know, Ty,” Carlos assures him, briefly framing his face in both hands, kissing him gently. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

TK just nods, and after he watches Carlos drive off, he scrubs a hand down his face and drops back down onto the couch.

* * *

He doesn’t bring it up to his dad.

They’re all in the firehouse, waiting around between calls, and TK knows he should just casually bring up Carlos’ offer. But he knows his dad will tell him to go, and TK really doesn’t want his dad to have to shoulder the weight of his treatment on his own. Not when he doesn’t have to. As he scrubs down the pump panel on the truck, his mind drifting, TK jumps when Judd taps out a few beats on the space next to him.

“Christ, a little jumpy there, kid?” Judd comments, and TK shrugs, standing back from the truck and winding the rag around his hand absently as he turns to talk to the older man.

“Just got some stuff on my mind,” TK says, and when Judd opens his mouth to comment, TK puts a finger up. “Nothing that you need to worry about, seriously.”

Judd lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Duly noted. I just thought I’d let you know Reyes is here.”

TK probably visibly perks up, because Judd huffs out a fond chuckle.

“He’s talking to Michelle, he was clearly looking for you though,” Judd adds, as TK claps a hand on the taller man’s shoulder before turning, tossing the rag in the general vicinity of the cleaning supplies as he sets out to find his boyfriend.

He’ll never get over the jump in his heart rate when he sees Carlos. Even now, it’s been a couple days since he saw him in person, and TK bites back a stupid smile as he approaches his boyfriend. Michelle catches his eye over Carlos’ shoulder and shoots him a wink; she says something to Carlos that causes him to turn around and when he does and catches sight of TK, she squeezes his arm before turning toward her office.

“Funny running into you here,” TK drawls, taking in Carlos’ civilian clothes, appreciating his affinity for tight shirts. Before Carlos can say something in response, TK tugs him down for a quick kiss, all too aware that they're in the middle of his workplace. “I’m sorry if I was shitty the other night.”

“You weren’t,” Carlos insists, dropping his hand from the back of TK’s neck, letting his thumb linger against his skin, sending a shiver through TK. “I just wanted—”

Abruptly, his dad’s voice rings out over them.

“TK, can I have a second?”

He looks up and sees his dad, arms folded casually on top of the railing, leaning his weight against the balcony as he looks down over them. TK wants to gesture to his boyfriend, wants to indicate that they’re kind of in the middle of something and don’t exactly have all the time in the world together outside of work, but he just can’t. Not when it comes to his dad. So TK offers an apologetic glance toward Carlos before he bounds up the stairs, catching the start of a conversation below him as Paul moves in to chat with Carlos.

“What’s up, is everything okay?” TK asks, once he’s come to stand next to Owen.

“I just wanted to let you know that I approved your vacation request. You’ve got next week off.”

TK probably looks as bewildered as he feels, because his dad’s mouth quirks up into a smile when he takes him in.

“Wait, what vacation request? I didn’t—”

“I might have overheard you and a certain someone the other night,” Owen explains, and TK groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And after I had a one-on-one chat with Carlos, I approved you for some much-needed time off.”

“Dad, you didn’t need to do that,” TK feels a strange twist of emotion curling up in his chest; he’s slowly come to accept his dad and his boyfriend communicating and interacting when he isn’t around, but he can’t help but to feel small over his dad thinking he needs to do things like this for him. “I’m a big boy, I can—”

“TK, I can see how tired you are,” Owen says, and TK really can’t object to that fact. “And Carlos can, too. You’re always out there putting others before yourself, I don’t think it’s a bad thing to want to decompress with someone you love.”

“I want to be there for you, dad,” TK meets his father’s gaze, adding: “I promised, remember? I’m going to have your back through this whole process, and that doesn’t include me taking time off and not helping you and—and losing you, I can’t do that—”

“Hey, son, it’s okay,” Owen’s always good at reading TK, and he rests a hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “You’ve done so much for me, and I’m feeling better — thanks to you. And you know what? You haven’t lost me. You haven’t lost him, either.”

Owen jerks his head toward the ground below them, and TK glances down, and takes in his beautiful guy, easily folding into the dynamics of the 126.

“It’s okay to put yourself first for once, TK,” Owen says softly, and TK finds himself slowly nodding.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before crushing his dad in a hug.

“Okay, okay, you’re welcome,” Owen says, squeezing him back just as hard.

After a moment, TK runs back down stairs and doesn’t say anything — he just moves from one hug to the next as he wraps his arms around Carlos.

“So what roadtrip plans did you have?” TK asks, mostly into Carlos’ ear, and when his boyfriend grins at him and kisses his temple and squeezes him even tighter around the waist, he can imagine a week off with the other man and the rest that’ll really work to wake him up again, and he finds that he can’t wait.

#tarlos #911 lone star #tarlos fic #tk x carlos #my fic #bellakitse #one shot collection

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isabilightwood · 3 years

Text

The Problem with Authority - Chapter 1

CQL!Verse, Wangxian and Yanqing, canon divergence with Qin Su sacrifice summoning JYL after Jin Rusong’s death. JYL teams up with NHS to fix things, starting with bringing back WWX. Wen Qing is alive because I said so, and LWJ gets in the way of plotting because he’s a romantic.

See my self reblog for the AO3 link/additional tags and warnings

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The problem with authority is that if you leave it lying around, others will take it. — Yoon Ha Lee, Ninefox Gambit

Qin Su was tired of the constant hovering.

Every time she set foot outside her own rooms, she was beset by disciples and the wives of subordinates, telling her over and over how very sorry they were.

It was all bullshit.

Fake, social climbing schemers, who were more concerned with the fact that Jin Guangshan’s legitimate grandson was once again the sect heir, than sorry for the death of her son. Her A-Song.

They expected her to sob constantly, to wail and tear her hair from her scalp. That they could comfort Qin Su by repeating the same trite, cloying words day-by-day. Earn a little status out of tragedy. If Qin Su had to listen to one more apology, she was going to be sick all other the offending madam’s embroidery hoop.

It was true that she still couldn’t go a day without crumbling into tears. But mostly, she was numb. Exhausted, in more ways than one. She wanted to go to sleep, and wake with her son tucked safely into bed, or not wake up at all.

The private treasury was the only place where she could be certain she would not be disturbed. Even in her own bedroom, it would only be so long before a maid was sent to find her. Only she and her husband could open the hidden entrance to the vault. Only in the treasury, could she be alone, to find something to distract herself, however briefly, from the avalanche of her grief.

There were still many items that had been claimed by her deceased father-in-law after the war that had not been cataloged. Priceless relics and weapons and irreplaceable texts alike sat neglected in trunks. Jin Guangshan had cared only for possession, occasionally touting one item or another out to show off. Ten months after A-Yao’s succession, shelves continued to sit empty. Neither she nor A-Yao had found the time, busy keeping everything running smoothly, as he made bids for projects he called progress with the gleam in his eyes that had first made her chase after him. Back when he seemed flattered by her attention, interested in her as more than a friend or colleague.

Qin Su herself managed the internal minutiae of the Sect and oversaw disciple training. The latter would traditionally fall to the Head Disciple, but they had lost one after another. The woman who had been intended to aid Jin Zixuan had resigned over some disagreement before his death. Her replacement, a second or third cousin to the main Jin Clan, married out to the leader of the Fengyang Hua Sect, a growing sect that bordered Gusu and Lanling. Their replacement died at Nightless City, along with the next dozen or so disciples in line. And so Qin Su was free to manage the training as she wished.

Or had been, until she was asked to take a step back from training, for fear her grief would destabilize her qi. It was true that she had been unable to focus. However, stewing in the unending reminders that she would never hold A-Song in her arms again was no help. Attending to her duties as a hostess only made it worse.

Sorting the looted relics was mindless work, that required none of the focus she had lacked for the forty-one days since A-Song’s death. But it was something to occupy her hands, and some small part of her thoughts.

She began with the books that day, sorting into titles that were common and could be sold, those that needed to be repaired, and those to dangerous to be held anywhere but the treasury. Qin Su moved to start a new pile, for useful, rare texts that should be copied, on a table, and a disorganized pile of notes and notebooks caught her eye.

It was the disorganization that stood out. A-Yao never left anything out like that. He must have been called away, but if he returned and saw it, that would trigger his own flood of tears. Qin Su had heard him sobbing, late into the night, from the next room over. But each morning, he greeted his work with his habitual dedication, no matter how puffy his eyes, or how little he’d slept. A-Yao would never forgive himself if his work was delayed by his composure crumbling over a small thing out of place.

She picked up the papers, intending only to organize them into an even stack, and place them evenly between the notebooks. But their subject caught her attention.

A circular array was drawn on each paper. Identical, to her unpracticed eyes, with varied notes printed in precise calligraphy in different locations on each page.

Qin Su had always focused on the sword, leaving talismans to those with innovative minds yet weaker cores, like her husband. Yet this array made her look twice.

Sacrifice Summon was written at the top of the first page, the one with the least writing. The soul of the caster is permanently exchanged for that of a chosen spirit or ghost, fully resurrecting the deceased. It was a complex design, meant to drawn in the blood of the caster.

Voices, from the other side of the portal. A-Yao must have wanted to show an item from the vault to a guest. Her heartbeat sped up, her hands shaking as she dropped the papers back onto the table.

The last thing Qin Su wanted was to have to greet her husband’s guests, while he smiled his disappointment in her for shirking her duties.

She raised the tablecloth and ducked beneath, knocking one of the papers off the table as she did so. Catching it, she pulled it to her chest, dropping the cloth back into place just in time. It was dark in the small space, and stuffy. Her heart hammered hard enough Qin Su felt certain it must be audible throughout the room. But her presence was not discovered, and so Qin Su did not have to answer as to why Jin-furen was hiding from her own husband.

“The remainder of the He Clan has been dealt with.” Su Minshan reported. His voice was easily identifiable from the obsequiousness with which he always treated her husband. She’d asked A-Yao what he saw in him once, and he’d flashed his dimples at her and said, unfaltering loyalty is a trait I cannot afford to lose. So Qin Su tolerated Su Minshan, though he made her skin crawl. And made certain never to be caught alone with him. “Xue Yang tracked them down to the last man.”

