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httpwintersoldier · 7 months

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unlovable || a buggy angst/smut one-shot

dedicated to @fanaticsnail <3

Unlovable. Untrustworthy. An aberration. A freak. People saw Buggy as such, however, more than anything, he saw himself as that.

He was a villain through and through in everyone's eyes - even in front of the mirror.

So when the Captain walked into the troubled bar you had just gotten a job at, he told himself he was gonna take you with him, no matter what it took, no matter if he had to chain you.

What he didn't expect was that you'd actually go along with it... You seemed to... enjoy it?

You set down the drinks his crew had asked (yelled) for and, as you passed by him, the Captain spanked your ass.

"Lookin' pretty baby!"

He expected you to yell at him, slap him, throw him out... But no. You had set your eyes on the pretty captain with the big green eyes and the shiny blue hair the second he stepped in, so you were in absolute ecstasy when he made a move on you.

"Well thank you Captain." You said, as you looked over your shoulder and winked at him.

You walked back to the bar, to take care of other costumers, leaving a flabbergasted and shocked Buggy behind. He sure was glad he had heavy makeup on, or he'd be caught with a blush.

The Captain kept a close eye on you, watching the way your corset hugged your body, the way the skirt of your dress outlined your ass when you bent down to pick up empty mugs, and they way you'd sneakily steal glances at him from time to time.

"This is from the pretty lady that has an eye on you..." You said, placing a mug of beer on the table in front of him, then bending over to whisper in his ear "That being me, of course."

That was the first time Buggy didn't give a shit about booze. He swept you off your feet and carried you bridal style to his ship, stealing a couple kisses and bites as you walked, mentally cursing him for having the ship so far away - every second spent walking was a second wasted not inside of you.

"You're a cheeky one, baby." Buggy said, between heavy breaths, as he took off your pretty dress and kissed your neck.

You felt your face and body grow hot at the way the Captain roughly handled your body, and his raspy voice calling you "baby" sent a shiver down your spine and you felt tingles on your body.

Buggy, upon receiving no response, chuckled and removed his mouth from your neck to look into your eyes. The man gripped your jaw and brought your face closer.

"Oh no, pretty little thing, this isn't the time to get all shy on me..." He paused, kissing the spot right below your ear and biting your earlobe before whispering "I wanna see you bounce on my cock with that devious smile of yours, hm?"

With that, he bit his lip and smacked your ass. The Captain's eyes displayed such hunger and despair for your body that it fueled the confidence in you, completely overshadowing any ounce of shyness or embarrassment.

You gripped his jacket and pushed him onto the bed. The sensation between your legs didn't care that he was still dressed - all you needed was for his cock to be out.

You got on top of the man, straddling him. Between messy kisses and bites, you managed to pull out his fully erect cock.

The moans that left your lips in unison when you slid down on his cock were almost melodic, Buggy's hands immediately flying to grip your ass.

The praises and degrading comments that left his mouth were barely comprehensible, both because he was unable to speak properly with the way his cock was buried in you, but also because you couldn't take your eyes off of his beautiful, shiny green eyes full of lust as they ate your body up.

"You're such a good girl... shit- fuck! A good, good girl..."

The Captain could tell you were cumming, from the grip you had on his shirt and the way you began sloppily riding him, - which he was thankful for, as he was running out of random things to think about trying not to cum - so Buggy wrapped an arm around you and flipped you two around, so he could fuck you dumb and see that pretty face of yours scruch up in pleasure as he filled you up and you came on his cock.

That was a perfect beginning to your story - if only the plot and ending had followed the same path.

Due to Buggy's past (and present), he tended to trust no one. And no matter how hard he tried, the Captain couldn't trust you, he just couldn't. Not because he thought you weren't worthy of his trust, but because in his head he was unlovable.

In Buggy's head, no one could love him, let alone someone as perfect as you. It just didn't make sense. Why would you love him? The Captain spent every day, every second wondering when you were going to make a move, when you'd show your true interest in being with him, when you'd remove the mask and say that you were there to get his bounty or his riches.

You would sometimes argue, but you understood that, because of his tough history, you had to be patient with him, so you'd often just end up trying to calm him down.

When months began passing and you said nothing, he became impatient, irritated even - how long would you keep this up!? How long were you going to make a fool out of him!?

"Happy three month anniversary!" You chirped, coming up behind your Captain and hugging him, your chest pressing against his back.

You kissed him on the cheek with a big smile but, to your surprise, Buggy just pushed your away with a grunt.

When he did this, the small present box you held in your hands fell to the ground. You had gotten dressed up in the dress you met (and fucked) in for the first time, and arranged a small present made up with memories from the last three months, but the Captain didn't even look at you.

"Baby?... Is everything okay?" You asked with furrowed eyebrows, slowly stepping closer to him and putting your hand on his shoulder.

Buggy gripped your hand and harshly took it off of his shoulder, turning around to face you.

"What is this!? What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?"

His voice was loud, raspy and violent as he stepped closer to you. The big green eyes you loved so much were now unrecognizable: they stared at you with disgust and distrust, all light drained from them.

"Buggy, baby what... what do you mean? It's our anniversary it's- three months..." You clarified, fearful tears brimming in your eyes as you cowered down slightly.

"Three months of you lying to me." He said through gritted teeth.

The gift on the ground was long forgotten, and you couldn't believe what you had just heard. Your ears were ringing and you suddenly felt dizzy - where was this accusation coming from!?

"Lying!? Buggy I- I've never lied to you I don't know what you're talking about! Do you think I've been with other people, is that it!?" You asked, incredulous, not even understanding what you'd be lying about.

"I know you don't really love me! I know it's been a farce all along so just fucking stop pretending! tell me what it is you really want! Is it money!? Hm!? Status!?"

At that point, Buggy was harshly gripping your arms to the point that it hurt. Tears streamed down your cheeks as his eyes stared at you with a psychotic look.

"W-what!?" You finally pieced together that all the fighting, all of the distrust and disagreements up until now were because Buggy thought you didn't love him, that it was all ruse.

You felt hurt and betrayed that he could possibly think that of you, the person that gave up everything to stick by his side the past three months. But, at the same time, you remembered how broken he was and where he came from. The whirlwind of emotions and conflicting thoughts made it hard for you to make up your mind about what you felt at the moment - so you just let your mouth hang open, nothing but small stutters and silence coming out of it.

"Just- Stop fooling me Y/N!" Buggy said with teary eyes, finally letting go of you.

You caressed your arms, on the places he had gripped.

"Buggy I'm not fooling you! I- I let everything behind for you!"

"Why!?" He yelled, tugging at his hair "Why would you do that!?"

"Because I love you! Fuck!" You yelled back, frustrated.

"I... You can't. That's not possible..." His voice was quiet as he said this.

You carefully stepped towards him and cupped his face. The previous anger and distrust was now replaced by the same conflict of emotions you had gone through, and you could see it clearly.

"Buggy... Why would you think that?... Why would you think that of me? I thought you trusted me..." Your voice was shaky and sounded hurt as you asked this.

Buggy's hand slowly and carefully raised to rest on top of yours, as if it pained him to touch you.

"It's not possible that you love me... for me. You're too good, too perfect. I'm a monster, a freak-"

You shut him up with a kiss.

"Don't talk like that about the man I love." You said, a stern voice and a insistent look in your eyes.

Buggy detached himself from you, keeping a small distance between your bodies - as if he didn't want to let go but was forced to.

"I just can't believe those words."

His voice was sad and determined, almost as if those words masked a decision he longed to make.

"What does this mean then?" You asked, still hopeful there was something to do, completely oblivious to what Buggy's words meant.

"I'm sorry..." Regret, self-disappointment and sadness coated his voice, as his eyes looked at you as if someone had died.

"W-what does that mean Buggy?" Dots began connecting in your mind, understanding what it had come down to.

"Y/N I can't... I can't stop my mind. I've tried, these past few months I've tried to believe that you do love me, that you're not just trying to get something from me but I can't. And I'm just going to hurt you and I- I don't want that. I'm sorry Y/N." His voice was hushed and tears were uncontrollably flowing down his cheeks by the time he ended his sentence.

"No! Buggy, please..." You ran to grab his hands, pleading him with furrowed eyebrows. "We can make it better, I don't care that you hurt me in the process, I need you. You make me feel alive."

A hurtful silence set between the two of you, a million thoughts, emotions and memories shared with just one glance, and you understood that it was over.

"I can't bear to see you hurting, especially if I'm the one causing it..."

Buggy stepped closer slowly, pressing one last kiss to your lips. One that meant I'm sorry, I love you, I will miss you...

He then let go of your hands and you knew what it meant. You grabbed the few things you had and made your way out of the ship, ignoring the looks, questions and comments from the crew as you sobbed your way out.

The questions and comments ceased, out of fear and shock, as the crew saw their Captain cry and sob with red eyes.

He made his way to the deck, watching as you walked away. Watching as he silently said goodbye to the love of his life.

That night and every night from that day on, Buggy slept clinging to your gift, going through the memories over and over, reminding himself of the happiness he'd given up from and would never feel again.

#buggy smut #buggy angst #one piece #opla #opla smut #opla angst #buggy the clown #buggy the clown smut #buggy one piece #buggy fanfic #buggy opa smut #buggy opla angst #buggy x reader #buggy x reader angst #buggy x reader smut #buggy x you #buggy opla #opla buggy #buggy the clown x reader

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ctheathy · 3 months

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yo..... yo can we get some reader pegging and overstimulating fukase.... your writing is so good i'm actually jealous...

A Fall to Temptation

Fukase x Reader

NSFW Oneshot

Author's note: my my, you guys really have no mercy on him on my blog, eh? Enjoy, my hornies~

Fukase at the start of the fic be like:

Fukase/Reader [Romantic]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

This is a smut fic, read at own risk. dom!Reader+sub!Fukase • Pegging • Degrading behaviour • Mocking • Overstimulation • Harsh+Rough treatment • Jealous and/or frustrated reader • Masochism • Salivating/Drooling • A singular climax

No continuation for this one :( I apologise, darlings😭

Fukase had no idea how he even got here. He was bending over the table like you ordered him to, his chest pressed over the wooden top. The only thing supporting him being his arms muscles that currently felt like jello anyway. He was completely and utterly vulnerable ...but in his defense, who wants to behave disobedient to an angry partner?

He was so caught up in this feeling, he felt like a completely new character. In this scenario, he wouldn't even dare say no to you, he felt so... small, he wasn't used to this feeling. But the feeling wasn't something he was opposed to. He wanted to make it up to you, so badly. “M-make it..make it up to... to...” His thoughts were running away faster than he ever could. He had no idea why he loved having no power over the situation.

