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#i really should have drawn in wedding bands... next time next time

thegorydamnreaper · 7 months

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Symbolism in Red Rising: Hair (Darrow)

So this started as a conversation about why Darrow should be drawn with long hair, but then I started having Thoughts anddddd here we are. Spoilers for the whole series up until the end of Light Bringer, so you’ve been warned!

(Also putting it under the cut, because this accidentally turned into an essay.)

In the mines:

He has long-ish hair, enough that it’s held back by the sweatband but not enough to tie up. He could keep it short and avoid the hassle, so why let it grow out? Because hair is deeply important to Reds culturally! Reds use hair for their wedding bands, because they place value in it. That value can be taken from a few things - it’s theirs, and not something that can be taken away, it shows their Color, it’s a part of themselves that they can share with another, growing hair/having healthy hair is a sign of being fit. All of this means an early cultural emphasis on hair for Darrow.

It’s also interesting to note that Darrow is pulled away from Eo by his hair right before she sings.

From Red to Gold:

One of the final steps in his Carving is Mickey transplanting his hair, and interestingly enough that seems to be the final mail in the coffin for Darrow on his transformation into a Gold:

“Mickey takes my hair next. Everything is changed.” (Red Rising, Ch 12)

So not only is hair deeply rooted in cultural importance, but it’s also a visual symbol that ties people to their family as seen here:

“You have made me give up the hair Father gave me, the eyes Mother left me, the Color I was born to, so I will keep the name they granted me, and you can make it work.” (Red Rising, Ch 13)

The caste system in RR means that these visual markers are critical to self identity, something that Darrow really struggles with for a long time.

As a Gold:

His first haircut comes after his final transformation into a Gold, and is done by Evey. This is the “fresh start” moment, the point where his Gold status is at its lowest and he has the most to prove - but he also has a clean slate. He’s physically and mentally more capable than ever, but hasn’t been put to the test. Where other Golds have entire histories to live up to, at face value Darrow has nothing to lose.

In the Institute:

Hair styles are taken very seriously at this point, and in a way they end up being signatures of who these characters are, even as the plot takes them on far-flung journeys. It’s interesting that at this point Darrow let’s his hair grow out, and keeps it long whenever possible. But unlike the others he doesn’t adorn it in any way, but just by having it long he’s making a statement about his strength. His hair is long because no one has cut it (taken it as a trophy), and he’s a good enough leader/fighter that he can afford to wear his hair in such a way that an enemy could grant it. The Howlers also begin taking scalps at this point - beyond just a painful and humiliating tactic, it’s also akin to taking the “crowns” of their defeated foes. Golden hair/golden crown - and Darrow has his through the institute. It’s also interesting to note that his duel with Cassius is one of the few times hair isn’t involved in his defeat, and I think that’s because on some level Darrow believes that it was an earned punishment, so I wouldn’t categorize it as a true defeat.

The Academy:

His hair is still long, pulled back simply once again. To some degree this is to emulate Nero and the Peerless trends, but it also shows that he’s still winning. Until of course we get to the garden and the Bellonas shame him and Cagney chops his hair off - symbolic of cutting him down from his seat of power.

“She smiles in my face and looks at my hairline, lips parted with excitement of dominating another person.” (Darrow about Cagney, right before she cuts his hair, Golden Son Ch 3)

This all has a lot of parallels to the Samson & Delilah story (hair cut/power lost in a moment of weakness, is able to regain power when he’s back on his true path), which we see play out as we get to…

The Gala:

We’re back at long-ish hair (~2 months after the Cagney incident), like in the mines. Back at square one with Darrow once again at almost-rock bottom. But it’s at this point where he reveals his razor training, has a rematch with Cassius, takes the Morning Star, and overall just has a great time becoming a living legend. Until, well, he’s stabbed in the back by one of his closest friends.

Rescue (Morning Star):

Once again Darrow is being forced into a haircut, though in his choice of words it’s a “scalping.” Once again, hair being taken as a trophy to humiliate someone.

“Dirty blond hair puddles onto the concrete as the Gray finishes scalping me with an electric razor. ” (Morning Star, Ch.3)

Also interesting to note, this is the first time we get the very controversial ~beard~. My take on the beard is that it’s symbolically not good, and signals a lack of control/autonomy over Darrow’s world down to even his own appearance. He’s at a loss with how to proceed, and is very nearly broken by his time with the Jackal. So I’m sorry, but if Darrow is sporting a beard, he’s not in a great place.

Stick with me, because after the time skip more Things are happening.

Iron Gold:

Chapter one hits us with this:

“These Gold eyes and hair feel more my own than those of that boy who lived in the mines of Lykos. That boy grew, loved, and dug the earth, but he lost so much it often feels like it happened to another soul.”

Even ten years later there’s a part of him questioning his own identity, and his outward appearance is a huge part of that. Is he a Gold, destined for cold brutality, or is he still a Red at heart? Personally I believe that defining himself by either is limiting, but it’s sweet to see his inner struggle to avoid becoming like the monsters he’s fighting.

Then there’s this scene with Virginia:

“She reaches up, dragging her slender fingers through my hair.” (Iron Gold, Ch. 3)

It’s the only time on-page his hair is touched with a loving gesture, not with any force or blunt practicality.

Later on in IG we get this near miss:

“He grabs my hair with an armored hand and saws on the front of my forehead to claim my scalp.” (An Obsidian attacking Darrow, Ch 54)

Literally immediately after this he’s saved by Apollonius. Near miss in battle, near miss in losing his hair again.

Dark Age:

The main theme of this book is a slow defeat, and once again Darrow’s hair parallels this. With the constant radiation his army has all lost their hair by chapter 32, and continues to feel the effects as the book progresses. This book is one of the few times in the series where Darrow actually suffers a huge loss - Alex, his legion, his ship, his best friend, his wife, his son - are all taken from him by the end.

Light Bringer:

The first physical descriptions of the characters we get is this:

“Nearly all of us are bald and those who can wear beards in remembrance of Ragnar.” (LB Ch 2)

This sets the tone of the book in a lot of ways. There’s a remembrance and acknowledgement of the past. There’s also a sense that they’ve just been through hell, but hey at least they’re alive. And it’s a sign that they’re healing and recovering from the horrors of Mercury, which is a slow and at times ugly process.

We get this take from the scene with Apollonius:

“Hardly meriting a glance for Cassius, his eyes search me, relish me, devour every last centimeter of me, noting my diminished size, my grizzled beard, my pale skin, and shortened breath.” (LB Ch 8)

And these quotes from Virginia:

“He’s encountered radiation, and his hair has only started growing back. He has a beard, a terrible, hairy beard. But the change I sense runs deeper than the physical. His restless anxiety is not gone, but it is muffled by a solemn maturity. Nothing grants wisdom like loss.” (LB Ch 34)

“But I look at Darrow and I don’t see a savior. I see an exhausted, bearded survivor stumbling home without the ships or the men to turn the tide. ” (LB, Ch 34)

I think that she says enough about what the beard outwardly signifies. Not one to mince words here our Sovereign.

Further into the book while Darrow is putting himself back together there’s this:

“My mass is returning like the hair on my head. I’ve kept the beard. For some reason it helps me to feel like I’m on a mission.” (LB Ch 37)

He’s on a mission for an army/ships etc, but he’s also on a mission to heal himself. The beard is a part of that.

Matteo’s comments on it:

“Darrow of Lykos. You have a beard!” (LB Ch 37

“Matteo surveys my injured limbs, my sun-seared-turned-sun-starved skin, my fresh scars. Instead of looking away, as most do, to preserve his image of the invulnerable Reaper, he admires my imperfections, catalogues the wounds to understand my narrative, and then loves me all the more for them. Though I can tell he doesn’t like the beard.” (LB Ch 38)

It’s worth noting that Matteo is accepting of everything else, but specifically disapproves of the beard - which means it’s not just vanity. This is a man who’s known Darrow since he was Carved, and has spent his whole life dedicated to interpreting mannerisms and outward appearances, and had spent a lot of time with Darrow specifically. He knows that the beard is not a good sign.

Lyria (who is very observant throughout the books) chimes in here:

“Unlike Sevro, he still has his beard. He seems a different creature than the commander I saw in the war room. Tired, smaller somehow. His left hand has a tremor. His neck’s stooped, body contracted.” (LB Ch 63)

Sevro has processed what he needs to, Darrow still has work to do.

Which brings me here, to what I think is the best way to conclude this analysis:

“I catch myself in one of the room’s mirrors. I look like his ghost. But I’m not. In his bathroom I search for a razor. Then I laugh, because I remember one of the old stories about him. When he was a lancer, his Praetor told him to go shave because Peerless are beardless, boy. Lorn pulled out his razor and did it right there. I shave my beard with Bad Lass in his bathroom mirror. In this way I say goodbye to him and Ragnar both. I do a sloppy job and cut myself a few times.

“Wait. Who are you and what did you do with the ancient mariner?” Cassius says when I exit without a beard.”

Darrow has beaten Fá and exposed Atlas’s plot. He’s basically secured the Obsidians back to his cause. He’s made peace with himself and Athena about the Sons of Ares he turned in. He’s got the beginning of an alliance with the Rim. He’s made peace with Lorn’s ghost about Alex, and peace with himself about it too. Pax is safe, Cassius and Sevro are back at his side. He’s finally himself again.

There’s maybe a few quotes that I missed or chose not to include, but I think this timeline is a pretty extensive timeline of Darrow’s symbolic hair journey. If anyone has further analysis or thoughts, please add!!

#red rising #light bringer #darrow of lykos #howlers #pierce brown #iron gold #darrow au andromedus #sons of ares #mypost

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goggles-mcgee · 3 years

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For you Wish Me Away AU, Angst hit me hard. Manon looking at her Ladybug doll and starting crying she doesn't know why but she knows that something inside is aching and there's someone missing but she just can't understand what it is.

Jagged looking at his glasses and having this feeling of loss, Luka and his necklace, Nadja and a dress she was going to wear at an event, Gina and this pink motorbike she doesn't remember why she bought, Penny and her wedding dress.

Does the memory loss works on animals ? Because Fang running to the bakery because he hasn't seen the tiny string human bug in a moment but he can't smell her anywhere (or at least until a Wayne Gala he spends the night around a blue eyed toddler like a dragon protecting the princess' tower)

Hahaha. Well funny enough I do plan on Tikki Blessing those who Marinette cherished or who was a reliable ally to her. She leaves them things that Marinette had made them or even things she planned to give to them but never got to. She felt bad that the Wish took Marinette from them too, and that they couldn't remember her so she thought it was a small mercy on her behalf. But that's not all she gives them... or well Blesses them with but I'll explain that later. She didn't really mean to do it, in fact she doesn't know she did it until later.

But since you asked about the things she left behind and the angst....😁

Manon gets all of the dolls Marinette made and her and her mom find them with a little bag that is marked with a bright 'Happy Birthday' and is addressed to her. Inside is a handmade princess dress and when she sees it, Manon immediately bursts into tears and hugs the dress to her before demanding to wear it. Nadja let's her because they find these things with several Ladybugs nearby so it's kind of obvious who they are from and it breaks Nadja’s heart because it just confirms what Sabine told her. The Marinette girl had watched her daughter for her, and it was obvious she loved her and it just made Nadja cry more for the girl who was taken from them. Manon wore the dress for a month. Nadja would have to wash it when she slept. Nadja found a dress with a little 'Congratulations on the promotion!' Note next to it and a box with a handkerchief in it that had one of the first drawings Manon had ever drawn in school for her embroidered on it with her name embroidered in the corner. She took it everywhere with her no matter the outfit, the time, the weather. She also finds that Manon doesn't like many of the sitters she now found to look after the little one.

Jagged finds a jacket and pants that match his Eiffel Tower glasses and just feels this deep sadness. He also put two and two together because of all the ladybugs and he may or may not break some things in his anger and sadness, he was important to this person he can't remember and it hurts him. He's very protective of these items and others in his wardrobe that he figures this Marinette girl must have made him. He dedicates a song to her and her as Ladybug, because even if they were the same person, it was obvious she touched people in different ways as each. Penny was there because her gifts were found at the same time, a new suit and a custom notepad that had little surprises to find everyday. Each surprise had made Penny happy yet sad, and she wished she could remember Marinette, she desperately wished. Jagged finds himself listening to his Rock Giant album on his bad days a lot and Penny has to figure out what to do with this roll of beautiful fabric her and Jagged have, it was obviously supposed to be a gift but for who?

Gina finds a little over the shoulder purse with red puffs on the bottom that makes her cry when she sees it and a repurposed tin of her favorite candys that when you open it, it has a little mirror on the inside as well as foam to hold her rings and earrings in. The mirror had 'Nonna' on it with hearts on both sides. She finds a custom pink motorcycle helmet that didn't fit her but she has an idea who it should have belonged to. Sometimes she finds herself getting excited at postcards and sending them to someone then just feeling completely and utterly lost. Roland finds custom made oven mitts and apron set that had different kinds of breads on them and on the apron was a center pocket with Grand-Père embroidered on it in cursive. It hurt. It hurt like nothing he could have dreamed of. He lost something so precious. Something he couldn't remember. He couldn't remember why he became Flashback (my version of his akuma form) but there could only be one reason he didn't remember and her name was broadcast everywhere. He finds it difficult to hum his favorite tune while baking somedays, he finds himself using a radio to fill the silence.

Luka finds a new jacket, a sketchbook of designs for his new band, and a necklace made from one of his Jagged Stone picks that he was certain he had given away but he couldn't remember to who. But the missing melody was all he needed to know, was all he needed to make the connection after the broadcast. It was like searching for the right notes on an instrument that was out of tune. His heart ached somedays when he past places he knew he had gone before but couldn't remember the memory. That Marinette girl from the broadcast must have been extraordinary if this was how it felt to forget her but have the shadow of her everywhere. He felt like he was missing a part.

The memory loss does not work on animals, which is why Fang is so desperate to follow the familiar scent at the Gala and why Jagged doesn't hesitate to follow.

Of course there are other people like the ones mentioned above but I didn't want this post to be too long XD

#wish me away ask #wish me away headcanons #or would they be considered canon because i make the story? XD #marietta wayne #mldccrossover #ml x dc #ml x batfamily #ml class salt #ml salt fic #goggles ask #goggles answer #goggles asks

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softomi · 3 years

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I bet my wife is scarier than yours.

Kuroo Testuro

He was always lectured by you to take off his wedding ring when he went to the bathroom, but he was never worried about his ring. It would pass over his head as he washed his hands, urging to himself that the next time he’d do it. But today, his face fallen and pale; it didn’t help that you were already currently angry with him for forgetting to move the wet clothes from the washer to the drier; and now he watched in horror as his wedding ring slipped off his finger and into the drain.

“What are you doing?” Your hands on your hips when you see his hand stuffed into the sink.

Kuroo laughs, “Just thought I’d fix the drain.”

You eyed him before moving your way to the laundry room. Kuroo whips out his phone, emergency texting his friends who gave zero decent input into his situation. He fears that he may have to spend another week sleeping on the couch; or worse, kicked out of his home until he can replace his ring.

But he wasn’t going to let that happen, even if it meant they have to hire a plumber later to fix what he breaks, then so be it; as long as you never find out.

“You lost your ring didn’t you.” Out from under the kitchen sink, Kuroo watches your facial features frown, arms cross, and a deep irritated sigh.

“I swear honey, I’ll get it back. It’s in the stupid drain. Just don’t be mad.” When Kuroo finally manages to unscrew the bottom, he feels triumphant. He shakes the ends a bit and out falls two rings. Kuroo curiously picks up the band that was clearly not his, staring at it until he realizes, it was your ring, “What the? You lost your ring!” Kuroo is using his shirt to clean the diamond, “This cost a fortune and you let it fall through the drain!”

Your hand collides with his head, your lips twitching, “Were you not digging in the drain for yours too?”

Iwaizumi Hajime

Many thought that there was nothing that could scare the man. He was immune to bugs, horror films, even when his friends try to surprise him; it never really works. Nothing scares him; or so they thought. It was one thing for him to bring his kids to work, sure, he’s done it hundreds of times on days when he knew it was going to be slow; but you specifically told him to keep the children off the court. Has he ever listened; no because in his mind, what could go wrong, apparently everything.

“Now what are we going to tell mommy?” Iwaizumi has stopped the car now, parked right in front of their home, he turns to his two children. His beautiful six year old daughter and his two year old son.

The little girl has remnants of ice cream still on her face, “I fell!”

He should have known better than to trust a six year old, the moment she walked through the doors and saw her caring, beautiful, loving mother; she began to bawl uncontrollably. Incoherent crying mixed with child snot, Iwaizumi was praying that you couldn’t understand her and would ultimately just make her stop crying.

“What!” You stood to your feet, “You let her go out onto the court! You know how dangerous that can be with all the guys spiking volleyballs all over the place.” You step forward but he’s using his two year old son as a shield, “Hajime!”

“She was just playing with Atsumu and then she fell!” Your eyes narrow on the male and he concedes immediately, “Okay so Atsumu set the ball, Bokuto spiked it, it landed right in front of her and might of hit her face for a second.” You let out a large gasp, “But I checked! She doesn’t have any major injuries! Right?” Iwaizumi attempts to pat his daughter on the head but she sinks behind her mother’s legs; the ultimate betrayal.

“Hajime.” You take a step forward but he uses his son as a shield again, “Hajime!” The male side steps you, practically skipping to the bedroom with his son, “Don’t even think that you’re sleeping in our bed tonight!”

Bokuto Koutarou

Bless his soul, somehow you’ve thought it would be the most fantastic idea to leave him alone with his one and a half year old daughter. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been alone with her before, but this would officially be the first time that you actually spend a full twenty-four hours away from the house, the baby, and your husband. You had left him a list of instructions on how to feed her, different house chores needing to be done, and even a detailed timetable of your daughter’s day.

“Oh no, please don’t cry. If you cry, then daddy’s going to cry.” Bokuto sits on the living room floor, his daughter sat right in front of him with the worst cry on her face.

It’s two hours until you said you’d be back and Bokuto is just realizing now that he hasn’t done anything you asked. He thought that if he put his daughter to sleep just an hour earlier, perhaps he’d have enough time to finish the chores; what he discovers is that his daughter wouldn’t sleep, instead she continued to bawl in the bed and even when it neared her nap time; Bokuto made the mistake of letting her have a sugary treat, obviously she wouldn’t sleep.

“I’m home?” Your words are drawn out when you step into the living room, your daughter and husband on the floor just on the verge of tears, the living room a mess with toys all over the floor, the laundry sprawled out onto the couch, and for some reason there’s paint on the floors and walls, “Koutarou!”

You pick up your daughter who crawled to your foot, her crying slows down when she’s in your arms and Bokuto sheepishly looks to you, “Welcome home honey!”

“Do you want to explain?” Your hand gestures to the entire house that is a mess, “I gave you a very detailed list Kou!”

He stands, arms encasing you into a hug, “I’m so sorry!” He’s peppering away your angered expression with kisses and you can’t help but to smile. His hands are leading you to the bedroom, “I’ll clean everything up, just rest!”

He wasn’t able to clean everything up, when you emerged from the bedroom with your daughter napping, you saw that somehow the mess got bigger. Your hands on your hips, a scowl on your lips, when he tries to skip to you with puckered lips, you throw a pillow to his face. Maybe he’d be better off sleeping at Akaashi’s place.

Kita Shinsuke

It hadn’t been long since the both of you tied the knot let alone since finding out you were expecting his first child, so there were many changes in his routine. He’s persistent though, if he could do it one day then the next day he could do it too. Ever since you’ve entered the stage of pregnancy where you want to eat everything and anything, Kita finds himself at the grocery store more often than he would routinely like to.

“Yes dear.” Kita listens to you ramble a list of things you would like from the store, he was absolutely tired and wasn’t writing anything down. You had been in a bad mood all day due to your sore lower back and anything Kita has tried hasn’t worked.

“Are you listening? Honey, I really want watermelon, that’s what I want the most. I don’t want the prepackaged ones, I want an entire watermelon.”

He insists he was listening but when faced with the two different type of watermelon, all Kita can remember is you saying prepackaged. So the frown you have on your face when he pulls out a little clear container of watermelon, his memory rushes back to recall that you specifically asked for a fresh watermelon.

“I’ll go back to the store.” He gulps.

“No.” Your words are sharp, the smile on your face sends a chill down his spine, “It’s okay, maybe our son will be happy that his father has given him poor watermelon instead of listening to his loving wife who asked for a fresh watermelon. Shinsuke! You said you were listening!”

He was dejected to sitting outside, pulling at the random grass as he looked over his rice field. He turns when he hears footsteps, you were pouting while looking down at him. If there was anything that he was glad about with your mood swings, it was that your anger left as quickly as it came. He stands, a hand supporting your back to lead you back to the house.

“Why don’t we go to the store together? I’ll buy you everything you want.”

Oikawa Tooru

It was no secret that the two of you were angry with each other, the restaurant was awfully cheery compared to the silent treatment that you were giving Oikawa and the one that he was giving right back at you. So you two settled on just not talking to each other; but the more you stayed silent, the more Oikawa felt uneasy. Because now you were reaching an entirely new type of mad, one where you looked calm and collected but deep down in your eyes, he was screwed.

“I’m sorry.” He finally spits out in the middle of the meal.

“For what?” You inquire, sipping the soup from your spoon slowly without looking at him.

He lowers his head, “I’m sorry I decided to go hang out with the guys instead of coming home to you, my lovely and adorable wife who I adore and love.” He tries sending you a sweet smile, hoping that his sugarcoated words would bring you back to smile for him.

“Not good enough.” Your words stab him in the back. You set the spoon down, opting to finally look at him before lifting your hand. You place a finger down, “I told you to come home early tonight so we could clean the house.” Another finger down, “You lied to me saying you had to practice longer.” Another finger, “You go over to Iwaizumi’s place because he just got the PS5 and you just had to play.” Another, “You forgot to take out the trash this morning which I told you to do before you left.” One more finger, “If you want to play with Iwaizumi so much then go sleep at his place.”

His heart is wounded, still, he tries to be sweet and caring, “You shouldn’t be so stressed honey, it won’t be good for the baby.”

Your glare causes him to retract in his seat, “Oh! So when it’s convenient for you, you’ll use the baby.”

“No that’s not what I meant.”

You begin to spew more words that dagger into his heart, he’s finally concluded that he can’t do anything to cease your anger at him and as he trudges behind you into the shared home, he can already feel the loneliness of the spare bedroom he’ll be sleeping in tonight. As he turns to head straight for the room, you groan.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You stand at the doorframe of the main bedroom. Your voice suddenly changes, “Sleep with me.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #iwaizumi x reader #kita x reader #oikawa x reader #kuroo scenarios #bokuto scenarios #iwaizumi scenarios #oikawa scenarios

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bimsha · 3 years

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How They Propose You

Sano Manjiro /Mikey:

When Mikey took you to a grand restaurant instead of your usual street filled with street food, you were suspicious. You knew something must be up, but with Mikey, you never realized until it was the last minute. But the whole thing was fancy for both of you. Your eyes kept darting around all the beautifully dressed customers and the elegant waiters taking orders and rushing around. When the dessert came, you had let go of all your initial suspicions. The dessert was so good that you cleared the plate in mere seconds ignoring the very existence of your boyfriend. You looked up at him to compliment him for the grand dinner when you noticed the horrified expression of the blonde.

“Y/n, you ate the whole thing?”

“Yeah?” You answered, frowning. What’s the big deal?

“Oh my god” He said, now looking petrified for some reason. That expression was a first. He got up from his seat and rounded the table to get a clear look at your plate. At this point, you were being embarrassed. He crouched next to you, looking worried. “Do you feel weird or sick? Do you want to throw up? Should we go to a hospital?”

You sighed, "Mikey." You leaned closer to his ear so that the high class people wouldn't hear your beautiful language. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Y/n” He whispered back, “There was a ring in the dessert. I asked the waiter to put it in there.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “What?” You blurted out. You could care less about manners now. “You fed me a ring? Wait, I didn’t even know? I didn’t feel any different?”

“I was trying to propose!” Mikey countered, looking awfully sad. “I didn’t know you’d eat the ring too”

They had drawn a lot of attention. “Well, if there was a ring I should’ve felt it. I didn’t. Maybe it wasn’t there?” After a beat of silence you added, “Right?” But a corner of your mind was telling you there's actually a chance. You were a sucker for all those chocolate desserts. But a ring? No way… right?

Now you both were looking at each other with hopeless expressions thinking maybe Mikey would’ve killed you in the process of propsing and the murmurs were growing loud around you when a waiter walked in. They stopped right by their table, “Sir, I’m here to apologize. Our chef has mistakenly and forgot to put the ring on your dessert” He handed a surprised Mikey the ring, bowing deeply.

“Oh my god” Mikey sighed in relief, “I didn’t kill my girlfriend trying to propose her”

You sighed in relief, “I didn’t eat that thing. Thank god” When you started laughing, finding the whole thing funny, Mikey actually knelt on one knee. The whole restaurant was silent as he asked,

“Y/n, the love of my life, do you want to marry me?”

“Say yes” One of the guys screamed, “He didn’t feed you the ring. That man is worth it”

You flushed but offered your hand with a matching smile, “This is the best proposal ever”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “There goes my romantic dinner and proposal. But A for trying.”

You couldn’t tell anything otherwise else, because he deserved an A for trying.

Kazutora Hanemiya:

It was a cold winter morning and your boyfriend Kazu asked you to come to the park for an emergency. And there you were, rubbing your hands together trying to get rid of the coldness while waiting for your boyfriend to give him a good ass kicking for leaving you in the snow. You waited for a while, and instead of Kazutora, a little boy around seven appeared from the entrance and ran straight towards you. Something glistened in his hands. Then, he frowned, looking at you from head to toe. That’s when you realize he was actually holding onto a ring. Where did he get that? “Miss, would you like to marry me?” The youngster asked with so much determination that you almost laughed.

You were about to answer, when a familiar figure ran up to them. Kazutora didn’t pay any attention that you were there. He launched at the boy, trying to get the ring in his hand. “You little prick, I told you not to touch that! And she’s my girlfriend, back off”

You stared at them as they wrestled in the snow. Kazutora caught the little guy in a headlock and fished the ring out of his hands. “Got it!” He cheered.

“Uh Kazu? What’s going on here?”

He looked at you with an exasperated sigh. “This brat ruined everything. I had something to ask you.” He looked flustered, “But he stole-” He groaned, “Go back home.” He said to the boy. “I swear I’m going to buy you that whatever the shit you like”

The boy looked uncertain for a moment. He reached out his pinky, “Promise?”

Kazutora sighed, and sent the boy off. He stood up and dusted off the snow from his pants. You waited patiently when he went, “That’s my little cousin. He thought it would be funny to propose you.”

You laughed, “And why is that?”

Kazutora shrugged, fidgeting with the ring and looking at you. “Because I may or may not have been staring at your photo and practicing everything” He averted his gaze, abashed. “I had this all planned out. I’m going to ruin that brat!”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m still here”

He looked at you earnestly and took a step close. “We’ve been through a lot together. I may not have been the best boyfriend to you but I really love you Y/N. I can’t imagine a life without you. Want to share your life with me for the rest of our lives?”

You offered your hand as a tear slipped down your cheek. “Of course” He slipped the ring to your finger with his own eyes sparkling with tears. You scowled.

“You’re not the one who’s supposed to cry!”

He grinned, leaning in and pecking your lips. “I’m just so happy you said yes” He said, picking you up and twirling you around. Both of you fell back to the snow, thinking about a lifetime of memories together.

Mitsuya Takashi:

You were casually sitting inside his work place, watching him designing another costume. Other times, you asked questions, but this time, you remained silent watching him work. There was a way Mitsuya worked when he was in here. He was graceful and confident. It was a sight to see. “Y/n” He called, taking your attention. “Can you come here for a sec?”

You frowned, but did as you were asked. When you reached him, he immediately started taking your measures, jotting down each. It was normal for him to make clothes for you but this was the first time he was doing it without asking about the design or showing you a picture. “What’s it?”

Mitsuya gestures at the mess of white cloth beside him. “An order came asking me to make a wedding dress, I took the measures for future use” He grinned, pulling out something from his pocket. You stared at the velvet box as he opened it. A ring glistening inside. “Y/n” His voice was smooth. He took a step closer.

You just watched him, surprised as he knelt on one knee. “I’ve always wanted a life with you. I’ve dreamed about it many times. Would you let my dreams come true and be my soulmate for the rest of my life?”

You said yes and watched as he slipped the gold band to your finger. “You literally took the measurement to my future wedding dress before asking? I’m gonna remember that Takashi?”

He stood up and pressed a kiss on your forehead. “Just had to set up the vibe.” He said, looking at the white cloth draped along the counter. “You’re going to look beautiful in a wedding dress. I should start working on it”

Baji Keisuke:

One thing you liked about Baji was that he said the weirdest shit sometimes. Like right now. Both of you had your own respected soda cans in your hands while he suddenly uttered, “You know, marrying is weird”

You huffed, “And that is because?”

“Like listen. Two people are like, okay we love each other. Let’s get the whole government involved and make it official so we can actually make babies and spend time together.” He scowled, taking a sip. “That’s just fucked up”

You hummed thoughtfully, “Now that you’ve said it, it does sound fucked up”

He put the soda can away and pulled out a silver band, looking at him with his serious look. “Should we get the government involved too?”

You looked at the ring, back at his face but decided to play along. “We should totally get the government involved in all our shit” When you offered your hand, he easily slipped the ring in. He reached down and kissed it, looking at you adoringly. “That was the most funniest, and the ridiculous proposal I have ever heard.”

Baji shrugged, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulder. “That was the best proposal, I know you think so too”

“Ridiculous doesn’t mean I don’t like it. You’re right, that’s the best proposal”

Bonus:

The two of you decided to announce your engagement to the rest of the gang. Baji confidently stood in front of them, your hand in his, holding onto tightly when he announced. “We’re going to get the government involved”

You cracked up, looking at the other’s expressions, they had no clue what was going on. Chifuyu actually looked like he understood. “Congratulations!” The younger said, beaming. "When is the wedding?”

The realization dawned upon them and soon they were all gasping for their breaths, calling out for water and literally dying on the floor.

Chifuyu Matsuno:

When Chifuyu asked whether you wanted to hang out at his place, it didn’t strike you as anything odd. You two often hung out at each other’s places when your parents were away. He usually kept the door unlocked and you walked in. It was the same that Sunday morning but after you walked in you realized that actually it was pretty weird. Your boyfriend was there, kneeling in front of his refrigerator. Hold up, was that a ring? Is he proposing the fridge? He looked really serious as he took a long breath, opening the box as if he was in a movie. You watched quietly, the moment was too golden to interrupt. He picked the gold band carefully out of the box and held it in front of the fridge. “Y/n, you’re amazing. You’re the best person I have ever met in my life” He was saying to the fridge, “It’s a miracle I found you. Do you want to be mine? Marry me, please?”

The fridge didn’t answer. OF COURSE. The problem would be if it actually answered. He looked satisfied with the practice. That’s when you decided to break it to him and actually clear your throat. The poor guy jumped out of his skin and stared at you horrified. His gaze shifting between the fridge and you. “Are you cheating on me? With that thing?”

He flushed, his ears going pink. “Y/n! Did you- I mean when did-” He groaned, flopping to the floor like a kicked puppy. “Everything’s ruined”

“I’m sorry” You tried, trying to suppress your laughter. “Let’s try again. We go back in time.”

He looked at you to see whether you’re joking and solemnly nodded. “You should be in the character”

You nodded, and closed the door. And this time, you knocked on the door. Your heart was pumping with excitement. Despite the fact you were supposed to act like you don’t know what's going to happen, you were thrilled. Chifuyu opened the door. Despite his defeated look earlier, he seemed to have gained back some of his courage. He didn’t wait until he let you in. He just knelt right there, holding up the ring. He looked a little bit too excited to get the whole speech out as he just blurted, “Please marry me?”

You laughed, “Of course!” He slipped the ring into your finger and stood. Before you could comment, he connected your lips, kissing you right there, with your hands stopped in mid air in surprise. He pulled back with a cocky grin.

“I added an extra surprise element”

You scoffed, “Never going to get over the fact your proposal speech to the fridge was better”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

You grinned, “Never! I’m going to tell our grandchildren that his grandfather proposed to a fridge. The story must go on!”

He groaned, “You’re just mean” He pulled you in, closing the door behind you. “But I love you.”

You hummed with a smile, “I love you too, you big dork”

I don't know why I did this but I did this so get it. I might do some more later. This is fun (":

#propose #tr #tokyo revengers #Mikey #Sano Manjiro #Bimsha writes #Drabbles #oneshot #mitsuya hcs #Kazutora #Baji #Chifuyu #Kinda Crack #x you #xy/n #drabbles

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haztory · 3 years

Note

OK BUT THAT'S ME BEING AN IDIOT HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA drabble/sfw JAHAHHAHAHAHAH DAMN

““You better catch that fucking bouquet, babe. Our relationship is on the line!” + “You wanna go toe to toe with me, pretty boy?” with Bokuto for the loveliest Clara! from my writing event that is now closed!

warnings: adult langauge and that’s it!

a/n: i answered her previous ask for the quotes so i’m just posting the drabble here! thank you for your patience my love!!! i hope you like it <33333

bokuto koutarou x f!reader; (fluff, all the fluff and wedding shenanigans)

Bokuto loves weddings. They’re truly his weak spot. Ask him to attend and he’s there an hour early, regardless of whether you’re his best friend or his cousin twice removed. The man lives for a wedding.

He loves the sentimentality of the ceremony that never fails to make him teary-eyed and oppositely, he loves the liveliness of the reception, half tempted every time to push the DJ aside and take over the mixing of music with a drink in his hand and a sloppy yell. He’s a vivacious mess of mixed moods and energy, but truthfully, he’s the best date anyone could ever ask for.

The best attendee too, considering almost everyone wants him to be a groomsman. He usually can never say no, but this time, it wasn’t even a question; Especially not for Hinata.

But above all, he loves that every wedding he attends grants him ample opportunity to enter into the sanctity of his fantasies and imagine his own.

“Did ya see him up there?!” Atsumu barks with a hard laugh, one hand clutching his whiskey and another his suit-clad chest, “He was cryin’ more than the groom!”

Met with the boastful laughs of his fellow team members, all gathered in a scattered circle by the bar, Bokuto jokingly pushes the blond on his left with a loud scoff and a faux-defense tone.

“I held it in!”

“I heard you sniffling when Sho finally entered the venue,” Sakusa says, pointing a finger at Bokuto with the same hand that held his own alcoholic drink, “Don’t lie.”

The group erupts into even more scattered laughter, that of which Bokuto finally joins in. His suit jacket has long since been abandoned, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he holds his hands up in surrender, “What can I say? I love weddings!”

Throwing an arm around his shoulders, Meian joyfully says from beside him, “At least we’ll know now how you’ll be at your own.” His eyes waggle in accompaniment and Bokuto feels his cheeks start to ache from the intensity of his smile.

“We’ll bring extra tissues!”

Flustered to the core, Bokuto dips his head in abnormal shyness— the likes of which have the entirety of his friend group leaning forward in curiosity, their own interested smiles painted on their faces.

Fascinating as it may be to see the loud and boisterous wing spiker reduced to flushed cheeks at the mention of marriage, it doesn’t take much to figure out why; Even if they didn’t know him as well as they did, it was more than clear as to the reason when Bokuto’s own gaze tries to covertly dart to the side. That of which they all notice and blatantly follow.

Stood beside the table of the bride, there you stood in all of your sheer elegance laughing with a number of the bridesmaids, blissfully unaware of a loving gaze that was drawn much too heavily to your turned figure. Focused on the way your dress shimmers in the dim lighting and the way you speak amongst the other guests, Bokuto feels locked in the trace of your magnanimous presence. Shyness dissipating quickly and replaced with the overwhelming flutter in his stomach.