Why he kept Xue Yang around, on the other hand, was a mystery.

“Good, that’s good,” A-Yao said. Never shy of heaping praise on his subordinates, he would be smiling up at the other man. “Tell me, what did Xue Yang bring back with him?”

“A few urchins, from town. He said they were his payment for leaving the bodies alone.” Su Minshan scoffed, disgusted.

It didn’t sound like Xue Yang had brought the children to become disciples.

There was the slap of a forehead hitting a palm. A-Yao’s voice was slightly muffled as he gave an exasperated sigh. “I told him he could experiment with animals or dead bodies or not at all. Especially not children.” There was the slightest break in his voice at the word children. “Xue Yang has outlived his usefulness. Have him disposed of and left somewhere remote.”

The command was delivered coldly, casually. He sounded nothing like the warm, if more distant than Qin Su had initially expected, husband she knew.

“Yes, Zongzhu.” A pair of disciples said, their footsteps receding as they took their leave.

“Your research is not completed, is it?” Su Minshan asked, once they were gone.

“I have better means now. My dear younger brother is eager to please, and will not dismember the test animals for kicks and giggles.” A-Yao spoke as though this was an ongoing discussion, yet Qin Su, his wife, had never heard a whisper of research on animals before that day. Only of field testing of the Yiling Patriarch’s inventions. “Or decide to run tests on townspeople and dismember them, too.”

Just what had her husband been allowing Xue Yang to do? It seemed impossible that flighty little Mo Xuanyu could achieve it, whatever it was.

“Another headache eliminated, then.” Su Minshan said. “That’s nearly all the most dangerous ones out of the way.”

There was a weighted pause before A-Yao replied, incongruously. “I did love my son, you know.”

“I did not mean to imply otherwise.” Su Minshan rushed to assure him. “I am deeply sorry this step was necessary.”

Step? What was he implying about A-Song?

“If only that woman had told you the truth earlier.” Su Minshan snarled. “Keeping it a secret while her daughter courted her own half-brother? What a selfish bitch.”

What? Qin Su clapped her hands over her mouth, stifling a choked gasp.

“Now, Minshan, please. You remember what my father was like. We were all of us his victims. A-Su, me, and both of our mothers.” For the first time, Qin Su understood what Lianfang-zun’s detractors meant when they said he dripped insincerity. “Ultimately, A-Song’s death can be placed at his feet.”

But A-Song was murdered after Jin Guangshan died, she thought stupidly. Utterly frozen in place, the short, harsh pants of her breath the only sign she had not just been dropped into hell. The two men spoke for a few more minutes, but Qin Su didn’t hear a word.

It was some time after they left that Qin Su moved, her stiff joints causing her to fall onto her side on the edge of the tablecloth.

How was she ever supposed to face the court, knowing what she did now? Look her half-brother in the face without screaming?

The honorable thing would be to expose him, and to then take her own life to restore her own honor.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t do that to her father, to her older siblings. Half-siblings, now, she supposed, with a crazed giggle. The only real siblings, the only real father Qin Su would ever have. It would be better if they never knew what had happened to their mother. To her.

But she couldn’t carry on as she had, either.

The forgotten paper crinkled in her hands. The Sacrifice Summon. Exchanging her life for another’s.

Was that the solution she was searching for? Could she?

Qin Su remembered her husband’s - her brother’s voice saying especially not children. Only breaths before declaring his own son’s death necessary.

Her A-Song was lost forever.

There was, however, another child under Lianfang-zun’s care. Another mother whose son was not lost, but who had nevertheless lost the chance to see him grow. If Qin Su exchanged her life for that woman’s, perhaps her soul would pass on quickly enough to find A-Song in another life.

Jiang Yanli would see Jin Ling grow up safely, ensure Lianfang-zun did not keep the power he had married his own sister and murdered his own son to secure.

That would be best for everyone.

Qin Su shakily extracted herself from beneath the table, returning to the one room she could be certain Lianfang-zun would never enter.

Now she knew why.

Locking the door to her room, Qin Su emptied what little was in her stomach into the chamber pot. When she was through, she began to draw the array.

The first thing Jiang Yanli noticed was the silence. She had been on the battlefield at Nightless City, pushed A-Xian aside, and a sword went through her heart —

She had been dead. She was certain.

Oh, A-Xian. What did you do?

Slowly, Jiang Yanli sat up. She was sprawled on the floor of a well-appointed lady’s bedroom. In Koi Tower, by the color scheme, but its occupant had uncommon taste. Rather than gilded everything, there were accents of gold on the drapery and to emphasize ink paintings of the ocean and a palace she did not recognize.

There was also the matter of the array of blood that surrounded her. Demonic cultivation, which only supported her certainty that A-Xian was involved. But where was he? And if she was in Koi Tower, where was her son?

Yunmeng, something inside her whispered. Though she could not explain why, she knew it was true.

Checking herself for cuts, she found a gash across the palm of her hand. But it was already sealing, far faster than Jiang Yanli had healed from so much as a paper cut before her death.

She wasn’t an expert in raising the dead like her brother, but Jiang Yanli was fairly certain fierce corpses did not work that way. At the very least, she should have been bleeding black. Yet her blood was as red as ever.

Getting to her feet, she started to inspect the room for clues. On the way to the desk, she passed a mirror. Her gaze skipped past a mirror. And snapped back.

It was not Jiang Yanli’s face that looked back.

This woman’s face was rounder and softer than her own. Pretty, with a natural pink in her cheeks where Jiang Yanli’s had always had to be painted on, due to the frequency with which she lost her breath and grew dizzy. There, too, was a hint of the agelessness that came with a fully developed golden core. With a feeling of foreboding, Jiang Yanli felt along her meridians until she reached her core. No longer a weak, underdeveloped thing due to her inability to practice the heavily physical Jiang techniques, it shone bright and strong.

That was a point against this being A-Xian’s doing. He wouldn’t have stolen her a body, when he could simply bring back her own.

Why am I alive? Asked a voice in her head.

That would have been a reasonable question. Only it wasn’t Jiang Yanli thinking it.

Maybe resurrection came with the ability to understand spirits. The results were entirely untested, so it was possible. Yet the voice seemed certain it was alive. If her current state was due to demonic cultivation, she might as well do what A-Xian would: experiment.

“I could ask you the same question.” Jiang Yanli told the voice.

Jiang Yanli? It worked! But why am I in your head?

“Are you the one who brought me back?” She tilted her head back, trying to place the way the voice made her head feel. Almost like the moment at the start of meditation when she began to forget her body to focus on her spirit, but with a disconnect keeping her grounded.

Yes. And then, I can hear your thoughts, the voice said, you don’t need to speak out loud.

That was disconcerting. Is this your body? She thought at the voice.

Yes. The voice said. Stop calling me that. I’m Qin Su.

Strangely, it was a relief to have a name. It made Qin Su feel more real than anything else in this surreal afterlife. So it would be more accurate to say I’m in your head. Am I possessing you?

It was supposed to be an exchange. My soul for yours.

Well clearly, it hadn’t worked that way.

Responding to her unformed question, the woman continued. The array is on the desk.

This… It was obviously A-Xian’s work, copied out by a more careful hand. But it looked incomplete, a half-developed first draft or his scattered notes on an older text that he could always piece back together perfectly, but left out crucial details for anyone else. Utterly unlike the labeled, if nearly illegible, minutiae on his complete work. Jiang Yanli would never have cast an array with so little information. Especially not one of A-Xian’s.

I didn’t know the Yiling Patriarch. And I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

No, she supposed not. Anyone casting this array would have to be desperate.

Everything fell apart and I just… used what I had on hand. There was the impression of a shrug, like her mind contorting itself into a new shape. My impulse decisions always have terrible consequences. That’s how I ended up pregnant and marrying the last person in the world I should have. Qin Su gave a short, harsh burst of hysterical laughter, startling Jiang Yanli into making the same noise aloud.

Telling whoever this abusive asshole was that her husband had died only a week ago, and she was certainly not performing any marital duties could wait until she figured out what Qin Su had done.

There are other pages with more notes in the treasury.

Jiang Yanli sprang to her feet. I’ll need to see them immediately.

She slid open the doors, and came face to face with a maid carrying cleaning supplies. Jiang Yanli quickly shut the doors behind her, so the maid could not catch a glimpse of the blood still staining the floor.

“Oh! Jin-furen.” The maid bowed deeply. “This one apologizes for assuming you would be out.”

It was something of a shock to be addressed by a title that had, from her perspective, belonged to her mother-in-law only yesterday. Jin-furen?

Ah, yes. I’ve been Jin-furen since Jin Guangshan… passed… ten months ago. The word “passed” came with a flash of embarrassment, telling Jiang Yanli enough for her to extrapolate the cause of death.

Jin Guangyao must be Jin-zongzhu then. Strange, he hadn’t seemed the abusive type.

Not abuse. Worse. Qin Su gagged in her mind, making Jiang Yanli do the same.

“Are you all right, Jin-furen?” The maid asked, hovering closer.

At least the gagging gave her an excuse not to allow anyone inside. “I’ll be fine. But please wait to clean until tomorrow. I’m afraid I’m not feeling well. Would you have some soup sent on a tray for my dinner?”

“Of course, Jin-furen.” The maid backed away, bowed, and hurried off.

Jiang Yanli turned to inspect the door, placing her hands on her hips. With Qin Su’s Golden Core, she could likely cast a locking spell. If she knew how, that was. She had always relied on A-Xian’s talismans, many of which he developed specifically for her. Unfortunately, she had none on hand.

That’s easy. Qin Su said. Draw the characters for lock, then modify it with…

It took Jiang Yanli a few tries to draw properly on her new core, but she was able to lock the door against casual entry. No cultivator with a sword would be kept out for long, but they would have to be willing to trespass in Jin-furen’s bedchamber.

The thin flush of victory faded the second she stepped through the treasury portal. Suibian lay on a shelf, visible from the door. A-Xian had not carried his sword for a long time. But he would never have handed it over to the Jin Clan, unless it was directly into Jiang Yanli’s arms. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Qin Su. Why is my A-Xian’s sword in the treasury? Jiang Yanli demanded. The answering silence was deafening. “Qin Su! Tell me why!”