Fukase's breathing got so loud that it was like he was breathing fire. This felt so unbelievably good for him that he just had no words left for it. The more you pushed him around, the more sensitive he became to your dominant nature. The more sensitive he became, the more aroused he felt. He really is extremely sensitive to arousal at that. It is almost like he's a button you know you shouldn't press, but you really want to know what happens when you do. His curiosity couldn't help but get the best of him, as he glanced up at you with puppy-dog eyes despite you telling him not to.

He quickly turned away and readjusted himself to his original position as soon as you glanced at him in warning, a shiver going down his spine and his blood running cold at the sight. That dildo was fucking huge, can the real deal even get that big!?

You slammed your hands on each side of the table next to him, making him flinch and yelp out in surprise. You leaned in closer to his body, making him twitch slightly with growing arousal as your chest came in contact with his back and you started purring in his ear. “It is quite... Ahem sizeable if I may, wouldn't you agree? Much larger than yours, Fuka~~” you taunted passive aggressively as you squeezed one of his cheeks, as if you were babying him. But Fukase wasn't even focused on your mocking bait, as he instead freaked out as soon as you lowered your hand with the toy, getting it closer to his bottom half.

Was THAT supposed to go up the booty?????

“Wait wait waitwaitwaitwait WAIT-!! H-hold on just a second-!” He pleaded, his tone getting more high-pitched and tiny as he got a good view on that huge dildo you held in your hand. Where was that thing supposed to go in??? Cause not in here!

“I've seen you in enough relationships with boys to know that you're an expert at this!” you spat sourly, the tip of the rubber phallus teasing his entrance with not a speck of hesitance visible in your eyes. Fukase stuttered “I--” but immediately gasped and felt a small panic starting to arise within himself as he felt you brush it up against his hole. His entrance immediately stiffened and tensed up, closing in on itself tightly as it tried to refrain the phallic base from entering. But his attempts were very quick to be proven futile.

As this did not stop you, in fact.

“NONO WAIT--LISTEN LISTEN---!!”

Fukase cried out loudly as you pounded the toy inside him with no warning nor even easing him into it, roughly pressing it in as deep as you could without getting your fingers dirty. His tense rectum initially trying hard to keep the rubber from going in any further, but still failing regardless due to your forceful moves. He sobbed in pain as he could feel his insides split apart, forcing his eyes shut tightly as he clenched his jaw. His teeth felt as if they were going to break and crumble to dust with how hard he was biting down on them, and he already felt tears forming into both of his eyes due to the painful sensation.

Despite your sour mood, you cracked a grin as soon as your hand bumped with his butt. Having to use a lot of force right there due to how tight he still was, but it was manageable on your end. Fukase just kept on gasping out and taking deep breaths to try and ease the high pressure, a tear slipping from his eyes as he tried squirming around as much as he could, but you made sure to keep him put. You had no content to actually be merciful on him, but you weren't gonna let him be in pain during the whole thing. It would become boring... You just giggled darkly.

“I am not a monster, Fukase. Just perhaps a demon in bed, but that's a tale you'll experience for yourself another day” you pushed him down further onto the table, keeping his body still and making it difficult for him to move. “I am gonna wait to have you adjust yourself a little. Thoughtful advice would be to let your body relax on me..~ Unless if the sore pumping is something your masochistic ass is into.” you sneered.

“Only thing I suggest is that you don't get me impatient.”

He heard you correctly this time, you gave your warning. You let out a titter at his heavy breaths, as he tried his best to not sob out again. His tears began to dry and he wasn't trembling as much, only an occasional limb twitch now noticeable. You softly hummed, leaning over his back and creating your shadowed silhouette over his frame. But your sudden adjustment also accidentally caused the toy to press deeper into his folds, causing him to whimper. You watched him lay down, staying still to try and ease his body into it.

You figured he had calmed down on you by now, and immediately took your shot. With no caution, you pulled the rubber phallus right out of him, which immediately caused a gasp to escape his throat. Rubbing his walls on the way out as you only left the tip inside. But before he could react any further, you rammed it back deep inside of him instantly after, causing a loud moan to escape from Fukase's lungs. Still tight, he forced his eyes shut once again... Knowing this was only the start.

“Don't worry..~ I'll force you wide open.” you chuckled darkly as you began doing the same thing to him. Pulling the toy out to his anal canal, before violently jamming it back in, as you found yourself a pace. Fukase cried out every time you slammed back, his cheeks now drenching in tears. His body sent towards the table with every singular push, as he groaned and sobbed out with pain and discomfort constantly. He really tried to hold himself back, but couldn't do it... an already small erection starting to form on his front.

Fukase's face was beet red with embarrassment, as his painful groans were quick to turn into pleasured mewls and moans, incapable to keep his own mouth shut. He already felt fluids leaking down from his hard meat, but didn't have any access to it whatsoever, much to his displeasure. He desperately began rubbing himself up and down against the side of the table, moaning as it hit his pelvis. But it was honestly nothing in comparison to what was going on on his backside

No remorse in your movements as you harshly plugged the toy out of his used hole before forcing it back in again, creating a certain tempo as you knew exactly how and where to hit it to make him scream out your name. Every push seemed to be rougher and deeper than the last, making Fukase's toes curl every time it got reverted back inside of him. The piece of rubber was noticeably getting clammy and warmer with every single pump, it becoming more oozy and gross as you continued abusing his folds with it.

“You're tainting the rubber, you filthy mut.” You mocked with disgust. In which all Fukase could do was release a pitiful moan of shame in response. He was beyond the point where he was able to even think. His mind was just a black screen with a little white dot in the middle. Not even a full blown thought. Just the sheer amount of love and pleasure that he was receiving kept his mind occupied. He was shaking like mad and just wanted to stay there like that forever. He was ready to beg for more, he just wanted it to keep going. He wanted you to keep on pushing him over the edge. And ohh boy... sure you did.

As soon as you forced it deep enough to hit his prostate, he arched his back as he attempted to moan out for you, mouth wide open. But it was only a series of breathless and lustful gasps at this point. The saliva was dripping down his lips, with some of the drops falling onto the table. Getting lost in the feeling of being completely dominated.

Fukase was going through every emotion possible, he was so deep within your control. He was on absolute edge of his sanity, he felt as if this went on any longer, he would be completely destroyed. His legs were twitching and he was moaning and shivering like crazy. You were absolutely insane and your eyes were like flames as they burned into the back of his head. Fukase was like a puppet who had his strings cut, and you were the puppeteer, doing whatever you pleased with him without any mercy.

He was already in so much overstimulation... and you were still continuing. He was absolutely speechless at just the sheer amount of euphoria yet dread he was receiving, this was an absolute joyride. He was basically just a piece of play dough in your hands. And you were playing around with him in all ways imaginable until you felt satisfied with him. Until he learned from his punishment. He started to feel completely numb to the touch, and he had almost lost all sense of time and space. At this rate, he just wanted to be a tool for you to play with. It felt incredible.

His voice is all but lost to the moan-like noises that he is making. The rhythm was just perfect for his liking. Not too fast, not slow. Perfect. He was already close to his limit, and the feeling of his dripping pre dribbling down his thighs made him want to explode. He was too far in this to care about anything anymore. The only thing that mattered to him right now was nothing more than pure lust, and he was living every second of it.

He was completely lost in the moment. All he could do while you did the dirty work was moan and grunt loudly. He was breathing heavily and sweating a lot like he just got the best cardio workout in the history of the world. But that was honestly far from the truth. Fukase barely even had any form anymore, he was just a blob of raw pleasure. You could do absolutely anything to him and he'd feel it ten-fold. Every movement you made already sent him over the edge. Every time he thought that he had reached the peak, you kept on pushing him over the edge even more.

His eyes kept rolling back as he lets out those loud, long, pleading moans. His body shaking violently from your motions, with his body language indicating that he's about to finish soon. He tries to remain as quiet as he can, but it just becomes impossible. Every time you thrust the toy deeply back into his body, his back slightly arches and his eyes start rolling at everything he was receiving. More liquid began to dribble from the tip of his groin to down his thighs, as he desperately grinded his meat against the table he was bending over.

His eyes were filled with tears of need and how unimaginably good it felt. He was barely able to even open his eyes to see what you were doing to him, his entire face covered in his own spit. His body was being squeezed so hard, like he was going to completely consume that toy. Fukase's mouth was wide open and his head hung back as you kept ramming him. His frame jammed tightly between the wooden table and your hands.

A pound audible with every thrust as he gets bonked against the furniture, every time his body collides with the table by your rough treatment. His tongue was hanging out with his moans so loud they could break the sound barrier. He was completely helpless right now and he loved being in this position. He absolutely loved having his foul mouth being shut up by brute force.

His desire to hold back and urge to last longer broke down further and further every second, the dam was close to overflowing and he knew it too. But his resilience frustrated you to an extent as well... Yet you knew exactly what to do to make the barriers break and to never have them recover again. You rammed it deep inside of him causing Fukase to throw his head back into your chest before a loud cry erupted from his vocal chords.

But as you so suddenly ripped the whole toy out of his sore body immediately after, he yelped out in surprise with his eyes opening wide in shock, but instantly ended up rolling back into his head from overstimulation. The shock causing the plug that held him back to be removed, a long and hoarse moan of satisfaction literally coming from the pits of his stomach as he released this huge build-up climax over the side of the table and all over himself. You could hear it literally dripping on the floor as the sticky semen was now pouring from his body. Letting out gaspy moans every time another blob of release shot out of his cum-covered junk. As just more kept coming out.

Fukase's orgasm was the hottest, sweatiest and most loud thing that one could ever imagine. That was the kind of thing you would want to put a volume slider on, but you literally just couldn’t with how vocal he's always been during intimate situations like this. He was just laying on top of the table at this point, his whole mind consumed with nothing but those sensations, like a pure animal devoid of any human thinking. He was shaking and quaking, his eyes struggling to not roll back again as he tried recomposing from his high. His face was flushed bright red with the literal heat coming off of him, he was barely even breathing from that mind blowing release.

You got your prize. You were successful in actually claiming your rizz-stuffed boyfriend for once, he was a complete mess. His body was quivering, he was completely wet, and his moans were now almost nonexistent... which filled you with dissatisfaction. All sense of "holding back" went straight out of the window, you pushed him back over the table, making him bend over for you.