And, not for the first time this night, he wonders briefly what it would be like if it were you walking down the aisle; If instead of the sheer, shimmery dress that adorned you beautifully, you were wearing a white one.

As he watched with exuberant joy as one of his closest friends married the one he loved, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if this were his wedding. If it were you walking down the aisle to the ethereal orchestra with your closest friends and family in attendance, all watching with eager rapture at your astounding beauty as he surely would be. But none of them, not a single one of them could ever compare to the intensity of his own stupefied gaze.

He’s imagined the scenario too often, felt tears prick the corner of his eyes every time, and he grows more excited each time he’s fantasized. But nothing gives him more butterflies than the thought of interlocking his hand with yours, placing his ring of eternal promise on your third finger, and avidly vow forever with you.

It’s not like he needs a wedding to promise that; He sees his future every time he looks at you—even if you have your back turned to him and are chatting away unsuspectingly with the fellow attendees.

But a wedding would be nice, he thinks.

“That’s if he can get married,” Atsumu mutters into his glass cup and takes a long drink of his whiskey.

Bokuto, interrupted from his loving stare at the back of your head, snaps his own head to the blond with the speed to break necks. Eyebrows furrowed, fantasy ruined, and full offense coating his syllables, he exclaims, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, Atsumu leans one elbow on the surface of the bar counter and swirls his drink around, “Ya keep sayin’ yer gonna do it, but how long’s it been? Seven, eight months? If you haven’t done it yet, yer not ever gonna.”

A quick flash of sternness settles into the eyes of their captain, his arm still wrapped around the shoulders of the slowly deflating wing spiker. “He’ll do it when he’s ready, Atsumu. There’s no need to rush something like that.”

Rolling his eyes, Sakusa chimes in from across the three men. Pointing his stare at Koutarou, who resembles a kicked puppy at this point, he sighs. Not one to expel too much effort in emotional comfort, he decides this one is worthy of some kind of attempt. Albeit a minimal one.

“Don’t listen to this idiot, Koutarou.”

“‘m jus’ sayin’. She won’t wait for long, man,” Atsumu shrugs his shoulders again, eyes flitting to his right. Out of the corner, Koutarou deflates even more— shoulders slumped and the corners of his mouth downturned noticeably. He huffs out a quiet laugh through his nose.

Step one, complete.

“Since when were you such an expert in what women want?” Sakusa snorts.

“I have experience, thank you very much!”

“That’s hard to believe.”

Sticking his tongue out at Sakusa, he pointedly ignores the insult to his knowledge of the feminine desires and turns his attention to the subject matter at hand.

Atsumu knows what women, having dated quite a few in his years. More specifically, he knew what you want, considering one drunk evening you had wondered aloud— quite heartachingly in your alcoholic daze, he might add— if the boisterous wing spiker even wanted to marry you. Bokuto, in your words verbatim—

“He just always gets fidgety when I bring it up and I jus’ dunno if he even likes me anymore cause yesterday, he said that my dinner was just ‘okay’ when he always says that he really loves it. Do you know how that made me feel? How could he even want to marry me when I make just ‘okay’ food? Do you know how much he eats? How can he survive!”

And as the ever so loyal friend that Atsumu considers himself to be, who is never one to ever meddle in the business of others, decided it was only right of him to solve this slight problem himself.

By taunting Bokuto, of course.

If only to make him take matters into his own hands and finally do what everyone has been waiting for. What he knew the poor man has been dying to do forever, considering he never shuts up about you.

And also, to finally have you stop drunk texting him, no matter how endearing he may find them to be.

“So,” Atsumu sings once more, ignoring the look of exasperation on Meian’s face and instead, zoning in on the face of despair before him, “what are ya waiting for?”

In his stupefied stare at the blond beside him, Bokuto finds his gaze once more being drawn back to your turned figure that stands right in his line of sight. Wearing that pretty dress that you face timed him to get his opinion on, smelling of sweet lavender and jasmine— his favorite perfume of yours— and the lip gloss that you begged him not to mess up. He didn’t listen, and truthfully, you hardly minded all that much.

What is he waiting for? He knows what he wants, so why hasn’t he done it yet?

What if you’re growing tired of how long he’s been waiting? What if you’re unhappy that your relationship hasn’t progressed to the next stage? Oh god, what if--

His mouth opens then closes, then opens once again, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I… I don’t know.”

“Do ya want to marry her?”

Bokuto nods eagerly, as though through the action alone he could dispel of any lingering doubt that ever had the audacity to pervade his thoughts, “Of course! I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“Ya think she’s gonna say ‘no’?”

Looking at his two other teammates, who each have their own curiosities piqued at the line of questioning, he shakes his head with finality.

“No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Then ya just need a push!” Placing his drink on the counter, Atsumu slaps his hand on the man’s shoulder, “How about this: If yer girl catches the bouquet, ya rip the band-aid and ya ask her—”

Stepping in once more, Meian chimes, “Don’t push him to do something he’s not ready for—”

“I ain’t pushin’! He’s got the ring already, right?”

“You do?” All eyes fall onto Bokuto, who stares with widened innocent stare at each of them. He quickly shoves his hand into his pocket, pulling out his fist to reveal a velvet box in his hand.

“I’ve been carrying it with me every day for the past six months. I just didn’t know if I should do it.”

Three pairs of eyes stare blankly at the man before them. Sharing a quick look at one another, the message is translated seamlessly between each of them and voiced eloquently by Meian himself. Ever the efficient captain.

“Holy shit.”

“My friend,” Atsumu laughs, squeezing his hand on the broad shoulder of his closest friend. His smile, innocent enough to the passing gaze, holds that twinge of mischief that Bokuto has come to know rather intimately; A taunting smile that has been directed his way one too many times that usually never ends well.

“I dare ya to propose to yer girl if she catches that bouquet. If yer really a man, that is.”

Bokuto’s eye twitches, his features narrowed at the utterance of the dare, and that’s how Atsumu knows he’s got him in the bag. It has his own smile widening even further, as Bokuto’s face scrunches in suspicion, knowing full well that he could never resist a dare.

With the single word alone, long gone is the hesitancy and doubt that plagued the man just a moment before, and instead stands a man tall in his ushering of competition. A man who thrives off the challenge, especially wherever his teammate presented one. It’s almost startling how quickly he sheds his mopey behavior and embraces his natural presence, which overwhelms and overpowers everyone around them.

Step two, done.

“And if she doesn’t?” Bokuto asks, smugness filtering his words as he entertains the notion— silently accepts the provocation laid before him and drastically alters himself in order to successfully combat it.

In order to win.

Spotting the glint of devilry that grows in strength in the narrowing of Bokuto’s eyes, Atsumu smirks and meets it with one of his own. He’s got him, hook, line, and sinker.

“Ya break up.”

Bokuto reels backward physically, shaken from the competitive trance and staring at the man in grotesque shock. The kind that almost borders anger and offense. Huffing a breath through his nose, he takes a step forward, away from the present comfort of Meian and almost in accusation.

“Are you trying to ruin my life, blondie? You trying to go toe to toe with me, pretty boy?”

Atsumu laughs, holding his hands up in defense, “I’m tryna get ya married, big guy!” Shoving his hands into his pockets, hardly phased by the proximity in which the large man has entrenched onto his space, he shrugs once more, “That is… if yer man enough to take it.”

“Deal,” Bokuto says without hesitation, both incredibly and not at all to the surprise of the other two men who have been silently watching from the sidelines. Like a sudden reset, the tension that resided stiffly in the shoulders of Bokuto rescinds, and replaced is the confident, joyous man.

A man who looks as though he’s won easy money and then some.

Smiling widely, Bokuto turns in his place and begins a bold strut away from his friends. In the direction of his beloved, “Excuuuse me, gentlemen. I’m going to go teach my lady how to catch a bouquet.”

Meian and Kiyoomi step to the side, allowing enough space for Bokuto to walk through with the hint of laughter in their small smiles.

Spinning on his heel and pointing his thumb at his chest, Bokuto exclaims proudly, “This time tomorrow, I will be a married man!”

“One wedding at a time, Kou.” Meian laughs at the retreating man, who is beaming from head to toe.

“Better train ‘er good, big guy! Or else I might be the next one to propose to her!” Atsumu calls out as Bokuto gets closer and closer towards your turned figure.

“I’ll kill you!” He calls back, hearing the echoing laughter diminish as he finally steps beside you.

Turning from the conversation with one of the bridesmaids to the new presence, you shine beautifully upon recognizing who it is, and Bokuto feels his resolve grow almost stronger.

“Hi baby,” You coo, instinctually placing your hand into his and leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek when he quickly presents it to you, “Did you have fun with the boys?”

Wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer, he places his own kiss on your cheek, humming against the surface of the skin yet making no move to part from you. “Mhmm. Just missed you.”

You laugh, rubbing your hand on his arm, “You were only gone for a couple minutes, Kou.”

Trailing his lips downward, he nuzzles himself into your neck, inhaling deeply. Lavender and jasmine. His favorite scent.

The one he wants to smell for the rest of his life.

“Ten minutes is too long.”

If possible, he manages to pull you even tighter against him. Two strong arms wrapping around you, pulling your chest into his and squeezing you tightly. Lovingly and entirely too comforting. Home.

You return the embrace eagerly, holding him to you equally as tight, “You’re right. It was starting to get boring without you.”

His hand, warm and large against the small of your back, rubs the surface up and down before he pulls back slightly, if only to look at your face in its entirety and the lip gloss you have unfortunately reapplied.

“You’re gonna do the bouquet toss, right?”

You raise an eyebrow, “I usually do. Why?”

He glances to the side, avoiding your inquiring stare. He raises a hand from your waist, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile, “Maybe we should go outside, and I can throw a couple of rocks at you. Just to practice your catching skills.”

“Kou— “

“Can’t have anyone disrespecting you on the floor, can we? We gotta let everyone know you’re a winner! Cause you’re my girl, and whoever disrespects you, disrespects me! You know? So, you better catch that fucking bouquet. I mean, our relationship is on the line, here!”

“Koutarou—” From the tone in which you say his name, he knows he’s not making any sense. You’re confused, incredibly so, and he can’t blame you. Truthfully, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, only that he has a goal, and he has to make you see it without revealing himself entirely.

“I mean, only if you want to. It just… means a lot to me, and I want you to say yes, because I love you. And if you win, I win in a lot of ways. And I want to win with you, for the rest of our lives.”

Realizing almost entirely too late that he was talking with duplicity that you have most certainly caught on towards, he decides there is a good place to stop talking entirely. Oh god, he’s such an idiot. What was he thinking? He can never hide anything from you!

If you couldn’t tell from the way he was talking in metaphors, you could most definitely see it from the way in which sweat beads at the top of his forehead.

Your eyes flicker from each of his, your warm palms cupping the sides of his face as you watch him with concern.

“Baby,” You breathe out, voice steady and calm as you watch his resolve slowly crack under your watchful stare, “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

He tried desperately to remind himself that he has a mission to accomplish, that there was a dare that Atsumu had challenged him to that he must complete—but it’s you. You’re the trump card, the weakness in his defense, his priority above all else. He could never hide anything from you because you would catch him in a quick minute. And truthfully, he doesn’t want to hide anything from you.

It was easy to hide the ring under the guise of waiting for the perfect time, a mental barrier that he could excuse as a good cause behind his hesitancy, but now that he’s accepted a dare that is forcing him to put his desires to immediate use, he can hardly wait for the bouquet toss to arrive.

He’s got to do it now. The time is right, it will never be more perfect. You look beautiful, you’re held tightly in his arms, and he’s never been more convinced of the fact that he loves you. Why has he even waited this long?

He has to do it—Atsumu be damned.

“Marry me.”

Extra:

“You really think she’s going to catch it?” Meian asks Atsumu, as they both watch from afar the way Bokuto wraps himself around your body, nuzzling unabashedly into you.

Atsumu scoffs, “Hell no. Girl can’t catch fer shit.”

Furrowing his brows, Meian stares at the blond with intense confusion, “Then why did you—”

“Just had to plant the idea in his head. He’ll do it soon, jus’ give it a minute.”

The two watch you both silently, noticing the way in which Bokuto pulls away from you and starts to speak rapidly. Neither of them can hear what he’s saying, but they can see his lips moving. More importantly, can see the way in which you stare in perplexion.

Then finally, his lips stop moving and your hands cup his face. The setter and captain feel their breaths hitch and they both lean forward if only to see if they can read the wing spiker’s lips from where they stand.

They can. And from the way you respond with a laugh and an eager kiss, they know it worked.

Looking to Meian, Atsumu raises his brow with a smile, “Told ya!”

end note: to everyone who sent a request, it is on it’s way! i just don’t know the definition of a drabble and instead make 3k long fics, so that’s fun.

#bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto drabble #bokuto fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #hq fluff #hq drabble #hq fic #haikyuu fic #my writing #my fic #writing event

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sluttyten · 3 years

Text

Coming Home

Poly Orgy Series: Part 8

Poly Series Chapter Index

summary: when you found out you were pregnant, you worried you’d have to go it alone, but instead you find that you have quite a lot of support, several boyfriends that love you wholeheartedly, and a place to call home.

length: 21,227

tags: pregnancy!!, smut, polyamory, multiple partners, unprotected sex, the usual poly orgy series type of tags

“Baby, I don’t want to have to worry about anything in the future. I don’t want you to have to worry either. I love you so much, and the other night I was thinking about the future, about you, about the baby, and really it seemed to me that there’s only one true next step for me to take.” Mark takes a deep breath.

Your world freezes.

“Baby, will you marry me?” Mark asks even as he’s sinking down on one knee.

“Mark!” You cry out, slapping him on the arm hard enough that the sound echoes around your living room.

“Fuck!” Mark straightens up with a whine, his hand immediately flying up to cover the burning imprint of your hand on his arm. “What the fuck?”

Tears burst to your eyes, though you're not sure exactly why. “Mark, why would you ask me... ask me to marry you?” Your voice pitches up at the end, a surprised and somewhat almost frightened squeal.

Mark looks at you then, all wide-eyed seriousness. “I just thought it’s the right thing to do. If you’re pregnant, then shouldn’t you have something stable? A husband? Someone who can help you out and take care of you and the baby? And with the way our lives are, it’s a miracle that no rumor has gotten out to the fans about you at all yet, but now if it does, if they find out about you being pregnant, well, then everyone’s going to want to know which of us you’re with and the answer can only be one, and it’ll just make sense for us to get married, right?”

“And you think that should be you?”

“Well, why not?” His tone is slightly angry, defensive and hurt.

You sigh and turn your back to him so you can wipe at these tears without him watching you.

“Baby?”

“Mark.” Your voice breaks and you clear your throat before turning around and addressing him again. “Mark, I appreciate it and I get where you’re coming from, but I’m going to say no. I love you, and I love that you want to do the right thing by marrying me, but it’s simply not fair to all the others. It’s not fair to you if you’re not the--”

“I don’t care about who the dad is.” Mark straightens up, determination burning in his gaze. “I know the odds of it being mine are slim. I would love if it is mine, like, the idea of being a dad is scary, but no matter what happens, who turns out to be the father, I figure I’m still going to be involved, right?”

You open your mouth, but you can’t find any words to comfort him, to give him a satisfying answer. You don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Of course, you’ve always known that this whole polyamorous relationship couldn’t be sustainable, though you’ve all tried your best. This news, the little life growing inside of you, might just be that last little chip to shatter the relationship to bits. How can you hope to stay in a relationship with them all when you’ve got a baby? How could you raise a child with fourteen possible fathers?

“Maybe I’ll just Mamma Mia the whole situation,” you mumble.

Mark snorts. “You gonna run away to a Greek island and raise this baby on your own? And in twenty something years when we’re all doing our own things, we’ll get an invite to a wedding, and only then will we unravel the mystery?” He smiles and steps up, wrapping his arms around you, one hand gently cradling the back of your neck. “Baby, you don’t have to do any of that. We’ll all figure this out. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this tonight. I just.... I’m a traditional kind of guy, I guess. Baby, marriage, moving in together. Those are all things I’ve wanted for a long time, and we’ve already got two of those things in the works. But it’s okay, I understand.”

You sink into his hug. Mark’s so warm and soft and with his arms wrapped around you, you feel even more sleepy than you had before. You breathe in, just taking in the smell of his soap and laundry detergent, and you breathe out.

“This feels nice,” you mumble, your words muffled against his shoulder.

Mark’s hum of agreement vibrates through his chest, and a moment later it turns into a laugh.

Without breaking the hug, you ask him, “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t even have a ring or anything.” Mark’s voice bounces happily, and he hides his face in your shoulder. “Probably a good thing you shot me down, honestly.”

A while later when you’re in bed, Mark yawning now too as he settles into your bed, you sit up and reach over to rummage through the drawer of your bedside table.

When you turn back around, Mark’s watching you curiously, and he wordlessly gives you his hand when you gesture for him to give it to you. He watches as you uncap a Sharpie marker, and then you separate his ring finger from the others, as you draw a fine black line around the base of his finger. When you’ve completed the ink band you hold his fingers in yours.

“This is a promise,” you tell him, “that we do have a future together, no matter what. That we’ll always be in each other’s lives as lovers or friends or whatever it may be, you’ll always be special to me, Mark Lee.”

You turn his hand over, and bringing his palm to your lips, you kiss right beneath the black band that you just drew on him.

Mark lunges up, wrapping his arms around you, dragging you down against his chest, and he kisses you, kisses your cheeks and nose and chin, and you’re laughing with your hands braced against his chest, kissing him when you can too.

And the next morning when you wake up, you find that some time in the night, Mark had picked up your abandoned Sharpie, and drawn a matching black ink band on your ring finger.

Things are a bit weird for a while after that while everyone adjusts to the awareness that you’re pregnant. And after your first prenatal appointment, some of the boys start acting even more differently.

For one thing, the appointment confirms that you are indeed pregnant, and about eight to nine weeks along by the looks of things. Which, as you listen to your doctor, makes a lot of sense given the symptoms you’ve been experiencing. And that news of you being approximately eight weeks along, and therefore bringing a baby into the world in about 32 weeks, definitely changes how some of your boyfriends start behaving.

Especially after you show them the ultrasound picture.

It’s just a little gray, blurry blob, but there’s a heat in your chest that’s not caused by the heartburn you’ve begun to feel

For a few of the boys, this means that they get protective over you. Taeil and WinWin, for example, both offer to do pretty much everything for you, from opening doors to running upstairs to grab something. Anything that actually might be in any possible way considered “overexerting yourself” they argue with you to let them do.

Johnny, Jaehyun, and to your surprise, Jungwoo, all get much more touchy, wanting to be around you as much as possible. And Jungwoo is just a horny boy all the time, to the point that one evening after you get home from a date with him, as you’re sitting on his lap on the sofa in the otherwise empty house, Jungwoo just starts touching you, and you can tell that he’s already half-hard.

“What is with you lately?” You ask with a laugh, letting Jungwoo pull your shirt over your head. “You’ve been so horny. Is it something I’m doing different?” You perch yourself on his knees, bat your eyelashes at him, and push your chest forward, smiling as his eyes slide down to the curves of your breasts.

“Oh my god... Yeah, angel. Just thinking about you pregnant is actually really sexy.” Jungwoo’s hands settle on your hips. “You’re gonna look even sexier, and your boobs are going to get bigger and, uh, it’s not something I’ve really talked about before, because I was afraid the others would make fun of me or you’d think it’s really weird, but the idea of, like, nursing?” Jungwoo averts his eyes from you, his face going a pale shade of embarrassed. “I think it’s pretty hot.”

You smile and pat his head. “You’ve always had a thing for my boobs, you know, so honestly, I’m not too surprised.” Jungwoo leans into your touch, smiling all sweetly even as his hands knead at your ass roughly. “But you really think me being pregnant is sexy?”

Jungwoo nods. “Definitely. Plus,” he shrugs and says, “I don’t know, there’s just something about you right now that is very, very attractive. Jaehyun says so too.”

“I’m sure he does. Especially since he’s been hot for the idea of knocking me up since the first time we all had sex.” You drape your arms around Jungwoo’s neck. “You, him, Johnny, all three of you are acting so clingy and affectionate lately, meanwhile most of the others wouldn’t dare to try to have sex.”

Just the day before you’d tried to initiate something with Hendery. He went along with it while you were just making out, but as soon as you slid your hand into his pants to rub his erection to full hardness, he’d backed away, making excuses. Taeyong had done the same a few days before that.

“I’ll dare to do it.” Jungwoo leans his head down, mouths at your breasts, as he murmurs, “I want you to ride me, right here. But turn around.”

Reluctantly you climb off his lap, and as you’re facing away from him, Jungwoo pulls your pants and panties down. You step out of them, look back over your shoulder at him, and see Jungwoo watching you with a look of pure awe on his face.

“You’re always so beautiful.” Jungwoo slides a hand down your side, over your hip, curving around to your butt. He leans in and drops just a tiny kiss right at the small of your back. “What did we do to deserve you and everything you’ve blessed us with.”

Your face heats up with a blush.

When he pulls you back onto his lap, his hands settle on your hips, guiding you all the way back until your back is pressed to his chest, his cheek touches yours, and your ass is right over his bulging erection. His fingers flutter for a moment, and then he brushes his hands up to your belly, gentle and light, and then he touches one warm palm flat against your skin, the soothing heat of skin on skin sinks down into you.

Jungwoo’s lips rest against your cheek as you sigh, relaxing back against him.

His other hand wanders lower, fingertips dipping into the crack between your thighs, and obediently you part them for him, letting your legs fall off to either side of his, giving him access to your wet heat.

“Look at you, already soaking wet, spreading your legs so easily for me.” Jungwoo murmurs. “You really do want it badly, don’t you? How long has it been since one of us touched you?”

Truly not that long. That evening with Taeil, Johnny, Taeyong, Kun, Doyoung, and Ten was the last time, and that was just a little over two weeks ago. But compared to just a couple months ago, a week could be considered a dreadfully long time to go untouched by any of them.

You whine when Jungwoo only strokes his finger teasingly over your entrance, avoiding your clit, hardly giving you anything.

“Too long, Jungwoo. I want you.”

“Me? But I’m sure you went to others first. Lucas? I know you love how big and broad he is, making you feel all small. Or Kun hyung? Remember when he and Ten were hogging you all to themselves; you couldn’t get enough of them then.” Jungwoo teases. “You want me? Why do you want me so badly?”

You squirm, wiggling down against his erection. “Because I love you, Jungwoo. I want you.”

He tuts, his lips trailing down now from your cheek to your neck, brushing over sensitive skin, his nose bumps against your jaw. “But why though? What exactly do you want about me?”

His teeth meet the skin of your shoulder just barely, and you whine. “I want you to have me all to yourself, Jungwoo. You can make me feel small too. You’re so big and broad and long.” You rub your ass down against his erection, your head dropping back against his shoulder. “I want you to make me feel small, like your little angel doll.”

Jungwoo smiles where his lips are against the top of your shoulder.

You can feel yourself dripping wet, the slick arousal gathered on his finger that just keeps up its petting of your pussy lips.

His mouth moves, teeth pricking your skin occasionally, and then you feel the moment that he catches your bra strap between his teeth, dragging it along to the curve of your shoulder. When he releases it, the band tickles down your upper arm, and Jungwoo shifts, focusing his nipping kisses on your other shoulder until he against takes that bra strap between he teeth and drags it over the curve of your shoulder.

“Sit up, angel.” Jungwoo murmurs, and you do just that, feeling excited but also disappointed when his hands disappear from your skin, only to return a moment later. His slick finger touches against your back along with several non-slicked fingers, and a second later the clasp of your bra comes apart. You let it drop from your arms, leaving you fully exposed in the room, sitting in a fully-clothed Jungwoo’s lap.

He spreads his legs apart, and you lean back against him once more as his spreading legs push yours farther apart as well.

“Sexy.” Jungwoo kisses your cheek again.

He scoots your forward just a little, just enough that he can fit his hand between you both, and unfasten his zipper to get his cock out. You feel him hot and hard against your tailbone, and your core throbs. It’s been too long since you last had one of them inside you, and now....

You moan from the satisfaction of lifting yourself up and sitting down on Jungwoo’s cock.

“Perfect.” Jungwoo murmurs, his lips against your bare shoulder once more. “Love the feel of you when it’s been a while. The way you react.” His hands circle around to the front of your body, one hand lifted to gentle cup your breast. You groan, leaning back against his chest, sinking down the last inch around him, and Jungwoo’s other hand strokes lightly at your clit. “You’re so beautiful.”

With his arms wrapped around you, his hands caressing your body, his cock filling you up, you feel so perfectly small and safe in his arms, even with you being so exposed out in the room.

Jungwoo smiles as you start to squirm, needing to move to get more than just feeling full and having his teasing touches on your clit. But as you move away, pushing up onto your feet, pulling off his cock, you turn to see Jungwoo frowning slightly. Until you sit back down on his lap facing him.

“I want to see you.” You push his cock back inside you, nice and snug, and then plant your hands on either side of his face, lower your mouth toward his, and start riding him.

Jungwoo’s hands fall to your hips, keeping your rhythm steady as you bounce in his lap. The sound of your gasping breaths and breathy moans echoes all around the space, and you’re grateful that tonight it’s only the two of you here. You feel the sparks of pleasure buzzing and zipping around under your skin; Jungwoo’s hands grope at your ass, his lips burn along your jaw, and you needed this, you really did.

The orgasm comes over you before you expected it, suddenly crashing through you--walls clenching around Jungwoo’s dick, thighs twitching, unable to hold you up any longer, but that’s when Jungwoo just holds you up by your hips and keeps fucking you through it, his thrusts rocking through your body, elongating your orgasm.

Jungwoo grunts as he approaches his orgasm, low moans under his breath and swearing, and you just twist your fingers in his hair, dragging his lips to yours as he cums.

He pulls out of you as he does, cumming half inside you and half against your thigh, but you don’t mind. You sink down, feeling the mess as you sit against the front of his jeans, the denim rough against your sensitive clit, but at the moment you’re a glutton for that kind of oversensitivity.

With Jungwoo’s softening erection still wet and the rough denim of his jeans, you start humping against him, desperate for another orgasm to keep this warm buzzy glow inside of you going.

“Fuck,” Jungwoo groans. “Gonna cum again, princess? You’re making quite the mess of my jeans, look at you.” You do duck your head, looking down at the front of Jungwoo’s jeans where his own cum is smeared along with your wetness and more of his cum as it leaks out of you while you wantonly rub yourself against the denim, making a larger and larger wet patch, grinding forward against his cock, back along the denim.

His hands circle around your back, broad hands covering the expanse of your back, and you arch backwards a bit, leaning into his touch, keeping the movement of your hips against his pants. Jungwoo dips his head forward, his tongue swipes a circle around one of your nipples, his lips then skirt around kissing your breasts. They hurt but right now it doesn’t feel so bad, not with everything else you have going on.

“Cum again for me. I’ve got you.” Jungwoo murmurs, and he sucks gently on your nipple. Your mind falls straight to what you’d been talking about with him earlier, and you picture Jungwoo sucking on your breasts like this, breastmilk on his tongue, and somehow you find that to be a stimulating thought.

This orgasm writhes through you, and your hips twitch erratically over his jeans, your body falling into the overwhelming pleasure of it, and you can feel the heat squirting out of you, and Jungwoo’s moans of surprise mix with yours. And all through it, the heat of his hands holding you safely remains, and then he pull your forward against his chest, those same hands rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

“I’m sorry about your jeans,” you whisper to him after a little while when you’ve come back to yourself. “We should probably throw them in the wash before they’re permanently ruined.”

“No,” Jungwoo hums. “It’s fine. We can just stay like this for a bit longer.”

But you feel like your pussy is drying to the leg of Jungwoo’s pants, and that idea is certainly not pleasant, so when you peel yourself away from him, you wrinkle your nose a bit in disgust and Jungwoo groans at the loss of contact. “Let’s go shower and throw the clothes in the laundry. Plus, we shouldn’t stay here like this much longer. Who knows who will come home and find us like this?”

“I guess you’re right.” Jungwoo stands up suddenly, and it’s then that you really get a look at his pants. The whole crotch of them is dark from you squirting and from his cum. He quickly stuffs his cock away again, wipes his fingers along the front of his pants, and then you watch, bemused, as he lifts his fingers to his face and sniffs.

“You’re gross.” You laugh, taking his hand, and grabbing up your clothes before heading for the stairs.

“What? You smell good.” Jungwoo reaches up to touch your butt as you climb the stairs, and you stop so that you can spin around and look at him, and Jungwoo just grins. “Come on, thought we were going to shower?”

Moving day comes quickly, and the move is easy when you’ve got a whole moving crew at your disposal, every one of them more than happy to move things for you so you don’t strain yourself at all. Especially since they’ve all had multiple chances to look at that little blur that was the beginning of a baby in your ultrasound picture. You first showed off that picture two weeks ago, and now ten weeks along, you’re really starting to feel the pregnancy.

You’re exhausted, wanting to just nap all the time. And then, on top of the morning sickness, you’re dealing with heartburn too, plus just the day before the move, you stood up too quickly and felt dizzy, so now the boys are being very protective over you.

“Don’t lift that!” WinWin cried out in frustration as you bent over to lift a box from the floor. His hand rested on your back as you straightened up. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry about it, what do you think we’re all here for?”

He quickly stooped to lift the box for you. As soon as he was out the door, you looked for anything else that you could do. You hated being unable to help yourself move out. Ten had refused to even let you try to wrangle your cat Miso into the carrier since he seemed to be uneager to leave the apartment and move into his new home. So far most of your stuff had already been taken out before you could lift a finger to help, but now you saw a few boxes left, and just as you moved toward them, Xiaojun came through the door and caught your eye.

Xiaojun shook his head. “Don’t. We’ve got this.”

When you fold your arms across your chest and pout at him, Xiaojun smiles and walks over to you.

“Don’t be like this.” He laughs. “We’re just looking out for you and the baby.” Xiaojun lifts a hand to your cheek, his thumb touching the corner of your lips tenderly. “Just think, all it takes is one day to move out, and then you’re living with us, baby. No worries about getting home late at night to your empty place.”

You glance around at your startlingly empty apartment. This little place you’d made into a home, but it had grown less homelike over the last few months as you spent more time with your boyfriends.

Home was them, the comfort of their kitchen filled with spices and warmth of whatever was cooking up, the sleepiness of sinking into the sofa with a few of them after a long day at work.

Home was Taeil cuddling up behind you, his nose chilly on the side of your neck, but the rest of him so warm. It was Johnny kissing you hello every time either of you walked into the house after not having seen each other all day. It was quiet chats with Taeyong with your limbs tangled together, Yuta’s little moments of caring for you through words and touches and gifts. Home was Kun and Ten bickering with each other and turning to you to point out that they’re both fools, hearing them murmur ‘I love yous’ with Ten’s chilly fingers intertwining with yours, Kun’s contrastingly warm lips on your skin. Home was the smell of Doyoung and the sound of his voice singing so smooth and beautiful, his laugh, his gentle touches and bright smile when he saw you. It was Jaehyun sleepily slipping into the shower with you, just wanting to be close to you, WinWin silently taking care of you and quietly showing affection through light touches and surprise moments of intimacy.

You could find home in Jungwoo’s playful, needy rambunctiousness and in his quieter heartfelt moments. Home was in Lucas confiding to you worries and secrets that he feared would make him look weak; it was in Lucas gathering you into his arms and bracing you against his chest, easily making you forget that the rest of the world was out there. Home was Xiaojun holding your face in his hands like the most precious treasure in the world; it was him laughing with his whole chest and spending hours curled together without sleeping, just having the quiet time together on your phones or listening to music or whispering to each other or gazing up at the stars. It was Hendery always being able to make you laugh, knowing the right things to say, caring and worrying and loving you.

Home was Mark playing his guitar and singing under his breath, smiling out at you from beneath a hoodie, holding your hand as if he worried you might fly away, and most importantly home with Mark was found in him always being the first to invite you into their company, into their hearts and homes.

“Let’s go home,” Xiaojun tells you.

You nod, take his hand, and walk with him out of your apartment for the last time.

Miso doesn’t like living in the house, not right away. He hisses at the boys, always bolting from room to room, trying to hide from anyone that’s not you. It’s only after Ten accidentally shuts Miso in his room with him and you that Miso finally mellows out just a little bit. After that he likes Ten. Only you and Ten. But that doesn’t keep Taeyong, Taeil, Jeno, YangYang, Renjun, and Jaehyun from trying to befriend him.

Even when you’re napping on the sofa and Miso curls up on your chest, as soon as Jaehyun and Ten come downstairs, Miso stands up, flicking his tail angrily, and jumping off your chest, which wakes you up. You just catch sight of Miso’s tail disappearing from your line of sight, and then you look around.

It’s dusk outside, the sky a pretty pale blue with hints of pink and periwinkle clouds, and through the door in the kitchen you can hear laughter from outside. Johnny and a few of the others are out there grilling dinner, some others are in the kitchen. Jaehyun sits down across the room from you, but Ten slides onto the sofa with you.

“I’m sorry Miso doesn’t like you, Jaehyun.” You stretch your arms over your head, savoring the feel of your sleepy muscles stretching. You shiver at the feel of your shirt skimming up your stomach, a slight tickle.

“Yeah,” Ten laughs. “He only likes me. Let’s hope that the baby’s the same way.”

Ten’s chilly hands slip under your shirt and you whine, smacking his hands away. “God, Ten! Stop that!”

But he laughs and pulls his hands out, only to bring them to his face, puffing some warm breath into them before he does it again. It’s slightly better, though not by much. You pout at him.

“I just want to feel.”

“Feel what? The baby’s not big enough to kick yet. I don’t think it even has proper legs. It might still have a tail.” You roll your eyes, looking across the room to where Jaehyun is watching all of this with a light smile on his lips. “And I’m not even showing yet, so you’re literally just feeling up my belly. I have much less to show under here than you do.”

And you dive for his shirt, trying to pull it up to expose his toned abs, even higher so that you see the black tip of his chest tattoo. Ten laughs and wrestles his shirt out of your grip carefully. He drops a kiss on your lips, and dances away before you can protest. He vanishes out the back door of the house, into the cooling afternoon where Johnny and Hendery are grilling dinner.

You sigh and sink lower into the cushions. Jaehyun’s looking back down at his phone now, but you watch him anyway.

Ever since all of this with you announcing your pregnancy, showing off the first ultrasound of Little Blobby (as you and a few of the others, including Jisung and Haechan, have begun calling it), and since moving in, you haven’t really had many opportunities to speak one-on-one with Jaehyun. He’s been busy MCing, taking on an acting role, fulfilling other idol duties.

“Jaehyun?” You call. He looks up at you, and when you hold out your hand to him even though there’s still quite a few feet of empty space between you and him, he raises his eyebrows. “Come here?”

Jaehyun slides smoothly onto his feet, and you scoot into more of an upright position, making room for him to join you in the oversized armchair that you’ve been reclining in. He plops right into the spot with you, and you shift around, getting comfortable, which ends up meaning that you’re tucked against his side, one leg thrown over his. Jaehyun takes your hand, lifts it to his lips, and then brings your intertwined hands back down to rest atop the leg you have thrown over his.

“Yes, my love?” His voice is low, soft, and a bit scratchy as you know he’s at the tail end of a cold.

“I just wanted to be close to you,” you tell him. “And I feel like we haven’t really talked much recently. I miss you. Have you been sleeping enough? Eating enough?”

Jaehyun’s nose crinkles as he laughs. “Mom instincts already kicking in? Yes, I’m getting plenty of those things. I’ve been busy, but I’m managing. What about you? I heard you’ve been having trouble sleeping the past few nights. Taeil hyung said that you toss and turn. Mark said that you were sleep talking about some weird shit last night.”