He… died. At Nightless City. Not long after you did. Qin Su’s voice was hesitant, as though confused why she cared.

“No!” She let out a choked sob, clasping a hand over her mouth. A-Xian wasn’t — he couldn’t be —

Didn’t he kill you? I was told —

“No! Never!” A-Xian would never have hurt her. I tried to save him.

Silence, for a moment, other than Jiang Yanli’s own ragged breaths. Then, I’m sorry. I’ve learned a lot of things I believed were lies today. Perhaps what they said about him was too.

They were. A-Xian was bright, and good, and cared too much. He had never been what they thought. Jiang Yanli had not needed to ask to know A-Xuan’s death was a horrible mistake, likely the result of stepping in between his cruel, vindictive cousin and her brother at the wrong moment. If he had meant to kill Jin Zixun, A-Xian had had good reason.

I think anyone who had the misfortune of meeting Jin Zixun considered killing him. Qin Su said wryly.

Jiang Yanli had had those thoughts. She gave a watery giggle that was answered in her head. It was sweet of Qin Su to try to comfort her when she could feel that she was still reeling for her own reasons. The least Jiang Yanli could do in return was get her some answers.

On the table.

She found the stack of diagrams easily, along with a tattered notebook that appeared to contain A-Xian’s original work. Jiang Yanli flipped through that, knowing that unless had both gotten a hold of one of the few people that could read his note-taking scrawl — her, Lan Wangji, and perhaps Wen Qing, who had taken their turns as A-Xian’s sounding board in succession — and convinced them to help details would likely have been missed.

You can read that? Qin Su was incredulous.

Years of practice, she replied. Before Lan Wangji, Jiang Yanli had been the only person who took A-Xian’s inventions seriously, the only person willing to sit and listen while he bounced from idea to idea, eventually solving the problem himself.

The average person would not think it necessary to puzzle out the text under a sketch of Lan Wangji holding a child, assuming it was a caption. When it was, in fact, an absolutely crucial detail. A detail that had made A-Xian conclude the Sacrifice Summon Array should never be used.

There were perhaps a dozen variations on the array. Most worked in a similar way to what Qin Su had intended, summoning a spirit to take the caster’s place. The earliest could not target a specific soul, but A-Xian had worked that out. Luckily, Qin Su had used one of those arrays, allowing Jiang Yanli to be summoned, rather than causing the closest vengeful spirits to battle for her body. The very last caused the caster’s body to be torn apart, and replaced with a copy of the spirit’s own.

But every version had two things in common: a call for revenge, and the destruction of the caster’s soul.

In her mind, Qin Su went perfectly still.

Jiang Yanli had a theory as to why Qin Su’s soul had not been consumed by the array. It had started the job, pulling Jiang Yanli in, but Qin Su had not asked for revenge, and so the array spat most of her back out. What the consequences were, for either of their spirits, she could not begin to guess.

There was a distinctive air of panic to Qin Su’s continued silence.

Qin Su, Jiang Yanli prodded, if this had worked the way it’s written, your soul would have been consumed by it. What could have been worth this?

I didn’t know about that. I didn’t want that.

It didn’t happen. You’re still here. She attempted to reassure Qin Su, wishing there was a way to mentally pat someone on the head. That had always helped calm both her brothers.

I’m still here. Whatever the fuck that means. Qin Su giggled nervously. That wasn’t very ladylike.

I think it’s forgivable, under the circumstances. Jiang Yanli raised a sleeve to cover her smile.

You don’t know the half of it. Qin Su sighed. I didn’t think things like this happened, outside of stories.

Jiang Yanli waited for her to go on, gritting her teeth in response to a wave of bitterness.

Only a few hours ago, I found out my so-called husband is my half-brother and he murdered our son. And now here we are.

Oh. Jiang Yanli could not so much as think of a reassuring response. What the fuck is correct.

“A-Su,” Jin Guangyao said from behind her, before Qin Su could say anything more. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

#the untamed #cql #wangxian #yanqing #qin su #my fic

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wolf-555-writer · 4 years

Text

Secrets To Keep

A little somethin’ I wrote. Enjoy :)

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Summary: There are enough secrets within SHIELD. It’s built on secrecy. But some are more important to be kept than others. For the sake of keeping your job and your fellow redheaded Agent’s job. Can you keep a secret?

Word Count: 2,937

A firm knock on one of the neutral white doors inside a long, monotonous corridor. Natasha opens. “Hello Agent Romanoff”, a stern voice speaks. She nods curtly as a gesture of greeting. “I’m here for the- uh, mission prep”. Scanning the hallway first, the Agent walks inside as Natasha makes room by stepping back and opening the door further. She closes it immediately after. A black-greyish jacket with a SHIELD logo on its back is hanging on a chair and a pair of widow bites are neatly placed on a wooden desk next to a thigh holster holding a Glock 26. The blinds of the two large windows are half closed. Yet, a small amount of sun rays still manage to pass through which ensure just enough light to see the most beautiful woman in front of you with ease.

“Seriously, was that the best you could do? ‘Mission prep’?”. Visibly hurt by her mocking comment you scoff. “Sorry, okay. I’m not the master spy here”, shrugging your shoulders, “I’m just a simple agent. Besides, I had other things on my mind”. A perky grin appears and Natasha responds, “Hmm, I wonder what that might be…”. Without hesitation she moves closer and kisses you on the lips as her hands make their way to the back of your neck smoothly. Arms wrapped around her waist tightly, you press her body against yours as if you hadn’t felt her in ages. After your lips parted, you assure her, “Next time I'll think of something better, okay”. And the next time, and the next time after that… Thinking back to what Natasha had said, “SHIELD is basically all about keeping secrets. Everyone has them here, so what difference would one more make?”. She was obviously right. Not about the difference it would make, though. Because when it gets out, serious consequences will follow. Without a doubt. But those worries quickly fade due to the current sight in front of you. Natasha has taken off her shirt, showing her lean waist and well developed muscles. She rests her arms on your shoulders and raises her eyebrows. “Phone?”, is the only word that comes out. “Oof, that just hurts. Simple agent or not, I ain't no amateur Nat. I left it in my locker at the training facility. You?”. She grins, “It's turned off”, and moves her eyes to the desk where you see the piece of tech behind her arsenal of weapons. Can’t be too careful.

Her lips touch yours again, but this time with more passion and desire. She pulls on your shirt as it lifts up, exposing the skin on your lower back. Her hands feel warm and soft now that they make their way upwards, sending ripples of pure joy through your entire body. The heated kissing is interrupted by your shirt that needs to pass. The item of clothing is tossed away quickly, ending next to Natasha’s near identical one. She starts to undress further while you sit on the edge of the bed to loosen the laces of the combat boots. Cocking an eyebrow at the redhead. “See something you like, Romanoff?”, you tease, seeing Natasha glance at you while she bites her lip. “Oh, I see a lot that I like…”. Not getting enough time from the redhead to remove your pants as it’s still dangling around your knees when you hit the soft mattress. You try to wiggle your legs in a way that the thick slacks come off and it lands on the floor beside the bed. Sensing the warmth and weight of Natasha’s body on yours, you let out a long breath and close your eyes. Her lips touch the skin on your neck, your chest and you feel her red hair tickle while she hovers over. Opening your eyes, you stare at her. Both your hands on her hips while she sits upright on top of you. She runs her left hand through her hair to get it out of her field of vision. A cheeky grin forms at the corner of her mouth as her intense green eyes stare down at the person underneath her. Eyes still locked on the woman on top of you, wanting to never lose sight of her. She leaves you completely breathless. Everytime. Over and over again.

How in the world did I get so damn lucky?

Natasha’s lovely voice snaps you out of dreamy thought. “So, how was your day?”. “Come on Nat”, you look away and sigh, “You for real? You wanna talk about that right now?”. “Well, yes, I’m just interested in your daily activities, or stuff that bothers you. That’s no crime, is it?”. Meanwhile playfully drawing with the tip of her index finger over the muscles in your abdomen that have become sore from the killer workout earlier. She sure as hell knows how to get your blood pumping. And especially, how to make you wait. “Of course not. I would happily tell you all about that. But… I don’t know how much time we have now, so-”. At that imperative statement, intensified by your sad puppy eyes, she places both hands on the pillow, each one beside your head, giving you an exclusive view. “You got no patience at all, you know that don’t you”. Your hands slowly start to move up her waist, towards one of the only two pieces of clothing she’s still wearing. “Yeah, I’ve been told it’s one of my many charming qualities. But I mean…”, letting your eyes drift away along her fine features, “can you blame me?”. She laughs, “Just shut up”. Her lips centimeters away from yours, you can almost taste that addictive sweetness again, a wide smile present on your face. Then she stops and freezes. By now you've surely waited long enough, right? It’s not funny anymore. You shake your head confused and cease the unstrapping of underwear. “What’s wrong?”

“Romanoff? I know you're there”, followed by a fist banging on the door. “Shit”. “Is that-”. “Shhh”. Natasha grabs her pants and shirt and slips them on in seconds. Never seen anyone dress that fast before. While you stay quiet, pulling the sheets to cover your almost naked body and to hide your presence, Natasha opens the door just a crack. “Yes?”. “Did I interrupt someth-”. “What do you want Barton?”, Romanoff interjects.

“We’re expected for an emergency briefing. Coulson called us in. Didn’t you check your phone?”. Natasha ignores his last remark and replies, “Ok, I’ll be right there. Give me a couple seconds to get ready and get my gear. You go ahead, see you there Barton”. Almost back to complete privacy, closing the limited air gap, when Natasha’s movement is countered. Barton presses up against the door with force which is clearly noticeable in his voice. “And what about (Y/N)?”. “Yeah, what about (Y/N)?”. “Do you know where she is? She’s also needed and doesn’t answer her phone too. Quite a coincide-”. “Nope. Just check the training facility, she's probably there. See you in the briefing room”, and with a final, powerful push she shuts the door in his face.