“A-ah!” Fukase cried out as he was against the table and held in place by your upper thigh, placing him in a submissive position all over again. His arms and hands were still keeping himself up with difficulty, but he was tempted to just plant himself down onto the wooden table and let you have your way again. Making himself comfortable by submitting while you absolutely ruin him from behind... The idea was just so very exciting to him.

He felt himself getting needy...

Your cold fingers suddenly started brushing up against his neck, making it feel as if he was just touching ice. He started to try and squirm a bit, only to get restrained by your other thigh, your eyes piercing right into the back of his head with that damn smirk on your face. He started whining to you, hoping you'd at least go a little bit easier on him this time. “p-please... I wanna...”

You were dangerous like this... and you knew it. You really knew how to use your charms to make someone completely surrender. “please what, darling?” you teased as you got up even closer towards him, your fingernails scraping over his skin as you knew you were getting him more and more riled up like this. You pitifully scoffed at him.

“Psshh... What now? How's my sweet, wittle boy feeling? I thought you wanted to exhale and take a breather, huh~?” Fukase couldn't handle it anymore. Your warm breath tickling him on the back of his head with your fingers on his neck starts to bring his focus back to your face. The more you rub your thumb across his spine, the more he squirms in pleasure. He was starting to go insane. “What are you trying to do?! I can't take this much longer! I-I-I can't handle this!” He starts to pant like a dog while his muscles tense up as you gave him a teasing grin.

Fukase was already a panting mess again with just your words, and being on the border of drooling all over you so easily really drove him over the edge. He was still sweaty and overstimulated from the previous round... But it didn't take long before he started breathing quickly, his arousal returning and his little yelps so vocal again that one wrong move might wake up the entire house. There was nothing else that he wanted from life right now than to satisfy you. He was completely and utterly in love. “k-knnng...”

Fukase had practically begged for one thing, and it wasn’t mercy. He couldn’t even bring himself to even ask for it, nor did he want it. He watched with desperation as you lowered the toy, his breath catching in his throat as it got close to his entrance again. The anticipation filled him as his body yearned for more, his legs starting to spread out for better access. But you… you teased him again. The tip of the dildo was right on the doorway, but it didn’t go in just yet.

Even as you began moving it back into his anal canal, so very slowly... Fukase couldn't help but grow impatient and groan out his frustrations. The tip was literally inside of his ass but you kept it as still as a rock after that?? This was torture..! Fukase grit his teeth with heavy breaths as he began to move his hips backwards into the toy, some not-so-muffled and needy moans slipping from his tongue as it went deeper inside of him. But he was still very unsatisfied with his attempts of getting those sensations back and he was honestly ready to start beg-whining with you to start the rhythm again.

Any pride and sense of dignity meant nothing to him as this point, as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, all embarrassment gone from his spirit. But you weren't willing to give him that satisfaction, as you slipped the toy further out of him in warning. Which immediately resulted in a pathetic whimper leaving Fukase's throat, tears threatening to form in his eyes again as he began losing the stimulation. “s-stop ...stop teasinnnm-AH b-please...” His thighs ached as he pushed his lower half higher up towards you, his ass close to being up in your face, trying to tempt you. It was like watching a she-cat in heat pulling up their tail infront of a male, just eagerly waiting to be bred with. It was beyond pathetic, really.

Not wanting to give into his pathetic pleading and pathetic moans, you didn't hesitate to tease his body some more. Instead of getting him rabid by harshly ramming him with the toy like you had before, you wanted to get him far past of just being needy and desperate for more. And so, you began rotating the toy inside of him, painfully slowly... which didn't take long to bait out a reaction, as the boy began letting out short and loud gasps at the rotation against his rectum, arching his back at the feeling. It being no surprise that Fukase felt even more horny after you practically started tickling him and his nerves from the inside out. He moaned and groaned loudly, he was being taken to all of those extreme levels again. His brain was literally flooded with every bit of dopamine and serotonin it could make

“Mm-nmgghh...” Fukase was feeling all kinds of emotions and feelings that he didn't even know his he was capable of feeling. His body was completely at your mercy as soon as you started making those circle motions inside of him. He became more aggressive with his movements as he lunged his entrance further into the piece of rubber, forcing it deeper into himself before pulling the toy back to his anal canal. The thrusting of his body movements growing more fast and hasty as he kept it up for a good minute, moaning out lustfully each time it hit his prostate.

You found it humourous, if not utterly pathetic as you watched him screw himself from behind with the toy. You weren't even doing anything special with the thing and yet he was already dragging your name all the name down with it. Any sort of overstimulation was welcome, and Fukase felt like he was in heaven and hell at the exact same time. His hair was a mess, his face as red as his literal hair and he was salivating all over himself like a drooling dog. He still laid across the table, knowing he wasn't allowed to move in the slightest. His fingers were shaking and twitchy as he desperately held at the table sides for support, scratching at the wood in need. Having no distinct way to express his desires other than scraping with his nails and pervertedly moaning out for you

He weakly glanced over at you with his blank eyes, barely even capable of keeping himself stabilized. You had completely took his mind, body and soul away from him in the most addictive and pleasurable way possible.

He had no way of going against this any longer. Fukase was already an addict to your "services".

#fukase x reader #fukase vocaloid #vocaloid fukase #fukase smut #fukase #vocaloid x reader #vocaloid smut #vocaloid #fukase x reader smut #vocaloid x reader smut

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a-bang-for-your-bucky · 2 years

Text

Adrenaline Rush: A Day of Rest

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie has been working really hard, so you really just want to take care of him.

Warnings: Explicit language, some spicy talk, genuinely caring for Eddie, honestly this is just fluff. (Honestly, the will power that RC has is mind-blowing.)

A/N: As always, my blog and anything I write is 18+. Thank you @acrossthesestars for not only being the best beta, but for the beautiful mood board as well. Also, for answering all my random-ass questions about our resident freak. I really need for him to call be 'pretty girl'.

It was rare that Eddie got an entire day to just be his normal, goofy self. The most recent tour and studio hours had taken over your lives. So, you made it your mission to get him to relax, booking a king-sized suite, complete with a jacuzzi bathtub big enough for two, and you already placed an order for breakfast the next morning including all of Eddie’s favorites. To top it off, you found a vintage record store in town to visit afterwards.

As he was finishing up autograph signings, you made your way to the room to draw the bath, dumping in the salts you'd purchased that would relax his muscles. He was always tense after a big show, sore and aching. You poured a generous amount under the running hot water, swirling the tiny crystals with your fingers until they dissolved.

LED candles covered the rim of the tub, since you couldn’t burn real ones. The soft glow tied together the ambiance, warm and inviting. The door creaked open and Eddie called out for you. “Baby?” He sounded exhausted, which you knew he was. The man was always on the go.

“The bathroom,” you replied as you finished the final touches on the bath. After making sure the water was just right, you set out a couple of Eddie’s favorite beers. When he pushed open the bathroom door, you greeted him with a kiss. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “I missed you, rockstar.” You mumbled against his lips, feeling the small smile growing on his face.

“What’s all this, pretty girl? Are you about to relax?” He asked, hands reaching for the hem of the Corroded Coffin shirt you were wearing. You shook your head, pushing his hands away.

You turned, grasping his wrist to tug him closer to the tub. “This is all for you, babe. I know you’ve been working really hard, and you deserve to take it easy for once.” Your hands moved to slide off his leather jacket and you carried it out of the bathroom, laying it on the bed for him to put away later. You learned to let him do it after you had almost ruined it. The jacket was a gift from his uncle.

You returned to the bathroom to see that Eddie had already stripped off his shirt and was reaching over the tub to feel the water. Walking up behind him, you ran your nails down his spine gently and he shivered beneath your fingertips . “You know, this bath is big enough for two,” he flirted, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

You hummed. The idea of stripping down with him, climbing into his lap in the water, was very tempting, but you knew he wouldn’t relax. “Not this time,” you declined. A pouty look crossed his face, his bottom lip poking out. You give him a pointed look before undoing his belt. “You need to relax,” you told him as you dropped to your knees slowly. You heard him groan, and looked up to find him staring at you with lust blown pupils. You chuckled as you undid his boots, slipping them from his feet, before removing his socks.

He undid the button of his jeans so you could slide him off his hips. He lifted a foot at a time, helping you rid him of the pants. When you reached back up for his boxers, he caught you by the wrists, pulling you up to your feet. He cupped your face with his hands, forcing your eyes up to his. “I love you, pretty girl.” He whispered sincerely, leaning forward to capture your lips with his. He poured his heart into the kiss. You knew that it was hard for him to share his feelings. He grew up alone, minus his uncle, but he was always working to provide for the two of them. Eddie kept himself guarded, especially since he didn’t have the easiest time in high school. Yet, he didn’t let that stop him from being there for other kids like himself.

When the two of you separated, he stripped himself of his boxers, making you blush at the sight of his body. You couldn’t help it. It didn’t matter how many times you had seen Eddie naked, it was always like the first time. Your eyes raked over his chest, taking in the tattoos that littered the skin there, before moving down to his tummy. A dark line of coarse hair trailed from his belly button down to the thick cock that was standing at attention between his legs.

Your resolve was dissipating fast, your body betraying you. Eddie could see it written all over your face. He chuckled, watching you clench your thighs together, trying to alleviate some of your desire. “You sure you don’t want to join me, pretty girl?” He teased, stepping into the steaming bath water.

Drawing your lip between your teeth, you contemplated getting in, ultimately deciding not to. “No, baby. I’ll be waiting on the bed for you.” You told him before turning away and walking out the door.

Eddie exited the bathroom about thirty minutes later with a towel slung low on his hips. You were waiting for him on the bed, laying on your stomach, nose buried in your latest bookstore find. He walked around the foot to where you were and didn’t say a word as he ran his hands up the back of your thighs, stopping right below your ass that was clad a black lace thong. “You wear these panties just for me, pretty girl?” He purred, moving his hand onto the globes of your ass, kneading it softly.

You tried to ignore him, focusing on your page, but the way his calloused fingers felt against your skin made it difficult for your brain to function. “Come on, sweetheart,” He whined, “You wanted me to relax.” He had you there. He’s told you time and time again that he loves unwinding with his face between your legs.

You had to stay strong, Eddie needed his sleep. “No, Eddie. Get your ass in this bed and sleep.” Your voice was stern as you slammed your book closed. With a pout on his face, he conceded, grumbling as the two of you settled into bed for the night. Eddie snuggled up behind you, wrapping an arm around your middle. His hand went directly under your shirt, resting against the soft skin of your tummy.

“G’night, pretty girl. I love you.” He forced through a yawn, making you giggle.

“Sleep tight, rockstar. Love you.” You barely got the words out before Eddie’s soft snores were billowing over the back of your neck. As you drifted to sleep, you made a mental note to wake him up in the best way possible.