You snort. “Yeah, last night I had a dream that we were all out eating at a restaurant, like one of those weird ones you’ll find sometimes in America with the fresh seafood tanks? With lobsters and stuff in them? And we were waiting for our food to be served, and it was taking forever, so Doyoung asked the waiter how much longer it would be, and the waiter pointed at me then at the fish tank and said, looks like you’re almost done. And there, in the giant tank, was me, looking like one of the people from Avatar in that big tank, my belly all big. It was fucking weird, that’s for sure.”

Jaehyun gives you a weird look, but laughs. “Your imagination is something else. But other than that weird dream, you’re doing well? Morning sickness still bad?”

You nod. “I walked past Jisung and Chenle earlier after they got home from practice, and they were eating like spicy teokbokki and all those smells combined, I couldn’t take it. Also, I guess my weird food cravings are starting too, because I really wanted crunchy peanut butter and watermelon earlier? I have no idea where that craving came from.” You shrug, and look at Jaehyun’s face again. “But I think morning sickness might be going away soon, that’s what the blogs I’ve looked at say. That the sickness starts to wane at the end of the first trimester and goes away for most women. Hopefully I’m not one of the ones that it continues for, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle that.”

He’s looking down at your belly, and you bite your lip. Was he even listening while were talking? He looks miles away.

You bump him with your shoulder. “Jae? What are you thinking about?”

Jaehyun blows out a heavy breath. “You’re really pregnant, huh?”

You sit up a bit more, lean away from him so you can look at him more straight on. “Yeah? Duh. Thought we went over this like four weeks ago? Confirmed by an ultrasound and everything. And even before that you were totally on board when all I had was one positive cheap pregnancy test from a convenience store. Why the tone of, like, surprise?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “No, it’s not-- I’m just still thinking about it a lot. Like, it’s amazing, honestly. Thinking that one of us is a dad, and we don’t really know it. I know,” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face as he says, “That I’ve been a bit of a jealous asshole in the past. And I’ve tried working on that, right? I love you and of course I want this baby to be mine, like, fuck, how many times have I talked about that. But I want you to know that, uh, even if it’s not mine, I’m just excited and amazed that in a few months you’re going to have a baby. When do you get to find out the sex?”

“I think about at 20-ish weeks.”

“And have you started thinking about names yet?” Jaehyun strokes his thumb over your knuckles.

Before you can answer him, Yuta appears, perching himself on the arm of the chair beside Jaehyun. “What are we talking about?”

“The baby,” Jaehyun answers, “and if she has any names that she’s thinking about.”

“You should definitely give the baby a Japanese name,” Yuta teases. “Since I’m probably the father.”

Jaehyun’s head turns so fast that you’re surprised you don’t hear his neck crack. “Why do you think that?” The look he gives Yuta is so sharp, the glare so powerful, you just hide your face against Jaehyun’s neck, trying to soothe him with some physical attention. So much for working on his jealousy. It looks could kill, Yuta would be six feet under.

“I’m just joking, Jaehyunnie.” Yuta pats the younger man’s hair. “But one of the fourteen of us is the father, and considering how often you sit out and just watch the rest of us fuck her, I’d say your odds are pretty low.” Yuta says that with a smile on his face, but Jaehyun frowns and slaps Yuta’s hand away.

“Oh, knock it off, both of you.” You place a kiss lightly on Jaehyun’s neck, and put your hand on his head, comb your fingers soothingly through his hair. “I literally slept with every single one of you right around the time that this Little Blob was made, so therefore, it really could be any of you. And, about names, I don’t think I’m really going to choose until after the baby is born. It’ll be my choice.”

“How are you going to choose which of us goes with you to have the baby?” Yuta asks.

“Maybe I won’t take any of you along.” You tease. “Maybe it’ll just be me and my mother. Speaking of which, I still haven’t told them.”

Jaehyun freezes then turns to look at you slowly. “What do you mean you haven’t told them yet? Aren’t you, like, twelve weeks along? Babe, you need to tell your parents.”

You know that, you completely agree that you need to tell them. But you know they’re going to ask who the father is, that they’ll definitely judge you harshly when you tell them that you don’t know who the father is, and they won’t understand if you attempt to reassure them that it’s okay that you don’t know who the father is because you know that it’s for sure one of your fourteen boyfriends, because your parents likely will disapprove of that too.

“You can tell them I’m the father, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jaehyun says softly, tipping his head gently against yours.

You bite your lip. “Thank you. That would help, for sure, but also, like you said, I’m twelve weeks along. My mother will be pissed that I waited so long to tell her.”

Yuta shrugs. “Tell her that you just found out. It’s not like you’re showing. So you say that you’ve been feeling weird, and you finally went to the doctor to get checked out, and found out you’re pregnant.”

“Just text her, tell her you’re pregnant, and that you don’t want to answer a lot of questions.” WinWin appears behind the chair, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands. “At least you can tell your parents that you’re adding a grandchild to the family now. One of us is going to have to wait to tell our family about the baby until after it’s born when we find out who the father is.”

You hadn’t thought about that either.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, resting your head again on Jaehyun’s shoulder.

“Don’t apologize for that.” Yuta stands up. “It’s not like it’s your fault.”

“Time to eat!” Johnny shouts as he comes through the door, carrying a platter piled with grilled meat. You catch a whiff of it.

Covering your nose, you shake your head. “I can’t deal with that.” Johnny catches sight of your face and whisks the plate back outside, not that it takes the smell with it, and your stomach rolls. “I’m going upstairs. I’m not hungry.” You pull yourself out of the chair and hurry up the stairs, gladly breathing the air up on the top floor that’s untainted by the smell of meat.

You shut yourself in the room you share with Taeil, and as you sit in the bed, your back to the headboard, you stare nervously down at the phone in your hand.

It takes a few moments to build up your courage to finally press the contact for your mother, and you hold your phone up to your ear.

When she answers, you take a deep breath. “Hi, what are you up to?”

“Oh, nothing. Just watching your father try not to burn our meal.” She laughs, and you can hear your dad laughing in the background too. “What are you up to? Dinner plans tonight?”

Your heart pounds in your chest. “Um, no. Actually there’s something I want to talk to you and dad about.”

“Are you okay?” Your mother’s voice suddenly grows sharp, concerned.

“I’m fine. Definitely. Can you put me on speaker?” You wait a moment until your mother gives you a confirmation that she’s done just that. Your dad’s speaking over your mother, both of them with concerned tones that you finally silence by speaking over them even louder. “Do you remember me saying I’m seeing someone?”

You had, several months ago, told your parents that you were seeing someone after your mother had repeatedly tried setting you up with a young man that owned her favorite bakery. Up to that point you didn’t want to even tell them that you were seeing someone so they wouldn’t ask too many questions. You’d not given them many details, and they didn’t push.

“Yes, we remember.” Your mother says.

“So, things have gotten pretty serious with him. Especially recently.” You can hear your voice shaking with nerves. This is not how you ever imagined telling your parents you were pregnant. You’d always thought that cute reveals to new grandparents were very entertaining videos to watch online, but now that you’re in this situation, you don’t think you could do it, not given the circumstances.

“Serious?” You father repeats. “How serious?”

You’re quiet for a few moments as you try to think of the best way to phrase it, but you wait so long that you mom says your name, checking to make sure that you’re still on the line.

“Um, so, I’m pregnant. About twelve weeks along, according to the doctor.”

“Twelve weeks?!” Your mother gasps. “Oh my! You’re pregnant! Honey, she’s having a baby! And your boyfriend... he knows? Is he excited also?”

“Do we finally get to meet the boy?” Your dad asks. “Now that he’s got a baby in you?”

Your mother hisses your dad’s name, and you hear her slap his arm. “But really, do we get to meet our future son-in-law?”

“Well, that’s another thing. Don’t.... I don’t want you to think that he and I are getting married now because of this.” You cradle the phone in your hands. “Nothing like that is set in stone. Right now, we’re just focusing on having the baby. And I suppose you should meet him.” But you’re not sure about that. It doesn’t seem fair for you to choose one of your boyfriends, one who may not be the father, and have him be the only man in this relationship that gets to meet your parents.

“Oh, well, I suppose you’ve never been so much of a traditionalist, have you? So, it’s not terribly much of a surprise that you’re not necessarily going to marry him. But a baby! Our baby’s having a baby!” Your mother cries out in excitement.

You spend the next half an hour to forty-five minutes talking with your parents, catching them up on moments in your life, talking about your pregnancy, dipping into details of how your mother’s pregnancy with you had gone. By the time you end the call, you feel much better, much lighter.

You feel as if the transformation happens suddenly. One day you look just as you have usually done, and then the next.... you’ve popped, the bump evident when you look in the half-fogged mirror of the bathroom.

You can’t help touching your belly, feeling the mound that certainly wasn’t there just weeks before.

“What are you doing?” Johnny asks, coming up behind you. He wraps his arms around you, hands covering yours on your belly. His skin is still wet and warm from the shower that’s still running in the background for you to step into. His hand is such a welcome presence, the heat of him against your bare skin. “You’re starting to show.”

You’re about fifteen weeks at this point, right in the timeline your doctor had told you that you might start showing. After that moment in the bathroom, you start wearing looser clothing, and just find it increasingly difficult to hide your pregnancy from anyone that you’d still been trying to keep it from, and your body is changing in a way that other people certainly take notice of.

“Shit, look at you, baby.” Mark whistles when he walks into the kitchen late one night, and he finds you standing beside the refrigerator with a midnight snack. You’re just wearing a pair of shorts and a low-cut camisole. Your belly standing out in evidence of the life inside of you, but you’re quickly made aware that that’s not exactly what Mark is pointing out.

He steps closer to you, and instead of touching your belly (as all the others have done as soon as they realized you were starting to show), Mark cups your tits.

“They’re bigger now.” His eyes are wide glued to your chest.

“Of course they’re bigger. Once this little blob comes out I’m going to have to feed it with these.” You nudge his hands away. “They’re not just toys for you all to play with, you know. They serve a purpose.”

Mark smiles at you and kisses your cheek. “I know, baby.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, and he stands there watching you eat, apparently entirely forgetting the reason that he entered the room himself. It’s quiet for a moment before Mark finally asks, “When’s your next appointment? Don’t you get to learn the sex of the baby soon?”

You nod. “Soon. I’m not sure if I actually want to know what we’re having though.” You drop a hand down to touch your little barely-there bump. “I might want it to be a surprise.”

Mark steps closer again, and this time he touches your belly too. “This little angel’s going to be full of surprises for us, isn’t it?”

You push your fingers into Mark’s hair, enjoying having him so close to you and the way he melts into your touch. Mark’s eyes flutter shut as you comb your fingers through his hair, he leans his forehead down against yours.

“Mark?” Your voice is very quiet even in the silence of the kitchen. “Mark, what do you want from this?”

“What do you mean?” He murmurs, not pulling back from you at all, but staying right there with his eyes closed and his forehead against yours.

“I mean, do you want to be the dad? Or are you secretly hoping it’s one of the others? Do you want it to be a boy or a girl? Do you think this is going to really fuck up this relationship?”

“I think if it was going to mess this up, it would’ve already done so, right?” He stands up straight again, putting a few inches of space between you. “We’re all still here, excited about the baby. Hell, even the others are excited and they’ve not got any DNA in the game.”

You know he’s talking about the younger members, the ones not in this relationship. They’ve all been excited and supportive too. You’d taken several exhaustion naps on the sofa between Renjun and Jeno; just the other morning as you’d been looking at a pregnancy book at the kitchen table, YangYang had sat down beside you and started asking you questions about it. Haechan swore that he’d be glad to help babysit in the future. You’d heard Chenle and Jaemin offering to take bets on the paternity of the baby.

“And I don’t know about being the dad,” Mark says, “I don’t think it matters too much to me one way of the other. I don’t mean that in a bad way! I feel like that sounded kinda bad, but like, if I am the dad then that’s awesome and I’m going to try my hardest to be the best dad I can be, but even if I’m not, I’ll still try my best to be here. But I guess it also depends how you want to raise the kid, like, fourteen dads? Or are those who aren’t the dad just going to be Uncles who occasionally share mommy’s bed?”

You wrinkle your nose at that. “That’s exactly what I mean, Mark. This relationship is going to change, and that’s scary. I don’t want this to change, I love how we all are together, but after this, then what?”

“Hey.” Mark cups your face between his hands. He tilts your face up toward his, and when he kisses you softly, almost chastely, for just that moment in time you forget your worries. “That’s a problem for when we get to it, but it’s miles and miles away in the future. You don’t need to worry about that now, okay?” He kisses you again, and this time the kiss isn’t so sweet or tender.

Your midnight snack is entirely forgotten on the counter beside you. Mark envelops you--his smell and his taste, the heat of his skin against yours-- and you lift your hands to his arms, first touching his wrists up near your face, and then your fingertips dance down his forearms, resting for a moment against his elbows as Mark twists his fingers into your hair, tilting your head to a better angle as your mouth opens to his, and you gasp quietly.

His tongue touches yours, springing another moan from you, and Mark smiles, his fingers tightening in your hair.

It doesn’t take much more kissing than that to have you craving a midnight snack of a different sort. The hunger grows inside you, the heat building, and soon you can feel your shorts are damp with arousal and your fingertips itch to undress Mark, your body aching with the need to have him inside you.

“Mark,” you mumble, planning to ask him to fuck you, but your hands are already moving. Your hands drop from where you’ve been holding onto his arms, instead gripping the bottom hem of his shirt which you tug at until your fingertips find skin instead.

Mark groans, feeling your cool skin against his. And when your fingertips move across his abdomen, quickly dipping inside the waistband of his sweatpants, Mark inhales sharply, breaking the kiss for a moment, just to ask, “Here?”

You nod. “Yeah, why not?”

That’s good enough for him.

Mark dives back into the kiss, making little noises of contentment as you push his sweatpants lower, as you dip your hand inside his boxers, wrapping your hand around his cock. It doesn’t take long for him to start chubbing up in your hand.

“Mm, baby,” Mark pulls out of the kiss, his hands shaking to detangle his fingers from your hair, and his hands fall to your hips instead. Mark lifts you carefully up to sit on the edge of the countertop you’ve been leaning against, and now you’re at the perfect height to spread your legs and pull his cock free of his boxers to rub at the already damp fabric over your pussy.

You remember the time you almost did this with Kun in here. Things got hot and heavy with him, but the younger boys were just in the other room, so you moved things upstairs instead. But tonight there’s no one around. Everyone’s either out or upstairs in their rooms. There’s nothing to stop you from having sex with Mark right here in the kitchen with the lights on and everything.

Mark thumbs the middle of your shorts out of the way as you keep jerking him off, rubbing the tip against the material, which he’s tired of, craving the direct wet heat of you on him.

“Fuck, baby, why aren’t you wearing any panties?” He almost whines. His thumb glides along your slit, and you shift forward, wanting to have him just slip his thumb inside you, but he pulls it away, putting his hand back to the safe distance of your thigh. “That’s dirty. Looking so sexy already with your belly growing and your tits too, then no panties either. Shit, it’s like you knew this was going to happen.”

“Maybe I’ve just been hoping.” You lean in, capture his lips in a brief kiss, and then say, “You’ve all been so careful with me. I don’t get fucked nearly as much as before, and while this pregnancy has messed with my sex drive a bit, I do still want to have sex, I just think you all should know that.”

“So no panties because you’re horny, hoping to entice one of us into fucking you?” Mark grins crookedly, looking down at your pussy, which you finally bring his cock closer to, and you dip his tip against your clit, moving it in circles.

You smile and try to stifle a moan.

“Do you want it?” Mark asks you.

“Yes, Mark,” you sigh, and you guide his cock to where you need him most, and Mark lifts a hand to tilt your mouth up to meet his once more.

Mark enters you smoothly, slowly, in one thrust. Your toes curl at the slow feeling, the stretch and glide, the way that you’ve barely had anyone touch you in weeks, since Jungwoo, probably. You don’t think you’ve been with another one of them since him, not having one of them inside you like this--just you helping them out with a blowjob maybe and then possibly a bit of fingering, but most of them were still treating you like some fragile porcelain doll--and that was probably a month and a half ago when you were with Jungwoo, the last time you’d had one of their dicks inside your vagina.

“Oh, fuck,” Mark groans. “I swear you’re tighter than normal.”

“Shh,” you shush him, laughing as you try to kiss him quiet. “It’s been a couple weeks since I’ve had more than a finger or two inside me.”

Mark moans, deepening the kiss, silencing you as he thrusts slowly, each push of his cock deeper inside you feels incredible.

You both take it slow, in no rush to get off right now, it’s just good enough to have him inside you, to kiss him, and Mark seems to feel the same. Kissing and hands slipping under clothes, just touching, hips rolling, everything slow and warm and you feel so wet, growing wetter with each glide of Mark’s cock inside your pussy, pants and moans rising in frequency.

Your goal isn’t to cum, just to have Mark so close to you, but soon there’s no denying that you’re both getting close. It’s been too long since either of you had this kind of sexual release. Mark’s thrusts start to grow faster, sloppier, and he pants against your lips, “Can I cum inside you? What about---?”

“It’s fine, Mark.” You gasp, dropping your head back. “Please, I want to feel it.”

Happy to oblige you, Mark ducks his head to kiss at your neck. His hand sinks to the apex of your thighs, his thumb tracing quick, careful circles on your clit as he thrusts into you, chasing his quickly rising high. The sound of your breathy sighs and moans, soft whimpers of his name, all seem to drive him on, and you cum just moments before him.

“Mark, fuck!” You gasp. You clutch at his shoulders, holding yourself close to him as the sensation pulses through your body, dragging Mark into his orgasm as well. He bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, muffling his moans as he spills inside you, his cum making you feel warm and full, and you don’t want to move from right here like this, just want to stay here with Mark inside you, close as he can be to you, his body pressed fully against yours, your baby bump against his belly.

You don’t want to move, and you probably wouldn’t have for quite some time, but suddenly there’s the tapping sound of someone jogging down the stairs.

Mark pulls away from you, stuffing his cock back inside his sweatpants, and he reaches out to tug your shorts back into place. He even rearranges your hair so it falls over your shoulders, hiding the mark he’d just sucked on your throat. And then he steps away, leaning against the stove and pretending to study a box of cereal someone had left out.

WinWin walks into the room, his eyes puffy from sleep. He yawns as he looks between the two of you, walking across the room toward you to reach the sink.

“Were you just messing around in here?” He asks, opening a cabinet door to pick out a glass. “Because that’s gross. We all eat in here.”

He looks away as he fills the glass with water. Mark’s eyes go faux-innocently wide, and he opens his mouth, prepared to give some excuse.

You cut him off. “You’re one to talk, Dong Sicheng. Are you forgetting the time I rode you right over there at the kitchen table? You weren’t so concerned about this being a place where we eat then. I’m pretty sure I remember you specifically pulling me into your lap and telling you that this is where we eat, so you wanted to eat me.”

WinWin coughs, almost choking on the water. Mark laughs loudly.

You smile at them both, and then push off the counter, landing on your feet, and you wrinkle your nose at the feeling as a bit of Mark’s cum begins to trickle down your thigh. WinWin reaches out to you, as if worried that the look on your face is due to some discomfort of the baby.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” You walk the few feet over to Mark, kiss him, and then you turn to WinWin, kiss him as well, and turn to walk away, calling back over your shoulder, “Good night!”

Their returned well-wishes of sweet dreams follow you upstairs as you crawl into Hendery’s bed.

He stirs a bit when you slide in beside him. He fell asleep watching videos on his phone, and the phone’s laying facedown on his chest, the edge of it still outlined from the light of the screen, so you move it off, rolling back to the side of the small bed to plug his phone in before you re-situate yourself on your side, and Hendery moves up to spoon you from behind.

He murmurs your name sleepily and drapes his arm over you, nuzzling his nose against your neck before he falls immediately back to sleep. And you soak in the warmth of his bed, his body curled against yours, wishing you could fall asleep, but somehow you just can’t.

You stay awake, staring at the shadows in the room, praying for sleep to claim you as it’s claimed Hendery behind you, Xiaojun across the room.

Nothing.

You hear footsteps climbing the stairs up to the floor above, hear the creak of movement, and then the closing of a door. A few moments later, the door to this room opens as well. The dim glow of a nightlight in the bathroom down the hall casts a streak across the room, right over you in Hendery’s bed.

“Sorry,” WinWin whispers as he comes inside, tiptoeing. “Did I wake you up?”

“I wasn’t sleeping. I can’t sleep.”

WinWin sits on his bed, and in the darkness, you can just barely make out the shape of his shadow patting his bed. “You can come over here. I can help you fall asleep.”

You don’t see what he’s going to do to help with that, but you carefully extract yourself from Hendery, tiptoe across to WinWin’s bed, and slide in with him.

He props himself up against the headboard with a few pillows, and then you feel him draw you in, resting your head on his chest, leaned back against him. His cheek rests against your head, an arm casually curled around your waist, his hand touching your belly, and he whispers, “I think we just need to tire out that busy mind of yours. What is it that you’re thinking about? Tell me?”

So you start talking, telling WinWin in whispers all of these worries and wonders in your head. Concerns for the future, for the state of this relationship, how they’ll all react when the day comes that you do find out which of them is the father because you’ve long since accepted that you have to find that out, though you had briefly entertained the idea of just not doing any paternity test at all. You talk to WinWin until you’re certainly tired out, or at least your voice is.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize then. “You’re probably tired, aren’t you? But I just keep talking.”

WinWin mumbles something that never quite makes its way to words. Then, “It’s fine. You need to sleep too, though. Aren’t you tired yet?”

Not quite.

“Alright then.” WinWin sighs and shifts his head, his lips right beside your ear, and he starts singing to you quietly in Chinese. The song is familiar, but you can’t place it; it’s a relaxing tune, and WinWin’s deep voice works wonders, lulling you into such a state that you don’t even notice when exactly you fall asleep.

One moment you’re awake in his arms, and then you’re dreaming.

You’re walking down the hallway, passing by the door to Lucas, Ten, and Kun’s room, climbing the stairs, you walk along until you reach a door just beyond Taeil’s room. A faint golden light outlines the door which looks shiny and new, recently installed, and from behind the door you hear the cries of a baby.

Your heart leaps in your chest.

Just a touch of your fingertips, and the door opens on a nicely decorated nursery -- creamy white walls and gauzy curtains decorated in stars and moons, a crib is tucked in the corner under a gently spinning mobile, and that’s the source of the crying.

The baby’s crying. Your baby. You walk closer, and making shushing noises as you approach, you look down into the crib and see your baby.

But it’s not only one baby. There are multiple babies, a whole row of them side-by-side, waving angry fists up at you. A baby wrapped in blue with Johnny’s face. Another that looks like Yuta. A little girl who has Hendery’s big brown eyes, one that looks exactly like Taeyong.

You blink.

There’s only one baby, cooing up at you happily with an undeniable resemblance to ---

You wake with a jolt. WinWin, still curled there together with you, strokes his fingers over the back of your hand, mumbling something in his sleep to comfort you. In the dark, you stare at his face in front of you, but all you can see are the faces of the little babies in your dream.

You shift closer, pressing your face against WinWin’s chest.

At work, you try to avoid talking about your pregnancy. Not an easy thing to do when many of your coworkers are women, including older women who just want to offer up advice based on their own pregnancies. And they’ve all got so many questions: how far along you are, who’s the father, are you still dating that guy who came to briefly visit you once so many months ago, are you learning the gender, and many more questions.

You can’t help thinking about that dream again and again.

Previously, you didn’t think you really wanted to know the sex of the baby until the birth. But after that dream, you can’t stop thinking about it.

Sometimes you’ll find your mind wandering back to that dream or mulling over what you think you’re going to have. And after your coworkers repeatedly asking you who the father is, you keep thinking about that too, trying to run through your mind the encounters you’d had with your boyfriends around that exact time that this Little Blob was conceived. The younger boys are actually taking bets on which of your boyfriends is the father, whether it’s going to be a boy or girl, and all sorts of silly bets.

And it’s not only them; the last time you spoke to your mother she was making guesses on gender based on family history and invasive questions into your sex life, which she’d followed up with an inquiry about meeting the father-to-be that you’d edged out of by feigning an incoming call from your doctor.

But you know you can’t put it off forever. At some point your parents are going to want to meet the man who impregnated their daughter. You just have to choose one of the possible men to introduce to them.

“I wouldn’t mind, I don’t think.” Xiaojun tells you late one morning.

The house is quiet. When you left Taeil’s room this morning as he woke to go to Inkigayo, you sat downstairs in the kitchen, drinking a morning glass of water and taking a handful of recommended prenatal vitamins, watching as half of the house cleared out, your boys going off to work.

You were excited, getting to see them work in different combinations than normal.

After they’d all left, piling into multiple vans, it’d just been you, Xiaojun, Jisung, Haechan, YangYang, and Taeyong left in the house. Haechan and Jisung were firmly shut inside their room, probably not likely to wake until at least the afternoon, and YangYang was similarly probably sleeping. Not that any of them would give you the company you wanted.

Sure, you enjoyed hanging out with the younger members, playing games and watching movies, and teasing them endlessly. But you didn’t want to just be entertained, you didn’t want to just go back to sleep now that you were awake.

You were horny.

You’d been dreaming nicely up until the moment that Taeil jerked awake at the sound of their manager’s voice calling from the doorway. It was a rude awakening, considering how just a second before you’d been in the midst of sucking off Doyoung while sitting on Jaehyun’s face, having the absolute time of your life. But the dream had faded in moments, leaving you with only the ache between your thighs, the heat that needed to be quenched.

So now, with all of the others gone, you were left with three choices. One, you could just take care of it yourself, which is the least fun option. Your second option was Taeyong, but you knew he had only dragged himself home from the studio a couple hours ago because he’d climbed into bed with you and Taeil, snuffling and clingy, just wanting a cuddle. A third option was Xiaojun, an eager, always good option.

So you went to Xiaojun’s room.

He was awake on his phone, and the sight of you in his doorway brought a smile to his face. You stepping inside and closing the door behind you made him smile brighter and start to sit up in bed. And when you reached down and pulled the long shirt of Lucas’s you’d stolen to sleep in over your head, Xiaojun’s smile melted into liquid desire pooling in his eyes.

“I’m horny, Dejun. Please help me.” You drop the shirt on the floor, and in seconds you’re on your back in Xiaojun’s bed, his mouth hot on your skin, lips on your breasts then your stomach, taking his time trailing slow kisses over your increasingly noticeable bump. And then he’s on your thighs, kissing, nipping, and when he licks at your pussy, your body glows with lust and pleasure.

Xiaojun performs oral sex right then like he’s going to be graded on it. Soon you’re shaking in his bed, thighs closing around his head, hips rocking against his face, and Xiaojun just keeps licking until you whine and whimper his name, knotting your fingers in his hair. He moves quickly up to kiss you.

You stay like that, kissing as the morning passes by outside, soft kisses that turn hot and passionate with your hand down the back of Xiaojun’s sweatpants as he grinds against your thigh, kisses getting softer as you spread your legs for him to fit between them and push his sweatpants down just enough that he can thrust into you. And it’s slow, soft and lazy sex in the haze of the golden rays of sunlight shifting across his sheets from the window above his bed.

Xiaojun cums and uses his fingers to get you off, and then keeps kissing you even as he rolls off to the side, holding you there in his bed even though you both feel gross and sticky sweaty.

The kissing tapers off eventually. He holds one of your hands, and your other hand absentmindedly goes down to your belly, and you start talking about the appointment you have in next week where you can finally find out the sex of the baby, and how your mother wants to come, and she wants you to bring your boyfriend.

“I’m serious,” Xiaojun says. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to introduce me as the representative for all of us. Your singular boyfriend, father of your baby.”

You look at him out of the corner of your eye.

Xiaojun smiles and hides half of his face in his pillow. “I think I’m probably not the dad, like, it’s just a feeling I have, but who’d be better to meet your parents than me? I’m nice, polite, handsome, funny, smart. Not to mention modest.”

You laugh and push at his shoulder, and Xiaojun dramatically rolls away and then stands up off the bed.

He looks down at you, still smiling. “And also, I think one of us should be there with you at that appointment. I think one of us should always go with you, because you need the support, it’ll be nice, right?”

“I don’t know. I cried when I first heard the heartbeat.” You sit up and look down at your belly. “Pretty sure several of you would have teased me about that.”

“Pretty sure several of us would have cried right along side you. You played us that recording of the heartbeat.” Xiaojun shakes his head. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention, but there was quite a bit of excitement and emotion that day among all of us.” He reaches down and strokes his thumb along your cheek. “Just think about it. I’m gonna go eat, do you want some?”

You don’t, so you stay there wrapped only in Xiaojun’s sheets and mentally draft up a conversation to have with your boys.

You put it up to the boys to decide which of them would accompany you to your next appointment at eighteen weeks, and who will also be the one to meet your parents.

“Whether you vote or play rock paper scissors or draw straws or something, I don’t care, as long as you’re all aware that it’s perfectly fair no matter who wins. I don’t want any of you feeling jealous, like I’m playing favorites or anything ridiculous like that.” You gave them this task right before you walked out the door to go grab dinner with some friends, hoping that by the time you arrived home later, they would have the answer.

Dinner was great. Since starting the relationship with the guys, you’d seen less and less of your friends just because it was a full-time kind of thing being with multiple boyfriends, plus it was difficult having this love life and not being able to openly talk about it with friends for various reasons such as being in a fifteen-person relationship was not at all common and also because your fourteen boyfriends were idols who could have their careers damaged if word of your relationship with any one of them got out.

Your friends were excited to see you and your not-so-little-anymore baby bump. They’d seen what you’d posted on social media -- the sonogram photo when you decided to finally post about the pregnancy, Snapchats and Instagram stories complaining about the woes of morning sickness and other symptoms -- and it was really great to catch up with your friends, and by the end of the night they were already telling you that they couldn’t wait for the baby shower.

“And we can’t wait to meet your baby daddy!” One of them cries, flinging her arm around your shoulder in a one-armed hug. “Like, you’re dating him right? You’re always so secretive with your love life; I can’t remember if you were dating someone, or was this just like a fling kind of thing?”

“Yeah, who is he? When can we meet him?” Another says.

You look around at your friends. “He’s just really private. But, yes, we’ve been dating for several months. But it’s also kind of complicated.”

“Complicated? Does he not want the baby?”

“Complicated and he’s private? What, is he an idol or something?” One laughs, and everyone bursts into laughter. You try to laugh along, but then you catch the eye of one of the girls and quickly look away. She’s been with you the time that you ran into Taeyong in public while you were broken up; you wonder if she’s thinking of him.

Another friend gasps, “Oh my god. Bitch, he better not be married!”

You try not to look like you’re caught in the spotlight, but you definitely are. “He’s not married!” Is the first answer you can think to give them. “And, no, it’s not that he doesn’t want the baby. He’s very excited, I mean, like, they’re excited.”

That raises several eyebrows. One of your friends nearly chokes on her drink.

“They? Like personal pronoun they or they, as in like, multiple people they?” One friends seeks clarification, and you take a deep breath and stare down into your water glass at the ice cubes clinking together before you give her the quiet confirmation of “multiple people.”

There’s giggles and teasing catcalls from around the table. You feel on fire, like you’re being roasted alive, and even gulping down the cold water doesn’t really help. There’s a fluttery feeling in your belly, so you lay a hand over it and just swallow down another mouthful of water, hoping to quell the nerves of having all of their attention on you after admitting this.

The friend beside you who’d been hugging you, squeezes your shoulders in what is probably meant to be a comforting motion. “So do you know which one of them is the dad?”

You shake your head. “No, but it doesn’t really matter. Like, they’re all excited and this relationship has been going on for a while. It’s serious, and I do love them, and it’s very unconventional, like super unconventional, but I’m happy.”

“That’s all that matters, isn’t it?” One of them says. “You’re happy and in love and having a baby! Damn, I wish I could be so blessed.”

After that the topic turns away from you and your love life for a bit, and you’re glad for that, but you’re also glad to have opened up just a tiny bit about the relationship. To have finally told someone that you’re in an unconventional relationship that includes more than two people, though you’re sure your friends think that it’s probably just you and two boyfriends, and you truly don’t feel like enlightening them any more. But it’s nice to have put it out there.

And when you do get home later, with a box of dessert that Ten had texted you begging you to bring home about halfway through your dinner, you find that half of the boys are still sitting around the table in the kitchen debating, but a handful of them are sitting in the living room.

Mark is sitting on the sofa with his laptop, Chenle leaning his head on Mark’s shoulder. Ten is in the armchair with Miso tucked in the nest of his legs. Hendery laying on the floor, his chin propped up on his hands, and Yuta’s sitting right beside him, watching a soccer match on the TV. Haechan, Jisung, and Jeno are also sitting on the second sofa, slouching down on the cushions, either on their phones or also watching the game.

You look around at them, before you glance toward the doorway into the kitchen.

“We lost,” Ten explains to you. “They’re still deciding.” He strokes Miso’s head, and then looks up at you, squinting in faux-anger, “You know, it was pretty rude of you to put us at odds with each other like that, and then you dip out to a fancy fun dinner with your friends. And did you even bring us anything tasty to eat?”

You stick out your tongue at him and pull the box out from behind your back.

“Do you think I don’t love you or something?”

When you hold it out to him, Ten eagerly reaches for it, but you pull it back quickly.

“You have to share it, you know.”

Ten whines, but nods, and as you start to hand it over again, Kun sweeps in out of nowhere, and takes the cake, then brushes a kiss on your cheek. Chenle laughs loudly, watching all of this, especially when Ten snatches the back of Kun’s shirt and jerks him back, nearly tumbling him into Ten’s lap on top of your poor cat.

Miso bristles and flees Ten’s lap to the comparative safety of the stairs where he begins grooming himself and glaring at the ruckus below.

You end up with Kun and Ten squeezed together in the chair, you perched on Kun’s lap with the box of dessert open in your lap, the three of you taking turns with a single fork. Your feet rest in Yuta’s lap on the floor, and after a bit, he leans over and rests his head against your knee, his actions sleepy but his eyes are wide awake following the moves of the players on the screen.

You can’t seem to relax, nervously glancing toward the kitchen doorway every few minutes. And thinking about who it’s going to be, which of them is going to be the one to meet your parents, to come to your appointments with you, it makes you nervous. While you sit there you feel flutters in your belly multiple times, and that just makes you feel even more nervous.

When the other boys finally come out of the kitchen, Taeyong whines, seeing the nearly finished dessert in your lap, and he comes over to beg a bite.

“What did you decide?” You ask him as Taeyong takes the box from you and settles on the arm of the chair. “Which of you is it? Whose egos do I need to soothe?”

“Probably Jaehyun,” Taeyong mumbles around the cake. “He’s pouting.” He jerks his head toward the other side of the room, and you follow the move just to see Jaehyun standing behind the sofa where Mark and Chenle are sitting. Jaehyun’s got his arms folded across his chest, his jaw tense, his eyes deadset on the TV, though you can tell he’s not actually watching the game.

Taeyong clears his throat and whispers, “Johnny won; we figured he’d be the best in these situations. He’ll charm your parents for sure, and he’ll be good at the appointment too.”

You catch Johnny’s eye as he comes around the sofa to sit down beside Chenle. He immediately starts tickling Chenle’s sides until he’s squirming and making loud squawking laughs while Johnny just laughs at him and calls him cute.

Eventually Yuta lifts his head from your knee to shush them, his eyes still glued to the screen as one of the teams makes a goal. You look over at Johnny again as he’s petting Chenle’s hair while the younger settles back down. And then you look up at Jaehyun. WinWin’s now standing beside him, his arm slung around Jaehyun’s shoulders, and they whisper to each other, but after a moment Jaehyun seems to feel you watching them, and he catches your eye with a sweet smile.