A short lean against the doorframe and a muffled sigh that couldn’t possibly be described as relaxing turns into instant action. Natasha strides to the desk with two long paces. “Get up, we gotta move”. The rule seemed obvious at the time. She grabs her phone and can't help but think that it wasn’t the smartest move. That maybe the two of you have been too careful. You climb out of the bed and pick up the black pants of your SHIELD uniform to put it on. “Does he know?”, you ask, reaching for the shirt on the floor while pulling the pants up. “No he doesn’t, but hurry. He’s looking for you and we can’t be late (Y/N). Not again”. Noticing a pinch of distress in between the lines. But mostly annoyance caused by Barton showing up in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

“I knew it!”, a voice from the hallway shouts out. Natasha dashes to the door and swings it open, causing Barton to almost fall over from leaning against it. Apparently still in the wrong place. He looks at you with wide eyes as you’re busy with putting on the shirt in haste and switches to Natasha again. “I knew it”, he repeats with less volume and a grin reaching from ear to ear.

Natasha stays quiet, staring at Barton with a piercing gaze that screams nothing good. “What the hell man”, you call out as you’ve joined Natasha, swiftly tucking the shirt in to give a more professional appearance. Not that it matters anymore, because the damage is already done. At least you're fully dressed again - finally.

“We need to go”, Romanoff states blankly and marches off. Without saying another word about what just happened, you both follow the redhead. An awkward silence hanging around the three agents now that Barton managed to squeeze himself in between Natasha and you. She feels a pair of eyes trained on her and sighs as she eventually ends the absence of sound.

“Just-”, she raises her arms, agitated by the turn of recent events, but drops them just as fast as a sign of surrender. “Keep it quiet okay. I’d like to stay in SHIELD, keep my job”. “Yeah, and me too”, you add firmly. Worries rising to the surface once more.

“I would never screw you over like that, Nat. You know me. (Y/L/N) here on the other hand…”, motioning at you with his thumb, “I’m guessing gets enough screwing”, he snickers. “You think you’re very funny, don’t you Barton”, you say annoyed, glancing at him with narrowed eyes. “On occasion, yes”. “Jokes aside, I’m dead serious, Clint”, Natasha expresses. He better not make another joke, you recommend inside your head. For his own sake, judging by Natasha's, well, everything. “I know, Nat”. He gives her a small nod. “My lips are sealed. You can trust me”. A short, reassuring smile appears on Natasha’s features. Confirmed what she already knows. Of course she can trust him.

En route to the briefing room, in a more crowded hallway now with Barton leading the way when he gazes over his shoulder. “So… how long has ‘this’ been a thing?”, he asks, pointing his finger to connect the two of you. With an inquiring look in his eyes, unable for you to see, he rubs his chin as if buried in deep thought. After a few seconds of intense thinking Barton turns around. “I’d say somewhere after that covert mission in Berlin two weeks ago. Probably needed to share one room, with only one bed. No doubt. It always starts like that. Always”. You and Natasha exchange a look. She chuckles lightly. A suggestive smirk on your face when you respond, “This ‘thing’ has been going on a lot longer. But Berlin was much fun, I’ll give you that”. The disbelief in his eyes made Natasha add, with a quick wink, “Let’s just say we’re good at keeping a secret.”

Barely recovered from all the new information Barton received this afternoon he notes, “But now it’s like, our little secret, isn’t it”. At these words Natasha shoots you a glance. One you recognize all too well. “No, we ain’t gonna do that”. “Admit it, it would make it a lot easier”, she whispers with clenched teeth. “No no, way too messy. I gotta stop you there Nat, not a good idea. This is your assassin brain talking”. “Too messy?”, she scoffs. “Do you even know me? I've got my ways (Y/N), you don't even want to know...”. “True. I don't. Ever”. Even though she has dropped her reinforced steel walls around you, it still remains a mystery what goes on in that head of hers. Maybe for the best.

“What you guys talking about?”, Barton questions as he stops to open the two glass doors blocking the current path. “Uh, nothing. Hope we’re not too late”, you quickly cover and all enter. Standing at the other end of the circular conference table, Coulson looks up from the file he’s holding and flatly states, “Agents, you're late. Close the door. Quickly. We have an important mission to prepare for.”

“Mission prep, huh”, Natasha repeats while she eyes you. Shut up, you mouth to the agent in question. You'll have to do what you've been doing for a while now. With success, fortunately. Flip the switch and be an agent again. Same goes for Natasha. Be each other's colleagues, and just that. How long will we be able to keep this up? You shortly look at the Russian spy. How long will I be able to keep this up? To hide it, you rethink as Coulson's words fly past you. One thing's for sure, whatever happens, I won't ever regret the time spent with this amazing woman, with whom I've secretly fallen in love with…

BONUS: The concise, but clear briefing finished rapidly and you march towards one of the quinjets that’s ready for takeoff. The gear needed for the assignment already packed inside. Clearly a serious matter of urgency behind it, you reckon, suddenly starting to feel guilty about your lateness. You pinch your shirt awkwardly, pulling it down and square your shoulders. Something’s off. Coulson is leading the way and in the distance you spot some other agents waiting on the aircraft, all geared-up. Not like Barton, Romanoff and you. Natasha and Clint are walking in front of you, just chatting, completely relaxed. Not like you. “Hey, pssst”. You tap Natasha’s shoulder. She turns her head over the spot you’ve touched with an expression that reads, what? “Just- come over here”, you signal with your hand as unseen as possible. She slows her pace. “What is it?”. “I think I’m wearing the wrong shirt”. “What do you mean wrong shirt? We have to gear-up on route. Did you already forget what Coulson said to us minutes ago?”. She laughs, but you can’t seem to share it with her. “Well, this is not mine, that’s what I’m saying”. You grab a piece of fabric of the dark shirt to show. Now that Natasha understands what you really mean, she’s trying her best to keep herself from bursting into laughter. “That explains why mine is a little more ‘loose’”. “And mine too tight…”, you grunt. “Can't we like, switch or something?”. “When do you honestly think we can do that?”, she voices discreetly, both stepping on the tailgate of the plane. “I don’t know, maybe-”. “Just accept it for now”. “But-”. “We’ll swap shirts after the mission, okay”. A low growl escapes your mouth. She’s right, you have no other choice at the moment. There’s no time. You grab the gear reluctantly while dropping your shoulders and sigh. Perhaps a little too loud.

“Everything alright, Agent (Y/L/N)?”. Coulson’s sudden presence behind you surprised you and with one quick movement you turn around, a poker-faced expression. “Yes sir, all fine”, you lie. Probably for the best, all things considered. Or not? “Well- actually, it’s not fine”. You reconsider. Should I tell? I’m sick of the secrets. But I can’t, I really can’t. I know damn well what the consequences are... “Sir”, you begin, scraping your throat. The Agent in charge of the operation waiting patiently for the words that are about to be spoken. “I would like to apologize for being late to the briefing earlier”. “Oh, it's all cleared up. Just don't let it happen again Agent (Y/L/N)”. “How so?”. “Agent Barton explained the situation”. Did he now? Feeling a slight panic, but mostly anger boiling inside your stomach. “Sir, just out of interest, what did he tell? To make sure he isn’t covering for my very own mistake. The truth is more important”. Except in this case of course. “He told me that you were with Agent Romanoff”. Not making it better Barton… The idea formed by a certain redhead's assassin brain doesn’t sound so bad anymore. “Did he also say what we were doing?”. “I’m not sure why you want to know all this, but he said Agent Romanoff and you were training in close-quarters combat. Correct?”. We were surely close, very close, though not a lot of combat involved… “Almost sir, we were actually training our knife-fighting skills. Don’t want to be stabbed in the back by surprise”. Shooting a quick glance at Barton, who returns a way too excited smile your way. “Usually I take my phone with me on the mat, but this time I left it in the locker”. Technically not a lie, one of the few truths to your story. “Luckily Agent Barton was there to bring you and Agent Romanoff in”. “Yes he was”, you agree, trying to sound as neutral as possible. Coulson continues. “I haven’t had the time to tell, but Agent Romanoff and you did an excellent job in Berlin a couple weeks back”. “Thank you sir. I thought so too, if I may say”. Replaying some images of that mission in your mind, but definitely some other scenery than to what Coulson is referring to. You buckle up and hear him speak. “Agents, last mission briefing in 30, just before we’ll touch down. Be ready”. Wishing you could go back to Nat’s room, the moment just before Barton ruined all the fun, and without this cramped shirt on. Actually, without any clothing on. You sigh once again. This is going to be a long day…

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha imagine #natasha romanoff fic #natasha x reader #marvel #mcu #wlw fiction #wlw imagine #wlw fic #clint barton #phil coulson #shield #fanfiction

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Note

I’m SO obsessed with how you write Roman. I just keep re reading everything you’ve written about him🥺 can I request some soft daddy Roman? Maybe consoling his person after they have a minor freak out because somebody called them a gold digger or something... which is silly because they are high school sweethearts and their dynamic is hella established. Thankyou🥺🖤 your writing is literally perfect

(A/N): Hey sweetie!

I wanted first of all to say that THIS FUCKING MESSAGE NEVER FAILS TO BRIGHTEN MY DAY! SHIT SHIT SHIT YOU GAVE ME CAVITIES WITH YOUR SWEETNESS, I FOR EVER LOVE YOU!

(Also if I might ask: what is so special about my Roman? Like I am just curious, because I always feel like I write him a bit OOC, but...).

I also wanted to apologize for how much it took me to answer this ask; I started it and then moved it onto my iPad, knowing I would be working on it when I was back on at uni (and I haven’t been at uni in three weeks, BECAUSE SHIT KEEPS HAPPENING), so I costantly pushed it back.

But this week I felt like I was taking too much time and finally finished and I hope that you’ll forgive me, sweetie!

Have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Mention of Sex, Daddy Kink, Mention of Past, Mention of Rejection and Self-Esteem Issues, Accusing of Being a Gold-Digger and Everything Related.

The weight of the ring on your finger was strange but not unwelcome, even more as it brought out the memory of the previous night, when Roman had asked you to marry him.