Should I make an Adrenaline Rush tag list?

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #kat writes

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countrymusiclover · 2 years

Text

11 - We Can Live Normally

Part 12

She's Human or Weapon

Tags - @tyrionsprincess30 @groovy-lady @logolepsic-insomniac @bigbendyhorns @the-big-bad-klaus

10 years ago

Rolling over in the bed I searched Charles's side of the bed only to find it empty instead of feeling Charles laying sound asleep like he normally would. Running a hand through my hair I hear the bedroom door open but I must be dreaming at what I see before me. Thr wooden floor doesn't creak as loud as it would with the wheelchair. Sitting up with my head against the headboard my mouth hangs opened in shock. He leans in the doorway clearly trying not to stumble to the ground but that's not what makes me think I'm going crazy. It's the fact that Charles's is walking - actually walking instead of being stuck in his wheelchair. The doctors told him that he would never walk again since the bullet hit his spine. "Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?" He asked without any mention of the current situation. Rubbing my eyes a couple times I still don't register that this isn't a dream until he walks over and sits down at the foot of the bed just flashing a pure grin.

"Charles I - hi - how did you - are we just gonna act like this isn't crazy." I throw my hands out in front of me still struggling to understand how this is actually happening. He reaches for my hand intertwining it with mine kissing my palm. This would be the time of the morning routine where he would say sweet nothings in my mind. Giving me kisses until Hank came in with his wheelchair, but none of that has happened yet which is freaking me out. "Aurora, are you alright?" He asked vocally while I think in my head instead not understanding why he doesn't use his power. "No I'm not alright. I don't understand how you're walking!" He just blanky stares at me where I snapped my fingers realizing the truth. "You don't have your powers anymore do you?" He shakes his head squeezing my hand still intertwined with mine. "Hank made a serum, that allows me to walk..." Raising a hand over my mouth I moved it to rest against his cheek watching him lean in, weakness in his once bright blue eyes. The hope that was once there now gone because most of the parents left taking their kids. The school was opened but things happened where we couldn't help kids as easily as we thought. It broke who Charles used to be, where he struggled to sleep through the night.

He gets up crawling on his knees cupping my face in his hands recreating the grin he was sporting when he greeted me. My eyes locked onto his and I played with the collar of his shirt feeling my heart beating faster in excitement and awe. If he was telling the truth then Raven's blood in the serum works. Or at least it would have if Charles could still walk normally. "Aurora, lisen to me. We can have everything we talked about, marriage, kids, all of it right now. I just have to keep doing the doses everyday and it will be like that bullet never hit me. I can be the man that you deserve...that you could love." He blurted out catching his breath afterwards waiting for my response. Reaching up I brush his hair back that he had started letting grow out, resting my forehead against his I whispered. "Charles, this - you can't be yourself without your powers..." He throws his head back giving me puppy dog eyes begging with planting kisses on my face. "Rora, if you're nervous about the pain I'll be as gentle as I can. I won't ever hurt you, I promise." He's referring to when I told him last year that I hadn't ever slept with anyone. He knew my nerves but I think I'm falling in love with him and I wouldn't want it to be anymore else but him to be my first.

"Charles baby, I'm happy that you can walk again - but you sacrificed - are you absolutely sure you'd want a child with someone like me?" I trailed off until he crashed his lips onto mine cradling my face in his hands gently. Without really thinking I wrapped my arms around his neck kissing back. He breaks the kiss where we're both panting heavily. "I'd be an idiot if I said you weren't the one for me. The woman that has a dark past but cares about helping people just as much as I did. Someone who chose to stay by my side when I lost my legs. Aurora Deerfield, I love you. I'll wait until we're married - I'll get down on one knee and propose with your mother's necklace if you so wish. I don't care what I have to do to show you but know that I love you." I don't give him a second to say anything more instead pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt where I rolled us over so I'm ontop never breaking the kiss. "Charles Xavier, I love you too. I - I would say let's wait until marriage but - I don't want to wait any longer. Shaw's dead so I don't have anymore fears. So I want you to be my first, because I love you." He rests his hands on my hips suddenly flipping us over so I'm on my back once again causing me to gasp when he slowly kissed me more passionate than we ever had before.

Clutching the fabric of his shirt in my hands I enjoyed the kiss so much that I almost didn't want to break for air but sadly we're still human beings. Breaking it he ran his fingers through his hair sitting up a on the side of the bed. Waving my hand I quickly shut the door still laying in the bed and locking it so Hank doesn't walk in. Because that would be an awkward conversation we would never hear the end of considering we're the only three people that live in this huge house anymore. Finally catching my breath I touched his arm making him look down at me. "Charles, I want you." He smiled leaning down kissing me slowly moving his left hand under my shirt and the other running into my hair. Wrapping one arm around his neck I deepened the kiss. Allowing my fingers on my other hand to twist his hair when we get into a much deeper kiss. He broke the kiss helping me pull my shirt over my head and discarding his own somewhere across the room. "I want you too, Aurora. Just tell me if you want me to stop at anytime." He spoke in a soft warning looking for any hesitation on my face, but finding none so I lean up on my elbows giving him a long kiss. "Never stop, Charles. Like you said we can be normal people now. So kiss me please." The professor didn't have to be told twice because next thing I knew he gives me another passionate kiss where we ended up buried in the covers not pulling apart until we were both tired. "I love you, Rora." He kisses my forehead while I lay my head on his bare chest enjoying the moment. "I love you, Charles."

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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mishervellous · 2 years

Note

sick Mick headcanon! sick Mick headcanon!

[the chanting goes out of control: we do break the table]

(cw: blood, bloodworks, some internalized homophobia)

i have a theory about Mickey, spooky scary Mickey, big guy hot shot Mickey: he’s afraid of needles. yeah, you heard me. he’s so afraid of them, in fact, that whenever they watch one of those hospital based shows, he either tenses up every time the doc is putting IVs in left and right, or he just straight up excuses himself out of the room when it gets too much. of course he doesn’t tell that to Ian. what does he look like to you? a wuss? but of course Ian knows, because he’s a wizard—and his husband mind-reading powers get stronger and stronger every day.

so when Mickey has to get some bloodworks done, Ian knows that his husband is freaking out—but he doesn’t let him know that he knows, you know? the night before, Mickey is mentally preparing himself for this ordeal by watching multiple compilations of those weirdos on TikTok live-streaming their fucking surgery or some shit. and he’s grateful that Ian doesn’t ask about it, but also is this really the time for his powers to stop working and for him to not see that he’s in distress? of course he would’ve denied it all to his grave if Ian had asked, but why is Ian not asking?

when the dreaded day finally comes, Ian is sitting by the kitchen table, mindlessly flipping through a magazine, while Mickey’s at the door with his heart down his ass and already sweating buckets—glaring at him from the threshold. “you know I’m going to the hospital, right?” “yup” that’s it? yup? the fuck is this guy’s problem? “you’re not gonna ask to come with or some shit?” “would you let me come with you?” “fuck no” Ian shrugs, getting back to his reading, “have fun, baby”

fuck him and his stupid face and baby and his good-for-nothing dick last night. he makes sure to close the door as loudly as humanly possible, and he’s so angry he almost growls at a poor kid that gets in his way while he’s exiting the building.

it’s fine. it’s just a needle. he’s Mickey Milkovich, for fuck’s sake, could you imagine his dad getting word of this? knowing his son is afraid of needles? that’s too faggy even for you, he’d say. you’re a pussy, he’d say. so Mickey grows a pair last minute, takes a deep breath and enters the clinic with the intention of getting in, giving these sickos some of his blood, and getting the fuck out. flipping Ian off and promising him he’s never going to see Mickey’s ass again.

but his bravado is oh so fucking gone when he actually gets inside the sterile room. when the nurse with the weirdly thin brows sheds the layers covering his left arm, he feels the sweat run cold down his spine. he’s the spokesman for spiraling in record time. then the girl just leaves him sitting there, tourniquet around his bicep like she’s forgotten about what she’s supposed to be doing.

Mickey doesn’t really have that much time to think about it though, because he currently can’t feel his legs, and his breathing is ragged—what the actual fuck is going on? is he dying? is this how he fucking dies?

“woah, hey. hey, it’s okay. I got you” of course Ian’s there when he’s dying. he’s still mad at the guy because he just fucking left him to walk into the alcove of these vampires by himself, but he’s glad he’s here nonetheless.

wait. why is Ian here? what the fuck?

Ian is smiling at him while doing something to his chair, and suddenly Mickey is leaning backwards, almost laying down now. Ian takes his arm, adjusting the tourniquet, and caressing the inside of his elbow with his fingertips. he’s dressed in his full paramedic attire, the one he had to retire all those years back. “close your fist for me”

“what the fuck are you doing?”

Ian looks at him. smiles again. Mickey looks at what he’s doing, how he’s snapping his finger on Mickey’s veins, and oh fuck he’s going to die again. right here right now. “no, don’t look. look at that picture there. that’s it. you’re doing great.”

“Gallagher, if you don’t tell me what’s going on—,”

his husband doesn’t answer right away. he stays silent for a second, before breaking the tension with a snap of his latex gloves. “you really thought I would let you come here by yourself? you can relax your hand now” and with that, the tourniquet is off, and when Mickey dares looking down at his arm again, Ian’s pressing some cotton on the inside of his elbow. what the fuck? “you’re all done, by the way. don’t stand up too quickly. i’ll be waiting in the car, okay?” a peck on his lips, another smile, and then he’s gone.

that motherfucker. he can’t believe he really orchestrated this whole thing—he can’t believe the nurses are in on it too. he can’t believe he didn’t feel a fucking thing, not even a pinch or a sting.

that cunning fucking wizard. that loving motherfucker.

#and that’s on period #tw: blood #tw: bloodworks #gallavich #shameless #gallavich fanfic #gallavich hc #who knows #ask

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firefly-in-darkness · 3 years

Text

Go For Broke

Pairing → Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Characters → Brief mentions of Knives Out characters (maybe?)

Summary → A little bet has big consequences.

Word Count → 2.7k

Warnings → 18+, Swearing, Smut, Angst

Betas → @kalesrebellion // all mistakes are my own.

Prompts → Bee's 7K of the Week Challenge; Monday - Ransom Drysdale, Tuesday - Smangst, Friday - Work Function, Saturday - The Dating Bet, (a blink of a praise kink for Sunday).