“How do I look?” Johnny asks, nervously tugging at the collar of his shirt. You’re about to leave for the appointment, and as you sit on Johnny’s bed watching him get ready, you fight down your own nerves.

“Handsome. As usual.” You sigh, fluttering your hands over your belly. “What about me?”

You push up to your feet, standing right before Johnny. He smiles warmly, a hand sneaking around to the small of your back, and you step just a bit closer to him.

“Sexy as always,” Johnny says with a grin. “Pretty and cute and beautiful too. If your mother looks anything like you, I can’t wait to meet her.”

Yes, the source of all your nerves. Johnny meeting your mother. Your mother coming to your appointment with you both. And then there’s the late lunch you’re having afterwards with Johnny, your mother, and your father.

“Hey, don’t be so nervous, sweetheart.” Johnny cups your face in his hands. “I’m great with parents. By the time we come home later, they’re going to absolutely love me, we’re going to know if you’re having a girl or a boy, plus we have a little surprise the others should have ready for you by the time we’re home.”

Now, that makes you more suspicious than nervous.

Typically you don’t have a good history of your boyfriends trying to surprise you with things. Seven times out of ten the surprise ends up being an orgy, and the other three times out of ten are just a failure on their part. So as you and Johnny walk out of the house, you watch the others suspiciously, such as when Taeil kisses you on the cheek as you pass him on the stairs, when Renjun pipes up from the sofa to tell you that they’ll all be anxiously waiting to see who has won the first of their series of bets, and when Doyoung hurries up from behind you to give you a few words of luck and calming for the appointment and for introducing Johnny to your parents.

“Thank you, Doyoung.” You press up on your toes to meet him for a brief kiss. “See you later!”

As you turn to follow Johnny, Doyoung’s hand falls reluctantly from your arm, and you look back at him to offer him a reassuring smile because he’s pouting.

“Doyoung also really wanted to come with you today,” Johnny tells you a few minutes later. “Him and Jaehyun were really duking it out there toward the end of our debate. Both of them were pretty pissed when I was the one who was decided on.”

You don’t know what to say to that. If it were possible, you would happily bring every single one of your boyfriends, but that is neither practical nor realistically something that your parents would ever possibly approve of. Your parents are not like your friends; your friends think it’s different and sexy that you’re in a relationship with more than one man, but your parents would think that something like that is disgusting and wrong and would certainly try to influence you to choose just one of them.

So you fall into this rabbit hole of thinking, and it’s not until Johnny puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing slightly as he says, “We’re here,” that you snap out of your thoughts.

You’re at the doctor’s office, and when you look up through the windshield of the car, you can see your mother standing beside the door into the office, somewhat awkwardly smiling at passersby, looking nervous as well.

“This will be wonderful, okay?” Johnny reassures you. “Are you ready?”

You nod, and then push the car door open.

The moment that your mother sees you, her face lights up, and then her eyes fall down to your belly, the definite mound of your belly, and she breaks into a smile so wide that you think she also might start crying.

“Oh, my baby!” She pulls you into a hug. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, Mom. Taking good care of myself and the baby, with some help of course.” You pull out of the hug and turn to Johnny. He’s standing a few feet back, not wanting to intrude on the moment with your mother, but when you hold out a hand to him, he steps forward.

The second his fingers interlace with yours, you feel confident and happy, and you turn back to your mother. “Mom, this is Johnny. My boyfriend.”

She looks at him. Looks him up. Looks him down. You can tell she’s analyzing everything about him, filing away little details that you’re sure she’ll want to discuss with you later.

And then Johnny holds his hand out to her. “Johnny Suh, ma’am. It’s great to finally meet you. I was just telling her this morning that --” You elbow him sharply in the side and glare at him, not wanting him to finish that sentence calling your mother hot. He laughs, and holds his hand out to your mother again. She shakes his hand, still watching him appraisingly.

“It’s nice to meet you too, finally. She’s always been secretive about relationships, but I think this is the longest we’ve ever had to wait to meet someone she’s dating.” Your mother glances at you. “Why’ve you kept this one a secret?”

“He’s too charming for his own good sometimes. Come on, let’s get inside.”

As you sit in the waiting room, nervously tapping your foot as you wait, you look around at the other women in the room. There are some whose bellies are huge, looking ready to pop at any moment. Some who aren’t showing at all. There’s one woman wrangling two toddlers along with her big pregnant belly, looking increasingly frustrated at the two children climbing over her and over and under the chairs.

You don’t even notice that you’re shaking your leg so much until Johnny’s hand comes to rest on your knee. His voice is low, soft so no one else can hear it when he asks, “You okay?”

“Fine. Just ready to find out.” You place your hand on his, and that’s when you notice your mother watching you very observantly.

The three of you chat a little bit, and she tells you that your father is all ready to interrogate your boyfriend, especially since you’d given them no information about him. “She wouldn’t even tell us your name.”

“I can’t talk too much about us, you know. We’ve got to keep it a little bit of a secret.” You whisper to her. “Maybe you don’t recognize him, but he is an idol. Other people might recognize him, and we can’t let word get out.”

Johnny’s wearing a mask and a hat now that you’re in the doctor’s office together, keeping his head down somewhat just on the off-chance that someone could recognize him. But now, with the way your mother is staring at him in surprise, you think it might draw some attention.

When you go to the restroom a few minutes later, leaving the two of them alone, you worry that you’ll come back to find things in a disastrous state, but to your surprise, after an extended bathroom break due to the number of others trying to use the single restroom available off the waiting room, you return to see them laughing and talking more comfortably with each other, and just a few minutes after that you’re called back to meet with your doctor.

Now, it’s not like the appointment jumps straight into finding out the gender of the baby, but that’s all the matters, all that you can focus on while you and your doctor talk, while she examines you, while your mother and Johnny sit nearby, but then it’s time and you’re on your back with your shirt pulled up over your belly and a technician spreading the cool gel over your belly.

You don’t remember reaching for Johnny’s hand, but suddenly you’re holding onto it while you look at the screen. Your mother’s leaning forward eagerly too, all three of you plus the doctor staring at the screen at the inside of your body, searching for your Little Blobby.

“Ah, here we are.” The technician pauses for a moment, and you can hear the heartbeat inside you--not the one that belongs to you, but the second smaller one, the faster tiny one--and you can see it on the screen.

“That’s the baby?” Johnny squeezes your hand and leans closer to see the screen more clearly. “That’s our baby?”

“It sure is.” The technician moves the device a bit more, trying to get a better view. “Is this daddy and grandma’s first time seeing the baby?”

“It is!” Your mother says excitedly. Her hand briefly touches your leg as she shifts closer to see as well. “It’s just too exciting to learn the baby’s gender, don’t you think? How could we miss the appointment for this?”

She’s right, you realize. It’s very important for the father of the baby to be there when you find out the baby’s sex. And as much as you love Johnny, you look back up at him right then, and you realize that he very well may not be the father of this baby. There are thirteen other men who it could be, and it’s not fair to rob them of this experience.

“Wait,” you say. The technician stops, and when she looks at you, you clear your throat. “I don’t think I want to know today. If you can just, like, write it down and put it in an envelope?

“Honey, what?” Your mother picks up your hand from where Johnny’s just dropped it. “You don’t want to know today?”

You shake your head. One look at Johnny shows you that he’s a little bit hurt, but that he understands the thought process behind this decision. He wanted to be the special one here with you for this momentous step in your pregnancy. But worse than Johnny is your mother. She wants to be here for this.

“We can have a reveal party, Mom. I thought I wanted to know today, but I just think it’ll be more exciting to be surrounded by family and friends, you know?” Well, by that you mostly mean with all of the potential fathers there as well. “So, can you do that?”

The technician happily agrees. “Of course, once I verify the sex of the baby, I’ll be glad to do that for you! Your little one isn’t exactly in the right position for this, but let me try to move around, see if I can get a better angle.”

Your mother sits back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest, seeming very disappointed, but Johnny stands right at your side and puts his hand on your shoulder. You meet his gaze, and Johnny smiles.

“What are you hoping for?” You whisper. “When you’ve thought before about having kids, what were you deep down hoping to have?”

“Honestly?” Johnny turns his attention back to the screen, though at the moment there’s truly not much to see. “Growing up, I was an only child, you know. I always wanted a little brother, and then when I moved here I found my little brothers. Mark and Haechan, Chenle, Jisung, the other kids. And I realized that boys are such a mess, such a chaotic hassle, but that’s easy for me to understand and handle.” Johnny’s voice dips lower as he says, “A boy. I hope you’re having a boy.”

Later that day as you and Johnny return home with a sealed envelope tucked safely in your purse, still filled with happiness from the success of the long lunch with your mother and father (who in the end both loved Johnny entirely and were very charmed by him), you just want to tear open the envelope and share the news with all of the boys inside. It’s been hours since the appointment, Johnny had kept up conversation with your parents, and then he’d insisted on stopping to grab some stuff from the store on the way home.

By the time you walk through the door of the house, you’re buzzing with nervous excitement. You want to tear open that envelope to find out the sex of the baby, dive into the bags of candy you’d begged Johnny to buy for you, and be with the men you love. But as soon as you’ve stepped out of your shoes and tucked them away in the entryway of the house, Johnny reminds you that the boys all have a surprise for you.

“We’re back!” He calls, taking you by the hand and leading you into the living room.

You leave the grocery bags sitting beside the sofa. The house is suspiciously quiet and still. You frown.

A voice calls down from somewhere high above. “Just a moment!”

“Johnny... What is the surprise? You know usually, it’s...”

“It’s not a sex thing, don’t worry.” Johnny places a soothing hand on your head. “A good surprise.”

“You can come up!” Another voice calls down, and Johnny leads you by the hand up the stairs. By the time you reach the top floor, you can hear that all of the boys are up here, not just your boyfriends but the younger boys too. And once you’ve climbed the last step, you can see them all gathered around in the hallway.

“Okay, seriously, what’s going on?”

“We have a surprise for you.” Taeil says, stepping out of his room and joining the others right in front of him. “Come here.”

Johnny lets go of your hand, and you walk forward slowly. You know that there’s no need to be suspicious of your boyfriends or the others, yet you can’t help it with them all being so mysterious.

“We all worked really hard today,” Jaehyun explains to you. “We honestly weren’t sure that we’d have it ready by the time you got home, so we had Johnny distract you a bit longer.” You frown back over your shoulder at Johnny, but he’s smiling down at Ten who’s whispering something to him. Jaehyun continues, “But we did finish. And it’s for you.”

He steps forward and lays his hand on the door to Taeil’s room.

“What did you do?” You look around at all of them assembled around you.

Tired of waiting, Yuta steps forward and pushes the door open. It’s not what you expected.

In place of the usual massive bed that occupied the space just earlier that morning is a more normal-sized bed. And, on top of that, it’s pretty, prettier than any boys room.

You take a step inside and look around a bit more. The walls have been repainted--three of the walls in cream, one in a dark shade of green. The room’s been redecorated entirely, and then as you turn and take a look in the corner of the room you see a crib and an armchair, a dresser with a stuffed polar bear toy that you recognize from Doyoung’s bed sitting on top of it.

“What is this?” You ask, then to Taeil, “Where will you sleep?”

“I moved down the hall.” Taeil grins. “We just thought that you need a space. For just you, for the baby.”

“You guys...”

You don’t know the exact moment when you start crying, but then you’re just suddenly in tears, bawling into the shoulder of whichever boy sweeps you first into a hug. They wrap around you, trying to comfort you, but you don’t exactly need comfort, you just need to outpour all of these emotions.

“It’s lovely, thank you all.” You eventually manage to get the waterworks under control, and as you wipe at your tears, you lift your head, catch sight of the crib again, and you remember. “Oh, I forgot! Johnny and I, at the appointment, I decided I didn’t want to find out right away, not then. I felt like you should all be there when I find out. My mother wasn’t too thrilled with that, but we can have, like, a gender reveal party, with my parents, some friends.”

“A party? Here?” Doyoung asks, ruffling his hand through his hair. “When? It’s almost Christmas.”

“Next weekend? Do you think that’s too soon?” You look around at all of them. Ten and Taeyong glance at each other, looking doubtful. “It is too soon, isn’t it. What about the following weekend? The, what would that be, the thirteenth?”

There’s murmurs around the room, the boys talking over their schedules, and after a few moments the general agreement is that they do have that day, for the most part, free for a party.

“I’m hungry.” You groan, sinking down onto the edge of Kun’s bed.

He looks up from his phone, frowning in confusion. “Why did you come in here instead of just going to the kitchen?”

“Because I don’t want to go all the way downstairs.” You shift, trying to get more comfortable, but that’s easier said than done.

“Oh, I get it.” Kun laughs. “You want me to go down there, make you something, and bring it back up here for you to enjoy?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that.” You finally lay down on your back, pillowing your head on Kun’s arm. “But, mostly I came in here because I know you have snacks. And snacks, plus cuddling in your bed is always going to be much, much better than walking downstairs to the kitchen.”

Kun rolls his eyes playfully and sits up, moving around you and bending over the edge of his bed to get at his snacks. You shift around, getting comfy, and tell him “I’ve been craving something salty. This baby just wants salty food.”

“Well, this baby convinced you to come to the right place.” Kun sits up again, dropping a bag of perfectly salty snacks into your lap. He settles back into place beside you, and after a few moments filled only with the sound of you crunching on your snacks, Kun asks, “Do you really not know what the baby is? Boy or girl?”

You shrug. “We really didn’t find out at the appointment, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I believe you. But what do you think it is? Or what are you hoping for?” Kun steals his hand into the bag in your lap.

You shrug, stuff your mouth full so you can buy yourself some time to think.

“I don’t think I really know. I had a dream a while ago, though, with a baby boy. But I think a girl would be good too. Little girls always have such cute clothes, and I know more about girls than boys. ”

“That’s what we’re here for, though. Me and the guys.” Kun puts a hand on your belly. “I want the baby to be a girl. I think raising a daughter, getting to spoil her, treat her like a little princess, that would be great.”

You snort. “No matter if this baby’s a boy or a girl, I’m sure it’ll be spoiled rotten by all of you. Chenle’s already bought a few things, he told me, and then I’ll never want for babysitters, with all of you around. But I don’t think I’ll be disappointed either way, boy or girl.”

“And what about names? Have you seriously thought about that yet?” Kun asks, once again dipping his hand into the bag, stealing away a handful of the snack. And because he’s Kun and avidly listening to you as you both relax and snack in his bed, you tell him all of the names you’ve been considering, he makes suggestions, you both fall off in a tangent about naming your child after characters from movies or dramas or books.

You’re still talking about it when Jaehyun peeks his head through the door. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” You sit up a little in Kun’s arms. “Were you looking for me?”

Jaehyun glances around the room before his narrowing eyes fall to Kun’s hand on your belly. “Yeah. I mean, no, not really. I was just... missing you. I didn’t need anything.” His hand flexes around the edge of the door.

“We were just talking about baby names,” Kun says. “And talking about what she wants the baby to be. Boy or girl.”

Jaehyun steps inside the room then, closing the door back behind him as he comes over to sit on the floor beside the bed. “Definitely a boy. An athlete.”

“You just want a mini-you.” You reach into the bag (which has drastically lost most of its contents since Kun first gave it to you) and toss a few pieces in Jaehyun’s direction.

“No, I just want a sweet baby with you.” Jaehyun tosses it right back at you, then lunges up to kiss you briefly. You twist your fingers in the front of his shirt, holding on even as he backs away. “Yeah, I hope you’re having a boy, but I bet you’re hoping for a girl, aren’t you? Taeyong told me he’s hoping for a girl because he’s already watched a boy be raised with his nephew, and he just thinks a girl will be easier.”

He’s probably not wrong. You often hear about the hijinks and mischief of little boys, and you imagine any son of yours, raised in a house like this, would definitely be chaotic, an uncontrollable whirlwind. Though, you’re sure that due to the influence of all of these men, a daughter might turn out equally as mischievous.

Kun and Jaehyun begin playfully bickering back and forth about names, and you zone out a bit, only snapping back to reality when Jaehyun puts a gentle hand on your knee.

“Sorry, I’m feeling tired.” You shake your head, and move, trying to push yourself to sit up. “I should get to bed. Growing a baby is tiring, and I have to work tomorrow.”

Kun reluctantly watches you leave his bed, but you kiss him before you go. Jaehyun walks with you upstairs to your door, and he leans against the doorway as you go inside, his hand quickly snatching yours to keep you there a moment longer.

“Goodnight.” He smiles, a loose, easy, happy expression. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You drape your arms over his shoulders, your hands tangle behind his neck, and you lean up to kiss him. Jaehyun smiles into the kiss, pushing it to be more than just a goodnight kiss, which you entertain for a moment longer. But you truly just want to sleep tonight, so you slide your arms from his shoulders, pressing your palm against his chest as you pull away.

“No,” Jaehyun moans greedily, giving you one, two, three more little kisses.

You bite your bottom lip and hold his gaze. Jaehyun’s warm eyes soak through you, heating you with a gentle radiant glow. Your stomach flutters, like the giddy butterflies you’d felt early on in this relationship.

“Goodnight, Jaehyun.” You pat his chest over his heart. “Love you, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jaehyun’s hand clings to yours, only slowly letting up his hold so your hand can slip out of his.

“Go to bed,” you whisper at last, stepping inside and beginning to draw the door shut. “Go to sleep and dream about the baby. About me.”

Jaehyun laughs, steps close just one last time to kiss you, and then, as he pulls away, he murmurs, “You know I always dream about you.”

It doesn’t feel practical to be having a threesome when you’re twenty weeks pregnant, with a big round belly, yet that’s exactly what you find yourself doing.

Jungwoo and Hendery are goofing around together while the three of you are shopping together. Laughing, pushing each other, being loud enough that they draw attention to the three of you, but the weather’s recently turned very cold as the winter season truly takes hold in these days leading up to Christmas, so they’re covered up with hats and scarves, and Hendery’s wearing a mask as well as glasses. You find it unlikely that anyone could recognize them, but you continuously try to calm them down just in case.

You’re shopping for a few things to decorate your nursery, for some last minute Christmas presents, and originally you’d intended to come alone or to ask your mother or some of your friends if they wanted to come along, but at the last minute, Jungwoo volunteered and Hendery said he also had a need to go shopping.

You’d done Hendery’s shopping first, which had perhaps been a mistake as he was now weighed down with his own bags of new clothes. The emptying of his wallet had been encouraged by Jungwoo who was in a very bright mood, and suggest that Hendery buy everything he tried on, from a large fuzzy Nike jacket to a beanie that had cat ears, and even an umbrella that Hendery commented was pretty as the three of you passed by the store selling it. And now that he had all of these things, Hendery was distracted, and neither of them were helping you find the store you were looking for while you walked.

“Jungwoo!” You whine, clutching his arm and clinging to him when you have to turn around because the two of them stopped to play-fight right in the middle of this shopping mall.

An older man sitting on a bench a few feet away watches them somewhat fearfully, but a small group of young girls who are clustered together in front of a makeup store are hiding their giggles behind their hands.

“Sorry,” Jungwoo laughs. “Hendery’s just so cute, I can’t help but play with him today.” He reaches over as if to pinch Hendery’s cheek, and that just starts them off again.

“Ya!” You cry out, slapping at whichever of them is nearest you. “Focus!”

This time it’s Hendery’s turn to apologize. “Sorry, sorry.” He dramatically moves about six feet away from Jungwoo, well out of arm’s reach. “I promise to be good for the rest of this shopping trip.”

“Please. I just want to finish up and then go home.” You curl a hand over your belly as you feel something like bubbles, almost like you’re feeling gassy. And you know the sooner you get home the better if that’s the case. You refuse to use a public restroom just because you truly can’t be sure of how clean it is, and the risk of infections freaks you out, especially now that you’re pregnant and have another being's health to worry about.

“Are you okay?” Jungwoo asks, stepping closer, the light mood gone in an instant, replaced with concern as he notices you touching your belly.

“I’m fine, let’s just go so we can head home.”

After that, they’re both still somewhat goofy, but they stop messing around so much. Even as you’re in the baby store so you can find some cute decorations, Hendery sticks close to you, smiling awkwardly when another pregnant customer starts chatting with you about some things he’d rather not hear about.

But at some point in the chat she asks you, “How far along are you?”

“Twenty weeks.” You place your hand on your bump. “It’s crazy when I think about it, like, it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long since I found out.”

She smiles. “Yes, but you should definitely enjoy it while you can. I remember my first one. Experiencing everything for the first time. Feeling my son kick for the first time was the strangest but most wonderful experience. Have you felt your little one yet?”

“Oh, I’m not really sure.” You look down at your belly while Hendery and Jungwoo whisper to each other a few feet away, looking at a selection of baby shoes. “I definitely haven’t felt like a kick.”

The woman laughs. “I don’t expect you would at only twenty weeks. The baby’s probably still too small for you to feel a big kick yet. For me it felt like butterflies in my tummy at first. Just little movements, kind of like gas sometimes, honestly.”

“Really?” You rub your hand over your round belly, thinking back to that feeling just earlier, thinking back further a few weeks, feeling random bouts of what you’d thought were nervous flutters. But maybe they were more. “Then I think I have.”

Almost as if it knows you’re talking about it, you feel it again. That little ripple of movement inside you that could almost be mistaken as something else. You look up at the woman in front of you, probably wide-eyed with surprise, and a smile breaks across your lips.

“Did you feel it?” She asks, her own smile rising to her lips.

“Yeah.” Quickly, you turn to your boyfriends. “Guys, I felt the baby move!”

They both reach for you at the same time, hands on your belly. The woman laughs, “They probably won’t be able to feel it yet. But soon. My husband first felt our son kicking through my belly when I was about twenty-five, twenty-six weeks.”

You hurry to finish up in the store, but you can’t stop touching your belly, can’t stop trying to feel the baby moving. By the time you’re back at the house, you can think of nothing else.

You take your purchases up to your room, and Jungwoo follows you.

“What does it feel like?” He asks, trying to put his hands on your belly again as soon as you’ve laid the bags down in the corner by the crib.

“Just a little flutter.” You tell him, moving to lay down on your bed. You pull your shirt up, exposing your belly to the room. Jungwoo comes closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. There’s a soft knock on the door, and then it cracks open, Hendery comes inside, his eyes eagerly falling on your belly. “I agree with that woman earlier. You probably won’t be able to feel it yet. When I feel it, it’s not that strong yet.” You move your hand over your belly, thinking, this is so weird.

You knew that there was a baby inside you. Obviously. You’ve dealt with the morning sickness and the sore tits and everything else. You’ve watched and felt your body changing to accommodate this new life. You’ve heard the heartbeat and seen the sonogram.

But now you’d felt that life moving within you. And that was the realist thing yet.

“That’s amazing.” Jungwoo caresses your belly, leaning in to drop a kiss right below your belly button. “Do you remember what I told you that night, when we were in the living room after our date?”

“Hmm?” You sink back fully into the pillows and glance over at Hendery as he comes closer.

“About finding you pregnant very, very sexy.” Jungwoo kisses your belly again. “Your belly, your boobs. This glow.” His hands slide along your thighs and you shiver. He turns his head to the side, looking up at Hendery then back at you as he says, “I just want to make you feel good, princess. You’re doing so much, you deserve to feel good.”

“I do, don’t I?” You smile, lifting your hips a bit to encourage him.

Another kiss to your belly. His fingers at the waistband of your pants.

“What about me?” Hendery asks. “I want in, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt her.” Jungwoo tugs your pants down from your hips, bringing your panties down too. “She’s not made of glass, and it’s not like she’s been abstinent since the baby was made. The baby’s going to be fine, she’ll be fine. Want me to show you how, Hendery?”

Hendery makes a face. “I know how to--”

“Then kiss her or something.” Jungwoo watches hungrily as you sit up just enough to pull your top over your head, then you reach back and unfasten your bra, and once that’s fallen away, you’re bare in front of the two of them.

“Your boobs.” Hendery groans lustfully.

You feel Jungwoo’s lips hot on your belly, moving higher to the top of your bump. His hips drop against your leg, and you feel his erection, and when you reach for Hendery, wanting to drag him into a kiss, your fingers brush against the front of his pants, and he makes such a desperate sound, pushing his hips forward into your touch.

Jungwoo nuzzles against your breasts, breath tickling along your skin.

Hendery pulls his shirt over his head, sinking down to the bed with you, and his lips connect with yours in a messy, uncoordinated kiss as you plunge your hand down the front of his pants to touch him.

Hendery’s always easy like this, so easy to work up, to touch him and get him going quickly.

You moan when Jungwoo touches you, slicking a finger between your folds, teasing. Hendery hurries to wiggle out of his pants, and his hand takes over from yours as he kneels up on the edge of the bed as soon as he’s free of the pants. Jungwoo flicks his tongue over one of your nipples and then sits up, kneeling back between your legs and looking at Hendery, then at you, then back at Hendery.

“Wanna suck you, Hendery,” you mumble, stroking down his thigh. His hand squeezes around his cock. “Please, you know I’ve missed your dick, the taste of you.”

“Fuck, princess, you’re wet.” Jungwoo enters you with two fingers, the glide easy because you truly are so wet right now. “Give it to her, Hendery. She’s clearly drooling for it.”

Hendery shifts forward on the bed, and you open your mouth for him. His eyes all but roll back in his head with pleasure as he sinks his dick between your lips. And while you’re distracted in getting Hendery’s dick wet, Jungwoo’s fat tip presses against your pussy, and with just a push, you stretch open around him, taking him in just as well as Hendery.

It feels so good to have them both inside you. It’s been months since you last got double-teamed; the boys are scared enough when having sex with you one-on-one, but doing it like this, the closest you’ve had to this was when rolling around with Xiaojun he’d given you his fingertips to suck on while he was inside you.

“Oh, god.” Hendery moans.

You wrap your hand around him, and bobbing your head on him, focusing on just the tip, it’s easy to get him close. Hendery’s been without any action except for himself for so long, since at least a couple weeks before you realized you were pregnant.

You drag his cock between your lips, push down once on him, taking him deep. You hungrily lick and suck, working your very best to get Hendery off while Jungwoo thrusts into you.

Hendery’s cock falls from your lips, and his breath comes out raggedly as his hand jerks over his length, carrying him to his orgasm. You feel it splash warm across your chest and your chin, striped across your breasts. You moan, stretching up to wrap your lips around his tip again, licking, lightly sucking, and you snake a hand down your body to touch yourself, fingers on your clit as Jungwoo pulls out, running his hand over himself.

And when you feel his cock rub against your belly, you get what he’s doing. His kink for your pregnant body doesn’t end with just fucking you, he wants to cum on you, mark up your pregnant belly with his semen.

“Jungwoo, Jungwoo, please!” You pant, sliding your own fingers inside yourself, trying to reach your orgasm. “Wanna cum!”

“Ah, baby.” Hendery pets your hair. “Want me to help you?”

You nod, already grabbing his hand, bringing it down your body, but his hand slows as it passes your belly, and before he can even touch you, Jungwoo swats his hand away.

Jungwoo fucks back into you, his hands touching your belly, driving into you again and again.

The orgasm shudders through you, powerful and good, and Jungwoo pulls out a second later, and his cum stripes across your swollen belly. Carefully, so as to avoid landing on you, Jungwoo drops off to your side and pushes his face into your pillow with a satisfied sigh.

Hendery disappears into the ensuite bathroom, emerging a few moments later with a damp cloth which he uses to wipe the drying cum from your chest, chin, and belly. He gently wipes between your legs, and then runs it once more over your belly.

“That was the first time I’ve had sex in this bed.” You sigh, wiping your hand across your forehead, brushing away some hair. “Thanks.”

Hendery laughs. “Oh, anytime.”

It feels very strange having your parents there in the house along with all of your boyfriends and the younger boys. If your parents think this is an odd location for your sex reveal party, they don’t comment on it. They don’t ask you why Johnny’s parents aren’t there. They certainly don’t ask why all of the older boys are eagerly introducing themselves to your parents, or question why your mother walks in on you holding Kun’s hand in the kitchen.

If your parents find any or all of this strange, they don’t say a word, and for that you’re very grateful.

Because the day has finally come to learn the sex of your baby.

It’s been two weeks since the appointment, and Johnny has sworn up and down that he hasn’t looked at the envelope. He hid it away where no one would find it, so no one else would be tempted to open it until the party.

As you’d begun setting things up for the party the day before, cleaning the house, organizing, you’d entrusted one of the boys’ managers with picking up a gender reveal cake for you. She’d been supportive of your pregnancy since the boys had told their managers about it, so you trusted her to do it well.

And then there’s your friends. Your close group of friends who already had suspected your baby daddy to be an idol after that last dinner. It had started out as a joke, obviously, but as you wanted to invite them to the party, and after talking with the boys, you’d texted your group chat with your friends and told them that the father actually is an idol, you can’t say who, just that he is.

So naturally, after telling them and inviting them to the party, they were all asking you all over again who the father was, and you refused to tell them, just made them promise that if they came to the party, they wouldn’t talk about it. You didn’t want to ruin any careers over this pregnancy. And you trusted them a lot.

Having all of them here--you parents, your friends, your hoard of boyfriends, and the other members--was very odd.

Especially when you overheard Mark and Ten and YangYang giggling together about you inviting your parents to a sex party. “Sex reveal party! A reveal! Not a sex party.” You’d cried out in exasperation.

As everyone showed up to the party, they were dressed in either pink or blue, depending on whether they thought you were having a boy or a girl. It was interesting to finally see what each of your boyfriends thought as they emerged from their rooms wearing either color.

“I just don’t own anything pink,” Taeyong tells you, tugging at the strings of his blue hoodie. “But I think it’s a girl.”

Your friends arrive in their various shades, the majority of them wearing blue. As soon as their eyes land on Mark, you hear gasps.

“What the fuck, I knew it!” The friend that had been with you when you ran into Taeyong during your break wraps her arm through yours.

“NCT?” Another of your friends cries, pulling you even closer into the midst of them. “The father of your baby is a member of NCT? How the fuck did you manage that? Why have you kept this a secret for so long?”

The hungry eyes and titters among a few of the girls is reason enough, you think. There’s a jealous flare in your belly as one of them tries to catch Lucas’s eye as he passes by wearing a gaudy pink sweater.

“It wasn’t easy, I promise you. Just, don’t flirt with them, okay?” You try to slip away, wanting to go hide in the balloon bouquet of blue, purple, and pink that someone had placed in the corner by the stairs.

“What? You want to keep them all for yourself? Babe, that’s just not practical.” One of your friends laughs, and the others laugh too. You feel warm now because that’s exactly what you want; all of them for yourself. It might not be practical, but it is reality. “So which one of them is it? Which one are you dating?”

You praise the universe in the next moment when your mother comes over, all smiles and her second mimosa in her hand. “That Doyoung is so polite. Girls! You’ve made it! Goodness, when was the last time I saw you?” She pulls your friends into hugs, and in that time, you escape.

You sit down beside Jisung (in blue) and Ten (in pink) at the kitchen table where they’re picking through the snacks, nibbling and now watching your friends warily.

“How much do they know again?” Ten asks you.

You reach for his glass of water, gulping it down to calm yourself. “They know that one of you is the father, I haven’t given them any name or anything. I did, however, make them promise not to talk about being here today. God, I’m nervous.”

Ten covers your hand with his, squeezing gently, and says, “Don’t be” at the same time as Jisung asks, “About what you’re having or your friends finding out that you don’t even know who the dad is?”

You just groan and drop your face into your arms. Ten laughs but puts a soothing hand on your back. “It’s okay. You know it’ll be fine.”

Your nerves just continue to increase as you notice your father trying to chat with Johnny (in blue) even as Mark (also in blue) keeps trying to get your father to talk with him, and your mother is simply being charmed by Kun (wearing both pink and blue, unable to decide) and Jaemin (wearing an unhelpful shade of pale purple that could almost be pink) and Taeyong. And then there’s your friends, dispersing among the boys, sometimes huddling together in pairs to whisper, sometimes they’re all over the place-- one talking to Lucas, while another blushes as she asks Taeil to hand her a napkin to wipe up the drink she spilled, while another stands beside Ten and Yuta to admire Ten’s tattoos.

“Relax.” Jaehyun comes up behind you, startling you. His hands settle on your shoulders. “You’re so tense, I feel like you need some cake. Then for this party to end, then maybe a nap or at least a footrub, right? Nice bubblebath?” His hands massage your shoulders, thumbs digging in wonderfully to the tense muscles.

You drop your head back with a groan. “That sounds great.”

“I’ll go get the cake,” he whispers. His lips just barely brush against your cheek in a kiss, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the kitchen to fetch the cake from where their manager left it chilling in the fridge.

“Everyone!” You call, but your voice shakes and gets lost in the din of other voices. Doyoung notices you though, so he shouts instead, “Everyone!”

The attention in the room shifts to Doyoung beside you until he waves at you, passing all of the attention right onto you. Nervously you rest your hands on your belly.

“We’re going to cut the cake now.” You move over toward a small table that had been moved into the living room, in front of a wall of blue and pink streamers and balloons and golden string lights that Ten and WinWin had hung up earlier that morning.

Jaehyun emerges from the kitchen, carrying the cake in front of him. Renjun’s right behind him with a knife and a stack of plates.

As soon as Jaehyun sets the cake down and Renjun’s handed you the knife, you stand alone up there.

You’d decided it was best if you stood up there alone. Yes, as far as your parents are aware Johnny’s the father, but you don’t really want your friends to think that because it’s simply not a certainty. So all of the boys stand back, and you clear your throat.

If your parents and friends can feel the pure excitement and anticipation radiating off of most of the young men in the room, they don’t seem to think twice about it. But every eye is on you as you lift up the knife Renjun handed you, as you make your first slice into the cake. An excited ripple moves through the room as you make the second cut. And then you slip the knife under the slice and carefully bring the slice out of the cake, revealing the color inside.

Cheers around the room.

Pink! Pink! The cake is pink!

You throw yourself into the arms of the first boy who approaches you. Jungwoo, Johnny, Lucas, Jaehyun, Kun, they all pile in.

“Careful! Careful!” You hear your mother crying. “Be careful with her!”

The boys all back away, giving you just enough space, and Johnny’s hands fall to your round belly. Doyoung touches the back of your head, his fingers wandering down through your hair, settling on the back of your neck. WinWin stands right beside you, nearly bouncing in his excitement.

Your mother rushes forward and your friends, all gathering around you to touch your belly. Already your mother’s suggesting names to you. One of your friends, who’s already had a daughter, is offering you hand-me-downs. With everyone around you like this, the heat of everybody surrounding you, your head begins to buzz, and you look around, searching for anything to steady you.

“Cake? Who wants cake?” Mark asks, and you turn to see him right beside you, a slice of cake on a plate in his hand. He starts slicing and handing them out, getting people to move away from you, offering you more space to breathe.

You sit down at an empty spot on the sofa. Johnny sits down beside you, grinning, handing a delightfully pink slice of cake to you. He bumps his shoulder against yours.

“A girl. A baby girl. What do you think about that?” He asks.

You put a gentle hand on your belly, feeling the baby--your baby girl--stir inside you. Lately you’re more in-tune to those movements. You can tell the difference between butterflies and gassiness and her moving inside you.

“Eat up, baby. Let this little girl taste her celebratory cake.” Johnny taps the plate, and then stands up, clearing the space beside you for your closest friend to slip into. Johnny goes over to Jaehyun and Hendery, throwing his arms over their shoulders, all three of them cheering.

“Congratulations!” She folds one leg over the other. “A sweet baby girl. And with a daddy like this, she’ll have life made.” She grins and looks around the room, scanning over all of the boys, your other friends, your parents. “But really, which one of them is it? I’ve been watching you, trying to figure it out, but I can’t tell. You seem really close with all of them.”