You still remembered having had dinner with him and Nadia, the child now attending kindergarten and being extremely happy about explaining to you and Roman all the fun activities she had done there, that went from coloring to playing ‘dress up’ with her friends.

You had listened attentively and smiled whenever she would get so lost in the story and forget what she wanted to say, almost even forgetting to eat.

Exactly as Roman, who had kept pushing around food and listened half-heartedly to his child, simply muttering a few ‘oh that is alright, sweetie’ and ‘I am glad you have fun’.

You had blamed it on an hard day at work, and as you two had been alone, you had gently positioned against his back as he had sat onto your shared bed, moving to massage his back, something which always relaxed him, as you softly kissed his neck.

‘Was it a hard day at work?’ you had asked, and he had simply nodded.

You had hugged him tight, wondering how you had come this far from high school when you and Roman wanted to do nothing more than rip apart your necks.

But then he had saved you from Christina and you had slowly started to forgive him for being nothing more than a spoiled boy and when Peter had run away and he had been left with Nadia you had started helping him, although he was extremely against help, till you made him accept it.

And slowly you had grown to love each other, in a way that was familiar and quiet but was much needed from both of you.

And now you were there with him in your arms, and Nadia in her own room, sleeping peacefully, like any normal happy child.

‘I have been nervous, mostly’ he commented and you lightly turned around to him, seeing one of his hands hiding behind his back but not giving it too much thought as you adjusted yourself on his lap, circling again his neck with your arms.

‘Can I help you with it?’ you asked softly, as you messed up his hair, to make him smile, but he kept on being ridiculously still and you couldn’t help but grow slightly worried.

And then Roman moved forward the hand he was hiding behind, revealing a small box of velvet in it, and although some part of your brain had its ideas, you couldn’t process properly the entire thing till Roman muttered.

‘Yes, you can actually’ he swallowed a huge intake of breath, before spluttering the rest of the words as if they were venomous ‘… you can say yes, to my question’.

And like this a beautiful ring was revealed to you, a small but shiny ruby in the center of the thing band of gold, surrounded by smaller diamonds, bringing an halo of light to your hand that you had been almost too taken aback from it to speak.

‘I…’ you had been the one speechless back then, and Roman had been almost startled by your silence-

‘… I want to make this official… I know that you… I am not the type of guy who settles down, I never thought I could… but I know you want it… and I…”.

You had been a bit taken aback by Roman’s discourse and had immediately told him that this wasn’t simply about you: you were happy with him, even without a wedding or anything making it official.

‘… for me a ceremony doesn’t make less or more the love I feel for you and Nadia’.

‘I know, but…’ he had looked away from your face and you had smirked at him, grabbing one of his hands ‘... but I fucking suck with words!’.

You had laughed a bit at his outburst, gently enveloping him in your arms as he had proceeded to whisper the rest of his vows to you.

‘… the fact is that… I never thought I would find somebody who makes me feel like you do’ the words had, this time, surprised you, even more appreciated than the beautiful ring as you had felt your eyes tearing up lightly ‘… I personally don’t believe that piece of paper will change us, but I know that you always wished to get married, so why the fuck not? I mean… you are the only one I want to spend my life with’.

You had cried in his shirt after all those sweet words, assuring that for you it was the same, till Roman had grumpily but sweetly proposed he ‘fucking put that pretty ring to use’, even going down on his knee and proposing properly.

As you had accepted, he had quickly smirked and muttered about ‘how fucking happy would your parents have been that he had finally made you an honest woman’.

And then the sex had been amazing: Roman had worshipped you softly, but once he had prolonged the teasing even for him, he had taken you roughly making you moan softly, as you stifled your groans against the pillows.

And now that the morning light was washing over you, the ruby shined even brighter, but not as Roman’s smirk as he saw you staring at it.

“Enjoying the view, Mrs. Godfrey?” he smirked softly as you adjusted yourself in his arms “… because you are stuck here”.

“Enjoying it very much, Mr. Godfrey!” you shot back, kissing his chest softly “… you should be the one worried about being stuck with me”.

“Are you a blood hungry upir?” he replied, as he lightly distanced himself from you: talks like this always made him nervous, but you respected his space and gently proceeded to also get away from the bed, eyeing the hour and knowing that Nadia’s alarm would soon be off.

“I am an annoying human with a pendant for art, I am pretty sure that I am not as interesting as a upir”.

He laughed sarcastically, but still leaned in to kiss your forehead as you found your nightgown and he his boxers, both putting on some clothes, meanwhile you felt the discreet squeak of Nadia’s alarm, which meant that you needed to be in the kitchen the fastest possible to have breakfast ready for the little hungry upir.

“… don’t talk nonsense when you are the only person I tolerate in the world” he muttered onto your forehead deadly serious, with that tone that made you feel like he would have gladly ‘disposed’ of anybody who hurt you “… and I think that we should celebrate about it tonight, so that we can tell it to Nadia”.

You were a bit scared of Nadia’s answer to you getting married with her dad, but nodded, as Roman suggested your favorite restaurant and the hour you got off the job.

“I can take you with the Jaguar” he muttered, meanwhile you both moved down the stairs, with him peppering gently your neck with kisses “… like old times”.

“That would be nice” you replied, although you were already focus on searching that little gremlin that Nadia was, moving around the kitchen, onto a stool as she tried to grab a box of cereals and Roman promptly grabbed her to get off the stool, lecturing her about ‘fucking waiting for them and not to fucking jump onto stools’.

You certainly knew who you would blame if Nadia was worse with her words than a sailor.

“But you are always sooooooooo sloooooow” she shot back, annoyed, and tightening her arms in front of her chest, as Roman did when he was annoyed, something which made you smirk, meanwhile you got the coffee ready for Roman, boiling your tea and heating Nadia’s milk “You always lose time to kiss (Y/N)”.

Although Nadia had once called you ‘mom’, you preferred when she called by her name.

You had never ever wanted to take Letha’s place, although you acted with her as a mom.

And you couldn’t help but, sometimes think that she might love you as such.

“… that’s because (Y/N) is in need of many kisses” he mumbled as he moved to you, to grab his coffee and kiss your shoulder, making you blush, as he then moved onto his daughter, tackling her to give her a few kisses as she tried to move away, giggling “… and so do you”.

You had a quiet breakfast, as Roman let Nadia know that they would go out that night and the child immediately asked you if she could wear her newest dress.

‘The white one that is like yours!’ she asked, as she almost pulled onto your hair to get your attention, as you nodded, meanwhile Roman simply mumbled under his breath about ‘how fast children grow’.

He eventually went to work, accompanying Nadia on the way.

Before he left, he kissed you goodbye and even laid a small kiss onto your ring, making sure that Nadia hadn’t seen him.

“See you tonight” he muttered as he left, and Nadia waved at you and you shot back.

“See you tonight, handsome!”.

You had then set down to work a bit on your computer.

Working in an art gallery was a tough work, but during these first years you had taken a part-time job, mostly to help with Nadia, but you were slowly going back to the usual rhythm, mostly working on the computer at home during the morning.

You, immediately, thought about bringing it to him, since you could already hear Roman screaming against some poor underpaid intern.

You had finished work early and didn’t mind a small trip.

Your good mood was honestly extremely strong, and you drove happily to the White Tower, jamming to your favorite songs, the awful pop ones that Roman hated a bit too much, enough to sing them in the shower.

You smiled at anyone in the White Tower, although many didn’t reply, but you were basically jumping around happily around the place, stopping as you came face to face with Sarah, Roman’s lovely secretary, talking as usual with her girlfriend, on the phone.

But she closed the call as she saw you coming, immediately reaching out for your hand, only stopping as she came face to face with the beautiful ring.

“… ahhh it looks even prettier than in the pictures on internet!” she commented, playing with your hand “… I am not going to lie but I chose it for you”.

You opened lightly your mouth to the surprise, but then she shook her head, smirking lightly.

“I was joking! But I was the one who ordered it for you…” she then turned to face you “… Gosh, I can’t believe that we’ll have to call you, Mrs. Godfrey!”.

“… or maybe you should start calling Roman (Y/L/N)” you joked lightly, and Sarah’s laugh intensified.

“If you do that, I’ll for ever respect you” she retorted, before taking in the computer bag in your hands “… need me to ring up the boss?”.

“If he isn’t busy…” you whispered, as she already moved to get the office phone to phone him in, meanwhile you clacked lightly your shoes onto the polished floor.

“He is in a reunion, but I can leave him a message in the secretary” she explained, as she let ‘Mr. Assholefrey know that his future wife had come to bring his moronic ass his computer’ “… I hope you don’t have much to do… and if you do, you can leave the laptop to me, I don’t mind it”.

“Oh no don’t worry! I have nothing to do till after the lunch” you explained to her, and then moved away to observe a few things onto the White Tower’s walls, as Sarah had to take another call.

You were trying to calmly relax yourself, as one light shoulder tap was delivered to your shoulder and you turned around expecting it to be Sarah proposing a coffee as you waited, but you were faced with a man smiling at you with recognition in his eyes.

You were taken aback and for a few minutes, not recognizing the man, a bit older than you and with all the signs of the typical economical parasite on him, hidden with an elegant suite and an expensive watch.

You tried to search your mind if he was one of the people Roman made business with, somebody you recognized from a gala or such, but your mind was blank till he called out your name.

“(Y/N)!” he shouted, attracting everyone’s attention when he went further and then hugged you, immediately soliciting a quirked eyebrow for you, asking whether she should have called security or not “… don’t you remember me? Christian from high school!”.

And immediately you realized who he was.

And you would have almost been happier with one of Roman’s partners.

Christian was and old high school friends of your life before Roman and Peter, he acted as if he was the best playboy the world had ever seen, but in reality he was a misogynistic piece of idiot, who thought that his big brain gave him the right to treat other people like shit.

“Oh, yeah... I am... I didn’t recognize you” you honestly had hoped never to see him again.

“We all grow up in the end, don’t we?” he replied and let his eyes go down your body with a rather explicit look that annoyed you “... you look freaking stunning”.

You blushed, and although the compliment wasn’t welcome, you were glad to have a ‘revenge body’.