AFG2021 Square Fill→ "I said 'be sexy', not be a fucking blowfish" @anyfandomgoesbingo

A/N → As I mentioned above, this is for @negans-lucille-tblr writing challenge - congrats on 7k baby!! (I even kept it under 3k for you it wasn't going to be!) This is my first time writing for Ransom, and it doesn't have any connection to Knives Out, it's an AU.

As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated💕

Firefly’s Masterlist

You carried two steaming mugs of coffee and nudged the ajar door open with your foot to Ransom’s office. He had leant back on the large leather chair and was taking in the views through the floor to ceiling windows.

He spun round in his chair and you were hit with the scent of his cologne, it had your stomach fluttering with butterflies. His legs parted wide, and the sight was something to behold; the thickness of his thighs and the way his large hand rubbed the top of one.

It was never going to happen between you two. He was Ransom Drysdale, a well-known playboy and skirt chaser. And you, you were his assistant.

He wasn’t the type of man you were after. You wanted someone permanent, someone, that wasn’t just a fuck buddy. But at least you got a little something for the spank bank every now and then.

“Like what you see?” You were caught red-handed by his crystal blue eyes and the lopsided smirk that you adored.

You brought the iPad in front of him to life, “This is your schedule for today. Harlan said that he’s rescheduled the board meeting with Walt to next week so we can relax a little bit. Said there was something to do with taking a risk or gamble?”

Ransom’s head snapped up, and his tongue darted out across his lip, a nervous tick that you’d long ago discovered. You felt a warmth bloom at your core and tried to hide the way your thighs nestled together to ease the growing heat.

Ransom scooted backwards in his chair and announced, “I need to get out of here.”

“You’ve just arrived, you can’t play hooky, you’re the boss.” You protested.

“That’s exactly why I can,” Ransom asserted and pulled his coat back on. “Let’s get lunch at that diner we went to last month. It’s quiet and nobody knows me there.”

You had become used to the whirlwind that Ransom brought with him the second he entered a room, but this was different. He seemed on edge rather than angry and you weren’t sure what had happened in the ten minutes you were away making a coffee.

“But I just made us coffee.” You pouted at him; he knew that you needed that delicious nectar.

“I’m buying lunch now get your coat,” Ransom demanded.

You rolled your eyes and did what you were told, much to your chagrin.

Ransom had driven like a mad man in his classic beamer to get you to Ruby’s Diner in record time. You scolded him once or twice when he just missed the red lights. But he didn’t seem to relax like he usually did when he entered.

All was forgiven when the waitress placed two steaming plates of burgers and milkshakes on the table. You were in heaven and thanked the waitress as you dunked a chip in the sauce.

“What is wrong with you today?” You asked.

“What are you talking about? I’m just being my usual self.” Ransom shook his head and threw the raggedy napkin across the table away from him.

You remained silent and continued to eat, allowing him to stew over whatever it was that was eating at him. It didn’t take you long to demolish your lunch, but Ransom still hadn’t touched his food. All he had done since you told him off was chew on his lip and glared at the sugar dispenser.

“Okay, seriously, you need to start talking.” You challenged.

He sighed and dragged a hand down his face, “Okay, but you can’t freak out.”

“What did you do?” Your eyes went wide as your mind ran wild with all the crazy things that he could possibly do in the last twenty-four hours.

Ransom looked up at you and laughed, “I can’t take you seriously right now.”

“What?” You frowned, feeling a mixture of confusion painted across your features.

His hand gripped your chin and his thumb swiped away at the sauce that you’d long forgotten. The heat on your cheeks grew tenfold and you coughed when he hadn’t removed his hand from your jaw.

“Ah yeah sorry. Sauce.” He stammered.

You smirked, you’d never seen him this worked up before, what had gotten into him, “So?”

“Okay, don’t fucking freak out on me but someone in the office wanted to make a bet with me. About you.”

You stared at him, all of your thoughts emptied out into the diner, “I’m sorry, what? I think you need to say a bit more than that.”

Ransom explained how one of your co-workers approached him and placed a bet that he wouldn’t be able to bed you before the corporate summer party.

“Who the fuck was it?” You growled; hands clenched on the edge of the seat.

“I’m not telling, I don’t want you to start a fight. You’re my favourite pers-assistant.” Ransom shook his head and began to nibble on the fries. His face screwed up at the realisation they were cold.

“Hold on. You agreed, didn’t you?” Your heart raced.

“I did. I have a reputation to uphold.” He smirked, “and was worth it, you should see your face right now.”

You scowled harder, “how much was the bet?”

“Ten thousand.” He shrugged.

“Fuckin’ hell Ransom, you’re cocksure, aren’t you?” You laughed at him, “why did you accept it?”

“That’s loose change to me.” Ransom shrugged and brought the replaced milkshake to his lips, tongue curling around the straw.

“Fine, I’ll do it. But I want half.” You explained, mirroring his action with your own milkshake.

Ransom choked on his drink and quickly rushed out his words, “you what?”

“We aren’t having sex, Ransom.” You rolled your eyes and placed the drink down, “If they ask, I’ll just say we did. It keeps your reputation intact. No harm, no foul.”

“They want proof.” He raises his eyebrow.

“Fuck sake, okay. Come over to mine tomorrow night and we’ll take some fake dirty pictures.” Without waiting for a response, you stepped out of the booth, “Now, I do have some work to do and funnily enough, so do you.”

“Anyone would think you were the boss.” Ransom playfully sulked and placed some money on the table.

“I might as well be.” You gestured towards the door, “Move it.”

The black baby doll was just perfect for this photo session. It was a little see-through, but your modesty was covered with the lace detailing skimming the tops of your thighs. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, but you had to get this over with sooner or later. With one final look in the mirror, you steeled your nerves and opened the bathroom door and slowly walked to your bedroom.

“Hello,” You anxiously stuttered, “Where do you want me?”

Ransom’s eyes darkened at the sight of you, his large hands rubbing along his thick thighs, just the way you had admired yesterday. You internally berated yourself, this wasn’t sex. It was all fake. It was an easy win for you both - Ransom kept his reputation and you got a nice little pot of gold for a rainy day, or week.

“Just lay down on the bed and look sexy.” He commented, unhelpfully.

You nodded and shuffled around until you found a comfortable position, with your arms draped above you. It didn’t feel sexy, it felt awkward and uncomfortable. Why is this so hard? You took a deep breath and tried to relax your body and turned to face Ransom. He’d moved the left side of the bed, his phone in hand ready to take the shot.

“Ready?” Ransom asked, and you thought you saw a sparkle of sincerity in his eyes with his one worded question.

“Yes,” you said and gave him your best pout and ‘fuck me’ eyes.

“I said ‘be sexy’, not be a fucking blowfish.” Ransom snapped.

You bolted up from your position, kneeling on the edge of the bed to get back on his level but it was no use, the man was still towering over you, “I’m trying, I’m not exactly in the mood.”

Ransom raised his brow from above, and you hadn’t quite realised how close you were to him, his stomach mere inches from your chest. The lack of response grated on you, his face was irritating, and you were ready to shove the five grand up his ass.

“Actually, this could work.” Ransom pulled off his shirt and revealed the tight muscles. Your anger morphed into desire; you wanted to reach forward and touch him but kept your hands refrained at your sides. “Now, look up at me and bite your lip.”

“Perfect.” He smiled down at you and cupped your face. His thumb stroked the apple of your cheek and paired with his words; a shiver ran down your spine.

Instinctively, you bit down your lip and unbuckled his belt to the sound of the camera shutter. Hands traced Ransom’s abdomen and he sucked in a breath as you stroked a sensitive spot.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and looked up at him, “maybe we should have some photos where your face is in it too?”

Ransom didn’t need to be asked twice, he pulled down his chinos and exposed his thick muscular thighs. Your mouth watered and warmth bloomed in your tummy at the sight of the black Calvin Klein’s hugging his groin.

You rearranged your position to lie down amongst the sheets while Ransom crawled onto the bed to kneel between your legs. His hand cupped under your knee and hoisted one of them up to his hip.

“You might need to take this one,” he handed the phone to you.

Just as you went to take the photograph, Ransom’s other hand slid underneath the baby doll. It sent another wave of pleasure through your body. His smooth hands stooped just beneath your breast and it almost made you whimper. Almost.

With an attempt to gather your bearings, you decided to focus on his phone and snap a few pictures of this new position. But seeing those little images captured and whizz into the corner made you want more. There was no point denying it as you felt the tell-tale signs of your arousal between your legs. But did Ransom want it?

Ransom moved the sheer material up and lifted your leg higher, over his shoulder. Before you could ask what, he was doing, his body dipped down, his lips so close to pressing against your stomach. Oh god. Your body instantly betrayed you as your hand went straight into his messy short locks eliciting a deep groan from Ransom. His hot breath fanned across your skin, goosebumps raising in its flow.

You took some more pictures, feeling the wetness pooling in your panties, the heat growing and growing up your body. Ransom returned to kneeling and you noticed the prominent bulge in his pants, and you finally got your answer. He did want it.

A mischievous smirk replaced the smile on your lips, “you’ll want to take these.”

You sat up and turned around so that you were kneeling in front of him and giving a great view of your behind. Ransom couldn’t restrain himself, his hands instantly gripped at your hips and pulling you back towards him. He growled and you whimpered as he rutted between your cheeks.

“Ransom, the photos?” You sang out and smirked into the pillow.

“Oh yeah, right.” Ransom spluttered and began to take the photographs from this new position then you heard the soft thud of the phone dropping onto the mattress, “hang on a minute.”

Gracefully, he spun you around and managed to get underneath you to seat you just above his hips. You were entranced by the dark lust-filled eyes that studied your body, following the hands that skimmed along your waist.

His touch sent sparks across the exposed skin of your chest, his fingers toying with the lace trim as they descended the plunging neckline and over your breasts. You rocked against his stomach, giving you just a little bit of pleasure from the friction at your core.

Ransom bolted upright, one arm wrapping around you while his other hand brought you closer until his mouth met yours. The kiss was heated, it pulled you deeper into the need for more, to have him deep inside of you. Ransom’s tongue swiped along your bottom lip, demanding access and you obliged without hesitation.

You’d only thought of him, like this, late at night and alone. It was nothing compared to your wildest fantasies to have him kissing you like this or to feel him hard beneath you. You squirmed to feel him better, but he broke the kiss.

“Sorry,” He panted.

Your stomach plummeted at the thought of him regretting what had barely started, “For what?”

“I shouldn’t have,” Ransom avoided eye contact and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more than you already had done, “we just got carried away.”