You push a forkful of cake between your lips. “I am close with all of them.”

“Right, but which of them got you pregnant?” And then her voice drops lower. “And at dinner you said they, so like, is that they two of them that you’re with, or one of them with someone else?”

“I can’t tell you that.” You reply, keeping your voice low so no one else hears. “I can’t risk it getting out.”

She smiles again, amused and victorious even though you didn’t really tell her anything. “I’ll take that as you’re having sex with two of them. You don’t have to tell me, but I just hope that you’re happy with them.”

“I really am. Happy.” You lean back, stroking your bump. “They make me so happy, how could they not when because of them I have this to look forward to.” You feel like you’re probably smiling like a fool, looking down at your belly, unable to block out the daydreams that pour through your mind. A life with your daughter. You feel that little now-familiar flutter. “I’m having a girl. A daughter.”

You look up from your belly, catching Yuta’s eye from across the room. He winks at you, and you can’t help the giddy feeling that rises up in you, so you just laugh, sinking back in your seat, feeling more relaxed, lighter, happier.

Good Thing <- Previous || Next -> gimme that: a drabble

a/n: oof this was a long one, now I hope y’all see why I split the last one and this one into two parts instead of keeping it as one long one. I’m not really sure when the next part is going to be posted, but I do have a drabble to post probably a week from now. I hope you enjoyed this part, like that resolution to Mark proposing, I really enjoyed seeing everyone’s reactions to that ending of Good Things. Please let me know what you thought, as usual, reblogs, comments, likes are super appreciated!

#nct smut #wayv smut #nct #wayv #nct2020 #poly smut

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Summary: She may mean the world to Iwaizumi Hajime but at the end of the day, Oikawa Tooru is his star.

AO3 Link here

Sequel: Broken Compass

She used to think the universe intended for her to literally crash into one Iwaizumi Hajime.

One of her first assignments as a writer for one of the country’s top sports magazines was to cover the Japanese volleyball team’s season, and despite constant reminders from her editors not to screw this up because the men’s volleyball team is crazy popular these days, she manages to trip over her own feet and knock not just herself, but the newly minted team trainer to the ground.

When she lifts her head from the ground, the first thing that hits her mind is - goodness, he’s hot - he’s a veritable god among men, all sinewy muscles and sunkissed skin, and she can’t bring herself to speak as he carefully checks her once over for any signs of injury. ‘Are you alright?’ he asks her, and she nods dumbly as he pulls her to her feet and waves her off with a warm smile. The heat from his hands lingers on her skin long after she goes to bed that night.

They meet again at the next match. He remembers her name, she gives him a friendly wave. Then at the next match, she cheekily asks for his comments and he huffs a laugh as he directs her to the team’s PR manager. By the end of the season, she works up the courage to ask him out for coffee, and he says yes .

Iwaizumi Hajime is everything she dreamt of in a partner - kind, caring, steady, his feet firmly planted on the ground. He always wraps his arm around her to pull her close when they walk along the edge of the road, and indulges her pleas for an extra cuddle – ‘ the last one, I promise! ’ - every morning when he leaves for work. They exchange long text messages late into the night when either of them are on the road, and nag each other for working too hard. When they lay in bed at night, he whispers promises filled with love against her skin, tells her he can trace the constellations in her eyes.

It makes it so easy for her to close her eyes and believe that their love is written in the stars, so a year later when he asks her to marry him, she doesn’t hesitate to jump into his arms and say yes . The weight of the silver band he slips on her finger grounds her with his love, and her heart is full.

She can’t stop feeling like a thief who’s snatched the sun from the sky.

Oikawa Tooru is to be his best man of course.

She knows who he is, she’s covered the sport long enough to have heard about him - the prodigious setter from Miyagi who never made it once to Nationals despite his obvious talent (an exquisitely crafted katana is, after all, no match for the brute force of a cannon), who spit in the face of fate and chased his dreams to sunnier lands.

Iwaizumi has always been awfully fond of regaling her with stories of Oikawa, so much so that she thinks she can piece together their relationship - childhood friends turned longtime teammates, the long suffering ace and the monstrously brilliant setter. She watches his face soften uncharacteristically when he reads news about his old friend winning a match, and hardens when Oikawa whines loudly during their video calls about his bruises and sore knee. She can’t help but think Iwaizumi must have been like Jupiter, a god in his own right, drawn into orbit around Oikawa, a star burning over-bright.

She knows they remain best friends despite their separation by whole continents, keeping in contact via video calls and text messages, playing hopscotch with the time difference. They certainly look like it when they greet each other at the airport, Oikawa trilling a playful ‘ Iwa-channn’ and Iwaizumi grunting at him to ‘shut up, they’re in public, dumbass!’, exchanging back slaps so loud it makes her wince.

‘You must be the poor fiancee’, Oikawa gives her an exaggerated leer as he stands before her, hands on hips. ‘What did Iwa-chan drug you with to get you to marry him? Do you know he snores like a monster in his sleep? You know you can back out before the wedding right? Blink once if you’re ok, and twice if you’re not - and I’ll help you escape from him.’

Before she can respond to that frankly impertinent speech, Iwaizumi roars ‘Shut-up, Shittykawa’, tackling him into a headlock and wrestling him off into their car. She stifles a laugh as they spend the rest of the ride to Oikawa’s hotel room bickering back and forth.

‘How did you manage to pack so much luggage for a two week stay, you vain piece of crap!’

‘I care about my looks and grooming - unlike some of us who skulk around in clothes they’ve worn since high school!’

‘Vainpot.’

‘Beast.’

‘Piece of shit’

‘Meanie’

Iwaizumi alternates between grunting and growling at Oikawa’s nonsense but his eyes are shining (so bright that she can see stars) and Oikawa’s retorts are punctuated with smiles that are impossibly wide. She thinks to herself it’ll be good for Iwaizumi to have Oikawa around.

Oikawa starts to call her ‘ Chibi-chan ’ especially when Hajime is around to be annoyed by it – she admits she’s short, but not that short, it’s just that he spends most of his time surrounded by literal giants - and develops an irritating habit of ambushing her with quizzes about Hajime's likes and dislikes.

'Favourite food?'

'Agedashi tofu.'

'Favourite movie?'

'Godzilla.’

After a few rounds of these pop quizzes, she looks at him like he's sprouted a second head. ‘Seriously, Oikawa-san, we're getting married in less than two weeks. Do you seriously think I wouldn't know the most obvious things about my own fiancé?'

'Don't frown, Chibi-chan, you'll grow wrinkles and look old', he sing songs at her. 'I'm just making sure you're worthy of Iwa-chan's love!'

'Stop bullying my fiancée, Shittykawa, or I'll beat you up so bad you can't move'. Iwaizumi rubs lazy circles against her back, and she leans against him comfortably.

'Aww Iwa-chan, once a bone head, always a bone head’, Oikawa says, scrunching his face into a mock-sniff. ‘Say, Chibi-chan, do you know Iwa-chan would beat me up ‘til I let go all the cicadas we caught, but if they died, he would cry?'

‘Are you calling me a crybaby, Shittykawa’, Iwaizumi growls dangerously, simmering down only when she coos at him, ‘that’s so cute, you must have been such a sweet child’.

Then, sensing that her presence is probably stopping the boys from catching up fully, she shoos them out of the apartment on the premise that they should get some fresh air and cool off but really so they can get some much needed time together. ‘ And stop fighting’ , she calls after them, making good use of the quiet to busy herself with wedding preparations.

When Iwaizumi finally returns home late that night, he finds her asleep on the couch, and with a soft smile he curls up around her. ‘Hajime?’ she breathes, nuzzling her nose into his neck, and he has to bite back the urge to cover her face with kisses, tightening his hold on her instead.

‘I’m back’, he whispers, his breath warm against her neck. ‘Sorry I was out so long’.

‘It’s fine’, she mumbles sleepily. ‘Did you guys have fun?’

‘Yeah - we went for dinner and then Oikawa dragged me to at least five different bakeries to find the perfect milk bread before he was willing to go for drinks’, he complains. ‘And he made me promise to go for drinks with Issei and Hanamaki tomorrow afternoon before we meet with the wedding coordinator’.

‘Mm’, she hums absently. ‘Oikawa seemed a little on edge earlier. I’m glad he calmed down and had fun with you’.

Iwaizumi frowns into her hair, thinking back to Oikawa’s inexplicable needling of her earlier. ‘Sweetheart, if Oikawa is irritating you, I'll make him stop’.

‘It’s fine’, she says, with a little more force than she intended, waving away the concerned look he gives her. ‘He’s your best friend, Hajime. I think he's just feeling a little insecure. You should spend more time with him while you still can’.

He grins and kisses her warmly. ‘You’re too good to me. What did I do to deserve you?’

‘Because the universe willed that I love you’, she answers, as if it were the most obvious thing on earth.

But Oikawa manages to find a way to wreck her well made plans.

Iwaizumi finds her in the kitchen, back turned towards him, and the slam of the dishes on the counter makes him wince. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart’, he tells her, wincing when she shrugs off his hand.

'You skipped our appointment with our wedding coordinator', she hisses, whirling around to face him. ‘But that’s not the worst of it - do you know how scared I was when you didn’t pick up my calls? I thought you got hurt or heaven forbid - got run over by a car and died, Hajime!’

‘I’m sorry’, he repeats, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. 'I got engrossed in catching up with Hanamaki and Issei, and Oikawa stole my phone so I lost track of time. I kicked his ass for it, you could've heard him whining about it from outer space’. He slyly slides an arm around her waist, resisting her attempts to pull away as he buries his nose in her hair. ‘I'll make it up to you, I promise'.

'Make sure you do', she huffs, leaning into his warmth. ‘And what was Oikawa’s reason for stealing your phone?’

‘You know Shittykawa, he probably thought he was being cute. I’ll make him apologise,’ Hajime replies, pressing his nose into the crook of her neck.

She relaxes a fraction, breathing in his familiar scent - fresh linen and pine and home, but that doesn't ease the knot of something - she can't quite put her finger on what it is just yet - weighing down in her chest.

True to his word, Iwaizumi drags Oikawa by his ear to lunch with them the next day, not letting go until he apologises to her with an appropriately chastened expression on his face. ‘I’m sorry, Chibi-chan, I shan’t do it again’, he tells her contritely, but when Iwaizumi’s back is turned, he shoots her a puckish grin brimming with mischief that makes her toes curl.

She ignores him, and lets herself be drawn into the flow of their conversation - Oikawa complaining incessantly about Ushijima Wakatoshi and Kageyama Tobio whom she’s met many times in the past few months and he shoots her dirty looks when she archly tells him that she thinks they’re lovely men, Iwaizumi getting on Oikawa’s case again for not eating enough, for not sleeping enough, barely able to restrain himself from violence when Oikawa responds with a trilled ‘ Iwa-chan, you sound like my mother ’.

The conversation meanders off to their Seijoh teammates she’s not terribly familiar with, so she’s caught off guard when Oikawa abruptly turns to her with shit-eating grin and asks innocently ‘Say, Chibi-chan, what about Iwa-chan caught your eye?’

‘Have you looked at him?’ she says, playfully nudging a blushing Iwaizumi with her elbow. ‘He’s built like a god.’

Oikawa’s smile turns sickly sweet, showing far too much teeth. ‘In that case, I’m surprised you didn’t go for one of the volleyball players instead. Or was Iwa-chan your last attempt? You’re twenty-five this year, after all.’

A glance in Iwaizumi’s direction shows her exactly what she expects - first, his mouth drops open in a wide-eyed, open mouthed gape, then fury burns white hot across his face, and she has to grab his hand before he causes a scene by throwing himself bodily across the table to strangle the smirk off Oikawa’s face. ‘I can fight my own battles’, she mouths at him, willing him to stay in his seat, her hand still pressed firmly against his.

‘Well, you did ask me what first attracted me to Hajime, and I didn’t lie - I was really drawn by his looks’.

She inhales and lets herself be drawn back to the warmth of the memory of tumbling head first into Iwaizumi’s arms, and exhales to look squarely at Oikawa. ‘But then I fell for his kindness, his steadfastness, his patience - and when he told me he loved me, I felt as if the universe had handed me the sun, the moon and the stars’.

Her answer must have touched Oikawa’s shrivelled little heart, she thinks to herself, because something in his eyes shutters and a look of respect streaks across his face. ‘Well said, Chibi-chan, well said’, he says begrudgingly. ‘Iwa-chan is lucky to have you’.

The rest of lunch passes without incident, and when she and Iwaizumi are finally back home, he corners her as she’s about to go to bed and asks quietly - ‘Sweetheart, did you really mean all of that?’

‘Of course I do. I love you, Hajime. Do you need me to count the ways?’

‘Maybe’, he responds playfully, circling his arms around her as she pulls him to bed. She lies in his embrace, ear pressed to his chest and falls asleep to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the ebb and flow of his breath, the rise and fall of his chest.

When Iwaizumi calls out that he’ll be gone to the bar down the street for an hour or two to vet Oikawa’s best man speech, she certainly did not expect him to burst back into their flat with Oikawa held bridal style in his arms. It would have been a comical sight - Oikawa’s bulky frame dwarfing even Iwaizumi, legs looking ludicrously long dangling over Iwaizumi’s arms - but for the frantic expression of Iwaizumi’s face and the desperate way Oikawa clings to Iwaizumi’s neck.

‘Idiot bumped his knee while doing shots’, Iwaizumi explains to her distractedly, as he settles Oikawa onto their couch. ‘I don’t think it’s serious, but I’ll take him to the doctor in the morning to check him out just in case. Brought him to our place since it’s closer than his hotel room, and I can keep an eye on him overnight’.

She hands him an ice pack. ‘Why don’t you two take our bed, and I’ll take the couch? He’ll be more comfortable that way, and you can watch over him at night.’

‘Are you sure?’ Iwaizumi frowns, and she nods, pushing him towards his friend while she turns to fetch a set of spare pyjamas for their unexpected guest. Iwaizumi lifts Oikawa to their bed and together, they strip him of his clothes and, mindful of his knee, gingerly slide him into clean clothes.

‘Iwa-chan’, she hears the lanky setter whine as she makes to leave the room to bring an extra ice pack. Turning her head, she catches a glimpse of Hajime bending over Oikawa’s form. She’s not sure if it’s a trick of the light, but she swears she saw Iwaizumi brush his fingers against Oikawa’s forehead with a quiet tenderness he’s only ever shown to her, tucking his hair behind his ears. For some reason, it makes her heart clench.

She’s gathering the discarded clothes up from the floor whilst Iwaizumi’s in the shower, when Oikawa shoots his hand out to grab her wrist. ‘I’m sorry’, he tells her, a plaintive note in his voice. ‘I tore it up – I should never have tried to tell him.’

‘What?’ She gives him a bewildered stare. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Iwa-chan’, he slurs, and she can smell the alcohol on his breath as she moves closer to him to catch his words. ‘He got mad with me, madder than I’ve ever seen him before.’

‘You mean Hajime? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t stay mad with you, whatever it is you’ve done.’

He shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry’, he manages to say, and starts to cry. She flounders, unsure whether to comfort him herself or call for Hajime to deal with him (because she’s not stupid, it’s painfully obvious he resents her), but the look in his eyes is so heartbreakingly vulnerable that she can't bring herself to leave him alone even for a minute, so she sits next to him on the bed, rubbing a soothing hand against his back while he soaks her sleeve with hot tears. ‘You’re drunk and injured, Oikawa-san. You should rest’, she murmurs, easing him back against his pillow when his sobs cease and he seems to calm down.

As she bends down again to pick up his clothes, he gives a cry of alarm and tries to grab her wrist again, almost flipping himself off the bed. Hearing the commotion, Iwaizumi rushes into the room, hair still wet from his shower, barking loudly ‘you idiot’, forcing Oikawa to lie back down onto the bed. She backs out of the room, leaving Hajime to comfort his sobbing friend.

She doesn’t think too much about Oikawa’s strange words, mentally writing it off as another one of his odd little quirks. But as she’s folding up his pants, a stack of torn papers falls out of its pocket, and she thinks she recognises the words ‘Iwa-chan’ scribbled all over it. Though she knows it’s wrong to invade his privacy – especially when he’s in no position to defend it, she can’t help but be curious, reasoning to herself that it must be his best man’s speech, she should at least vet through it once before the wedding.

It isn’t hard to piece the scraps of paper together, the tears uneven, as if made in a fit of panic or rage. It is, as she thought, Oikawa’s best man speech, and it starts out as expected, with well wishes to Iwaizumi and her. But as she continues reading, running her finger over each word, etched so harshly into each page that the ink bleeds, it becomes evident that that isn’t the only thing Oikawa meant to say.

‘I know it’s too late, but I love you, Iwa-chan’, she reads with growing horror on the very last page, a suspicious water stain next to these words. Mind whirling, unable to process what she’s just read, she sits at the kitchen table reading and re-reading his words until her vision starts to blur.

‘There are times I wonder if I chose wrong, if I should have held fast to you, the other half of my soul rather than going off to fight in hopeless wars, because I should have known you won’t always be waiting for me to come home. But I will always love you - like the moon loves the sun, even if I can only watch you from afar, so full of light’.

She should be furious – she should head straight to Oikawa and scream and shout and stamp her foot at him, because how dare he say these things now when he’s had forever to say them to Iwaizumi before she even came into the picture – how dare he wait until she and Iwaizumi are less than ten days away from being wed. But she doesn’t, because deep inside her, she understands.

How can she begrudge his love when they love the same man?

‘Sweetheart’, she faintly hears Iwaizumi say, squinting in the light as he emerges from the dark bedroom. ‘Is everything alright?’ he asks, his voice heavy with concern when he catches sight of her tear stained face.

She wants to tell him that everything’s just fine – but his gaze shifts to the torn papers in her trembling hands and she knows immediately everything is not fine at all when he looks back at her with guilt and anguish branded on his face.

‘Did you know?’ she asks, hating the way her voice starts to break.

‘He told me just now’, he tells her heavily, dropping into the seat across her, his hands cradling his head.

‘Do you love him?’ she demands, ignoring the sob that’s threatening to tear itself out of her chest.

He looks up at her. There are tears in his eyes.

‘Yes’, he admits. ‘I don’t want to, but I do’.

His words knock the oxygen from her lungs, leaving her with a crater in her chest. He loves Oikawa Tooru, this beautiful, brilliant, broken boy, incandescent with the light of a thousand stars.

Where does that leave her?

(Stranded in the dust, abandoned in the dark)

She suddenly feels as if she’s trapped in her own skin, a vise that’s far, far too tight, burning with the need to turn herself inside out. ‘I need to go’, she manages to spit out, stumbling over her feet. He stands in alarm, reaching towards her but she slaps his hand away. ‘Don’t touch me’, she hisses, grabbing her wallet and phone through a haze of tears.

‘Where are you going to go?’ he demands, barring the door with his large frame. ‘It’s late, it’s not safe.’

‘Anywhere that’s not here’, she snarls, trying to shoulder her way through. ‘Let me go, Hajime – I can’t stay here, please, let me go!’ She slams her fists against his chest, collapsing to the floor at his feet when she realises it’s impossible to break through the immovable force that is Iwaizumi Hajime.

‘Let me go somewhere that isn’t here’, she begs him, hiccupping through her tears. ‘You’re hurting me more by making me stay here with him’.

He sinks to his knees to cup her face in his hands. ‘I’m sorry’, he sobs. ‘I couldn’t bear it if I lose you too’.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him he already has ( because she can’t stay, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts), and when her stillness convinces him it’s safe to turn his back to her for a second, she slips through the door and disappears into the night. She hears him shout her name, hears the anguish in his voice, but she doesn’t stop running until she’s safely ensconced in a nearby hotel room.

Her phone keeps buzzing through the night. ‘Iwaizumi Hajime ’, it reads, ‘Iwaizumi Hajime’, flashes on her screen, again and again. She tries her best to ignore it, turning her phone on to silent mode, leaving it face down on the dresser but she can’t - her ears still echoing with the heart wrenching panic in his voice. So she rolls over to her phone and sends him a text – ‘ I’m fine, go to bed, you have a doctor’s appointment with Oikawa to worry about tomorrow morning’ – quickly switching it off before he can flood her inbox with desperate calls and texts.

She tries her best to fall asleep, but she ends up lying awake, counting the cracks in the ceiling. The air in the room is far, far too still, and she feels like she’s suffocating, buried alive from the sand and dirt and earth pouring into the cavity in her chest. Against her better judgment, she uncorks the cheap spirits in the hotel minibar and pours herself shots, one after another, until she drops off to sleep with a single thought swirling around her head.

The universe isn’t fair - because first it gave her Hajime, then it took him away.

It is noon when she wakes, sunlight streaming mercilessly into the room. She sits up with a groan, rubbing a hand across her face. For a second, she wonders where she is, the monochrome sheets so different from the cheerful patterns she uses in their room, before reality slams into her like a comet to her chest.

Right. That happened .

She can scream and cry and try to scratch the face of fate but it won’t change matters. Hiding away from the world isn’t going to make the cruel joke that is her love life go away, so she grits her teeth and steels herself, washing her face and paying the bill before heading home (though if she’s honest with herself, she’s not sure if it’ll be home for much longer).

She prays to god or whatever deity there is out there (not the universe, it has a funny way of throwing shit her way) that Iwaizumi wouldn’t be home, but whatever it is, it’s definitely not listening because Iwaizumi opens the front door while she’s still struggling with her keys. It takes just one look at him for the pain in her chest to make its presence felt again.

‘How’s Oikawa’s knee?’ she casually inquires, edging around him to slip into the flat. Oikawa doesn’t seem to be around, so she lets herself relax just an inch.

‘It’s fine’, he responds, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Just needs some rest’.

‘That’s good’, she says absently, heading straight for the kitchen, ignoring him as he follows her steps. ‘Have you eaten?’ she asks, pulling leftover rice and dashi stock out of the fridge. He nods dumbly as she heats them both up to assemble two bowls of Ochazuke . Her heart may be broken, but her stomach certainly isn’t, and she’s not about to let herself wither away. He looks at her dumbly as she slides his bowl at him, and neither of them says a word until she leans back in her chair, satisfied with her meal.

‘Are we going to talk?’ he asks her confusedly.

‘About last night? What is there left to talk about?’ she replies, keeping her composure firm. ‘The wedding’s off obviously, so we need to inform all our vendors and guests as soon as possible. I think I should be the one to move out of the flat – ‘

He cuts her off frantically – ‘What? Why would we call off our wedding? I still love you, and you still love me, don’t you?’

She gapes at him incredulously. ‘Hajime, you told me last night that you love Oikawa. How is our marriage going to work if you love someone else?’

‘But I love you’, he says, his voice cracking. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

No it isn’t, and she’s shaking her head because it isn’t enough, it’s never going to be enough, because he may love her but he’s in love with him – has been since they were little boys with stars in their eyes. And his shoulders shake and it’s his turn to cry because he loves her, he really does, he knows greed is a sin but he wants both him and her, and he wishes that it could be enough.

‘I’ve seen the way you look at him, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you’, she tells him, eyes dry, but there’s a tremble in her voice that she can’t hide - because she’s so stupid, she should have figured this out long before she dug out her heart and handed it to him - but then again maybe she didn’t because she was blinded by staring too long at the sun.

‘You will grow to resent me if I keep him from you and besides, how could I possibly compare?’

Because Oikawa Tooru, blessed with innate brilliance and cursed with a penchant for self-immolation, burns brighter than a thousand stars.

‘I’m sorry’, he tells her, rounding the table to drop to his knees before her, the look in his eyes so heartbreakingly sad that she has to choke back a sob. ‘You meant the world to me’, he whispers brokenly as he buries his face in her lap.

‘I know’, she answers him – and gods, her heart is screaming and it hurts - but she loves him so much she knows it’s only right to let him go. ‘But the world will move on, and you need to chase the stars while you still have them in your sight’.

At this, he lets out a quiet cry, and this time she gives in and joins him, her tears soaking his hair. He wraps his arms around her as she presses kisses into his skin and they stay that way for a while, their limbs entwined, because it finally dawns on both of them that this is it - it truly is the end of them.

The sun may set and the moon may rise, but the stars - they burn bright in the sky.

Her love for him should die (from earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust) – but it doesn’t.

She packs her life into cardboard boxes and shifts into her sister’s flat. Iwaizumi doesn’t allow her to pay for the cancellation of their wedding, takes all responsibility for informing their guests that the wedding’s off - he says it’s his fault after all, and she doesn’t resist, knowing it’s his way of trying to make amends.

His face crumples and he tries to refuse her when she returns his ring, but she insists - because it doesn’t feel right, she can’t seem to smile when the silver band catches the sun's light. He doesn’t tell her he keeps it in a box beside his bed, and opens it from time to time.

Oikawa manages to weasel her sister’s address out of Iwaizumi and appears on her doorstep the day before he’s due to return to Argentina with a bushel of white lilies in his arms.

‘Wait!’ he cries, catching the door with his foot as she tries to slam it into his face, cursing the reflexes of a professional athlete. ‘I won’t take too much of your time’, he promises, and she folds her arms, glaring at him expectantly.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve treated you and Hajime terribly, haven’t I’, he asks her shamefacedly.

‘You have’, she tells him coldly, because she desperately wants to blame him for everything bad that's come her way but when he hangs his head, she can’t help but soften her tone. ‘But I understand, Oikawa. How could I blame you when I love the same man?’

‘I don’t deserve your kindness’, he responds quietly, after a pause.

‘But you have it’, she tells him. ‘So live and be happy, for his and my sake’.

When he leaves, she closes the door and sinks to the floor, burying her nose in his offering of lilies. Its scent is cloying sweet, but she can only taste the bitterness of ash in her mouth.

A year later, and she’s back covering the Japanese men’s volleyball season when she runs into one Iwaizumi Hajime again.

He is the first to speak, asking her a genial ‘how are you’, to which she replies ‘fine’, though she really means - ‘I may be wounded, but I am still standing on my feet’. But Iwaizumi understands - he always does , and they stay silent for a while.

She picks up the courage to ask after Oikawa, and she knows he’s trying his best not to light up as he tells her that though he’s back in Argentina, they’re pursuing a long distance relationship. In turn, she tells him about her new boyfriend, ruefully mentioning that though she tried to stay clear of volleyball boys, Akaashi Keiji not only used to play volleyball in high school, but is the best friend (and former setter) of Bokuto Koutaro, national team player and self-proclaimed ace. He laughs at that - but she does not mention it is a relationship born out of the heartbreak reflected in both of their eyes.

‘Are you alright?’ he asks her before they part. It’s ironic because these are the first words he’s ever said to her, but she swallows the memory and this time she responds truthfully.

‘It’s a work in progress and I’m getting there, one day at a time’.

They exchange bittersweet smiles.

It’s enough for now.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu fic rec #haikyu x reader #oikawa x iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa angst #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi scenarios

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whumpingcrow · 3 years

Text

Pt. 17 "Pet Show"

CW: unconscious whumpee, low self worth, creepy/intimate whumper, drugs/alcohol (explicit), injury mention/descritption, past torture mention, tics/tourrettes, gaslighting/emotional whump, pet whump, whumpee wearing a collar, dubcon (explicit), noncon (descriptive, explicit, 18+ please), multiple whumpers (let me know if I missed anything!)

Elias woke up in a soft bed, legs tangled up in thick, pleasantly warm blankets. He felt groggy and heavy, like he'd been underwater for years. He looked up at the window next to him, at the bright light shining through and the trees swaying softly in the breeze. When he sat up, he felt a dull pain in every limb, every inch of his body, and he whined loudly. He had to remind himself where he was, in France with August, but he couldn't remember the last thing that happened before falling asleep. He was in chains, August had a bat...he had a taser, at some point...what next? What caused all this horrible, gnawing pain?

He pushed himself out of bed, sighing as he tried to stretch out his tense muscles without hurting himself. He looked around the room, at how neat it was, at the expensive looking furniture and the lavish sheets. It felt wrong, too nice, like it was wasted on him.

"August?" He called out as he padded down the hallway. His voice came out raspy and broken up like he'd swallowed glass. At this point he wouldn't be surprised if that'd happened, with everything else August had done to him. When he got out to the living room, August was standing up and rushing toward him, a bright smile spread across his face. Elias stopped in his tracks, he didn't think he'd ever seen anyone, especially August, look so happy to see him.

"You're awake!" He breathed. "I was starting to worry about you. How do you feel?"

Elias shrugged, holding his breath when August closed in on him. He didn't look mean or threatening, but Elias didn't want to let his guard down too much, just in case. "I'm sore, is all." He was lying of course, he was nervous and confused and in so much pain it made him feel ages older, but August looked worried enough. He shouldn't be worried, he didn't need to waste his energy.

"You've been out for a few days. My friend said you were just having a rough come down but I...I was really worried." He reached out timidly and stroked Elias's hair out of his face. "You'd wake up for a few minutes at a time and say stuff to me, but you weren't making any sense."

Elias frowned at him. It had been days? That explained the heaviness, the confusion. He stepped forward, until he was pressed against August's chest, and closed his eyes. "I can't remember what happened."

"Well uh...what's the last thing you do remember?" August led him into the living room, holding him close as they sat down.

Elias thought hard for a moment, thinking back to the chains. It was painful to think about, how badly it hurt, how scared he was. He vaguely remembered someone else being there, he remembered being left alone for a long time, he remembered thinking his arm was going to snap off of his body. But he couldn't remember the chains being taken off, or leaving the basement. "Um...we were in the basement. I was chained up and there...there was someone else there with you. That's it."

August sighed at that, a sound of disdain, of disappointment. Elias cowered away a little, terrified of displeasing him. "After that, you didn't want to go to sleep so we did some coke. We went out to the bar, remember that?"

That was right, the sea of bodies, the too loud music and too close strangers. It was overwhelming, even as a memory, and he tried to keep his tics contained when he got nervous. "Yeah, a little."

"Good. That's good, baby." He patted his thigh gently, watching Elias relax at the praise. "After that I took you to a diner. You were upset, you were very tired."

Elias nodded eagerly, now aching, yearning, for more affection, more praise. "Yeah, you were gonna sober up and take me home."

August smiled softly, proud, almost, and reached up to pet his cheek. "That's right, love." He cleared his throat, looking down at his lap. "You fell asleep at the diner, and after I sobered up we went home, and you stayed asleep. But then the next morning you wouldn't wake up, not all the way at least, and not for very long. And the next day either. So I had a friend, he was a doctor for awhile, come look at you, and he said you'd be alright, so I was just waiting it out."

Elias frowned at how pained his voice sounded, how he seemed actually, truly, concerned for his well being. "I'm ok now, August. Don't look so sad. Please."

August smiled sadly at him, nodding dismissively. "I have something for you," he said suddenly, standing up, "wait here, close your eyes."

In spite of himself, Elias smiled softly and did as he was told. He had to admit, it was nice to have August acting so kind, because he knew it was just acting. So maybe it was ok to let himself indulge a little, to allow himself to be spoiled and praised and fawned over like a prize when August wanted to do that. He didn't deserve it, he knew that, but if August could act like he cared, Elias could act like he was worthy of it, act like it didn't make his skin itch in self doubt.

Elias felt the couch sink down next to him when August returned, then flinched hard as something was wrapped loosely around his neck. He should have known, he should have expected that the play-pretend wouldn't last long, that he would hurt him when he was bored again.

"Relax, baby. Not gonna hurt you." He fastened whatever it was around his throat, kissing his jaw softly. "Wow," he breathed, "look at you, Elias. My beautiful boy."

Elias pulled his hands away from his face, brushing his fingertips against the thing August fastened there, confusion written on his face. "What...?" He whimpered.

August pulled him to his feet and led him down the hallway, to a huge, floor length mirror against the wall near the bathroom. Initially, Elias was breathless and speechless at the condition he was in, pale and bruised and sickly. August always made him look and feel like some sort of ghost, sometimes Elias had a story in his head that he had really stayed dead when August choked him and now he was just cursed to haunt him the rest of forever. Except, it felt more like August was the one haunting him, most of the time. Still, sometimes it just made things easier when he told himself things like that, made it all feel less real. But then his focus shifted from how awful he looked to the thing around his neck, leaned closer to inspect it. It was leather, thick against his skin, with a tiny pendant hanging from the end, embedded in jewels. It was a collar, he realized, and his stomach tightened in an uncomfortable, confusing knot.

He was just a pet, he wasn't a human, a person, just like he knew already. He was not on August's level, or anyone else's for that matter, and he shouldn't be loved or cared about in the way a human should be. He existed solely to please others, specifically August, to be used by them, to be fawned over and stroked and paraded around and have stress and anger and pain taken out on him. The collar meant he was owned, he belonged to August, as his plaything.

But on the other hand, it meant August cared about him enough to make him wear his ownership. He belonged to August and he was going to make sure Elias and everyone else knew. In a sick way, the most twisted way imaginable, it reminded him of a wedding band. When he got a closer look, the tag had "Bunny" engraved on it, and he bit his lip. It wasn't even his own name.

"You just look absolutely darling in that, little one." August cooed, slipping his arms around his waist easily, kissing his temple. Elias leaned into his grip instinctively, obediently, and put on a weak, not quite genuine smile.

It was humiliating and scary and wrong, but whatever it took to make August play nice with him, whatever it took for him to touch him so tenderly and say such sweet things, he would do it. It didn't hurt this way, and being humiliated by being lovey dovey with him was a little more bearable than being chained up again. He would do anything to avoid that happening again. "Thank you," he choked out. He tried to sound genuine and appreciative, he truly did, but it felt like he couldn't speak around the collar. It wasn't tight, not tight enough to matter, anyway, but the presence of it around his neck felt the same as a gag.

The way August held him there, kissing on him, pressing close against him, was familiar. Elias realized, he'd been out of it for days now, which meant August hadn't been able to take what he always wanted, at least not from him. And he really hoped not from anyone else. He wondered if he was the first person August had put a collar on. He wondered if he'd put one on Allen, then felt like vomiting when he found himself hoping that he hadn't.

Eager to please, Elias turned toward him and wrapped his arms tight around his neck, brushing their lips together gently. August hummed, hands gripping his hips tightly. "Thank you," he whined again, this time drawn out nice and slow, how he knew August liked to hear it.

"What do you think you're doing, bunny?" August teased him.

I want you to tell me you love me again, he thought, I want you to tell me I'm good and important and worth something, even though I'm not. I want you to lie to me.

"Please touch me," he begged instead, "please." Because he knew he didn't get to want things, because he knew August liked when he begged, because asking to be touched was so much simpler than asking August to pretend that he cared about him.

So August did, he took him back to the bedroom and undressed him, everything was off now but the collar, and touched him until he was shaking, until he was defiled and sensitive and tired. He pushed Elias until it was too much, and then he pushed more. He loved it when Elias was asking to be done and trying to contain his discomfort by biting his tongue, but he liked it even more when he couldn't even help the noises coming out of his pretty mouth, or his body twitched and trembled underneath his hands or a weapon, or tears were streaming down his face helplessly. He was so beautiful, crying out his name and gripping at the sheets desperately.

When it was finally over, Elias was disappointed that he hadn't gotten through it without pain, like the last time. He had hoped that he would please August enough into not hurting him, but he could feel the burns around his wrists from the ropes and he could could feel the bruises on his arms from struggling as he was pinned down, and he could taste blood in his mouth from being hit. Hadn't he been good? He'd been asleep for days, how could he have messed up? Maybe that was it, that he had been asleep for days and August had to wait for him. He couldn't help that, but he knew August didn't care.

He watched from his spot on the mattress as August sat up, reaching over to grab a joint from the bedside table. He lit it up, allowed the smoke to curl around his head. He looked at Elias with a warm smile, then laid back next to him and pressed it to his lips. He didn't ask if he wanted any, he didn't have to, because Elias didn't have the luxury to want. He didn't get to say that he was afraid of being high again, that the idea of falling asleep for days and days again frightened him even more than August did. So he inhaled, and then he felt the familiar haze drape over him. Time slowed a little, his throat burned, the room seemed distant from him, like looking at it through the lens of a camera, not his eyes.