You had been one of the few he hadn’t hit on back in the high school days, and although you knew it was because he was well aware you wouldn’t fall for his charm, you had sometimes questioned if maybe you had done something wrong to displease him or if there was something wrong in you.

Then you had met Roman, who would have gladly taken you on every possible surface when you were wearing nothing more than a dirty hoodie and awful Halloween socks, even when it was Christmas.

It certainly helped you with your self-esteem.

“We do grow up in the end”.

Christian had grown up far away from the ‘attractive’ person he was back then (if you found attractive, egotistic people), in a way that showed even further his own moral ambiguity, making you again feel at unease.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, not getting the hint that you didn’t want to talk with him anymore “.... I thought you worked in an art gallery...”.

“I do” and to prove even further your point you spit out “...I am actually the boss of the art gallery’s communications sector, but I am here to give something to my boyfriend, he forgot the laptop home”.

You immediately saw his eyes hazing with rage, as if you had rejected him.

“... oh, you have a boyfriend?” he questioned you and Sarah came to your rescue.

“A husband, actually” she giggled, making you blush lightly “... the owner of this place”.

Christian seemed to be lightly taken aback, before something evil twinkled in his eyes.

“... I didn’t peg you as that type of girl” you sent him a confused look “... oh c’mon! You aren’t dating Roman Godfrey for his niceness, are you?”.

“I actually do” you retorted, shooting him a finishing glance, wanting to get as far away to him as you could, honestly insulted with the way he had talked to you.

But even more horrified at the thought that somebody could actually think that you and Roman were together because of his money and not true love.

“… of course” mumbled Christian, simply raising his hand as a gesture of surrender, although his eyes were everything but convinced, shooting you a quick look of insult before he moved away.

You just didn’t feel like being there anymore, asking Sarah to bring the laptop to Roman, as you excused yourself, feeling deeply ashamed in yourself, almost as if everybody was staring at you as you moved till you reached the gallery.

Even there you were uneasy, thinking about whether Roman felt like you were with him solely for his money, the entire thought making your heart ache not only for shame, but for the pain and insecurity you might procure to the poor man.

You spent all afternoon in anguish and thought that you couldn’t just attend a dinner with that moment, asking Roman to cancel your bookings, hoping that Nadia would forgive you both.

The man didn’t ask too much, but right when you went off your turn off, on the way back home, he called you, as you were just adjusting your seatbelt.

“Hey, wifey” the petname made you uneasy, but you smirked as if he could actually see you through the car speakers “… is anything wrong? Because I have no problem deleting the bookings, but… you love that place!”.

“I know, I know, and I would love nothing more than trying to get Nadia to finish her plate, after she ordered too much food… but I am just tired, it has been an exhaauuusting day at work” you tried to sound convincing, throwing it onto the laughter in order for it to result more natural and hide your uneasiness.

But Roman hadn’t survived so far simply because he was pretty.

“Oh babe, I know perfectly your kinks…” he joked but he didn’t stop there, his tone dropping an octave “… and I know when you are lying to me”.

You saw no escape to this and just muttered.

“Can we talk at home of this?”.

“Of course, sweetie” now his voice was saccharine sweet, making you smile lightly at its ridiculousness “… I feel like you might need a hug”.

“Gosh you are beginning to sound too sappy”.

“But you are stuck with me, little shit”.

The mood definitely brightened up as you drove back home, but the embarrassment that came from Christian’s accusations hurt you in a way that made it all too difficult for you to think about having a talk with Roman, but the man was waiting for you in your sitting room.

‘I managed to get Nadia not to be mad with us with a small trip at Peter’s, he says that if we have any intention to conceive a child, we should consider naming him Peter’.

“That shit is creepy”.

“Tell me all about it” he shifted lightly on the sofa to allow you to sit next to him and have enough space not to feel overwhelmed “… but now you can tell me all about that sour mood in your eyes”.

You couldn’t help but be reduced to silence by the embarrassment.

“… any regrets about … the marriage thing?” although he tried to fake himself to be distracted by it all, you could hear the insecurity in his tone, making your heart ache and turn immediately to him.

“No, of course not, Roman” he didn’t seem reassured, but tried to open his mouth in a reassuring smile “… what about you? Any regrets?”.

“Why would I have regrets?” he shot back, letting anger show itself in his combative tone “… if it’s because you are feeling insecure, I can totally convince you with my silver ton…”.

“… because…” you honestly felt so embarrassed by the entire question that you blurted it out completely “…have you ever thought I was a gold digger?”.

Roman seemed surprised by your rambling, slowly linking all the words together till he found the proper meaning of your words, and went all up in your face, grabbing it so that you could stare him in his eyes.

“… babe you are the farthest thing away from a gold digger” and before you could reply he shushed you with that imperious voice of his that got your insides all tingly “… babe, I have package, I am not that usual ‘party-spoiled-trust fund child’…”.

“You do have to admit you are spoiled”.

“Let daddy talk”.

Now you were flushed all the way from your chest up to your cheeks.

“… and when you came in my life, believe me I was more bothersome than I was an advantage and a proper sugar daddy” he made you smirk lightly, gently softening his hold onto your cheeks, as he caressed it “I never felt like you were here for my money. My dick? Maybe… more like probably… but you are not a gold digger…”.

It was damnably reassuring to hear this, with his soft but rough voice, as he looked at you with those piercing green eyes.

“… and I’ll fucking drain whoever told you this shit” now his grip tightened as his hands drifted to your neck, gently gripping it as he moved to come closer to you, another hand moving between your legs, making you thankful for having worn a skirt “… Sarah told me of that dick that tried to get with you, well fuckface I got a ring on her finger first”.

“Believe me, Roman, I don’t want anybody but you” you spoke softly, feeling yourself melting completely against him, as his hand raised up your thigh, pushing itself to pinch your soft skin “… you are the only one who makes me feel good, daddy”.

“Then I do think that I’ll prove to you that I am worth more than simply my money”.

An amazing night of sex later, you woke up again against Roman’s soft chest, his fingers playing with your hair, as he had woken you up by his ‘work voice’ mumbling things at his phone.

You gently rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand as you adjusted yourself in an upright position to be able to snuggle further in your boyfriend’s chest, who you could feel growing restless, as he looked out for your hand, the left one, the one with the ring, making it shine as it caught the light of the morning sun.

“… am I talking with Chirstian fucking Idiotscreen?” well you could totally guess what was going on and stifled the laughter on Roman’s chest, as he moved his hand onto your hair “… hi, nice to meet you, fucktard, I just wanted to let you know that I won’t fund your shitty project. When I looked at it yesterday it seemed like a shitfest but I was feeling generous because… I do think that you know… I am getting fucking married!”.

You could completely hear Christian’s heavy breathing on the other line.

“… well then you pissed off the wrong person, so fucking disappear from my White Tower and next time you want to call somebody ‘gold digger’ make sure they aren’t your boss’ wife. Goodbye”.

And then he turned to you, cradling your head in his hands and pushing you close to him, letting your lips meet.

“Good morning, gold-digger” you giggled softly in his mouth, as he adjusted himself to kiss you more properly “… now I can already smell your arousal and we have at least one hour to fuck, before Nadia comes back”.

“… then I do think that you better start, soon-to-be-husband”.

#Roman Godfrey #Roman Godfrey Reader #Roman Godfrey x Reader #Roman Godfrey Imagine #Roman Godfrey Fic #Roman Godfrey Ask #Roman Godfrey Drabble #roman godfrey blurb #Roman Godfrey Oneshot #Roman Godfrey One Shot #Hemlock Grove #HG #Hemlock Grove Imagine #Roman Godfrey Fluff #Fluff #Roman Godfrey Smut #Smut

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theblossomangels · 4 years

Text

arrival of surprise.

summary ⟶ The Blossom Angels had last minute changed of schedules which is surprising their boyfriends by appearing in AOMG and H1GHER Music’s party after a months of not seeing each other.

timeline ⟶ December 2019.

characters : Park Jaebeom (Jay Park), Jung Kiseok (Simon Dominic), Lee Seonghwa (Gray), Kim Hyunjung (Hoody), Kwon Minsik (Sik-K), Lee Hwimin (GroovyRoom), Park Junwon (pH-1)

warning ⟶ none.

“You two look...”

“Gorgeous?” teased Hayeon as she wiggled her eyebrows, her eyes looking towards the rear-view mirror to see Seonghwa chuckling in embarrassment.

“I think that’s too extreme to compliment someone..” remarked Eunjae as she looks at her partner who was sitting beside her.

“I don’t disagree with what Hayeon said - and I agree with what Eunjae said too,”

“What a smart answer,” giggled Hayeon and Eunjae roll her eyes as she turned her gaze towards the window.

2 weeks before today’s event, Eunjae and Hayeon were being invited to Jay’s end of year party at Jeju where all AOMG and H1GHER Music staffs and artists will be coming to celebrate together.

The girls sadly rejected his offer as Eunjae and Hayeon were suppose to attend their individual schedules.

But both of them manage to squeeze in their schedule and they could attend Jay’s party since the party will start at 8 at night.

Hayeon decided to make this as a surprise so she called Seonghwa, informing him about her own exciting plan with her dragging Eunjae along.

Eunjae couldn’t even tell Minsik about her arrival. Poor Minsik was sad that his girlfriend couldn’t make it for the party causing him to sulk on Eunjae.

“But seriously, the two of you are pretty. Jaebeom and Minsik are lucky guys.” Seonghwa complimented the two girls who were sitting at the back seat.

“It’s been a year. Don’t tell me you are still single.” stated Hayeon as she frowned towards Seonghwa’s back since he was driving.

“Sadly.” answered Seonghwa and Hayeon shakes her head.

“Busy with your new album?” questioned Eunjae and Seonghwa nodded.

“You’re not the only one. Eunjae and I are busy too.” commented Hayeon and Seongwa’s gaze turn towards the rear-view mirror.

“I can tell. I mean, the two of you lose a lot of weight.. when was the last time that we’ve hang out together?” questioned Seonghwa, seeing him turning his head slightly.

“Last year I think..” answered Eunjae, turning toward Hayeon who was nodding her head.