“Ransom, if you don’t fuck me right now, I will kick you out.” You raised your eyebrow in a challenge.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Chatter and laughter filled the gaps of the song blasting through the speakers set up around the roof terrace. The large projector screen reeled through photographs of colleagues, in and out of work, successes in the tabloids and social media. Pool water splashed over the edges with each dive-bomb or flirtatious swish between colleagues. You watched on behind the sunglasses and relished in the sunshine beating down. It was rare to have such perfect weather and you wanted to soak up as much of the rays as you could.

The moment you spotted Ransom talking to a few people over at the bar, you thought now would be the best time to approach him. It had been a few hours since you arrived, and you only last saw him the morning before, and a few weeks since that first night. You both wanted to take things slow, it wasn’t how you expected things to happen but neither of you regretted it.

The nearer you got to the bar, you suddenly felt like everyone’s eyes were on you. Side glances from the Marketing girls, a laugh, and a grimace from a few others. Then you saw Ransom rushing up to you but also looking behind.

Before he reached you, you spun around to the projector and saw a display of all the photos you and Ransom had taken that night. Your stomach dropped, nausea taking over until you were about to collapse on the floor.

Hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you on the spot. You looked at the terrified gaze of Ransom. His lips were moving but your ears buzzed with the hum of blood pumping through. Unable to process what had happened, you tried to escape. To get away from the people that were staring, gawking, at you. At you and Ransom on the screen and then down to the pair by the bar.

“Please talk to me,” Ransom pleaded, “I didn’t know that’s what she was going to do.”

“Did you sleep with her?” You asked, your mind reeling with how this could be a vendetta against Ransom, and you’re caught in the crossfire.

Ransom’s eyes widened, “Yeah, probably a year ago.”

“You fuckin’ idiot. Get out of my way.” You tried to walk past him, but he blocked your path.

“Can I come with you?” He asked face paled.

You scowled, “No. Move.”

Ransom followed you, weaving between the crowds of sniggers and laughter. You could hear him pleading, almost begging for you to stop but you refused. You needed to get out of there and he was making it more difficult.

You skimmed the edge of the pool and Ransom grabbed your bicep, attempting to stop and turn you around. Without a second thought, you spun and shoved him. He fell backwards into the pool with a great splash. It only made you feel good for a split second until he resurfaced.

“Consider this my notice, I quit.” You turned on your heel and left the party, your job and Ransom behind.

The End.

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#Ransom Drysdale x Reader #Ransom Drysdale #Ransom Drysdale Fic #Ransom Drysdale Fanfiction #Ransom Drysdale Fanfic

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rouxstoes · 2 years

Text

weak for feet in the library

a young man at the end of his sophomore year of college in a hurry to get his research paper written in time. due the next day and worth almost 40% of his grade, he’s desperate to get it finished. trudging his way towards the library he throws the doors opened and rushes over to the table furthest to the back away from the other few students scattered and working on their own assignments.

he sets his bag down on the floor, pulls out his laptop and sets it on the table, shuffling through his backpack he finally finds the charging cord and looks up to spot a place to plug it in. he locks eyes on a girl entering the library -- long flowing strawberry hair, a baby blue tank top revealing her midriff with her shoulders and arms covered by a black crocheted cardigan. a pair of high wasted shorts complimenting her hips and little white low-top converse chucks on her feet. he could feel himself holding his breath and looked away, hurrying over to the wall to plug in his laptop.

finally he finds an outlet and turns to sit back down, only to see that the strawberry haired girl was now sitting at the same table as his laptop. she was sitting in the seat across from him, pulling out a large stack of textbooks and binders. he can feel his heartrate quicken as he makes his way to his seat. he pulls out his chair and sits down, opening his laptop and avoiding eye contact.

“cool if i study here?” she says, breaking the silence and almost startling him. he looks over his laptop and sees her eyes, the same color as her tank top. a chill runs down his spine.

“y-yeah, totally cool.” he stutters before looking back at his laptop screen. he breathes in deeply and opens up his barely halfway completed research assignment. he starts to type and tries to focus hard on his work before he takes another deep breath in and gets a huge whiff of hot, sweaty feet.

his eyes slowly move to the top of his screen and he peaks over to see the girls’ soles crossed and bare propped up on the table across from him, she had a book up in front of her face that she seemed to be giving her full attention. “she... wasn’t wearing socks” he thinks to himself as he gazes over the little round tips of her toes, the wrinkles in her crossed soles, the curves of her arches and her unpainted toenails. the whole area smells like vinegar and corn chips. he could feel a bulge growing in his pants.

he tries his hardest to get back to his work but every time he takes in air he gets another big whiff of her stinky sneaker feet. you can tell they’ve been sweating inside of those shoes all day. his cock starts to ache as the smell takes him over and he can no longer focus on typing anything. he sits silently and grips his bulge, squeezing in hopes of relieving some of the pressure that won’t seem to stop building up.

the way she sways her feet and scrunches her soles as she reads drives him crazy and he can’t take his eyes off of them. suddenly, she looks up from her book and locks eyes with him -- staring at her, red-cheeked and incredibly flushed -- he tries to look away and act like he’s typing but it’s too late. she noticed.

“are you staring at my feet, freak?” she says as she puts her book down and leans in closer, now propping one elbow up on the table and leaning against it, her soles still crossed and scrunched next to her facing him as well. her tone is almost playful but something about it also stung. his cock throbs and he forces himself to swallow the spit he’d been holding in his mouth, almost drooling.

“i- uh, n-no... i’m sorry i was-” he tries to get out before she interrupts him by standing up and walking barefoot around the table, she places her hands on her hips and looks down at him. he feels small and can hardly meet her gaze.

“you know, i can’t go anywhere anymore and prop my feet up in peace without some geek getting a hard-on over them” she says looking into his crotch. he blushes bright red, looks down and covers his bulge. when he looks back up he’s greeted by one of her warm, clammy soles smacking into his cheek, knocking him out of the chair and onto the floor. “is that what you want, loser?” she says it loud enough that two other students turn their heads and giggle at what’s happening in front of them.

she reaches into the front of his backpack and pulls out the two twenty dollar bills he’d saved for food, walks back to her seat and puts her items back into her bag before sliding on her shoes and walking away, out of the library completely. he’s laying, speechless. his cheek slightly moist from her sole making contact. the smell of her feet lingering on his face and in the air. he touches his cheek softly and smells him fingertips before he looks down and sees that the crotch of his jeans are drenched. “she... that... made me cum” he thinks in disbelief as he stands himself up, removes his hoodie and wraps it around his waist, avoiding the eyes of the students who had seen what happened. still red-faced and catching his breath. he looks down and stares at the research paper he’d made almost no progress on.

“maybe failing isn’t so bad.” he whispers to himself as he flashes back to her unforgettable perfect smelly soles making hard contact with his face. he packs up his laptop and stumbles his way out of the library and back to his dorm, feeling embarrassed but incredibly invigorated.

xoxo written by rouxstoes oxox

#written by me #rouxstoes #foot slave #foot lover #feet lovers #smelly feet #stinky feet #crossedsoles #feet worship

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Text

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, mentions of animal harm, sexual themes, god/fantasy au for BNHAREM this badboi is 8k so enjoy~

The sound of a wind chime echoes across the small field just outside your home. The breeze carries the smell of summer bloomed blossoms and with it the threat of rain as it comes from down the mountain.

A soft brown creature catches your eye as your mother picks flowers and berries for the festival.

“Bunbun!” You exclaim, pointing as you tug on your mother’s tattered kimono, she responds with a soft hmm. Her eyes still focused on the wide range of flowers although her vision blurs.

But at least you weren’t picked for this festival, no it would be many years before you would be in the running. Your mother’s only wish was for you to be unfavorable. Mother is so engrossed that she does not see you slip away, slowly following the bunny into the forest.

Soon the soft brown creature begins to hop, faster and faster as you giggle running full speed ahead. Not noticing how the trees thicken or how dark eyes seem to peer through the trees, their mawls salivating with unsated hunger. With gnashing teeth they stalk ever closer all the while you rush to catch the creature just for it to jump high into the air. Nose diving straight for the ground, you copy its actions but the bunny is faster than you. Slipping into the burrow with ease as you fall face first into dirt and rocks.

“O..ow. Momma!” You sniffle, turning around for some much needed motherly love, but instead of your mother hunched over collecting boring things in her basket you are met with a dense forest. The setting sun washes over the trees giving the thick pines and maples a ghoulish red hue. Suddenly you are hyper aware of the sounds around you, a stick snaps in the brush. Your head turns as if you were a startled deer, eyes wide, heart racing as you strain to hear over the rushing blood in your ears. Dark figures move in the long shadows and haunting laughs echo around you. Beady eyes shine in the darkness causing a small whimper to leave your lips. Acting on instinct you rush to your feet, running through the woods. Briers snatch at your small ankles, leaving angry red lines in their wake, wanting nothing more than to make you a child of the forest.

“MOOOM!” You shout, panting as they force you further into the mountain, you take a quick left when one jumps from the right causing you to trip over a branch falling into a small clearing, faintly you hear the rush of a spring.

Scuffling rouses a sleepy garnet haired man who lounges in a steaming hot spring, that’s sprinkled with fallen petals of mountain flowers. He thinks to dismiss it until a scream cuts through the serenity of the pines. Whatever animal it is, it sounds small and this stirs something in the mountainous man. Sadly this was the circle of life, he reminds himself as he sinks deeper into the burning hot spring.

“MOMMA HELP PWEESE!!” You scream, trying to get up but this time you are entangled in a briar patch, thorn and vine twisting around your tender skin. It seems the wicked green plant will have its wish.

All the while the shadows stalk closer, their bright beady eyes blown wide as their jaws unhinge for their meal. They get on their haunches to launch themselves at you until something causes them to freeze. The trees shake around you while the Earth rumbles as if there were a thunder storm beneath the rich dirt.

“Hello little flower. Are you lost?” You whip your head towards the sound. Lip quivering as you stare up at a tall, built man. But it was his eyes that stood out the most.

His glistening rubies glow as fading sunlight catches his hair, emphasizing that the strands are a red so deep one could mistake it as black. Your eyes play tricks on you as the air seems charged and yet calm, giving him a surreal aura. He stands tall, half relaxed as one arm is lazily hanging from his dark rose kimono while the rest of his sculpted body is exposed to the slowly cooling air. You weigh your options as best you can before you scramble to your savior. Clinging to his leg as your tears begin to stain his kimono.

He breathes in deeply and before he can speak the dark figures vanish, melting into the shadows that stretch in the last winking light of the Sun. He crouches down to you, pushing hair past your face.