"How's your shoulder?" August checked, his tone actually concerned. Elias didn't know what was going through his head, with all of this back and forth of caring about him and then slamming his fist against his face for no apparent reason.

"What?" Elias coughed.

"Your shoulder. It was bothering you the other day. How is it?"

"Oh. Um...fine." he stretched his arm out, wiggled his fingers to show August. He could see the bruises peppering his skin, and he sighed. He was surprised when August wrapped his fingers tenderly around his wrist, smiling at him.

"You are so beautiful, my angel," he cooed softly, fingers trailing over the injuries on his arm, "my perfect little bunny." Elias was soft and pliable under his grip, but his eyes were wide with apprehension. He was still slightly riding on adrenaline, ready to run or struggle at any second, if August decided he wasn't done with him yet, after all.

"Now that you're awake," he said, sitting up to look at him, "I was going to have some friends over. I figured it would be more fun with you conscious."

Elias frowned; the last time he was introduced to August's friend flashed into his mind, he was reminded of the cold chains and the shock of the taser. He was scared again, and he wanted to tell August that he didn't feel good, that he wanted to just lay in bed and be alone for awhile. He imagined that August would just laugh at him. "I uh...o-ok." He forced a small smile, knowing that if he agreed out front it would save him a world of trouble. August seemed pleased with that, and he sat up with a hum.

"Let's get you looking presentable then, huh?" He remarked, pulling Elias to his unsteady feet.

Elias felt nothing short of a centerpiece, an ornament, arm candy. He was put into a loose white button up, that was only buttoned to his ribs to really show the collar August insisted he kept on, along with a tight pair of black shorts. While August was helping him brush his teeth he had a chance to look over himself in the mirror, and he looked horrible. The older bruises were a green and yellowish hue, while the new ones were bright red, the shade they only stayed for mere hours before blossoming to purples and blues. August made sure to wipe the blood from his face, but he couldn't change the scrapes and cuts that were slowly healing. Not that he seemed to care much, and Elias was sure his friends wouldn't care much either.

Once people started to arrive, Elias was discarded on the couch, watching the flow of expensive looking people come in, grab glasses of wine, laugh and speak with August like they knew him. Elias didn't fit in, he knew that. He was raised from trash, with no family, fending for himself, and now he was sitting here wearing a collar like some sort of animal. He was less than them, and the realization made him want to crawl under the covers and hide away from all of their patronizing gazes.

"Aw, quel mignon petit animal de compagnie." What a cute little pet. Someone was saying a few feet in front of him. He glanced up for a second to see an older woman in an elegant black dress eyeing him, a tall glass of dark wine resting at her hip. He hated the way she looked directly at him, with her thin lips tipped up in a smile. "Tu veux une cigarette, chiot?" You want a cigarette, puppy? She eyed his collar, then quirked an eyebrow up. "Ohh, il est un lapin. Cigarette, lapin? Ou vin?" Oh, he's a bunny. Cigarette, bunny? Or wine?

Elias blinked at her with his wide, nervous eyes, then began to search for August amidst the people. Of course he wasn't anywhere close. He recognized the word cigarette, and when he looked back to the stranger she was moving to sit next to him with one extended. Elias didn't protest as she popped one into his mouth, lighting it up for him. She sat so close to him, her round thighs pressing against his bony, cut up knees.

"Thank you," he whispered after the cigarette was lit, lifting a trembling hand to hold it in between his knuckles. How where his knuckles also bloody? What happened to them?

"Ah, tu es américain?" Ah, you're an american? She mused, trailing her manicured fingers over the bruises on his cheek. "Tu ne parles pas français?" You don't speak french?

Elias chewed at his lip, shaking his head at her to try and get her to understand that he couldn't talk with her, wishing she'd leave him alone when she realized. He began to search for August again, taking a long drag of the cigarette. He wished he could have some booze, but he was too afraid that he'd wake up days later again with no memory of what happened. Elias couldn't decide if it would be better or worse to not remember this strange woman touching him, stroking his injuries like prizes and talking to him in that condescending, playful voice. As he thought it, another hand snuck into view, this one holding a large glass of a dark amber drink, and he looked up to see an older man staring down at him hungrily, shaking the glass at him.

"Petit garçon besoin d'une verre, oui?" Little boy needs a drink, yes? He mumbled to the woman. His voice was gruff and had an edge to it, and Elias was frightened enough by that alone to take the glass that was pushed toward him quickly. He downed some of the bitter drink, chasing it with the cigarette with a grimace. "Il est parfait." He's perfect.

"Oh, oui. Regarde sa bouche." Oh yes. Look at his mouth.

Elias's skin crawled at the way they spoke, their eyes taking him all in, her hands all over his face, poking and prodding and dissecting, almost like they were shopping. He wanted August. He hated that he did, but he couldn't help but ache to be in his sure, strong arms to shield him from their touch. With a huff, he polished off the drink, setting the glass down feather soft on the coffee table.

"Viens, mon cher," come, my dear, the woman spoke, standing up with a sigh. He frowned when one of her long fingers looped through his collar and hoisted him up with her. "Je veux utiliser ta bouche." I want to use your mouth.

"I have to wait-" he gasped, stumbling a little as she dragged him along behind him, "August wanted me on the couch. Please, I have to wait for him." She ignored him, and he could only whimper hopelessly as she shoved him into an empty bedroom in the hallway. She turned the light on as they entered, kicking the door shut behind her. He was mortified when she locked the handle.

He let out a whine when she forced him down onto his knees by his collar, until his cheek was pressed against the soft carpet and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. "Please," he rasped out, trying not to shake in the uncomfortable position she held him in, "st-stop please."

"Ah, chante pour moi, lapin." Sing for me, bunny. She stood up, allowing him to raise his chest only about an inch before her sharp heel dug into his spine and forced him back down. Her drunken giggle rang out seconds after his broken cry of pain. Elias didn't dare struggle against her, but his breathing was coming in hitched, desperate whimpers. He tried to think of the french word for please, for stop, but he knew nothing but "yes" and "thank you", and there were no two terms he wanted to say less just then.

Soon enough she removed her shoe from his back, allowing him to right himself partially. He was looking up at her with a fearful grimace, shoulders rising and falling unevenly. The look on her face was shockingly familiar, Elias had seen it on August countless times. She was drunk on the power she had over him, high on how much control she had over him right then. And August seemed to like when Elias gave himself up just a little more when he was already beyond helpless. It made him a little softer, usually, if Elias played it just right. So he took a shallow, shaking breath, and then he fought the pink blush he knew was on his cheeks when he forced himself to choke out "M...Merci."

"Oh, lapin," Oh, bunny, she moaned, crouching down in front of him and grabbing his face, "très bien ! Bien garçon." Very good! Good boy. She ruffled his hair gently before she stood straight again. She sounded overjoyed, and Elias was relieved that it had worked. He'd done good, thanked her for the humiliation and pain just the way she would like it, and she was happy. For a moment, it looked like she might turn to leave, but then she grabbed a handful of the skirt of her dress and began hiking it up. Elias felt an uneasy sinking in his stomach as he watched her, suppressing a shudder when he realized what was happening.

"I...I can't do that. August would be...would be so upset. Please don't." All of his words fell short on her, and she grabbed at his collar again, pulling him closer. He tried to tip his head away from her, but then her fingers were in his hair and forcing his head forward and he couldn't do anything, he wasn't allowed to say no, he wasn't allowed to fight back. August told him he existed to be used, and she was just using him.

And soon she was moaning, pulling at his collar hard to get him closer, saying things he didn't understand, in a voice that made him feel filthy, and he felt like he was out of his body watching it all unfold. His knees hurt, his neck hurt, his spine was aching. When she finally decided she was done, she shoved him off of her, panting as she dropped her dress. He choked back tears, watching her hopefully. He wished he understood her so she could tell him he'd done well. Had he done well? He wasn't sure, he'd never done that before. Finally, she reached down and wiped his bottom lip gently, smiling. "Attends ici." Wait here.

With that, she turned on her heel and left, shutting the door behind her and leaving him there. He was too afraid to move, staying on his knees with his head tipped downward and eyes squeezed shut. Whatever drink the strange man had given him didn't do enough to quiet the horrible dread in his chest, but at this point he wasn't sure if anything would.

When the door opened again, the woman had returned along with the man from before, and Elias only looked at them for a second before turning his head back down. He didn't want them to look at him, he wanted to be left alone, the closest he would get to that was looking away from them. But they didn't want to just look at him, of course, they wanted to use him, and use him they did. This time he couldn't help the tears streaming down his cheeks or his muffled cries that were overpowered by the aggressive grunts of the man above him. He kept waiting for it to be over, he was clutching at the man's pants sleeves desperately, trying to stop himself from ticcing and taking out a chunk of the foreigner in his mouth.

When they finally stopped and pulled off of him to straighten out their fancy clothes, Elias curled into a little ball on the carpet, arms wrapped around himself to try and stop the small sniffles from escalating into sobs. The two strangers left him there, the door slightly ajar. The nice white shirt August gave him was stained now, his knees were reddened and raw, his jaw hurt. But none of that mattered, did it? He had fulfilled his purpose, twice even, that was what should matter. Elias had obeyed, he'd let himself be used, because that's what he was told he was made for. He hoped he'd been good, that August wouldn't hurt him anymore than he already was. But even as he told himself that, he felt absolutely tainted and ruined and wrong, this was what it felt like to be less than the dirt beneath people's shoes, Elias felt bad, to say the least.

And then, as the door opened and shiny toed black shoes and dress-pants started approaching, he couldn't help but feel like he was only going to keep getting worse.

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dangerouslcve · 3 years

Note

A fluffy Draco one please where they are already married

- - -

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: None

- - -

June 5th, 2005

You sat in the corner of the pub, your back to the bartender as you face the four in front of you, a butterbeer resting in your hand. It was Draco’s birthday today and you figured this surprise would help him forget his worries about his company just for a little while. You think it worked but he was rather irritated at his close mate,

Theo.

Who was trying to rile Draco up on purpose because he thought it was the funniest thing in the world. He was very short tempered, Draco. He never liked when things didn’t go his way or if you ever walked away mid argument. Most of the time you would have to use the muffle charm when fighting with him just to spare your neighbors of his horrible attitude. It was no matter, you loved everything about Draco. Sometimes.

“I’m getting another drink,” Blaise announces rising from his seat. “Would you like another drink Y/n?”

“A water please, I really should sober up.” you tell him before finishing the rest of what is left of the butterbeer in your cup.

“Blaise,” Draco hoots through his cupped hands his silver wedding ban catching the light. “Make yourself useful and get me another firewhiskey while you are up.”

“Do I look like one of your house-elves? Get it yourself.”

“Dickhead.” Draco mumbles standing up from where he sat comfortably on the leather chair near the window of the pub. It’s blinds drawn down for privacy purposes. “You want me to get you the water instead Y/n?”

“Might be better.”

Theo snickers looking to his side extending his arm. “Awh. Do you want anything.... Oh wait, I have no one.” he drops his arm suddenly as the two boys left to the bar to get more drinks. You allow your gaze to fall on Theo who was leaned back in his chair with his jaw set.

“I thought you enjoyed your single life as a young bachelor Theo?” his gaze snaps to yours when the question leaves your mouth. A small smirk ghosts his lips as he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“I do and I have, I enjoy being alone. I mean look at what marriage has done to Malfoy, he’s a fucking bore now. No offense.” Theo replies quickly crossing his arms. You laugh shrugging, it really didn’t bother you when it came from Theo. He still acted like a child anytime you saw him.

“You will find out soon enough Theo that when you find someone you love, fun doesn’t come first they do. Over every need or want, they will always come first until of course when you have a child.”

Theo scoffs returning his gaze to yours. “I will never have children. A girlfriend? maybe. But children? no absolutely fucking not. Which-”

“-You may change your mind-”

“You interrupt a lot.” he remarks before continuing, “Which brings me to my point. Do you know anyone in your little friend group of good girls that is partial to some kinky shit?” you look away with your eyes wide as you try to hide the grin that spread across your face. You catch Draco walk up behind him before his palm connects with the back of Theo’s head in a hard smack. “Fuckin’ hell! What the fuck was the for?!”

“Talking to my wife.” he says calmly before taking two long strides over to your perch on the wooden stool handing a glass of cold ice water to you. “Here, I made sure Zabini didn’t touch it.” he murmurs before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead taking a seat next to you.

“See, what I tell you L/n, complete fucking bore Malfoy became.” Theo said watching as Blaise took a seat next to him in the same leather couch Draco had been sitting in minutes ago. He held out his hand hand for Blaise to pass him the small shot glass filled with a clear liquid.

“I could hardly take offense to anything that comes out of that trashmouth of yours Theo.” Draco says rolling his eyes before throwing back another shot.

“Let’s get these bloody birthday speeches over with.” Blaise says leaning back in his seat propping his feet up on the arm rest of Theo’s chair. You take a gulp of your water.

***

“Well that was surprisingly fun.” Draco says collapsing onto the couch pulling you down with him. His arms wrapping protectively around your waist as you straddle his lap.

“I will never let Theo live what he said tonight down once he finds someone and has a couple kids.” you tell Draco feeling his chest shake slightly beneath your hands as he chuckles. He rubs soothing circles on your lower back with his thumb smiling lazily.

“I know you wont.” he said before leaning up softly pressing his lips to yours before pulling away his hand trailing down your back, across your thigh and finally grabbing your hand that hand your wedding band on it. He smiles beginning to fidget with it absentmindedly. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“Perhaps we should-” he clears his throat “- Perhaps we should try.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Try for what? a baby?” he nods at you slowly refusing to meet your gaze when you stay quiet out of pure shock. “What happened to waiting?”

“We have been waiting, for three years.” he says finally looking up at you. His expression pained and you cup his cheeks leaning down to him when you feel him grip your hand. You couldn’t help but feel the stab of excitement in your stomach with his words.

“Okay.” you smile and he leans back looking at you fully his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” he smiles, an actual genuine smile claiming your lips as he pulls you flush against his chest.

“Why not try now?” he whispers against your mouth and you giggle as he holds you close.

“You know I could never deny you of that.” you mumble and he smirks before placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Have I told you I loved you yet?”

“You did last month.”

“Okay. I love you Y/n.”

“I love you too Draco.”

#Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x y/n #Theodore Nott #Blaise Zabini #Harry Potter

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softsebnbuckystan · 3 years

Text

Soul ties - Part 2 (Bucky Barnes au)

"Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world

It's hard to get by just upon a smile"

"What do you do now?" Steve asked back. "I don't know! I'm as freaked out as you are!"

"Damn it, this is the worst!" you exclaimed, taking the dress out of Steve's hand and heading towards the toilets. Steve guarded the door as you changed and after slipping on the lighter dress, you opened the tap and let the water run for a moment, running your hand through your hair.

"You okay in there?" Steve asked. "I...Look, I gotta check on Bucky, he must be...startled, as well. Stay here a minute, alright? I'll send Wanda and come back as soon as I can." Poor thing sounded guilty to leave you alone, but you had to say he was right : his friend Bucky probably didn't know what'd just hit him either.

"Sure. Thanks, Stevie," you barely whispered, hoping he'd heard you.

Now, all you could wish for was for Wanda to get here before your fiancé, now husband, did. He didn't seem to feel the need to check on you – it was just coffee to him, right?- and you were glad he didn't. You thought of washing your face to put your mind back in place before remembering you were wearing makeup and that would only make you more of a mess than you already were. You'd always known you'd meet him someday, of course, and you'd tried to prepare to that, but how could you have been prepared to this? What kind of soulmate had the audacity to show up at a wedding?

You shook your head. 'C'mon, y/n. This isn't his fault. He couldn't have known.' The world felt as if it was trying to close in on you, to corner you in a narrow space. You tilted your head up when you heard a knock on the door and your sister's soft voice. "Can I come in?"

"Yes." Talking was hard, as if your throat itself had been scalded by that coffee.

"How are you feeling?" Wanda asked.

You shot her an imploring look. "I'm a mess, Wanda, I have no idea why this is happening now. I can't tell Darren, of course, and he's going to wonder what is taking me so long and...oh lord. What am I gonna do about...that guy out there?"

"Steve is with him right now," she told you as she laid her hands on your shoulders. "Now that you're changed, we're gonna go back out there and act like nothing happened. Who knows if that Bucky guy even wants anything to do with you? This doesn't have to be bad for your marriage, alright? You two will maybe become friends, and that's it."

"You're right. Soulmates don't have to be romantic, right?"

"No, they don't."

"Alright," you said, escaping Wanda's arms as you turned back to the mirror, looking at yourself. You didn't look particularly freaked out, even though you absolutely were. "I can do this."

"That's the spirit. Shall we go now?"

After a long breath out, you nodded and followed your sister outside. When you came back to your husband, you couldn't help looking around the garden, trying to spot Steve and his friend, Bucky. You felt strangely drawn to him ; you wanted to get to know him as much as you wanted him to disappear.

"Are you okay, honey? You look upset."

Giving Darren a confused look, you arched a brow and laughed softly, hoping this would do. "Do I? Sorry. I'm just sad that my dress is ruined, that's all. No worries."

"Oh, good then. I'll go talk to Brad and the others from college, okay? You should say hello to them, too. It was nice of them to come."

"Sure, I'll just stay with Wanda and my family for a moment."

"Oh, you mean Steve and the others! Yeah, you do you." Darren shrugged then hopped towards his friends from college, whom you weren't so fond of and were glad you didn't have to talk to right away. Your sister touched your arm to grab your attention.

"Don't freak out," she said. "Steve's coming to us, with him."

Bracing yourself mentally, you turned around and gave Steve as big a smile you could. He was about to talk, but his friend was faster.

"I'm really sorry about that coffee, I got kicked by..."

"A ball, I saw it. It's okay." You laughed it off quietly, ignoring the troubling feeling in your stomach. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, well..." Bucky scratched his head and looked at Steve, as if looking for help with what to say next. Steve, being the good friend he is, decided to rescue both his best friends.

"Stained dress means happy marriage, doesn't it?"

"Actually, it's the bottom of the dress that has to be dirty, you know. Meaning the bride stayed up because the dress...sorry," Wanda quickly apologised, realising she wasn't helping with the awkward tone of the situation.

"Anyway," you said, "I'm happy to meet you, Bucky."

You held out your left hand as a sign of friendship or whatever. He hesitated for a second. As a left-handed person, you had the instinct to hold out your left arm and always forgot people were used to shake hands with their right arm. You corrected that mistake and when he ended up shaking your hand, you noticed he was wearing gloves.

"Aren't you a little hot in those gloves?" You asked as an attempt to make conversation.

"No, I'm fine, thanks." His tone, firm yet nice, made it clear he didn't want to be asked more questions about whatever reason would make him wear gloves in the middle of august.

"Steve, what about you tell the band to start the slow dancing music? It's time to start this dance."

You couldn't have been more thankful for Wanda at this moment. Steve nodded and went to the band whereas you walked towards Darren. He didn't notice you coming behind him and one of his friends made a comment about your change of wardrobe.

"You're not gonna open the dance in your wedding gown?" the woman asked stiffly.

"No, I had a wardrobe malfunction." You turned to Darren. "Are you coming?"

"Do we really have to do this now?"

"Yes, Darren. People are getting impatient. Now come and show them your moves," you teased before taking his hand and leading him to the dance space. Steve gave the band the heads up and soft, slow music started rising in the air.

"I asked them to play our song," you said. "You know, the one that played on our second date?"

Darren nodded and kissed your lips softly. "It's great," he whispered. "You do know I hate dancing, though."

"I know, but it's tradition... I told you I wanted to follow this one."

People weren't paying too much attention to what you were saying, but some – Steve in particular – could see you weren't enjoying this as much as you would've wanted. You rested your head on Darren's chest for the rest of the dance hoping he would give in to the music and dance in sync with you. Sadly, he didn't. When the song was over, he looked at you with the same loving look he always had, kissed you on the cheek and walked you back near Steve and Wanda. As you exchanged jokes and trivialities with your close friends, Darren stayed silent, only laughing when he felt like he had to and looking around..

"You can go with the others if you'd like," you whispered in his ear. "I can see you're not having a lot of fun here."

"It's not that... Yeah. Sorry, I just feel more myself with the others, more comfortable."

"It's okay, go." You joined a smile to your words so that he'd be sure of your sympathy, but it didn't seem to do much. You knew Darren was never into huge parties. Still, you'd hoped he'd make an effort for your wedding.

"So, y/n," Steve said. "Now that it's done, you still don't wanna run away?"

You scoffed and looked back at your husband. "No. I think he does, though."

"He'd be really stupid to do so," a voice said. It wasn't Steve or Wanda, so you looked on your side to see who was there. Bucky – who else did you expect? – was holding four flutes of champagne in his hands and held them out to the three of you. Steve tried to hide his wide eyes as fast as he could, but even he was surprised at Bucky's remark.

"You're right," he said, hopping on the conversation train to make it less awkward. "Who would leave a woman like you? Nonsense."

You couldn't help but smile at him. God, you felt better instantly. Bucky might've been a new presence, but so far, he seemed like a comfortable one. You suspected he'd been given the same talk by Steve than the one you were given by your sister, and you couldn't be happier to get to know him. After all, he was your soulmate, wasn't he? At least that's what the tattoo your lower back said, and you were willing to believe it.

---

Once again : feel free to give me notes on what you thought! See you for part 3 :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #falcon and winter solider series #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #captain america #captain america civil war #catws #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader

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tlou-1 · 3 years

Text

Joel Miller x Reader (Home) - Chapter 18

Chapter 18 - Joel pulls out all the stops for your second wedding anniversary (warning for smut and cuss words. There is also a bit of fluff)

Songs mentioned from The Dance 1997 Fleetwood Mac Album

The house felt quiet when you walked through the front door, you had just gotten back from an afternoon patrol and normally Bruce or Patrick would be at the door to meet you but nothing.

“Hello… anyone home?” You call out hanging up your jacket and kicking off your boots.

“Don’t move, just stay where you are” you heard Joel’s voice call from upstairs. His loud footsteps soon follow, a smile on his face. He places his hands over your eyes and leads you from behind into the living room. When he removes his hands you can see the room was lit with candles, fairy lights strewed across the ceiling, a blanket placed on the floor and the film projector usually used in the church hall was set up in place of the tv.

“Happy second anniversary” smiles Joel when you turn around to face him, you also have the largest smile on your face. You hadn’t been able to celebrate your first wedding anniversary together, you were pretty preoccupied with a four month old baby, but this completely and utterly made up for it.

You press a quick kiss on Joel’s cheek before saying, “I should really go get cleaned up from patrol first”. Joel had already thought about this and leads you upstairs to where he had drawn a bath, he added some more hot water whilst you removed your clothes. He turns to leave you once you have climbed into the tub but you reach out for his hand, the water dripping onto his. “And where do you think you’re going?” You chirp. Joel smirks, “Scoot” he begins removing his clothes and climbs in behind you, your head resting on his chest. His hands alternate between running through the end of your damp hair and running up and down your chest, grazing your breasts as he did, you shivered as he did it which made him chuckle. “How is anyone supposed to relax with you doing that” you sigh, you actually felt completely relaxed but you couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of Joel’s hand.

“I can’t help it” he whispers in your ear, “You know how much I love your breasts and every time I look down, they are staring me in the face”.

To toy with him you turn around to face him so as that he has a complete eye full, he rolls his head back and groans “Jesus woman” before pulling you in for a deep kiss. He trails him mouth and turns his attention to your exposed wet breasts, slowly licking and flicking your nipple with his tongue before wrapping his mouth completely around them. “We shouldn’t stay in here too long, you left the candles burning downstairs”. You can hear him huff, knowing you were right but there was the entire rest of the evening alone together.

You dried off and changed into a one of Joel’s flannels before meeting him in the living room where he had everything set up.

“So husband, what are we watching this evening?” You ask sitting down next to him on the blanket and picking up the wine he had poured for you both.

“Well it took a bit of searching but” he simply hit play and the film began. There was a roar of a crowd as the titles appeared, the bass of a kick drum started and a title appeared on screen, ‘The Dance, Fleetwood Mac, 1997’. Your head shoots from the screen to Joel who is smiling at you, “Is this real?” you ask and he responds with a nod. You had mentioned a few time that had only been to one concert in your life before the outbreak and it was a regret you had never seen more, you always wanted to Joel to sit and tell you about any music he had ever seen. You didn’t know a lot of Fleetwood Mac songs but that didn’t matter. You could see Joel tapping his foot to the beat of the song he called, “The Chain”.

One of the women began singing this song, “time cast a spell on you but you won’t forget me. I know I could have loved you but you wouldn’t let me”. You turn to Joel, “She looks in actual pain singing those words”. He goes on to explain the man across from her playing the guitar was who it was about, that they had been together but split up and continued to write and sing about each other in the band. “The sounds of my voice will haunt you. You will never get away from the sound of the woman who loved you” the women sang the words directly across to the man. “Jesus” was all you could say, “right?” Joel agreed. You had heard music but to see someone sing like that on stage, well it was incredible, it was an incredible gift that Joel had given to you.

The band start playing another song, this one you recognise. You get up on your feet, Joel Asks “What are you doing?” To which you respond by placing your hand out. He shakes his head and says “I ain’t dancing” before putting his hand in yours with a defeated sigh . He never could refuse you these rare requests. You both slowly sway to the sound of Dream playing in the background, you feel Joels slightly damp hair on the side of your face and inhale the clean smell. “God I get so scared sometimes” you whisper.

“What about?” He asks as you continue to dance, you hold him a little tighter as you answer “How much I love you, it can be terrifying. I literally feel tied to you, like there is a little string between us that is knotted to us both, tying us together”.

Joel shifts back slightly so he can place his hand under your chin to look up at him, he leans down and kisses you gently.

“I never in my life thought I would meet someone like you. I thank god every day for bringing me here and letting me love a woman who is so strong, kind and” he trails off “I have something for you”. Joel had already given you so much, even this evening had been beautiful, what more could he give you.

He opens a drawer and hands you a wooden sculpture. There is a large hand, it looked a like Joel’s and it was holding a woman figure, she held one child a her breast and another older child sat at her knees holding her hand. It was beautiful and so detailed.

“Joel this is” you cant even find the words, he puts his hand up to your face and smiles. He knew what you wanted to say, you kiss the palm of his hand.

Joel slowly takes the sculpture from your hand sitting it down and replaces it with his own hand to pull you in closer. His lips gently find yours, “I love you” he whispers against your lips which sends this wave of gentle peace over you. You take your time with each other, removing each piece of clothing one by one. Joel scoops you up and walks back to the sofa where he sits down with you hovering over the top of him. You can feel his cock stiff beneath you, grazing between your folds as you relaxed onto him. It made you wet and you couldn’t help but grind against it, both of you moaned in response.

Joel positioned himself and bucked his hips so he was inside you, “Oh Fuck” he cried out and his head fell forward resting against your breasts. You could feel him hitting the right spot as he got into a rhythm and when he used his hand to tend to you clit, well you were crying out for him at that point. He asked you to cum for him, “I want to come for me baby” and when you did he responded “yes that’s it. Do I make you feel good?”, all you could do was nod and pant. When Joel was close to edge your instinct was to pull him closer and deeper inside you, you collapsed on top of his shoulder when you felt him tense. You stayed like that with each other for a few minutes, just breathing against each other and him still inside you. “You better keep fucking me like that when we get to our 20 year anniversary” you murmur against his shoulder and you both laugh for a long time about the joke but he also promised he would.

You both are lying in bed a few hours later, you’re facing each other and Joel Asks what you are thinking about, “Nothing” you lie and ask what he is thinking about. “You” he smiles “and what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours”.

“I just - I just wonder how long it will take for her to forgive us. I miss her” you say trying to avoid Joel’s stare.

“I don’t know Y/N but at least she is here in Jackson and she is safe” he brushes his rough fingers up and down your arm.

You don’t know why but you ask “You won’t ever leave here?”.

“Never” he says seriously and follows with “I promised I am planning on making love to you and sleeping next to you in this bed until I am an old man”.

You don’t say anything for a moment and then whisper “But Joel darling… you already are an old man”.

“Why you cheeky -“ he laughs and begins to tickle at your sensitive spot above your hip, he makes good on his promise again that night.

#tlou #tlou part 2 #Joel Miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #The Last of Us #The Last of Us Part 2 #The Last of Us Part ii #tlou fanart #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction

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love-takes-work · 3 years

Text

Steven Universe: End of an Era: Outline & Review

I wrote this review in October but never got around to posting it here

Steven Universe: End of an Era is far more than an art book–it’s also a collection of behind-the-scenes material, stories about the experience of working on the show, planning documents and associated background info, and both older versions of developed concepts AND concepts that never made it into the show. It's a huge fusion of all those elements, and it's definitely an experience!

Some low-quality images are included with my review just to give you an idea of what’s there--it’s not a good substitute for getting your own copy, but here’s a tour!

Like the previous concept art book, Art and Origins, I'll be giving you a description of the structure and overview, while also collecting notable information for fans. Obviously just about everything is "notable" once again, but I'll aim for unique insight or perspective on the main source material, keeping the screaming about everything new to a minimum so you can also enjoy something for yourself if you pick it up. My low-quality photos should prevent people from feeling like I'm reproducing the book in any capacity. Please grab one while you can and have your own experience!

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

OVERVIEW

The book is titled "End of an Era" for a couple reasons--obviously because it is released after the show has wrapped, but also because Gem history recently ended its "Era 2" and began Era 3--an age of prosperity and peace. The author--the person in charge of adapting all of this information into this slick, readable package--is Chris McDonnell, whose work was previously applied on the Art and Origins book.

The foreword is by N.K. Jemisin, a well-known science fiction author who's a huge fan of the show (and wrote a really excellent series that also has a weird geological connection, by the way).

And the cover, like its predecessor, is shiny and decorated with a beach scene featuring minimalistic characters--this time it's the Gems at night in front of the Temple, and on the back cover is a big pink leg ship in a cross-legged pose.

The interior covers are decorated with tons of amazing sketches of Steven and Connie on the front, and a bunch of Gem sketches on the back. Every interior page that most would leave blank is highlighted with some kind of sketch art or character exercise--it's so much to look at, so much to absorb.

The book is dedicated "For Eddie."

Its organization is different from the previous book in that it shares applicable work in chunks associated with groups of episodes rather than pertaining to different aspects of building the show.

FOREWORD

N.K. Jemisin gives us such a great introduction to the book--apparently understanding very well that the audience of this book is full of animation enthusiasts and adult fans more than it is full of kids, and explaining that bewildering journey some adults had from blowing this show off as a silly kid thing to falling in love with it hard and fast.

The important thing, Jemisin says, is being able to trust a storyteller with your heart. And it was clear to her that Rebecca Sugar knew what she was talking about and was saying important things about identity and the radical power that comes with accepting it and demanding respect.

Important also is how we handle heroes and who gets to be one in fantasy. That's part of the reason Steven Universe speaks to so many--because we see ourselves here, and know stories can be about us. Acknowledging the power we all have to MAKE THINGS BETTER with what we fight for is so important--especially if we're going to speaking to the next generation about it.

Highlighting Rose Quartz as a "born leader" who failed and Steven as a relatable scamp who did what she couldn't, Jemisin asserts that we can save the world.

1. END OF AN ERA

We start with an appeal to the audience to think about identity and the formative parts of our childhood--and how different it is if who you are and who you become is restricted, mocked, erased, or Not Allowed. Most people, if not ALL people, can relate to this, but for those of us with a special relationship with Steven Universe because of queer identity, this hits hard.

But it doesn't have to be anything grand to be something we respect--this show's authenticity comes largely from how personal everything is, drawn from real-life experiences and incidental truths from each artist's perspective, leaning hard on childhood and formative experiences.

Rebecca Sugar offers some interview bits to discuss writing philosophy and why "writing female characters" was difficult for a nonbinary person who'd been socialized as a girl and a woman. Rebecca has spoken before about how frustrating it is that marketing for cartoons was SO gendered when she was growing up (and to some extent still is).

The Gems in the story are all "she/her," but on their planet they're defined by their work, not by emotion or relationships (unlike women in our society), so having them be socialized opposite to how she was and be able to claim those emotions through choice and NOT as just an expectation "as women" was revolutionary. Rebecca wants her show to tell all marginalized people that they don't deserve to be in the margins.

Weighing in on other aspects of the show were Ian Jones-Quartey, Joe Johnston, and Miki Brewster. Ian describes feeling like at first doing SU was a thrill ride that meant they'd finally get to do all the cool stuff, but it quickly became a responsibility that he took very seriously--the need to tell a good story now that he'd been given a megaphone.

Promotional art, planning documents, character sketches, and concept art from the lighthearted to the stone serious is included, along with some very cool (sort of famous) timeline charts that track major characters' developments. It's emphasized by Rebecca that the developmental materials ARE NOT CANON (and especially are not MORE canon) compared the final show.

There are concept sketches alongside final art for Aquamarine and Topaz in "Wanted" (with Topaz labeled "Imperial Topaz"), the Zircons in "The Trial," Blue and Yellow Diamond, and the Off Colors (including Pink Lars).

And there's also a spread of "the two sides of Steven's life: Gem Magic and Rock N Roll" featuring Sadie Killer and the Suspects (referred to as "Buck's band")--as well as a cool "Crew Cameos" key and some concepts for short-haired Connie.

And then there's some more "finished" art with stills alongside concepts, including some background art, revision, and really cool "fairytale" art from some of the shadowplay storytelling bits. We get "Lars of the Stars," "Jungle Moon," and "Can't Go Back."

2. THE BEGINNING OF THE END: A SINGLE PALE ROSE

In discussing the huge reveals and Gem mysteries in the show, the pacing is examined, and emphasis is put on the intended "slow burn." One of the most difficult things in the show was to strategize so that every piece that was needed to support another piece in the future was placed properly to seed what it was supposed to.

Some of the ideas they developed were more of a group effort and were fit together collaboratively (like Amethyst's being younger than the other Gems and Jasper being from Earth), while others were intended from the beginning based on Rebecca's vision (the fundamental idea of Pink Diamond's true identity, for instance, as well as Obsidian's design and sword and our Pearl not being Pink's first).

The writing process gets a great deep dive here, including fun tidbits like how the orb in the moon base was inserted by Joe Johnston and they literally had no idea what it was for when they wrote the episode. They repurposed it when they figured out what they needed.

Rebecca credits her detailed timelines for helping keep the order straight, and discusses how other artists are sometimes flabbergasted that a storyboard-driven show can have this much detail and continuity and yet not get wrecked by the free non-scripted boarding process. But Rebecca and the Crew valued that approach and loved the way fresh eyes would handle an idea, making it come back alive, entertaining, vivid.

Several Crew members weigh in on the writing process. Lauren Hecht refers to making lots of incorrect guesses despite being on the inside. Joe Johnston recalled getting briefed on his first day and getting so excited to start working on this massive project.

Miki Brewster remembered being told Rose Quartz is Pink Diamond and being shocked--and also confused about why Ruby and Sapphire would need to be married if they're already basically married. Drew Green talks about being brought in late and getting to watch unaired episodes and a rough of the movie while eating cereal.

Ian Jones-Quartey complains about Pink Diamond's real jester-like form being leaked to the internet through a Hot Topic shirt. Rebecca piggybacks on that and says it was upsetting that the wedding was leaked because of toy fair keychains featuring Ruby and Sapphire in wedding attire. They'd always be worried about leaks, and sometimes Rebecca struggled not to talk about the reality of Pink Diamond before the reveal because she knew it would make so much more sense once the truth was out. And everything associated with Rose makes more sense once you know she's Pink--especially what happened with Bismuth, considering what we know about how Pink Diamond has a habit of treating anyone who no longer serves her interests.