Eunjae can’t help but to agree with Seonghwa.

She and Hayeon really did lose weight, thanks to the cases that both of them had solved that was mostly involved with drugs and a few tough cases involving rape.

The clothes that they are wearing right now are a little loose.

Eunjae was wearing her usual business clothing with her business black coat while Hayeon wears a ribbon top with a cute skirt and heels.

Both of them, mostly Eunjae, would stay in her office just to finish the reports and to investigate more. She had to some time skip meals to get her work done.

“And you look buff too. Kiseok told me you went to the gym alot.” teased Eunjae, smirking towards Seonghwa.

“Yeah.. Who you’re trying to seduce, Gray?” added Hayeon, followed by a giggle from her.

Seonghwa scoffed as he turned behind towards Hayeon since they stop at a red light.

“Yah! I’m doing this for my own good!” Seonghwa whines slightly, causing both of the girls to giggle.

“Anyways, thank you for fetching us from the airport.” thanked Eunjae, smiling towards Seonghwa.

“No problem. I mean, Jaebeom and the others are going to be so happy as soon as the both you appeared. I’m honestly happy too when you called me. I’m excited to see their reactions, especially Jaebeom and Minsik.”

By the time they arrive to their destination, both of the girls’ eyes went wide seeing branded cars being park by the drive-way.

It was obvious which house that the crew would be in as out of all the houses, only one of them had people coming in and out.

“Jay and the others are probably inside.” informed Seonghwa as the girls already got out of the car.

Hayeon quickly clings onto Eunjae as soon as they passed by a few unfamiliar faces, and feeling them staring at the girls but they feel safe thanks to Seonghwa whom was standing close to them.

“I think they are Jaebeom’s friends from L.A. I’m not familiar too.” added Seonghwa and the girls immediately nodded, following the older one closely.

As they were walking up the stairs, Hayeon’s eyes caught one of the crowd, to see the first female artist that had joined AOMG.

“Hyunjung eonnie!” Hayeon called, causing the AOMG female artist, Hyunjung as known as Hoody, to turned towards Hayeon.

The artists had her eyes widen before running towards where Hayeon was, hugging her tightly.

“I knew you would come! Gosh, when Jaebeom told me you weren’t coming, I was so sad and disappointed.” Hyunjung pouted before pulling away, then turning towards Eunjae.

“Eunjae-ah! You look classy! Both of you!” Hyunjung cooed, looking towards the both of the girls up and down before hugging the other girl tightly.

“So this is why you suddenly disappeared.” teased Hyunjung while looking towards Seonghwa who was smiling cheekily.

“Anything to surprise our CEO. Anyways, are they in there?” questioned Seonghwa and Hyungjung nodded while looking towards the house to hear loud deep laughters.

“Yup. Jaebeom is near the pool I think, and Minsik should be at the 2nd floor with his crew.” informed Hyunjung.

“Let’s go in together since Jukyung ditch me.” muttered Hyunjung at the end, before pulling both of the girls while Seonghwa whining at the back.

Eunjae and Hayeon could smell a familiar scent, knowing some of them smokes as the both of them were swatting the scent away.

“Look who has arrived. Our AOMG and H1GHER Music princesses.”

Eunjae and Hayeon looked towards the voice to see Kiseok as known as Simon Dominic, leaning against the wall with a red cup on his hands.

“I think Hoody eonnie should be the princess. She’s the first female artist to join AOMG.” stated Eunjae as she fold her arms.

“She’s not wrong though.” Seonghwa commented at the back, causing Hyunjung to chuckle.

“C’mon! Don’t I get a hug or something?” Kiseok whines and the 2 girls teasingly give the older one a side hug.

“Where’s Jaebeom?” questioned Hayeon, causing Kiseok to turn towards the pool area. The girls followed his gaze and there were visible frowns coming from Eunjae and Hayeon.

“It’s pretty obvious but there’s girls.” commented Eunjae and Kiseok quickly turned towards the 2 girls.

“They are just dancers. I promise you.” assured Kiseok and the 2 of them nodded slowly but deep down, both of them were a little concern.

“Okay. I’ll probably go up and find Minsik.” said Eunjae as she was about to walk away when Seonghwa stops her.

“I’ll accompany you.” offered Seonghwa as Eunjae excused herself before going upstairs with Seonghwa.

“C’mon. Hyunjung and I will introduce to a few new people.” suggested Kiseok before pulling both Hyunjung and Hayeon along towards the pool.

“Okay. He’s in there.” Seonghwa whispered as he was peeking into the lounge area.

“Have fun!” he whispered while giggling away. Eunjae watched him walking downstairs, leaving the nervous Eunjae alone.

Eunjae gulped as she could hear the deep voices. She didn’t know how to make her entrance, knowing the whole crew was there.

Eunjae and Minsik has been on a long distant relationship and both of them could only depend on their phones to fill their longings of missing each other by texting or calling each other.

She knew that Minsik was suffering with his strange nightmares that has been going on for a couple of months. It was worse back then but thanks to Eunjae who decided to be by Minsik side whenever he has nightmares, his constant nightmares were lessened by him video calling Eunjae.

Though there were some days that Eunjae would be completely exhausted, she didn’t complained to Minsik since he really needs her support.

Till now, Minsik would frequently call Eunjae, him asking her about her well-being and lots of catching up with what Minsik and Eunjae has been doing.

I’ll probably just see him when he go down.

“Eunjae?”

Eunjae was turning her heels, wanting to retreat back when a familiar voice called her causing Eunjae to turned her body to the front in a second.

Minsik stood frozen and she could already see the H1GHER Music crews’ head peeking in.

They had the same look as Minsik but it changes to them waving at her excitedly with cheeky smiles directed towards Minsik.

“Well— Hi!” squeaked Eunjae and she was immediately being pulled towards Minsik as her sight was blocked and she could smell Minsik’s scent knowing she was on his arms.

There were whistling sounds and screams behind the couple and Eunjae could hear Hwimin screaming with joy.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” mumbled Minsik, his hands squishing Eunjae’s cheeks as he locked his eyes with hers.

“Surprise?” Eunjae sheepishly said. Minsik can’t help but to chuckle embarrassingly before hugging her once more.

“I miss you, baby. I-I actually don’t know what to say..” confessed Minsik as he stared at Eunjae. His gaze slowly fell towards what she was wearing, looking at her up and down but he slowly frowns as he observes her.

“Babe, did you lose weight?” questioned Minsik with a frown. He was looking at her in different directions.

“Urm..no..?”

“You did lose weight! You coat looks big!” Hwimin commented at the back, making Eunjae to tilt her head slightly while frowning.

“Eunjae-ah, you really did lose weight.” added Junwon as he walked passed Eunjae since he came from downstairs.

Eunjae could only gulp slightly, seeing Minsik who was silently judging her with crossed arms.

Here goes my night.

“Yo, Jay man. Who’s that?”

“Who’s who?”

“The one with Hoody and Simon. Damn, she is cute!”

Jaebeom frowns as he sees his friend from the states turning his attention towards the opposite from where they were.

“Simon is blocking my view! That should be....”

Jaebeom trails off, his eyes slowly went wide.

Kiseok’s body move away from Jaebeom’s sight to clearly see who is his friend from the state was talking about.

Hayeon was somehow talking to one of the newer staffs from AOMG. His eyes slowly turn towards her body to see what she was wearing.

Why is she wearing a short skirt? But can’t lie though... she really do looks cute..

But Jaebeom’s eyes move towards her face and judging from Hayeon’s body language and her tight smile plus the way she was sticking to Kiseok and Hyunjung, she looks slightly uncomfortable.

Hayeon looks even more uncomfortable as soon as both Kiseok and Hyunjung had to leave the poor girl alone due to their own friends calling them.

“Are you new here?” The newbie staff that Kiseok introduced to Hayeon was Sungwoo. He is the new manager of Kiseok, Seonghwa, Hyunjung and Hyukwoo.

“Well, I guess you could say so.” answered Hayeon awkwardly, seeing the taller one looking at her intensely.

“I’ve never seen you before... But seeing how close you were with Kiseok hyung and Hyunjung noona.. Are you the manager of H1GHER Music’s artists?” Sungwoo asked curiously and Hayeon gulped nervously.

It was obvious that Sungwoo was a newcomer seeing how curious and friendly he was towards her. Newbies in both Jaebeom’s labels didn’t dare to even strike a conversation with her due to the fact of her being ‘one of the two lawyer that saved Jay from the drug scandal’ and Jay Park’s assistant, which the second one isn’t true.

Hayeon wasn’t even working with Jaebeom in terms of his labels. She was just a staff in the Human Resource department.

“Well I—

“Oh! Sungwoo! You’ve met AOMG’s princess!”

Hayeon felt an arm on her shoulders causing her to shriek slightly. She didn’t need to see who it was just by the familiar cologne scent.

She turned slightly to the side to see Jaebeom smiling widely, looking towards Sungwoo then to Hayeon with a slight smirk on his face.

“P-princess?” Sungwoo repeated as his eyes traveled towards Hayeon who was staring at Jaebeom as the older one slightly pull Hayeon towards him, making Hayeon to automatically had her arms on his waist.

“This is Hayeon. She is my girlfriend.” Jaebeom announced and Hayeon’s eyes went wide while her turned towards him in a flash.

“Jay!” Hayeon whispered and Jaebeom innocently looks at her.

“What? Everyone knows about us.”

“Not everyone!” Hayeon slightly exclaimed as she turned towards Sungwoo who looked embarrassed.

“I’m sorry for his.. urm.. honesty, Sungwoo. But it’s nice to meet you.” said Hayeon with a smile while taking out her hand towards Sungwoo for a handshake.

“I can call you noona right?” questioned Sungwoo timidly.

“May I know what year you were born?”

“1997.”

“Okay, then you can call me noona then.” answered Hayeon with a smile as Sungwoo gladly shakes her hand with a smile.

Jaebeom had a visible frown as he looked towards Hayeon and Sungwoo.

“Okay... Sungwoo-ah, help me look after Kiseok hyung. He shouldn’t be drinking too much since he has a meeting tomorrow.” instructed Jaebeom while sliding his arms onto Hayeon’s waist.