“Don’t cry little flower. Here.” A beautiful flower crown appears in his hands. The white petals with contrasting amethyst stripes down the center seem to have their own shimmering bio-luminescence making it feel other worldly as he places it atop your head. He chooses the dietes flower for its symbolism and rarity, unknowingly sealing your fate.

“Is that better, little one?” You nod in response, sniffling softly as he scoops you up walking you until he can just see what must be your home through the thick trees. He watches what he assumes your mother to panic, as the village shouts what must be your name.

“You’ll have to walk the rest of the way okay little flower?” He sets you down gently before you give a big nod. Cold bare feet crunching the leaves against the forest floor.

You come into the clearing of your home, the sea of yellows, pinks and reds winking in the stark light of the moon.

“Momma…” You call softly, the world stops turning on its axis before she rushes to you, pulling you into her arms before her eyes are filled with overflowing fear. Fat droplets leave her long lashes as she snatches the crown away, but it is too late. It has been seen by all.

“Oh she is favored by the Gods.” Someone comments.

“If she grows into anything like her mother she will be the best choice to appease the Mountain God!"

"Let us mark this day and the family name so we may remember 16 years from now."

They continue to gossip as your mother squeezes you tight enough that it hurts. Her mind racing as she carries you inside, she tucks you in without a word of a scolding. Coaxing you to drink some lavender tea that pulls you into a deep sleep beneath the symphony of crickets and the like.

You do not hear your mother return and if you do, you guess she is doing her nightly routine. Fluffing your blankets and making sure your futon is warm enough but what you weren’t expecting was the cold bite of a blade pressing into the flesh above your left eyebrow.

"Mom…Momma’s sorry baby.” She chokes on her sobs as she pulls the cool metal hard and deep, crying so loud she can barely hear your scream.

But that was how long ago? Almost two decades? You toss a rock into your reflection, distorting your marred face as your childhood flashes before your eyes.

You remember there was shouting, lots of shouting of how you are now “unfavorable” “dishonorable” “an abomination” the next day and from then it’s a blur of insults and isolation. Nothing but the wind in your hair, the creaking of the trees and a dream of glistening rubies kept you alive, desperate to return to the last time you were happy. Although you were unsure of who you saw in the mountain that fated night, a part of you could guess. It had to be the Spirit of the Mountain, Kirishima. Because who else actually looked like the painted scrolls that littered the village and shrines? In your opinion they had his image all wrong.

He does not scowl or wear a grimace, no his smile is sharp toothed and bright. You sigh, wondering if you will ever bump into him again.

An inhuman scream tears through the serenity of the babbling brook causing a chill to run through your spine. If you had to guess it was most likely a fox or wolf finally catching up to its meal.

“They must eat too…” You murmur to yourself, drawing your knees to your chest. The wind rustles the leaves overhead giving you sharp visions of beady black eyes from the past.

“Don’t let it get away!” A shout from your left before the animal comes scurrying through the brush, running smack into your lap. It is a small fox, its tail missing and in its wake a crude weeping cut. Your vision blurs red as you take off your top layer of kimono, wrapping the poor thing in the brown fabric.

The culprits come into view, the village elder’s son holds the tail while his favorite goon holds the knife. Red falls to the Earth in nauseating droplets.

“Well well well, looks like we found something else we can carve up huh?” The goon asks with a smile, “Just keep quiet freak."

The elder’s son is hesitant, something odd grows in his eyes and chest. Suddenly the tail feels a lot heavier than what it was moments ago, especially so under the weight of your single gaze. Your left eye although clouded over seems to stare straight into his soul. Can you see the desperation he has? Worst yet can you see how tainted he is?

"Oi Kenji” The goon nudges him, clearly only hanging around the future heir for his influence and with it a hope of immunity to terrorize as he pleases.

The motion brings him back to the present while a plan begins to form in his head. Would anyone believe the dishonorable, disowned freak over him? Could he do things to you that no matter how loud you screamed the truth it would fall on deaf ears?

His cruel smile is an answer in of itself as he takes a step towards you, it wouldn’t be hard to make you his. You take a step back, mindful of the sun’s position and your surroundings. They both creep nearer as you hold the shaking animal to you, you turn on your heel rushing through the woods. They were fast and well trained however no one knew these woods like you did.

It was as if you knew of every fallen leaf or broken branch as you rushed through the deep green leaves. Dodging low branches that they hit face first, holes they tripped in and even a dead deer carcass that you bound in a single leap. You hear a crash and one of them gag as your feet urge you forward, looking over your shoulder.

That is until your run into something so solid you fall right onto your ass, the small animal gives a whimper on your lap.

“I could have sworn…” The sound of rushing water swallows up the rest of your thought as you look up to what you’ve run into. Wholly expecting a tree stood a man, with deep garnet hair and a sharp toothed smile. Immediately your blood turns cold, the air about him seeming other worldly as the forest quiets and slows in his presence.

“Ah, are you alright?” He asks, extending his hand to you, gingerly you take it. His calloused hand is warm and strong as he lifts you to your feet, ruby eyes staring at the bundle in your hand.

“May I?” Hesitantly you pass the bundle, he frowns at its contents before setting the small fox on the ground, waving his fingers to heal its wound. The fox looks at the healer, seemingly giving him a small bow before rushing back into the safety of the brush.

“The fox told me what you did. Thank you.” His smile is blinding and dazzling. He offers you a single white flower, the amethyst stripe up the middle causes your stomach to tighten.

“Do you always give out good fortune?” You ask quietly, turning the wild iris over in your hand. He laughs, if he recognizes you he does not show it but you are sure this is the man who gave you an abundance of “good fortune” years ago. Your scar burns from the thought. Your mother did tell you stories of the Gods playing cruel jokes.

But was Kirishima truly a maleficent God?

You bit your lower lip. A warm hand cups your chin, a soft smile on his face as he turns your left side to you.

“Do I know you dear heart?” His voice is soft, eyes half mast almost lazily gazing upon your features. You tuck the iris in your ear and it seems to jog his memory.

“Little flower!” His voice becomes larger, sharper, as his thumb swipes over the deep fissure on your cheek “What happened?!"

His touch is comforting but not enough you wish to relive the trauma again.

"I wish not to speak about it.” Your eyes catch the position of the sun. Gently you step from his soft grip.

“I must return home for dinner before I cause my mother to worry.” You bow formally, presenting the flower “Thank you Kamisama but I cannot accept your blessing."

You stand like that long enough your back begins to hurt causing a deep fear to flow through your veins.

Was he angry that you dared to reject him?

Your feet burn with the urge to run but you dismiss it, finally his large fingers grasps at the small stem holding the rarity in his hands. Eyes roving over you, you peek up to check his gaze and while he looks level headed to you, you decide to leave before you find out if he isn’t.

He stares after you, eyes curious and yet not surprised as to how he could have forgotten about someone as remarkable as you.

But how could he remember?

You are nothing more than a mere mortal and you were a child at that. A blip, a hazy day dream even, in his infinite lifetime.

So what interest would he have in a life so fleeting that should he rouse from a nap he would be meeting your great grandchildren who could remember nothing more about you than your name?

And yet when he looked at you now, as a full grown woman, something bloomed in his chest. Your scar adding to your mystic beauty, especially after what the fox had told him.

His ruby eyes return to the flower as he ponders over your question in his head.

A week or so passes, as you’re sure to avoid the Mountain God. Still fearing he may be angered by your rejection.

But you cannot stay from the depths of the forest long. Staring down at your reflection in the water you sigh, running your hand through the cool water debating if you will bathe in one of the many hot springs tonight. A scurrying in the bush pulls your attention to the here and now. Muscles rigid as you worry it will be an encounter with the heir and his goon, shimmering orange rushes from the brush easing your mind.

"Ah hello friend!” You call and the fox stops in its tracks, task or hunt at hand long forgotten, “Did His healing power work?"

You cannot help the glee in your voice as you see your friendly fox sit near your feet, it swishes its tail and just like that another seems to appear. Wagging like an opposing pendulum beside the other.

"You have two tails now, oh” You give a sly smile, “Are you here to steal my liver?"

The kitsune chuckles at your joke, his little laugh echoing in the clearing. The haunting sound brings an odd comfort to you as he tilts his head as if someone is whispering to him. He gives a small nod before approaching, setting something in your lap that his black lips were not holding before.

A note of sorts and the flower he attempted to offer you earlier. The note reads in glowing golden red hue,

"Let’s start over again. Tea by the blue moon wild flowers at midnight.”

You sigh deeply, placing the card and flower deep in your tattered kimono with the thought of not showing up. Why would a God want tea with you? You who wears a scarred face and milky white eye. You give the kitsune a soft pat before standing, brushing the dirt from your deep brown kimono.

You spend the rest of the day as you told your mother you would, picking flowers to both practice arranging and drying for the upcoming festival. There were only a few weeks left and you had done zero practicing as you has promised. Your mother claimed this would help earn your keep with the village but you were sure that was more for her peace of mind than the truth.

With your basket heavy with the finest of flowers you head towards home, careful to avoid the path you last saw the God on.

And anytime you had thought you caught wind of his intoxicating smell of soft musk, pine and the biting threat of snow you turned on your heel as quickly and quietly as humanly possible, ignoring the gemstone gaze that bore into your back.

After a small dinner with your mother and hours of twisting flower streams to make crowns of, you finally get the chance to lie down to sleep.

But sleep doesn’t come, instead you’re wide awake as the moon leaks in the through the small cracks in the walls. Dust dancing on the low light as you sigh as if you were in love.

Deep, unsatisfied and often.

The invitation burns in the folds of your kimono and suddenly you are filled with action. Gently you rise, fumbling with your hair as best you can before you mumble curses to yourself. Placing a practice crown on your head and rouging your lips with the remnants of berries before you set out into the darkness.

Your feet seem to guide you on your own as you weave through the trees. Fireflies lazily floating in the air as crickets scream their symphonies at your feet. Finally you come across the mostly hidden spot.

Hesitantly you step into the clearing, blue moon flowers glitter in the light of the quarter moon as if sprinkled with stardust. Their silver sheen invites you in further as a wind sweeps through the patch. Your eyes rove over as you look for the Mountain God. When your search comes up empty you feel your heart free fall into your stomach. Heated foolishness creeps into your throat and cheeks.

Why would a God invite a mortal?

Blinking away hurt tears you turn briskly, stopping yourself from running from the clearing incase he is watching for the sake of his cruel joke.

That is until a deep voice rings out, vibrating the very bones in your body with a comforting hum.

“Little flower, Are we not having tea?” His tone is innocent and when you turn around with half a mind to fuss you see it. A beautiful hand woven rug that holds a low tea table, atop the dark wood sits finary. Foods, desserts and tea ware that would make the emperor jade green with envy.