When it comes to visual cues, Rebecca also talks about intentional designs to create a feeling of unity between concepts, like the flower shapes on Pink Diamond's palanquin lining up with the poofs of Steven's hair and the star imagery of the series. Steven Sugar and Mary Nash discuss how the Human Zoo incorporated this imagery, trying to look like Homeworld with a Pink Diamond touch.

Steven Sugar, as a game nerd, liked to throw in video game references from old and modern stuff to feel like he's inserting what he's enjoying and who he is from moment to moment, while Mary Nash, who related to Sadie as a basement-dwelling young person with cult interests, liked to include stuff from MST3K and cult movies. Pearl's hand gestures get a spotlight too--her reflex to cover her mouth when Pink Diamond was being discussed was analyzed here.

A "Top Secret Visual Timeline" from 2016 is included which tells us some Diamond history. It has an earlier version of Pink Pearl's fate and does not include Spinel since the movie hadn't been greenlit. The timeline includes the birth of the Diamonds, the emergence and major story beats for each major character, and some philosophy of the driving force behind each.

We're told that Pink Diamond straightened up, behavior-wise, after she lost her first Pearl, and that Yellow and Blue wanted to give her a planet but White only agreed to it to prove she would fail at managing a colony. Pearl, meanwhile, is so confused to have a Diamond who keeps asking her what she thinks when she doesn't believe she should have opinions.

And when Pink moonlighted as Rose to start conflict, she found herself leading an army to fight Pink's troops--then Yellow's, and eventually Blue's too. Lapis is said to be waiting for the conflict to end on Earth so she can terraform, but she gets trapped instead.

Pearl's love story with Rose is described as "an endless honeymoon" where she's free to love her, while Rose's is more like "I'm now the head of the family and I'm going to give everyone what they never had, so everyone is super special!"

Jasper is described as "adopted" into Yellow's army as the only successful Beta Quartz. And White Diamond knew that Pink Diamond was not dead--she thought she was just running away from home like a brat and would eventually be back.

3. THE HEART OF THE CRYSTAL GEMS

Now we discuss Rose Quartz--the original Pink Diamond. How she was selfish and selfless, never enough and always too much, and how Greg was her first partner who "challenged her" to be an equal. Rebecca describes Rose as being delighted by the idea that both she and Greg reinvented themselves, but when that leads her to want to share her past, Greg isn't interested--he only wants to know who she is now, and doesn't consider the old her to be her.

Rebecca likes Carl Jung's concept of "enantiodromia," which is the idea that extremes lead to their extreme opposite. This is demonstrated in all of the Diamonds. This narrative is interspersed with drawings of Greg and Rose being cute.

But another "heart" of the Crystal Gems is its relationships--particularly, Garnet, the fairy tale romance embodied. More psychological theories are discussed with regard to differentiation in a relationship making the relationship stronger, and how they made sure that happened for Garnet during the appropriate arc. Rebecca has struggled with the idea that she, like Ruby, went straight from a "family" group to a living-with-others situation and never lived by herself. But she also learned that you can in fact develop as a person in the context of a relationship--you don't have to be alone to do it. Ruby learned that too, and chose on her own terms to be with Sapphire.

The wedding made so much sense to Rebecca and the crew that they couldn't imagine a wholesome couple like Ruby and Sapphire not having a wedding episode. They wanted it for years: The wedding concepts always included the tuxedo for Sapphire and the wedding dress for Ruby.

But pushback (often blamed on the conservative standards of the international market) led to negotiations trying to keep Ruby and Sapphire's relationship from being explicit. Rebecca and the Crew were very tired of this double standard, and they were especially irritated by attempts to claim a wedding wouldn't be well received by a core demographic or wouldn't make sense for Steven's character. But other shows had done weddings and Steven had been established to love weddings already.

Rebecca kept adding more elements to the wedding episode to answer all the concerns, but she didn't want to back down from explicit marriage between these characters. They deserved it. And the audience deserved to see this as wholesome, like any other cartoon wedding. Eventually they got their way and were allowed to have the wedding. But the ordered episodes were also coming to a close without promise of more, so Rebecca had to request more episodes to be able to wrap up the storyline!

And of course, there is Steven, the true heart of the team. A very interesting aside discusses Garnet's leadership and how the network pushed the Crewniverse to acknowledge Steven as the leader. This was successfully resisted throughout as well--because Garnet is the leader (unless she's incapacitated, of course). It's fantastic that this concept was preserved because too often a young male chosen one is elevated above people with more experience and knowledge because of that chosen one tradition, so it's really nice to have a show acknowledge that team leadership is more appropriate for an adult.

4. ERA 3

Beginning with a discussion of the Diamonds, this chapter deconstructs the dysfunctional "family" of the Diamonds (who are said to be based on tropes about evil stepmothers and stepsisters), with the thread of dysfunction originating with White Diamond.

Yellow is physical, Blue is emotional, White is judgmental, and Pink is impulsive. Some philosophy on why Pink is naturally manipulative and why she clashes so much with White is offered.

White believes her identity is to be imposed on all because she is the pinnacle of what should be--and therefore, she has the right to make decisions and statements about and on behalf of everyone. But her secret is that she can't do what the others do--act or feel or want. In trying to be everyone, she is no one.

And this becomes very important when she confronts Steven about his identity and turns out to be wrong. The triumph of Steven being totally, fully himself is a beautiful, simple revelation that's described as far more satisfying than the theories about Pink living inside him or Rose returning from his Gem.

Also discussed is Gem architecture. A lot went into this idea, and Steven Sugar weighs in to say he had to think of what it would mean for a world to have buildings but serve no human needs. That's why it's mostly focused on transport and storage. Even the broken planet is meant to indicate a place stripped for its resources, and everything serves a function that is meant to avoid looking like the human equivalents.

And there's another layer, too: a difference between Era 1 and Era 2. Era 2 became more functional to hide Era 1's broken bits, and older Homeworld buildings still have some "ornate and ancient" feel to them. And the fact that props, tools, and even walls and doors could be living was taken from a concept Rebecca thought was horrible from old Busby Berkeley movies, where people were inanimate objects and it was portrayed as lovely. Tom Herpich helped conceptualize these living objects.

Steven dealing with "princess tropes" is discussed here too. The Pebbles (worked on with Pendleton Ward) were sort of his Cinderella's mice, and all the locked-in-a-tower, having supportive tiny friends help you, getting princess clothes made, attending a ball, having to mind your manners stuff was intentionally related to fairy tales.

The point of doing that (besides fun) was to easily invoke the feeling that Steven was being made to be someone he's not, and that he was being treated like THIS is who he really is when it isn't. White Diamond as the "evil stepmother" is discussed with regard to her detailed features and massive scale. They generally didn't put fingernails and eyelashes on characters (especially not to indicate that they were women or girls!), but they decided White would get all of these feminine markers for tradition's sake.

Rebecca also invokes several other references that were included and describes the princess tropes as "chipping away at his integrity" setting him up for the final challenge with White.

There is again tons of concept art: Homeworld architecture, Pebbles, Diamond diagrams, background Jades and Lemon Jade Fusion, Comby, Diamond extraction chambers, and White Diamond.

5. CHANGE YOUR MIND

Now we finally begin to discuss Steven's identity. The "Perfect Steven," discussed in several interviews before this book's release, was an idea back in 2013; the "ultimate Steven," beefed up and shonen-looking, was far from perfect because OUR Steven is perfect, while this alpha hero Steven idea (used in Steven Universe Future) didn't belong being idolized in such a show.

They thought about having Steven fall apart into organic half and Gem half early in the show (during "Giant Woman" after a successful fusion and unfusion, even!), but they didn't try the concept until the last episode. They didn't want the "Pink" Steven to be portrayed as "better" even though he would be more powerful, so they decided he isn't whole without his organic self and he's just as much of a shell as the organic half. They absolutely did not want any ending that required Rose to be inside him or waiting to come back. But the debates were fierce--what DOES it mean to have Rose's Gem?

Ian Jones-Quartey brings in an anecdote about his own family to emphasize some of the immigrant themes that inspired aspects of the show. He had a brother who reinvented himself elsewhere away from family without resolving issues, and all the ramifications of that were explored in the show through Rose Quartz. (He is careful to say he doesn't think his immigrant experience is like being from another planet!) But he did say you can hurt your old family even if they were toxic or didn't know the real you, and you can hurt your new family by hiding your past. The Pizza family of course was also a more direct reference to Ian's Ghanaian family.

In talking about the new Fusions from this episode, Sunstone is largely described by Miki, who also got to board the Sunstone section. Sunstone was described as a cool 1990s character and the evolution just continued into making them a fourth-wall-breaking PSA dispenser. Obsidian is also discussed, with their sword being an early concept. Steven Sugar said they totally knew it would be forged in action. Obsidian being similar to the Temple design is of course another very early detail.

The story of how James Baxter got involved with one of the final scenes (Organic Steven and Pink Steven fusing in front of White Diamond) was shared. His family was fans of the show and Rebecca Sugar took the time to drive to a birthday party for his daughter and give her a drawing. He then owed her a favor, and this was it.

Concept art is again included, this time with sample boards, promo images, a Diamond fight concept, costume design changes for the Gems, new Fusions, the so-called "Mega Diamond" ship conglomerate, some scenes from the White Diamond confrontation, Pink Steven, multiple pages of James Baxter animation, corrupted Gems and their healed selves, and photos from the "Change Your Mind" premiere and some awards. The show has won one design-related Emmy, a Peabody Award, and a GLAAD award.

6. STEVEN UNIVERSE FUTURE

The book doesn't cover the movie because it got its own book, but dives right into Future. Ian Jones-Quartey emphasizes that the movie and Future are separate and different from the original show, which ENDED. After all, after that, Steven has a neck!

Some new names are invoked now: new writers Kate Tsang, Jack Pendarvis, and Taneka Stotts. They were excited to have Steven make HIS OWN mistakes instead of trying to clean up someone else's! Now, instead of doing the usual shonen anime thing and having the final battle be a big physical rumble, Steven has to make peace with himself and take an active role in coping with what all the fighting has done to him and what effect it's had on who he is (and who he wants to be). There is no sudden "I love myself!" answer, either. It's always a process.

Drew Green and Maya Petersen, who came on board as storyboarders officially in Future, also weighed in on writing for a "mature" show, how to deal with Steven being a "moral compass" while being sort of unreliable, and what they learned as Crew that they didn't know as fans. Drew didn't know Garnet never asks questions. Jack didn't realize the show never deviated from Steven's point of view. Taneka was nervous but excited to collaborate. Kate was worried about how established the show was and what to do as a new writer to contribute appropriately.

Maya was on the old Crew but not as a storyboarder, so felt like some of the "old" ideas ended up not being appropriate for the "new" Future in an embarrassing way--and dreaded the idea of dealing with Steven's emotional problems when they were similar to stuff she'd been through. She also was personally behind the idea of Steven wanting to dump his problems by becoming Stevonnie, and got to work with Etienne Guignard on inventing the Pearl creation backstory with Volleyball.

There's some discussion of "depression hobbies," stress, and the show's pacing. And they say Etienne was entertaining at pitches. There's even some discussion of how Greg is taken off a bit of a pedestal because his terrible restrictive life in the suburbs sounded wholesome to Steven and Greg presented it negatively.

And then there is some information about how the Crew felt behind the scenes due to fan reactions and negative press. Ian discusses feeling offended when the Black characters are described as bad examples, as if their cartoonized but realistic-in-context features are automatically caricatures.

Rebecca Sugar felt beaten down by some of these narratives and began to access mental health services, inspiring some of the content of "Mindful Education." A long reflection from Rebecca discusses people's infighting about her show and what she had a responsibility to show or not show in the story. She learned a lot about bullying from Cartoon Network's anti-bullying program and learned that bullies thrive on whatever attention you give them--unless it is made clear to them by a peer group that no one is impressed by their cruel actions. Also, not all negative feedback is bullying. Constructive criticism is different. Self-awareness can help you avoid internalizing what bullies might do or say to you.

Segueing from the discussion of how people are affected by and connect with the show, we then discuss how they chose as a team what should be covered as the show came to a close. They didn't have time to do quite a few stories they wanted time for, like a Rhodonite story, a Lars side story, and Diamond "prehistory" and religion; all of it was put aside for the main arc with Steven.

They thought people would find those stories about Homeworld and Off Color history very interesting, but so much of the show had been about Steven's Gem adventures, so keeping him mostly on Earth seemed appropriate. The acknowledgment of his battle damage, of his trauma, was necessary and real, and helpful in an important way to the core audience.

Oh, and there was some stuff about a cheeseburger tree. Don't ask.

In discussing the "reverse escapism" of the original show (Gem aliens are intrigued by everyday human culture, and realism is necessary), Rebecca says her views have changed on escapism and gets why some people want a soothing feel-better show. She acknowledged also that her own escapist dreams-come-true fulfilled in the show didn't feel like escapism because they were givens to the majority of mainstream culture, but were never guaranteed to marginalized people.

Rebecca ties in her several-times-told story about "Love Like You" and how the middle bit was when she didn't feel she was worth looking up to, and the realizations she had to tie the beginning to the end. Feeling like someone will like you less if they know you more is terrible. So sometimes a show like this can be helpful in telling people that they belong when their fantasies are things like "I want to be loved" and "I want to know I exist."

In Future, Steven has to connect to who he is and love that person--and understand that person enough to finally feel that even if he's not fixing their problems or saving their world right this second, Steven deserves his family's love and support, and they WANT to give it to him.

There's a huge amount of supplemental material in this section so there's no way I could name it all. The charts for Future's timeline are pretty straightforward, though a few episodes like "A Very Special Episode," "Why So Blue," "In Dreams," and "Bismuth Casual" aren't specifically represented and a couple are in a different order ("Prickly Pair" was conceived as happening after "Fragments" and "Homeworld Bound").

Steven feeling like a monster, having intrusive thoughts, having not forgiven the Diamonds, and getting help/moving on--it's all there.

We have keys, color scripts, and boards for the new opening and some various backgrounds and storyboard art from episodes. Model sheets for Shep, Nice Lapis and Mean Lapis, Jasper, Steven Tag Gems, Pink Steven Powers, Monster Steven. New house concepts, Era 3 Homeworld concept art for the Diamond environments, and background art for the Reef.

New Connie and Greg designs. Concepts for Mega Pearl, the Rose Quartzes, Bluebird, and Morganite (who didn't get used). And there are some photos from recording and the conference room. There are even some extras from "Crossover Nexus," the crossover with OK K.O.!--including an unused cut scene that included Ruby and Sapphire fighting. The rest of the book is a bunch of adorable Crewniverse art--extras, blog drawings, promos, and gifts to each other.

NOTABLE

The first timeline chart in the book features a cool sketch of the original Off Colors, which at the time this planning document was drafted included unused Off Colors Flint and Chert.

We knew of their existence already because of an episode of the podcast, but these two unexpectedly appeared as incidental characters in the Steven Universe Future episode "Homeworld Bound," identified only in the credits. Sad to think that instead of banding with the Off Colors, these two were probably shattered for their crime (being Quartzes who don't want to fight) and that's why we see them being repaired in this episode. Later, there's some brainstorming for types of Off Colors and "a Ruby that wants to wear limb enhancers" is mentioned as well.

It looks like there was also originally more juice to the story of tracking down the events of the war culminating in Pink Diamond's assassination.

One of the timelines talks about Steven thinking it makes sense that Pearl can't talk about her involvement because she might have been a double agent, explaining why Rose Quartz always knew what Pink Diamond was doing. It seems like that bit was supposed to be included in Garnet's version of the story she believed in "Your Mother and Mine." Seems like they originally conceived Garnet's story to inspire the Off Colors to become pirates and freedom fighters, though in the show's canon this storytelling happened after Lars had already reinvented himself the way he did.

Sadie was also supposed to be sending letters to Lars via Steven, which is funny since the "Letters to Lars" episode is just a montage Steven letter. And of course it's specified that Steven was supposed to get Pink Diamond flashbacks by going to the Palace on Homeworld.

The second chart in the book makes references to Sadie's reinvention of herself as a parallel to Lars, Greg, and Pink Diamond all doing the same thing, and how positive it is to embrace such a thing--a version of yourself that YOU create.

I love that Yellow Diamond's arm ship arm-wrestling the Cluster was always part of the plan.

There's some more explicit direction to have Connie help Steven understand the Diamonds as "strict parents," and a lot more emphasis on everyone realizing Rose had been inspired by THEM rather than them all following her.

White Diamond is presented here as if she thinks of Pink Diamond as a "daughter" (whom she now understands she has "lost"). There are notes on how the Diamonds have a responsibility to their children and should attend to it before just continuing to make more.

One of the concept art images for the Off Colors features Rhodonite crouching by Padparadscha saying "Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you." It's very interesting because she DOES seem to protect Padparadscha in the show, but doesn't seem confident about it in her final version, even though it does seem like she'd be "programmed" to guard aristocratic Gems because of her Ruby and Pearl makeup. Cool.

A "Crew Cameos" spread was included, which is of great interest to some of us who loved seeing the Crew insert themselves into the show. Not every SU Crew person who's been represented in a crowd was there, but this crowd included Amish Kumar, Kat Morris, Amanda Winterstein, Angie Wang, Lamar Abrams, Emily Walus, Mary Nash, Joe Johnston, Christy Cohen, Danny Cragg, Hilary Florido, Danny Hynes, Matt Burnett, Ben Levin, Elle Michalka.

The official national flower of South Korea, Hibiscus syriacus, is the name of Pink Diamond's flower.

One of Steven Sugar's comments about the silhouette difference between humans and Gems points out that humans have ears. This seems to be pretty good confirmation that they are not supposed to have ears, despite that sometimes we'll see ears drawn on them in some frames.

Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond is characterized in this book as "self-hating" in a really interesting way, saying that because she believed she was not capable of compassion, she practically worshiped those who demonstrated that ability and thought they were so much better than her--which is described as "intoxicating" and resulted in others being drawn to her. How interesting is that!

Timelines reveal that early plans for Pink Diamond's first Pearl originally had her getting destroyed by Pink during a game, and then her destruction was rewritten as a punishment from the Diamonds after Pink Pearl defended Pink Diamond to the other Diamonds. They went back to the idea of her getting hurt by Pink for the final version, though the cracked face and control by White Diamond was not on the agenda until they started writing "Change Your Mind."

10.

The approximate ages of the major characters, based on emergence, are revealed on these timelines. It begins with a cracked-planet-looking graphic depicting four tiny Diamonds emerging at 20,000 years ago. Some suspicious "blacked out" redacting surrounds a long timeline tail that goes back before that, which may mean there are secrets they still don't want to reveal. But the dates go like this:

20,000 years ago: The Diamonds emerge.

11,000 years ago: Pearl is custom-made for Pink Diamond.

8,000 years ago: Sapphire emerges (on Homeworld).

6,000 years ago: Ruby emerges (on a colony).

5,750 years ago: Garnet is formed.

5,600 years ago: Lapis is poofed and put in the mirror.

5,200 years ago: Jasper emerges (on Earth).

5,050 years ago: The Cluster is planted.

5,000 years ago: Amethyst emerges (on Earth).

4,500 years ago: The Crystal Gems found Amethyst.

3,000 years ago: Peridot emerges (on Homeworld).

40 years ago: Pearl found Lapis's mirror at the Galaxy Warp.

And of course we know 14 years ago Steven is born!

11.

Originally the Diamonds were based on a quartet of themes: Love, Fear, Pride, and Sorrow. It got too complicated to keep and it was abandoned, with Pink's identification of "love" being described as "particularly outdated."

12.

Notes on a sketch say that Pearl was inspired to become bold and unashamed because Pink's questions drove her to have opinions, and it's said that Rose "fell in love" with her boldness.

13.

Rebecca tells the story of driving off a ridge and getting stuck in the desert, comparing this to Ruby's tumble during her Wild West adventure and using it as inspiration. She's told this story before but here it is in print. She also included the story about using the flowers from a friend's wedding to put in Ruby's hair.

14.

Rebecca describes having to "fight" notes she was given when it had to do with Ruby and Sapphire's relationship. One she describes as NOT fighting was for a signing card depicting Ruby and Sapphire dancing. It was called "too romantic" and she decided not to worry about it since it wasn't the actual show content.

She was also scolded over her book The Answer because the powers that be expected her to downplay that relationship. She always argued that queer youth deserved these things.

15.

Tom Herpich describes being inspired to name Blue Diamond's comb "Comby" because he was watching the news about Comey getting fired from the FBI. It's also a mineral-related term and I always assumed that reference was intentional, but maybe it's not and this is the only intended significance to Comby's name?

16.

Rainbow Quartz 2.0's design is not discussed, though the other two new Fusions from "Change Your Mind" (Sunstone and Obsidian) were. RQ2 has some sketches included, but no accompanying narrative in the text.

17.

A sheet of corrupted Gems and their healed selves is offered, though it doesn't appear to be final. The obelisk in "Serious Steven" is labeled Albite. The unnamed Worm Monster, Desert Glass, and Watermelon Tourmaline are included. An unnamed birdlike Gem represents the Big Bird monster from "Giant Woman." The crab monster from "Arcade Mania" is labeled Blue Chalcedony. The Tongue Monster is drawn uncorrupted but not named. The Flower Monster from "Back to the Kindergarten" is labeled Grossular Diopside or Titanite. The invisible monster from "Island Adventure" is labeled Moonstone. The Lighthouse Gem is labeled White Topaz. A form for Larimar that was used in "Change Your Mind" but changed in Future is there. The Slinker is listed as Chrysocolla. And the Crab Monster is listed as Aventurine.

On the next page, this is changed to Bixbite (as it was in Steven Universe Future), and we then also have Lace Amethyst, Blue Lace Agate, Crazy Lace Agate (Fusion), Ocean Jasper, the Mother Centipeetle Nephrite (Facet 413 Cabochon 12) and three other Nephrites, Angel Aura Quartz, a hooded Jasper, Zebra Jasper, Biggs Jasper, Watermelon Tourmaline (labeled as Fusion of Gem * Onion--huh?), Snowflake Obsidian, "Little" Larimar, and Orange Spodumene (who was the Worm).

18.

The Rhodonite side story would have been about the love story of a Ruby and a Pearl working for Morganite. Images of Morganite and her servants, unfused, are in the book. We do not get this additional information, but Rebecca said in a panel shortly before the book's release that Rhodonite's story would have been about finding out that she had been Rejuvenated 17 times because her components kept falling in love and needing to be reset.

19.

Referring to the Diamonds on one of the charts, Steven's perspective is "I can't believe I helped these" and then there's a censor bar. Welp.

20.

Some included art by Hilary Florido features Kevin with a souped-up Koala Princess car and another where Kevin is staring at himself in the mirror in front of an altar to himself.

21.

Rebecca's sweater collection is included in the Crew art.

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

#steven universe #steven universe end of an era #su spoilers #long post #su merch #myblog

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echo-hiraeth · 3 years

Text

Newlyweds - Jack “Agent Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader [NSFW]

Summary: When Jack and y/n are assigned a mission that requires a cover, they are assigned the role of husband and wife. But the suave agent can’t contain himself any longer and doesn’t want to play pretend anymore.

Warnings: Swearing, violence, spice, NSFW 18+ only

Masterlist

This mission wasn’t at all what you’d expected it to be. Some crazed millionaire seeking world domination and infinite power wasn’t all that unusual to you, but the way you had to go about stopping him was different. So here you were, standing in the five-star-hotel’s lobby, dressed in clothes more expensive than your fucking car, your fellow agent’s arm slung across you waist. Champ had paired you together with agent Whiskey, his boosted ego already getting on your nerves.

“Ready doll?”, he whispered in your ear as you approached the counter.

“Just get it over with”, you mumbled, faking a smile as the woman behind the counter greeted you.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you today?”, she asked excitedly, tilting her head at the two of you.

Jack placed a hand on the counter, leaning against it. “My wife and I have a reservation, the name’s Brandy.”

The lady typed away on her keyboard. In the meantime Jack pressed a peck to your forehead, making you have to fight the urge to kick him in the nuts. “Ah yes, the honeymoon suite, ninth floor. Congratulations Mister and Missus Brandy! Here’s your key, your bags will be brought up shortly, please do feel free to call us if you need anything.”

“Thank you so much”, you cooed as you took the key from her hand.

The two of you headed towards the elevator, Jack’s hand comfortably resting on your lower back as you did so. As soon as the metal doors slipped closed you swatted his hand off of you. “No need to take advantage of the situation, Daniels”, you huffed.

“Oh come on sugar, we need to make it somewhat believable. We’ve been trying to get this guy for weeks and this is the closest we’ve gotten.”

You closed your eyes, trying to keep your mouth shut when the doors suddenly slipped open. He took your hand as he walked you down the hallway, nodding his head at a maid along the way.

When you reached the dark double doors to your sweet the two of you came to a halt. You slowly slipped the key into the lock, sucking in a breath when the doors opened to reveal a gorgeous and luxurious loft. Jack slowly closed the door while you had a look for yourself.

There was a small dining area connected to a tiny kitchen with a see-through fridge filled with alcoholic beverages. To your left you found a bathroom consisting of a lavish walk-in shower and the other facilities you’d expect to find there. The bedroom was gorgeous, the huge bed stood in the middle, directly under the mirrors that found themselves on the ceiling. You ran your hand over the silky bedsheets, the sheer softness of them sending a shiver throughout your being. In the corner of a room stood a luxurious hot tub, the windows behind it looking out over the city. On the other side of the bedroom you spotted a lounging area and huge television. This place was fancy as fuck.

A knock at the door startled you as you were drawn from you inner thoughts. You watched as your pretend-husband opened it, helping the staff member haul your bags inside.

“Mister Brandy, if you’d let me”, he spoke, rolling a tray filled with desserts and champagne into the room. “It is our great pleasure to have you and your wife with us to celebrate something so special.”

“Pleasure’s all ours, thank you”, he ensured the man, smiling as he slipped him a hundred dollar bill.

The member of staff left without another words, leaving the two of you alone once again. “Well dearest wife, care for a toast?”, Jack taunted as he winked at you.

“I could do with a glass”, you chuckled as you sat down on the edge of the bed.

He popped the cork off, elegantly pouring two glasses before walking over to you. A smirk set on his lips as he handed you the glass, softly skimming his fingers across yours. The two of you clinked your glasses together before each taking a sip, his eyes focused on you the entire time.

You’d worked some cases with him before and were not to keen on working with him again. He always drove you crazy, the flirting and small touches made your mind wander to places really not appropriate for work. Jack was known to be flirtatious, you were well aware, but it was getting harder and harder for you to resist his attempts and caring gestures. Having to play his wife for the week surely wasn’t helping. The continuous strokes and embraces drove you more insane than he ever had.

“You need to get changed, event starts in less than an hour.” You looked up at him to find him already staring back at you, tilting his head in confusion. “You okay, doll?”

“Uh – yeah, was just thinking about how I’m going to get to him later”, you lied, getting up off the bed and carrying one of your suitcases to the bed.

“Intel is not sure he’ll be there tonight, but some of his people should. Just try to get around and talk to as many people as you need. It is absolutely crucial we find out his location tonight, Tequila will be on stake-out outside”, he informed while you slowly pulled a black bag out of your suitcase.

When you zipped it open it revealed a long, revealing, satin, maroon dress. You chuckled nervously upon seeing the thigh-slit. “I thought we were supposed to blend in.”

“You take the bathroom first, I’ll freshen up after you”, he instructed, handing you a small bag filled with toiletries.

The moment you left that bathroom all dressed up, was the moment Jack’s heart stopped. He felt the palpitations with every step you took, your heels clicking in time with the thumps in his chest. He cleared his throat, quickly disappearing into the bathroom to finish up as well. It wasn’t like him to lose his composure like that, he just didn’t expect you to look that sexy. The agent splashed some cold water on his face, patting it dry with a hand towel right after, not wanting to get his suit wet. He’d had his eye on you for quite a while now but had tried to keep things professional. The risks that came with being a Statesman weren’t minimal and even though you were a strong woman, he couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. He decided to make the most of your fake marriage, seeing how he thought you had no interest in him like that whatsoever.

He calmy left the bathroom, telling you that it was time to go. You’d just finished strapping your gun to your upper right thigh, asking him if it was hidden alright. He nodded, urging you to follow him. The elevator ride was silent, awkwardly silent.

“You’re looking really dapper tonight, Daniels”, you started.

He scoffed, looking at you. “I look like a glorified hillbilly next to you… You look stunning, doll.”

You blushed a bit at that, taking his hand in your as you reached you designated floor. When you entered the banquet hall you felt overwhelmed by all the people and flashing lights, the jazz music a pleasant mitigator as Jack leaned over to you.

“See that lounge up the stairs, they’re with him, that’s where we need to go”, his breath was hot against your neck as he spoke, trying to avoid any further suspicion by kissing you there. “Our informant will introduce us to them and then it’s all us from there.” He pressed a peck to your cheek before breaking apart, dragging you through the crowd.

“Ah! The newlyweds!”, you informant laughed, engulfing the both of you in a hug. “If I may say”, he continued, grabbing a hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips and swiping his tongue across the wedding band, “you look amazing Miss.”

“Missus”, Jack corrected him, wrapping a protective arm around you.

The informant smirked, encouraging you to follow him. You got into the small lounging space without a problem, a waiter offering the three of you a drink, which Jack gratefully accepted.

“Emilio! Come meet my friends!”, your informant yelled, a scrawny-looking man walking over to the three of you. “These are the Brandy’s, the banker and his wife I told you about.”

“Ah yes, I remember you telling me about them. Forgive me, but your names seem to have slipped my mind”, Emilio smirked, shaking hands with the two of you.

“John Brandy, and this is my wife Leah, pleasure to meet you”, Jack grinned, his grip around your waist tightening ever so slightly.

“Leah, let me introduce you to my wives, by all means, join them for some games. I think me and your husband have some business to attend to”, the man suggested, though it sounded more like an order.

“Gladly, I’ll let the big boys get to work”, you taunted, not feeling to happy with the man’s derogatory attitude.

Jack smiled at you, proud at your daring character. He pressed a tender kiss to your lips before winking and walking away with the man, leaving you breathless. What. The. Fuck.

You quickly waved the thought and lingering burn of it away and you joined the women on the leather couches. While Jack was off talking with the righthand of your culprit, you worked on getting some information out of the girls. Your newly assigned mission become more and more successful with every drink the girls downed, their integrity and sworn secrecy decreasing with every sweet drop of liquor. Not to come off as suspicious, you drank along with them as well, or so it seemed, you kept dumping your glass into another girl’s, which went by unnoticed every time. You pretended to be just as drunk as them, giggling and flailing your arms as you spoke.

When Jack came back he wore a proud smile on his face until he spotted you. An adoring smile tugging at his lips. “Okay, okay, looks like someone’s done drinking for the night”, he chuckled as he took the glass from your hands.

You whined in response, making a bit of a fuss, as a drunk person might. He supported your weight as you slumped against him, Emilio and the informant giving Jack a knowing grin. “Take care of that one, Brandy. You’re lucky you found her before I did.”

He balled his hand in a fast, forcing a smile and nodding his head at them as he helped you to the exit. You were giggling and telling the wildest story as he pressed the elevator button. As soon as you stepped inside and the doors closed you stood up straight, sighing to yourself.

“Quite the performance y/l/n”, Jack joked.

“Why thank you agent Whiskey.”

Jack filled you and Tequila (over the earpiece) in about his newly acquired information, as did you.

“So he’s on the same floor? Just untouchable?”, Tequila questioned.

“Until tomorrow. I scored a meeting with him, though I doubt it’ll be any good, the guy’s got a whole army up there”, Jack replied, loosening up his tie.

“We’ll go from there, we did the best we could for tonight”, you said, bent down to take your heels off.

“She’s right, talk tomorrow Tequila”, Jack mumbled as the elevator dinged, signalling you’d reached your desired floor.

Another loaded silence filled the room as the two of you sat down on the couches. Jack was trying to keep himself from jumping you, your dress making it nearly impossible for him to think.

“You’re thinking too loud”, you joked, lifting up your dress to unstrap your gun from your thigh.

His eyes followed your every movement and lingered on the exposed flesh, his hardening length pressing against the fabric of his pants. “Sugar, I’m gonna need you to get changed.”

You raised your brow in confusion until you laid eyes on him. His hands were balled into fists on the armrests, eyes screwed shot, chest raising and falling with laboured breaths. A devilish smirk appeared on your face as you went to stand. “What’s wrong cowboy, thought you could deal with some heat?”

“Stop”, he warned, lustful eyes burning into yours.

“I don’t know, I quite enjoy seeing you so… desperate.”

And there it was, with a swift tug on your lower arm he pulled you on top of him. Faces only inches apart. His hand hovered over your exposed back, suddenly pushing you into him, hungry lips devouring yours. You let out a moan as his tongue swiped across your plump lips, keenly allowing him entrance. His tongue stroked yours lovingly, his hands wandering over your body through your dress.

He picked you up, bringing you over to the bed and dragged the zipper on your side down as he gently laid you flat on your back. “As much as I love this little number on you, I’d much prefer to have it on the ground right about now.”

“By all means Mister Brandy, do what you must”, you purred as you pushed his jacket over his broad shoulders. A grunt sounded form his chest as he lifted the satin fabric over your head, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lacey thongs.

“Fuck doll, you look amazing. I’ve been dreaming of this”, he mused, hurriedly opening the buttons of his dress shirt, letting it cascade onto the hardwood floors.

You tugged on his belt as he kissed along your collarbones, hands cupping your naked breasts ever so gently. When the buckle gave way you opened the button, pushing his pants down his ass, further sliding them down with your feet, until they also hit the floor.

He softly caressed your cheekbone as he hummed: “Are you sure you want to do this?”

You smirked before rolling him over, smoothly climbing on top of him, straddling his waist. “What’s wrong Jack? Nervous?”, you taunted, softly sucking on the skin of his neck.

The man groaned, roughly grabbing your ass with one hand while the other brought your face back up to his. “I’m not sure I can keep things professional if we do this.”

Your lips slowly covered his again, as you started slowly moving back and forth against his crotch. His tongue became more needy and fervent, his body aching with anticipation. “As if they every were in the first place. I can’t stop thinking about you either”, you uttered, cupping his bulge through his boxers while leaning down to catch his lips in another searing kiss.

He grabbed onto your hips as you dragged his underwear down, encouraging you to just get on with it already. With his boxers halfway down his thighs and your thongs hastily shoved to the side, you slowly sunk down on his erection. You closed your eyes and threw your head back as you slowly took in every inch of him. He grunted from the sensation and divine sight in front of him, his hands coming up the squeeze your breasts, making you gasp. You slowly started moving your hips when suddenly you heard a familiar voice coming from the hallway. Jack was groaning beneath you, eyes closed and blissfully unaware. You quickly covered his mouth with your hand, stilling your movements as you focused on the noises outside.

“Fuck, that’s him”, you cursed as you got off of him, slipping his shirt on before grabbing your gun.

Jack watched you, visibly confused. “Darlin’, I’m gonna need an explanation here”, he chuckled as he watched you, putting his boxers back on.

You quietly opened the door, motioning for him to shut up as well. Your suspicions were confirmed as you saw your target right down the hallway. Without a doubt, you screwed the silencer onto the barrel of your fun. Jack promptly came up behind you, electric lasso in hand. The two of you shared a knowing look before you stepped out into the hallway, barely covered up.

With two shots his bodyguards were taken care of and within seconds your target was trapped within the grip of Jack’s lasso. You walked up to him, expertly catching the cuffs Jack tossed over to you before fastening them around the man’s wrists.