“Alright. Nice to meet you, Hayeon noona. I’ll see you some day.” said Sungwoo with a shy smile towards Hayeon before waving towards Jaebeom as the younger one flees away.

“You look really uncomfortable when I wasn’t here and look who is making friends now. Maybe I should have stayed by the pool.” Jaebeom commented and Hayeon turned her body towards him, seeing him pouting.

“I was - but you make the situation more comfortable and less awkward.” answered Hayeon with a smile and Jaebeom could feel his cheeks turning red, seeing how beautiful his girlfriend is when she smiles.

“Y-yeah.. But he likes you!” Jaebeom whines and Hayeon immediately frowns.

“What? What do you mean he likes me? Baby, we literally just met.” Hayeon remarked with a slight whine. Jaebeom looks at her in the eye.

“You should have seen the way he looks at you, baby.” added Jaebeom and Hayeon sighs as she slightly glare at him before giving a peck on his lips.

“Even if he likes me - or not, you declared to him that I am yours Jaebeom.” commented Hayeon with a wide smile.

Jaebeom’s eyes went wide before chuckling.

“Since when you are smooth, baby?” teased Jaebeom before pulling her into his arms as he looked at her, their faces are inches away.

“I don’t know if that was called being smooth but I guess staying in L.A. changed me?” guessed Hayeon as she smiled cheekily and Jaebeom can’t help but to kiss her on the lips, seeing how adorable his girlfriend is.

“You better be smooth to me, baby.” warned Jaebeom teasingly and Hayeon roll her eyes.

“And can you kindly tell me what happen to you saying you were busy with work?” quoted Jaebeom and Hayeon widen her eyes as she blinked at him.

“Well...” Hayeon trailed off, knowing she will be having a long conversation with Jaebeom.

#aomg #aomg scenarios #aomg imagines #aomg au #h1gher music #h1gher music scenarios #h1gher music imagines #jay park imagines #jay park scenarios #kwon minsik #sik-k #minsik scenarios #minsik imagines

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shsl-fluff · 4 years

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DR2 boys with a S/O who’s on the chubbier side and is a insecure about it? I love this blog by the way!

Sdr2 boys with a S/O who's insecure about their body!

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

Fuyohiko was never really in tune with others' emotions, or his own.

He didn't really pick up on how self conscious you were until one night you spelt it all out for him when you were drunk

After that, he tried to find ways to comfort you when you looked upset about your body.

"Don't say that shit about yourself, (Y/N)" he said suddenly, looking at you.

"You're not fat or ugly or whatever the fuck you keep thinking you are. You aren't. You're so beautiful"

He kissed you, holding you close.

"I'm not good at talking about this shit… about confidence or whatever… but you're fucking stunning to me."

"And please let me know if you feel upset about your body. I'll tell you this all again, you know. And… find shit to help you feel better"

He truly did mean the best, yet had problems verbalizing it.

He started to throw in more bashful compliments towards you whenever you looked nervous.

"Your hair is nice today" "I love your smile" "that outfit looks pretty on you"

He wasn't used to helping others with emotional help, but was more than willing to learn

Gundham Tanaka

Gundham never really cared about the size or shape of your mortal vessel.

That's why he was caught off guard when, before your date night, you said that you were afraid your dress made you look bad

"My gorgeous majesty, why do you think that?" He asked, taking your hand

You were starting to cry as he pulled you into his arms.

"My love, how about instead of going out, I pamper you at home?"

You nodded shakily

He bought take out and put on your favorite shows and brought the devas to cuddle with you.

He kissed you all over and over, something which he didn't normally do.

He didn't often initiate touch with you (or anyone) but did love it when you did hold each other close.

"My (Y/N)?" He asked after a while

"Yes?"

"I… don't understand something about your mortal ways…"

"What do you mean?"

"How could someone like you feel so much shame for your body? Your body will not follow you to the afterlife, it is just a mere vessel for your spirit."

You listened to his musing quietly. You weren't sure what to say, and he just kept going.

"Especially someone whose beauty rivals those of the vessels of succubi and incubi"

"I... I don't know, Gundam…"

"And… My love… If you ever do feel this way again, tell me so I may treat you like the diety you are"

Hajime Hinata

Hajime was always self-conscious, being in such a great school with no talent to speak of.

He was able to pick up on your unease when he spent time with you and the others before any of the others.

"Hey, (Y/N)? Are you alright? You look… upset"

You told him you were fine and didn't want to talk about it

"Well… if you need to, you have my phone number, ok?"

A few weeks later around midnight, you needed to talk about it.

You called him, sobbing your heart out.

"H-hey, hey! Calm down, okay? What's wrong?"

You let your emotions spill. About how you felt large and ugly, and the sore thumb of the group.

He listened to you talk for hours, comforting you the whole time.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). No one thinks you're any worse looking, ok? I know that me just saying that won't cure all of your anxieties, but.. I hope it helps"

Whenever you looked anxious, he would pull you aside and help you calm down, telling you how no one saw you any differently than any of your peers

You two started to hang out on your own after a while, and you slowly felt yourself gaining feelings for him.

You ended up asking him out, and he told you that he actually loved you too.

It was so lovely to spend time with him

He loved giving you gifts and often showered you with compliments

Imposter (Byakuya)

Byakuya noticed how nervous you looked in your dress/tux during date night at a fancy restaurant.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" He asked with his cold voice

"I don't know, Byakuya… I just don't feel comfortable in this. It makes me look to… big…" you kept your eyes down

He got a waitress quickly and got the food packed in boxes and left with you.

"Come along, (Y/N). We should go somewhere quieter"

You followed him, quietly asking "are you mad at me? I'm sorry"

"Of course I'm not mad, there's nothing to be sorry for. Let's talk"

He sat down on a bench and you sat next to him. He looked you in the eyes.

"(Y/N), don't ever be ashamed of yourself. If you don't like your appearance you can change it to be one you love, but being heftier or traditionally unattractive is nothing to be ashamed of."

"And if it makes you feel any better, I think you look amazing… but that's the thing. You shouldn't listen to me, or anyone else. No one decides how you should love yourself but you"

Byakuya knew he should have listened to his own words, but he had no identity to begin with with…

You guys went home early that night and spent the night at home together.

After that, Byakuya started to go shopping with you more and helped you find clothes that you felt nicer in

He wanted you to feel comfortable in your own body

He wanted you to feel comfortable with your own identity.

Kazuichi Soda

Soda loved every single thing about you, including your body

He loved showering you in gifts and praise, especially about your body after he found out you were so self conscious

He would compliment you every single day about something new

It never felt forced or fake, either.

It was all genuine and from the heart

He always did what he could to cheer you up when you were upset. He made you a few little toys to help keep you distracted by intrusive thoughts when you were alone

Whenever you went clothes shopping together, he would shower you with compliments.

"Are you sure this doesn't make me look… big?"

"Of course not! Why would I lie to you, (Y/N)? It makes you look cute/handsome, just like normal"

"It does?"

"Of course"

When you were at home together, Soda loved holding you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and just staying like that for a while, rambling to you.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

He knew that you wouldn't be instantly happy with yourself or your body, yet he wanted to help

Nagito Komaeda

Even before he was in a relationship with you, Nagito could tell you were always a bit anxious

He was a friend of yours for a few years before you finally asked him out

You both started to open up to each other a lot more

Nagito started staying at your house for longer periods of time, too.

One day, you just started crying to him.

Crying about how you hated your body

He just held you close and rubbed your back

When you finished ranting, he whispered soft, sweet words in your ears.

Words about how beautiful your body is, how sweet and kind and generous you are.

After that, he would make sure to check on you when you looked upset.

He would go out of his way to compliment you more than normal.

You both had the habit of talking bad about yourselves, and heIp catch each other before either of you get to upset

When his luck was causing problems and he didn't want to be around you, you would talk to each other for hours on the phone

It was really comforting to know that you were never alone when you needed love.

Nekomaru Nidai

Nekomaru was always concerned about your health

To you, it was a shock someone as fit as him would ask you out on a date, and then another after, and became your boyfriend

You had honestly assumed it was some sick trick, or out of pity

One day, while you were walking together, you decided to ask.

"How could you like someone like me, Nekomaru? I'm just… ugly"

He looked at you in shock before sitting down under a tree, patting the grass next to him

"Why would you think that you're ugly, (Y/N)? Even if you're on the larger side, it doesn't make you look worse than others!"

"But you care so much about health, and I don't look healthy"

He let out a hearty, loud laugh. "BMI is bullshit, (Y/N)! Lots of healthy people have high BMIs, and some of your ability to lose weight is in your genes!"

His laugh warmed your heart. You just smiled at him.

"And if you do want to feel healthier, then you're doing all the right things! Taking these walks with me, drinking and eating everyday, pacing yourself, even getting out of bed on hard days"

He ruffled your hair, smiling.

You two sat there for a little while, staring at the sky before getting back up and finishing your walk

He would give you more opportunities to join his exercises or design routines for you if you were concerned about your health

On his break days, you would both cuddle up on the couch and watch TV, snacking on whatever, not caring about all the little calories.

Teruteru Hanamura

Teruteru honestly had a bit of a preference for larger bodies

Not to a point of it being a fetish, of course. He just found them pretty.

That being said, he didn't fall for you for your body.

He knew your body made you anxious, so he showered you with praise and love.

He liked doing so in public to see how flustered you'd get,

but if it made you really uncomfortable, he would mostly keep affection at home, throwing in just a little bit of PDA when he felt particularly playful

Every day he would ask you what you wanted for dinner

Some days you would sheepishly say that you wanted something, but were afraid it would make you look larger

After assuring you that being large wasn't a bad thing, he would make you what you wanted.

His food always cheered you up when you felt self-conscious

#corgilover22 #sdr2 scenarios #sdr2 goodbye despair #sdr2 kazuichi #sdr2 teruteru #sdr2 nekomaru #sdr2 nagito #sdr2 twogami #sdr2 imposter #sdr2 gundham #sdr2 fuyuhiko #sdr2 guys

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