“Did I interrupt something important here?”, the culprit joked, eyes locked on your barely covered form.

“Where the hell are your manners?”, Jack let out, carelessly knocking the man out. “Don’t you ever disrespect a lady like that.”

You wore a confident smile, hands on your hips as you locked eyes with him. “Tequila will be up in a second, how about you and I get back to that suite?”

“Who am I to deny my wife on the night of her honeymoon.”

He swept you off your feet, carrying you back into the room and kicking the door shut.

“You wish cowboy”, you laughed, slipping off the wedding band.

“Keep that on doll, it suits you”, he uttered, pressing a fiery kiss to your mouth.

“Maybe one day when you give me one yourself.”

#pedro pascal #agent whiskey #jack daniels #kingsman #statesman #imagine

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

Text

When the World is Free

“There'll be love and laughter, And peace ever after, Tomorrow, When the world is free.” — The White Cliffs of Dover, Vera Lynn, 1942

The world is free again, the war has ended, life starting anew. But for Claire, it’s all over. Jamie’s plane was shot down, leaving her pregnant out of wedlock with nowhere to go. But John made Jamie a promise in their bleakest moments, and he intends to live up to it.

An Echo/MOBY retelling set post-World War II.

Chapter 1: Carry Me, Carry Me Now

Read on AO3

It was a marriage of convenience for them both.

John’s bride was quite well aware of his sensibilities, his preference for the non-female sex. And he was quite well aware of the precariousness of her situation. The tragedy of it as well.

Even if he could forget, it would have been impossible. She was constantly twisting the silver engagement ring she’d been given, constantly resting her hands on her stomach, whether she realized she was doing it or not.

Perhaps the bloke signing their marriage license at the courthouse noticed as well, because he smirked at John with a raised eyebrow when she stroked her flat abdomen for perhaps the millionth time since they’d arrived. John had pursed his lips together for an uncomfortable smile. His assumptions weren’t incorrect, of course, but there were many pieces missing.

The child, for one, still invisible and yet still so enormous in its mother’s heart already, was not John’s. And neither was the ring that lived on her right hand, something he would never ask her to remove.

The wedding band on her left hand seemed to weigh her down, like a ball and chain pulling her deeper into the black depths of her sorrow.

He drove them home from the courthouse to his flat, or rather their flat. He should start referring to it as such. It was her home now, after all. Their home, the three of them.

Well…four of us, really.

He hung between them like a thick cloud of smoke, solid as a brick wall, at all times. They didn’t speak of it aloud; they didn’t need to. He lived in these rooms rent-free without even needing his name spoken into existence.

John knew that the man who was gone had been the love of her life, her one great love.

And John knew that he was his as well.

He’d confessed it in the black of night, half-buried by rubble when he was sure he would die. They’d gone through basic training together, becoming good friends almost instantly. He’d defended John’s honor when the teasing started; he told him that John was more manly than those other clotheids would ever be. John kept those words, and the gentle touch of his hand that came with them, close to his heart.

“I love you, James Fraser. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone in my life.”

Unfortunately, he hadn’t died.

John had recovered rather quickly from his injuries and proceeded to avoid Jamie at all costs. Jamie was angry as a bull when he’d finally confronted him.

“D’ye think I give a damn, John? D’ye think it’s ever made a difference to me before? I bloody knew before ye said something, ye damned fool.”

John hadn’t realized he’d been that obvious.

“I’m only sorry that I canna be what ye want me to be, a charaid.”

Jamie held him while he cried, and if he hadn’t been mad, he could have sworn he felt Jamie’s tears soak into his hair as well.

Sitting at the kitchen table in his flat across from his new bride, John teared up at the mere memory.

He’d been so ashamed…and Jamie hadn’t given a damn. He was actually sorry that he couldn't return his affection. Instead of John’s confession wrenching them apart as he’d been so terrified of, it brought them even closer.

He watched his bride stare into her teacup as the liquid inside quickly chilled in the November air.

“Are you cold? Should I put on a fire?”

Her hands remained fastened around the teacup and her eyes remained locked inside it as she nodded silently.

God, she had changed.

The first time he’d laid eyes on her was only in a photograph, and even then he’d been astonished by her beauty.

“This is her,” Jamie said as he produced the small photograph that he kept in an inside breast pocket at all times, his face melting into an adoring gaze that took John’s breath away. “My Sorcha.”

She was giving the camera a smirk, eyes sparkling even in black and white, wild dark curls blowing in the wind.

She looked so alive, and that was just a photograph.

When he’d finally seen her in person, he understood quite well why his friend was so drawn to her. She was exquisite, even in her combat nurse uniform. She was radiant, so full of love and life. Her eyes were liquid honey and solid amber all at once. When she laughed, she tossed her head back and smacked whoever was closest, usually Jamie.

If they were beautiful apart…they were a glorious masterpiece together.

Even in the dirt and smoky haze of the camp, when John looked at the pair of them, he could have been looking at a painting. The rest of the world fell away when Jamie had his Claire back in his arms.

It was the most beautiful thing John had ever seen.

A woman was a rare thing in camp, being that most men met their wives elsewhere when they were on leave. But Claire had to be on leave as well if she wanted to see Jamie, and being that they were not yet married, the army wouldn't be bothered lining up their leaves.

And so they’d followed each other. They’d travelled from one battlefield to another, from one hellscape to the next just to be with one another. Even during what was meant to be a reprieve, Claire could be found tending to all sorts of illness and injury around the camp, Jamie trailing beside her like a lost puppy.

Jamie had told John they’d been handfast the night he’d been drafted, an old Scottish tradition that allowed young couples to be married in every sense of the word except in the eyes of the law. There hadn’t been time for a wedding before he was to leave, so that was the best they could do. What mattered to Jamie most was their marriage being seen by the eyes of God, and handfasting accomplished that to his liking. And so for all intents and purposes, Jamie and Claire were married. John could hear it quite well when she was in camp; she was not exactly very quiet about it.

When John returned from starting a fire in the hearth with the intention of leading her into the room to warm herself, she’d replaced her teacup with a glass of whisky and was tossing the entire thing back. She topped her glass off again and then filled a second one. She handed it to him with a sardonic smile, her eyes hooded. There was no trace of that lively youth she’d had when he met her.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said warmly. “The fire is ready, if you’d like to move.”

“Thank you, John.” She stood up and made her way out of the kitchen, taking the bottle with her. Apparently, his bride did not intend to remain sober today. He wondered if she thought that he was going to force her to consummate this marriage, which was just about the last thing on his mind. She should know that he was more than capable of pretending for everyone else, but perhaps he should make himself clear.

“Claire,” he began as they settled into opposite armchairs in front of the fireplace. “You know that I don’t plan to — ”

“Jamie said he kissed you.”

John felt like he’d been smacked in the face with a frying pan. He cleared his throat.

“I beg your pardon?”

“He said that you shared a moment together, and that he kissed you.”

She was staring at him intently, but she didn’t look angry or accusatory. If anything, she seemed possessed by nothing more than morbid curiosity.

“Well…yes. That’s true.”

“We kept secrets, but we didn’t lie,” she said softly, taking a sip of her whisky. “I saw the way you looked at him from the very first time I met you.”

“I’m sorry — ”

“Please don’t be.” Her eyes held such sincerity that he almost wept as he had when Jamie had said just about the same thing. “I just…I wanted to know. That…that last night. The night that we…conceived.” Her hand rested absently on her abdomen again. “I asked him if anything had ever happened. And he told me you shared a kiss.”

“It…didn’t go any farther than that. I wouldn’t have let it, even if he wished it.”

“I know,” she said, taking another sip. “I wasn’t angry. I’m still not. I understand the need for that intimacy in such a hopeless place. And I understand that you…you were very close.” Her voice tightened, and she swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “I was glad, really. I was grateful to you for being there for him when I couldn’t.”

John didn’t know what to say. He nodded curtly and took a long drag of his whisky.

“What did it feel like?”

He almost choked on the liquid.

“I know it sounds mad. But I…I want to hear you talk about it.” Her chin trembled, but she maintained her strong facade. “I want to hear because I…I want to remember with someone. What it was like to…to love him.”

John blinked back his own tears and ran a hand down the length of his face. He needed a bit more liquid courage before he dove into the details of how Jamie tasted and how he felt beneath his hands. Claire seemed to understand, because she allowed a long silence to pass between them before John finally spoke.

He poured his heart out to her, detailed the feel of Jamie’s lips like he was dictating poetry, described the way Jamie’s short-cut curls felt between his fingers, recalling the way he smelled.

“Like...silver from the gunpowder...but he also smelled vaguely of...aftershave. I remember wondering how on earth he’d come into possession of such a thing. I breathed it in so deeply it made me dizzy.” He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, and he could swear he smelt it again.

“And then the rest of the world fell away...even the gunpowder and the smoke...and I just smelt...him.” Eyes still closed, his tongue farted out to lick his lips. He’d wanted so desperately to run his tongue over Jamie’s lips, but he’d been afraid, paralyzed with shock that it was even happening.

“I was so overwhelmed by the...the feeling of him. His lips were so warm and so solid and so timid...and it was over so quickly, but I...” He opened his eyes, blinking back tears. “I saw an...an entire lifetime between us in that kiss. I wanted to...to fold myself into him and stay there forever.” His voice broke, and he anxiously ran a hand through his hair.

He could almost see the man right in front of him again, could almost feel him warm and alive in his hands again; he could feel the shuddering whisper of whisky breath on his lips and chin and nose, and he brought trembling fingers to rest over his mouth, as if to trap the feeling there. He looked up, seeing the real world again for the first time in several breaths, and his heart leapt into his throat to see that Claire was shuddering with silent tears.

“Claire…” he choked out, leaning onto his knees with his elbows, terrified that he’d gone too far. “I’m…I’m sorry…”

She shook her head, putting down her whisky on the table beside her chair. “That’s…that’s exactly it.”

He blinked dumbly at her, and she abruptly leaned forward with a tiny sob, clasping his hands in hers.

“That’s exactly what it felt like,” she said, something in her eyes that was almost desperate. “Thank you…thank you.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to their joined hands, hot and soft and wet. She kept her face atop their hands in John’s lap, and she fell apart. It wasn’t long before she slipped out of her own chair and was kneeling before him, sputtering hysterically into his lap, squeezing his hands until her knuckles were white.

John was stunned, but he did the only thing he could do: he gave her comfort. He stroked her hair as she wept, rubbed her back, squeezed back on her hands. Somehow, he ended up on the floor with her, leaning against the seat of the chair and holding her trembling form to his chest. His own tears dissolved into her curls, and soon he was holding onto her for dear life as well.

“We are the only two people in the world who share this pain,” Claire said against his neck, her voice thick with hours of tears. “This pain…of losing Jamie.”

John nodded fervently, tightening his grip on her tiny body yet again.

“We’ll carry it…together,” John whispered into her hair, and then pressed a kiss there. He felt her nod into the crook of his neck and nuzzled in closer.

More and more hours passed, and more and more whisky emptied from the bottle, and then a second bottle, and then a third. It was well past suppertime, but neither were capable of preparing anything to eat in the state they were in, and their empty stomachs only served to send the alcohol straight to their already muddled brains.

They spent hours going back and forth talking about the mutual love of their lives, weeping and clinging to each other, and then they would laugh their drunken heads off, Claire swatting at him as she howled.

John had loosened the top buttons of his shirt and removed his belt, and Claire had undone the top buttons of her dress as well.

“God…I’m melting…” Claire sighed, pulling her dress over her head and revealing the tiny white slip underneath. “You don’t mind?”

John burst into hysterical laughter, and Claire soon followed.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” Claire sputtered. “Of course you don’t bloody mind. I could be stark naked and you wouldn’t bat an eye!”

They howled again, and she swatted at him.

“Not to mention I’m bloody married to you!”

They howled a bit more until Claire had spilled her whisky onto the rug and fell over into John’s lap.

“I think we should get you into bed, my dear.”

She giggled, biting her lip, and John was briefly mesmerized by the way a blush bloomed down her neck and into her chest. He heaved her to her feet, and they laughed together as they both swayed their way into the bedroom.

“You’re going to have quite the hangover tomorrow.” John was attempting to make more lighthearted conversation, but as he looked down at the woman in his arms, he was taken aback to see something he could only describe as hunger in her eyes.

“Would you…” He struggled to think through his drunken haze. “Would you like a nightgown, my dear?”

He made to pull away from her and go to the wardrobe, but she fisted his shirt in her hands, not ready to release him. She pressed her face into his neck and hummed, vibrating the skin there, and it gave him gooseflesh.

“Claire…” His tone could have been a warning, or pleading. He wasn’t at all sure.

Her small tongue darted out of her mouth and traced a line from the bottom of his neck all the way up to where his jawline began, and he shuddered violently. She giggled all the while her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, creating a lusty, wanton sound.

John gently took her face in his hands and pushed her away just enough to look in her eyes. They were hooded with drink and glassy as a porcelain doll’s. He thought he detected the slightest bit of fear, and it broke his heart.

“It’s alright. We don’t…we don’t have to.” He gently took her hands off of his chest and held them loosely between them. “I didn’t expect you to. We don’t have to.”

She gave a heartbreaking little whimper and began nuzzling her face into his chest, practically leaning her entire body weight on him. “Please.”

He didn’t think he’d heard her properly at first.

“Really, we can just…go to bed. On separate sides.”

“Please.”

It was almost a moan in its intensity. She began pawing at his clothing, pressing desperate kisses into his neck.

“I need you,” she groaned. “I need this. I need you, Jamie.”

His blood ran cold, and it would appear hers did as well by the way she froze completely. She practically went cool to the touch.

“Claire.”

He firmly took her chin between his fingers and forced her to look at him.

“I’m not Jamie.”

She could hardly stand on her own, could hardly focus her bleary eyes on him.

“I’m not Jamie,” he said again, more gently, moving his hand off her chin to cup the back of her head. “I can’t…I won’t have you like this. You’re drunk and…you’re not thinking clearly.”

She welled up with tears, looking very much like a wounded animal in response to his apparent rejection.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I know how much you’re hurting.”

God, did he know it.

“And you know that I…well…you know me.” He didn’t feel the need to speak it aloud again.

“You want to,” she sputtered. “I can feel it.”

She very suddenly and very firmly palmed him, causing him to jolt. And damn him, she was right. For some reason, some ungodly, horrific reason, he was aroused.

“It’s…it’s not you, Claire,” he said softly after regaining his composure, though he made no move to remove her hand. “It’s…it’s him. I’m standing here wishing it was his hand.”

“Good.” She tightened her grip, and he groaned involuntarily. “Because I’m standing here wishing it was his cock.”

She kissed him then, sloppily, heavily, lapping her tongue over him.

“Make love to Jamie, John,” she panted between kisses. “You make love to him, and so will I.”

“It’s not…it isn’t right.” He firmly seized her wrist and removed her grip from him, pinning her hands away from him.

Hands or no, Claire was never one to give up. When she wanted something, she would get it, consequences be damned.

She began gyrating her hips against him, and God help him if it didn’t make him even harder. It wasn’t long before he released her hands and finally surrendered to her, allowing her to pin him to the bed and have her way with him. He could have stopped her if he’d truly wanted. He could have tossed a bucket of water over her, given her a light but firm smack, shouted at her, gone to sleep in the living room. But, God…he wanted this, needed this as badly as she did.

He reached out and sought purchase in her skin as she rode him, soft in all the places where Jamie was solid. She was wild, a mad look in her eye as she tossed her head back in delicious ecstasy, and yet she was entirely lucid, he was sure of it. Perhaps the moments leading up to their joining were hazy, but now she was more than aware.

Her hands were all over him as well, small and yet hard and demanding. She even gripped his hands at one point and directed them exactly where she wanted to be touched.

She cried out for Jamie as she came around him, and God help him if he didn’t do the same as he spilled into her.

It was filthy, it was shameful, and he was disgusted and confused and terrified.

But when she collapsed onto his chest and wept like a broken child, everything faded but the need to comfort her, to protect her.

“I need ye to promise me something, John.”

“Anything.”

“If anything should happen to me…”

“God, Jamie, please don’t talk like this.”

“Ye said anything, man. I need ye to mean it.”

He looked into those steel blue eyes, his pupils shrunken to tiny pinpricks. John nodded, though his heart hammered with terrible foreboding.

“If anything should happen to me…I need…I need ye to promise me that ye’ll look after Claire.”

John took a moment to blink back his shock.

“I ken she’s strong as a stallion and stubborn as a mule. She’d have ye think that she doesna need any help. Truth be told, I ken she doesna. But just…fer my peace of mind. Will ye swear to me that ye’ll look after her?”

John swallowed thickly, unable to stop the rush of tears.

“She means more to me than anything in this world. And I’m entrusting her to ye, my dearest friend. And in return, if ye want…I would be willing to…”

John's eyes widened, unblinking.

“If ye want.”

John’s mouth hung agape, and he stammered incoherently for a moment.

“Are you actually offering your body to me in payment if I promise to look after Claire?”

Jamie’s jaw hardened, and he nodded once. “Aye.”

“Dear God…” John shook his head, and he actually started laughing. “That I should live to hear such an offer!”

Jamie blinked rapidly, and John could have sworn he saw tears gathering there. “Ye dinna want me then?”

“I shall probably want you ’til the day I die!” John exclaimed, and then lowered his voice to a whisper, remembering that tents were thin, flimsy things. “But tempted as I am…do you really think I’d accept? I should feel my honor most insulted, save that I know the depth of feeling that prompted it.”

Jamie wet his lips and nodded, averting his eyes and staring at a stain in the tent. “Aye. I’m…I’m sorry. I didna mean tae insult yer honor. I just…I thought to…to give ye something of what is most precious to ye in return for protecting that which is most precious to me.”

John placed a comforting hand on Jamie’s knee, desperate for his friend to not feel ashamed. “I understand.”

Jamie nodded again, and then forced himself to look at John. “Besides, I…I wouldnae ha’ offered if it wasna something I could bear.”

Despite how fiercely John blushed, how much he wanted to tear his eyes away, he didn’t. He held Jamie’s gaze as he whispered, almost inaudible: “You could…bear it?”

“Aye,” he said without hesitation. “I could.”

Then before John knew what was happening, Jamie’s lips were on his, and his soul ignited. It was sweet and chaste, and gentle and beautiful.

Jamie was beautiful.

He pulled away after about three seconds, and the two men maintained their intense eye contact.

“You have my word, Jamie,” John whispered fervently. “God forbid you are taken from us, I will keep safe what you love most. And I am…most grateful for such an honor.”

“Thank ye.” His steel blue eyes welled up with tears, and he clutched at the back of John’s neck. “Thank ye, John.”

John had sworn it with everything he had to give in his heart and soul. She was the most precious thing in the world to Jamie, and he’d left her to his care. It felt like an honor he was not worthy of. He was not worthy of the man as he lived, and he was certainly not worthy of the woman he’d loved and the child she would bear. Perhaps Jamie hadn’t meant for him to marry the woman if something should happen, but what else was he to do? Leave her unmarried and childless in a world so cruel?

No, he’d sworn on his honor that she’d be safe with him, forever and always.

And as he held her, naked, broken, and sobbing to his own naked form, trembling like a leaf with the force of her tears, John could feel her seeping into the cracks that Jamie had left in his heart. He could feel her already becoming as precious to him as she’d been to Jamie…as precious to him as Jamie had been to him.

Don’t fret, Jamie, love. I’ve got her.

I’ve got them both.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #John Grey #Lord John Grey #JC #JJC #John x Jamie #John x Claire #John x Jamie x Claire #throuple #ot3 #outlander au

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

First Glimpse, Last Looks

007!Reader x Bond Villain!Kylo Ren

3.7k ; N S F W (casual sex/one night stand with a stranger, praise kink, mirror sex), teasing and playful banter, shameless flirtation, hidden identity

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

You smile at your reflection in the hotel mirror, all dolled up for a night downstairs.

You look good, damn good, if you do say so yourself. Your thigh holster is well concealed by the evening gown, the knife in the back of your heel looks like a pretty decorative element no one would suspect. And no one should suspect it, there’s not supposed to be any trouble tonight.

Well, you think as you apply lipstick in your favorite shade, aside from one man, the man you were sent here to study.

His name is Kylo Ren, a moniker if you’ve ever heard one. One of the most dangerous criminals in the entire world, and certainly one of the richest. It’s no wonder that you’re to find him here, at one of the world’s most famous casinos. It seems that the best only liked to be with the best, not that you minded. As far as missions went, you were glad to be whisked off to exotic places and put up in the nicest hotel rooms.

You leave said nice hotel room now, saying goodbye to the panorama views and big soft bed for the time being. Surveillance is the name of the game for the evening, and you’re given free reign from M to enjoy yourself. You’ve got to blend in after all, have to be unsuspecting. That shouldn’t be too hard, you think as you make your way down to the casino, your heels clicking pleasantly on the polished marble flooring, your dress accentuating your body beautifully.

The casino is a high end place, there’s a live band playing smooth jazz up on a little stage, and everyone around you is dressed to the nines, which you’re pleased to see. Pleased because at least it means this criminal has good taste, refined taste. But then again, how could a renowned jewelry designer not be dripping in luxury?

You walk around the casino, blinking away the cigarette and cigar smoke which wafts up from the tables as rich men entertain pretty women with games of craps. You can’t help but smile at the winners and feel poorly for the poor suckers who lose, but that’s the way the money rolls, isn’t it. And what money too – bets starting at ten thousand dollars and only ever climbing, you’re impressed.

You’ve got a good chunk of chips yourself, provided so that you might infiltrate the place a little better, but you’re not in the mood to make a spectacle of yourself, not tonight anyway. Mr. Ren’s reservation was supposedly lasting through the weekend, and as it’s only Friday night, you’re sure that you’ll be here for a little while.

Speaking of Mr. Ren, you begin subtly trying to pick him out from the crowd. You know he’s a big spender, a high roller, he’s always got to have attention on him, eyes on him. Unusual, for someone under suspicion of smuggling gold across foreign soil, but then again, not at all. You’d been given the brief on what he looks like, but unfortunately there are no photographs of him – they all seem to magically disappear from any and all databases. All you know is that he’s hulking, tall and wide and has a twisted mangled facial deformity – shouldn’t be too difficult to spot, you smile to yourself.

You make a little show of weaving through all the people, down towards a beautiful bar in art deco style. It’s the perfect vantage point for all the tables, and you strike up a cigarette to pass the time.

“Can I get you anything, ma’am?” The bartender asks as he wipes down an impeccably clean glass.

“No thank you, I’m meeting someone here.” You say easily, and the bartender smiles in understanding.

“If you change your mind, just give me a nod.” He says, going on his way, off to deal with another customer.

You flick your ash in the crystal dish nearby on the bar counter and simply watch, enjoying the spectacle of it all – when you can’t help but hear the gentle applause coming from one of the cards tables. It seems that someone has just won a game of baccarat, which you find impressive, for the game is notoriously high stakes and oh how the dealers hate to lose.

You cast your gaze over to the gentleman who is quietly yet absolutely pleased as he pulls all the chips over to his pile, as if the money means nothing to him. You’re sure it probably doesn’t, if he’s playing and betting baccarat to begin with.

But what strikes you more than anything else, is how handsome the gentleman is. He’s got glossy black hair and proud shoulders, wrapped in a deliciously tailored tuxedo. You’re pretty sure that’s a rolex on his wrist, and while all that is well and good, you’re drawn to the irregularity of his facial features. His nose seems to be a bit too large for his face, but it’s in an endearing way, a way that you can see yourself playfully touching with the tip of your finger before asking for a kiss.

What a dangerous thought.

Even more dangerous, is that he’s looking right at you, giving you a smile. There are worse men to find you attractive, you think, as you turn away from him and give your neck a little stretch, flick your ash, knowing that he’ll take the hint and come over. M did say to have fun, didn’t she?

You feel his presence before anything else, the way he smells so wonderfully of a spiced cologne – not too much, just the right amount to get you interested. He’s warm, radiates a warmth that’s got you wondering how good it must feel to be tucked up against him.

“I couldn’t help but notice you all alone.” His voice is deep, a rich baritone that you feel down in your bones as you seductively look over your shoulder, cigarette delicately held between your fingers.

“You couldn’t? Seems like everyone else could.” You raise an eyebrow, and he smiles. It’s more of a half smirk than anything else, but you’re hung up on his dimples, on how he’s got the most darling beauty marks all across his face, a little constellation of freckles.

“Pity for them.” He leans up against the bar top, and you turn towards him, an invitation. He takes it. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“You can buy me two.” You reply, and he smiles wider at that, at the way you’re allowing him in. He’s so handsome, you think that if this Kylo Ren won’t show up tonight, at least you can still make the effort to look nice worthwhile.

“What do you like?” The charming man asks, signaling for the bartender to come back over.

“I’m not picky, as long as it’s in a martini glass.” You wink, and the man chuckles.

“Two vesper martinis please.” He asks of the bartender, who immediately sets to work.

“Shaken, not stirred.” You say, giving the bartender a kind smile when they nod in acknowledgement.

“I love a woman who’s particular.” The man doesn’t sit down next to you, instead he’s got one long leg crossed over the other as he leans against the counter, striking up a cigarette of his own. There’s something awfully delicious about the way it looks between his plush lips, and you’re drawn to them, to the way he flicks the match and lights it with ease.

“Really? That’s quite a modern attitude.” You tease. It’s 1964 after all, too many men are busy hating their wives, living out some white picket dream that you never had any time for.

“I’ll have you know, I’m a very modern man.” He smirks with a wink of his own, and you have to look down and away, lest you start getting too obvious too fast. You’re obvious of course, but you want to seem a little aloof, want to keep him interested.

“I believe congratulations are in order, I saw you win back there.” You say, fiddling with the little napkin that the bartender lays out before you while the drinks are nearly finished.

“Oh that? It was nothing, the game’s easy, it’s all just odds and good luck, like anything else.” He shrugs, and you smirk right back at him, he’s good at this.

“Do you think you have good luck?” You ask, as the bartender places the martini glasses in front of you.

“I think I’m about to find out.” The man picks up one glass and hands it to you, takes the second one all for himself, and it’s your turn to let out a pleased little laugh, happy for the opportunity to flirt.

“Very smooth, Mr. Modern.” You concede, “Very smooth.”

“Well, I like to do some things the old-fashioned way.” The man is particularly chuffed that he’s managed to impress you – and he should, you didn’t get impressed by many men. He licks his lips and holds up his drink, preparing a toast. “You’re stunning.”

“I know.” You say, and he laughs at that, making you duck your head once again before winking, “You’re quite the looker yourself. To good luck?”

“To good luck.” He clinks his glass gently against yours, and the two of you take a sip.

The martini is pleasant in your mouth, although you have no real plans to drink enough that you might become impaired in any sense of the word. You spare a glance around the room once again for Kylo Ren, for the big hulking criminal you’re supposed to be there for, and you can’t help but let out a disappointed sigh. You knew there was an off chance he wouldn’t be at the casino tonight, possibly off at a business dinner or something along those lines, but still.

“You know, I was supposed to meet someone here, but it would seem as though they haven’t shown up.” You tell this man who’s very very gently skimming his knuckles against the back of your arm. You’re happy to see no sign of a wedding ring, and no tan-line for one either.

“How anyone could leave a woman like you out to dry is beyond me.” He says, and for a minute, you can’t help but believe that this is something more than just a flirtation for a one-night stand, that perhaps you two could really get to know each other.

“And just what kind of woman do you think I am?” You ask playfully, already having made up your mind to sleep with him. Attachments were not something afforded in your line of work, you know this, but at least bodily pleasure was available where you could take it.

“I don’t know, but I would sure love to find out, if you’d let me.” The man chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, a nervous habit that you find quite endearing, before asking softly, “I’ve got a suite at the hotel just across the way, spectacular views, even better food. Would you care to accompany me for any or all of it?”

“I’m starving.” You reply, and a hopeful smile lights up his face.

The moment the door to the hotel room closes behind you, you’re kissing. He’s so skilled, so good at it, you can’t help but gasp under his touch. His palms are warm and they span across your back with ease, already working at undoing your dress zipper. You suddenly remember your gun that’s strapped to your thigh, and you pull away from him for a minute, looking at his handsomely disheveled state in the low light of his suite.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask outright, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Shit, no, I don’t – I must confess this isn’t something I do often. Or at all.” He’s nervous, and you can’t help but feel warm towards him, affection as you card through his locks. They’re every bit as silken as they look, and you kiss him again.

“That’s quite alright, call down for some.” You say.

He eagerly goes over to the phone, and while he’s distracted you take the opportunity to slip the small gun into your clutch purse, the perfect size for such a thing. He’s not gone for long, and you’re pleased to hear that when he asks for the condoms, he requests the largest size they carry.

“They’ll be up soon, but in the meantime, is it alright if I kiss you? You know, I’m a right sucker for lipstick prints.” The man blushes beautifully when he returns. Your hands immediately work on getting him out of his tuxedo, and he helps you out of your dress, admires the way your lingerie hugs your body.

“You’re much gentler than I thought you’d be, with hands so big as these.” You say as he carefully carefully carefully unhooks your bra, hands cradling your breasts.

“If you like it rough, I’d be more than happy to oblige.” He gives you an experimental pinch, and you huff out a laugh, slinking your arms around his neck.

“Kiss me first and we’ll see where the night takes us.” You say as you stand up on your tip toes now that your heels are kicked off, pressing your lips against his.

It’s not long before someone is knocking at the door with the condoms, and then it’s as if the gates have been opened. The man scoops you up into your arms and you laugh all the way over to the bed, where he plops you down sweetly, climbs over you and rolls the rubber onto his hard cock.

The largest size looks like it just barely fits him, and your mouth waters as he kisses you, hands caressing your body, peeling away your stockings, the garter. He doesn’t suspect anything, he only kisses the inside of your thigh, and your hands grasp at the silken sheets in anticipation.

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you from between your legs and you nod, one hand grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him back up your body, wanting that cock in you.

“Please, I just know you can make me feel good.” You nod again and again, until he’s positioning himself right at your entrance and thrusting slowly so that your pussy can accommodate and stretch to his girth.

He groans out softly in your ear and thrusts a little further in, again and again until he’s sinking all the way into your cunt, cock huge and filling you up better than anyone you’ve ever slept with.

“Ah – yes!” You sigh out happily as he kisses at your neck where his face is shoved against your throat, “Oh yes, that’s it.”

There’s a mirror on the ceiling, and you moan at the way his body moves above you as he begins to build up a proper rhythm, a steady pace that has your legs winding around his hips.

You wish you knew his name so you’d know what to call out, but names were dangerous, and so was sentiment, and it was easier this way, easier to just have great sex and move on, leave him always thinking about you and your pussy.

You roll him over onto his back, the both of you grinning as you straddle his lap. Your hands brace themselves on his huge chest, muscular but not in that dehydrated body builder kind of way, and you bounce on his cock, give him a good ride.

“Oh god – god damn.” He breathes out, his hands coming to grope up at your breasts, sliding across your stomach and bruising your hips.

“Your cock feels so fucking good.” You admit, because it does, and that does wonders to his ego, “Fuck! Oh – oh yes, yes yes yes!”

He bends his knees to plant his feet on the mattress and he bucks his hips up into you, thick cock so hard and long, so wide, you can feel the way it nudges against your cervix, can feel the way it teases your gspot with every thrust. You’re drunk off the feel of it, your head falls back and your jaw drops open, just from the sheer fullness of it all.

“Ah – ah come on, come on faster, I can – ohhhh shit – I can take it.” You lick your lips as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, and he listens, follows directions beautifully, does as he’s told and you can’t help but drop, “Good boy, oh you’re so good.”

The praise seems to do something for him, and suddenly you’re being fucked in earnest, riding him and getting as good as you give him. Your pussy drools and drips all over his cock, you can feel the white hot bubble of pleasure as it rises up from your cunt into your stomach, up up up your spine in a way that’s got you moaning loud, moaning so loud that you almost want this man to cover your mouth about it.

You stay like that for quite some time, he’s content to let you make the moves, content to let you be on top, in charge, and you appreciate that. Mr. Modern indeed, you think – or you would think, if you had any room in your head to think at all, gasping and groaning out a litany of please please please more more more yes yes yes!

He comes with a grunt, and a long groan, and your hand moves down to your clit to quickly rub one out before his cock grows soft inside you, but you find that he’s quick to beat you to it, eager to fuck you through his orgasm and make sure you get off too. You’re grateful, especially as the rough pad of his thumb swirls your slick over your clit and makes pleasure spark behind your eyes, trembling atop him as you come hard.

You gasp and pant and he kisses at the corner of your mouth, licks across your teeth and suckles on your lower lip, and you get off of his lap, collapsing on your back next to him. You both look up at the mirror and groan, laugh a little with how much of a mess you’ve made – bruises and lipstick and scratches from nails littering your bodies.

You watch him turn to you in the reflection of the mirror, and you turn to face him too, his peaceful serene, blissed out post-orgasm glow making him look radiant. He’s quiet though, and this is always the uncomfortable part, isn’t it? The walk of shame where you part ways, never to see one another again.

“Shall I…I can go. If you’d prefer.” You whisper, although for the first time in your entire career, you don’t want to.

“No, no stay with me, let’s have that dinner we talked about.” He surprises you, gathering you up in his arms and tucking you against his chest. He rubs sweetly at your back, and you let yourself be held as he convinces you further with, “They’ll bring it right to us.”

“You enjoyed yourself that much, hm?” You tease, and he laughs, making your own ego preen as he nods.

“I like your company, I’d love it if you perhaps delighted me in spending the weekend together.” The man licks his lips and tilts your chin up to meet him, “If your friend won’t mind.”

“My friend?” You frown for a second, confused.

“The person you were meeting.” He reminds you and you blink, grinning and shrugging to play it off. Damn, you think, his cock really was something special, to make you forget why you were even here.

“Oh right, well I think they’ll be okay with it, I just hope they show up at some point this weekend. Otherwise this trip will have been for nothing.” You mutter, but then, then you look up at him and let yourself feel wanted, “Or maybe, maybe it won’t.”

The man smiles at you, a great big pleased smile, and you somehow get the feeling that like you, he understands what it’s like, to be lonely at the top.

After hours of conversation and room service, champagne and strawberries, a delicious set of entrees and desserts, you find yourself content to spend the night in this man’s bed. Your suite will be there tomorrow after all, and you can’t help but fall asleep smiling, thinking that perhaps tomorrow night, you can take this man back to yours and return the hospitality.

But when you wake up in the morning, it is to an empty bed, no sign of the man. The mattress is cool next to you, he must have left during the night. The sun peeks through the curtains and illuminates the silver of a room service cart, he was at least kind enough to order you breakfast.

Smiling, you get up and walk naked over to the cart, where a little hand written note is resting atop one of the cloches. You pick it up and unfold it – and immediately feel like you’ve just been run over with a truck, when the words hit your brain:

My deepest apologies for disappearing on you like this, but when duty calls, one must answer as I’m sure you know.

We’ll meet again, 007.

Yours truly,

Kylo Ren.

You stand there, shocked and in disbelief – both at how he knew who you were, and how wrong you had been in your idea of him. He wasn’t some hulking terrifying thing, he didn’t have any major deformities or disfigurement – although, now that you think about it, perhaps he did have something of a scar on his eyebrow and cheek, but you passed it off as a trick of the light.

“I’ll be damned.” You say, sighing and sitting back down on the mattress, flicking the card against your palm with an incredulous smile. “Kylo Ren.”

Of all the people, you think as you dig into the eggs benedict and waffles that would pain you if they went to waste, you just had to go and pick him to fuck, didn’t you? You chuckle and sigh, knowing that this was the start of a very strange, frustrating, and beautiful relationship. What that relationship was, you weren’t sure, but one thing was for certain – M was going to have a fucking field day.

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

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