“This is…” You whisper but he reaches his hand towards you, gently guiding you to a plush cushion, his strong hand wrapped steadfast around yours. He waits until you are seated comfortably before he sits close to you.

Almost too close, his shoulder could easily brush against yours in movement and it does as it takes you an eon to realize what exactly he is doing.

Preparing the tea. Immediately your stomach flips as shaking hands fumble to stop him, grabbing onto his large hands with a fervor unmatched. A quizzical look before a sly smirk paints his handsome features.

“A..a..a God should not be serving a m..mortal tea.” You trip over your words feeling self conscious as your palms feel is if they are sweating. Shame radiates through your chest as if a hot rod were shoved through your heart.

“Then let us not be a God and a mortal.” He smiles, lips curving upward gently as his shining teeth glint in the low light. You should be scared, frightened that you may have insulted him or worse yet earned the infamous Wrath of the Mountain God.

But you aren’t, if anything you’re on the complete opposite of the spectrum as the breeze shifts his scent closer to you. The forest alive at night, the sharp smell of snow mingling with the gentle fragrance of bloomed flowers.

Suddenly you feel dizzy and his next words do not help.

“Let us be more.” Again you feel the comforting hum in your chest, you decide now is a good time to let go of his hands.

He sets the tea before you, again you are faced with a pitiful reflection. You blow on the green liquid disrupting the steam and with it your image. It is quiet save the sounds of late night summer although it is not uncomfortable silence that passes over the hours between the two of you. It is easy as the two of you sip your tea and for a moment you think you’ve forgotten the sin you’re committing by forgetting who he really is. Occasionally the two of you would share a laugh, his shoulder brushing against yours before he comes closer, close enough your forearms touch as they rest against the table. His skin feels warm and smooth like a rock baking in the sun, his smile dazzling as his face seems to get closer. His finger hooks into your palm, lazily tracing the lines as if they were an old and familiar map.

“Why do you love the mountain forest so much?” His voice is so close you feel breath fan your cheek. Butterflies take rapid flight in your stomach.

Was it that obvious? I guess it would be with how much of your life you spent within these thick trees.

“There is so much to love in this place of solace. Every new clearing brings something of wonder. A waterfall, a field of flowers, a hot spring to soak your aching bones. Even just a small fawn grazing on the seeds the trees and flowers offer is more beauty than I can imagine."

His fingers stop, leaving an odd tingling sensation causing your nerves to stand on edge. Attempting to reach towards the soft touch once more. Kirishima looks to the moon and how it begins to set.

"Another day little flower.” He whispers, voice honeyed yet sharp as you find yourself standing on the edge of the woods, staring at your small home. You turn in a full circle and see no sign of the God causing your heart to grow heavy. Gripping at your chest as you make your way back towards your home, you thought maybe he didn’t like your answer. Maybe he read your honesty as a poor attempt of flattery.

What you don’t know is that he liked your answer a little too much.

It isn’t long before you find yourself in the same patch of flowers at a questionable hour sitting beside Kamisama himself. You swallow thickly, nails biting into your palm as again he pours your tea.

Is this right? Would your mother approve?

You were sure she wouldn’t, and not from your lack of manners but seeing the very man she so feared and having tea with him nonetheless.

“Something troubling you my blossom?” Flustered over his familiarity you stammer out a response.

“Just…just thinking.” You offer a shy smile as he returns a wolfish grin, you do not know that he can hear just how fast your heart is beating.

“Hmmm.” The hum rumbles in your own chest and large bottle flies take flight in your stomach. He brushes some hair out of your face so he can better see it. He smiles softly.

“I’ve been curious about why you are collecting so many flowers lately.” Rigid beneath his touch you fear you have angered him but it won’t be long before you realize just how infatuated he is with you.

“A festival for you Kirishima, Kamisama of the Mountain.” He lets his fingers play and twist in your hair. You try not to look away.

“You’ll be the guest of honor then?” His fingers brush down your heated cheeks.

Despite the intimacy of both his touch and proximity you give a loud laugh. Eyes looking at a blurred green version of yourself in your cup.

“No, I’m sure I could never be favored.” At least not by the villagers.

But you seemed to be favored by the Gods. You swallow thickly, of all the talk and importance of the festivals your mother never let you attend, so you are unsure what happens.

While you’re left home alone you could hear the loud beats of the drum, their feet hitting against the stone of the square and their joyous singing.

Sometimes you think you hear a scream.

But you cannot reflect on it long as a pair of soft lips press against your cheek. Then when you do not move they graze along your jawline before finding their way to your pulse. You give a small gasp and when he gives a small suck you a raspy moan. He growls against your throat, a sudden heat grows between your legs and you swallow desire whole.

He feels how tense you have become and eases up from your throat. Guiding you by your chin so you may face him before he steals away your first kiss.

Not that you would have given it to anyone else.

The next month is a game of cat and mouse. Both of you eagerly seeking the other out, yet making it seem as if it were a mere accidently. All the while a now three tailed fox smiles knowingly. It’s a blur of tea, mountain top views over valleys, and deep passionate kissing.

But this last encounter truly was by pure chance for both parties.

The pungent smell of sulfur tickles your nose, although this is the least offending spring. Its water a lovely milky blue that you’ve decorated with a few left over flowers heads. You sigh as you sink deeper into the borderline scalding water being sure to soak your aching hands and feet.

You’re thankful that the rushing water settles here in this cluster of rocks despite the small current that carries it away just a few feet down. A sigh leaves your body, eyes lingering to the light of the full moon before they flutter close. Your guard completely down as you know no one is going to be wandering around these woods.

It is the night of the festival after all.

And no one was sure as hell gonna be out looking for you.

Not even Kamisama as you were sure he would oversee the festival, it was held in his name was it not?

Sleep threatens to pull you beneath its veil so much so you do not hear the footsteps that approach.

He steps closer to the spot of his favorite spring and when he sees your head titling back onto the rocks, a fine blush blooms on his cheeks.

“My little hana?” His voice is soft yet concerned, startling you. The water splashes around as you turn to face him.

If you were flustered before you’re beyond that now. He has his back to you as he gives your privacy, face slightly turned but his eyes are not overlooking his shoulder. Your eyes widen as they take in His beauty. His hair tied up in a messy bun, winking blacks and deep reds beneath the moonlight. His broad shoulders exposed, eyes trailing down his sculpted back to see his bare buttocks. Strong, thick legs holding up this God of a man.

Well he was a God wasn’t he?

“Are you alright, lovely blossom? I didn’t know you’d be here I can come ba…"

"No. No no!” You interrupt, “I…"

It’s silent for a moment, lust moves your lips.

"I wouldn’t mind the company.” Your voice is barely heard over the swirling, rushing water.

But the smirk on his soft lips tells you that he had heard you. And he will never forget the invitation.

He turns to join you, your eyes following down the trail of his abs to his pointed V, you do not allow your eyes to travel further south and force them to his face. His glowing eyes bright, two shining rubies lighting up the night. He sinks into the water across from you, letting his arms spread and rest on the rocks.

You release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Sinking into the water as you realize just how exposed you are. The weight of his gaze is doing something to you.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours, the heat of the spring makes you a bit dizzy and you’re beginning to wonder if it is his merlot eyes that have you on cloud nine.

That have you so bold. Bold enough you float yourself beside him, right into the crook of his arm. He gently slides it around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest.

“How was your day my sweet?” His voice is soothing but you’d rather not recount your day or the number of flowers you set just right.

“Boring. Yours Kirishima?” He smiles as you use his name.

“Same.” He places a chaste kiss to your damp hair line. It leaves you wanting more.

“A..again please?” He goes to kiss your forehead again but you tilt your face upward. He smiles, putting his hand at the nape of your neck. Leaning in impossibly slow holding your gaze. His look makes you impossibly higher and then his kisses your lips.

It is soft, it is slow, but each movement of his lips become more feverish, more bold. Like a cracked dam after a rain far too heavy, it is going to burst.

And it does.

Your mouth openes to him and he slides his tongue between your teeth, swirling and tasting your earthly, mortal form. You moan into the kiss, giving him more entrance, your hands clawing at his hair, his back while his hands follow your curves. Running up and down your sides, pinching at your nipples turning you into putty in his hands. You do not resist, you would never deny him and you’re sure he would never take.

He does nothing more than light exploring, commiting your skin to memory. You let out another moan, this one louder than before enticing his primal needs. As his tongue slides over yours his hand snakes to your lower back, pulling you into his lap.

You feel his harden asset resting close to your throbbing sex.

Would…would it be okay to bed a God? For a mortal to be touched by hands that can create and destroy in a matter of nanoseconds?

Suddenly you feel too hot, too flustered, too high as the world spins rapidly on its axis. You push back, gasping for air and immediately his lust is replaced with concern. He sees tears forming in your eyes, signs of some internal battle.

It reminds him of when he pours you a cup of tea but tenfold. He looks up at you, one hand traces down your spine before his other wipes away your tears.

“Blossom for me when you’re ready not when I want you, my little flower.” His voice is soft, reassuring, causing you to cry more. His fingers gently trace your scar, follow your spine, and continue to wipe away your tears when needed.

You nod helplessly, removing yourself from his irresistible lap, he pulls you to cuddle. A soft kiss to your hairline. The moon begins to climb higher in the sky and although your mother will not be home for some time, you still need to beat her home. Maybe he can read minds as he says.

“Let’s meet later tonight? Our usual time after your mother has returned home?” You nod against his chest, slowly stand. He supports your weight as he holds onto your hand as you ease out of the comforting water.

You look for your brown kimono but with every second you cannot find it panic seizes your bones.

“M…my kimono. I…I can’t find it!” You realize you may have misplaced it or worse yet placed it too close to the water.

Oh Kami did it get washed away?

“Flower, love. It is fine. I can help.” He snaps his fingers and you’re adorning the most stunning kimono you’ve ever seen. More so than what any painting of any God and Goddess meeting you’ve ever seen. You twirl in the ombre kimono. It starts out black, like a moonless night at the top before lightening until it is put glowing starlight at your ankles.

“Its gorgeous. But it is too much."

"Nothing is too much for you.” He stands, a kimono appears on his body as well, ombre again, black at his shoulders until it is blood red at his ankles. The bottom reminds you of the first time you had seen him when you were little. When he saved your life, a halo of setting sun emphasizing his status.

“We will meet again?" You nod and he cannot bring himself to say he is going to the annual meeting of the Gods because if he did, with you wearing this star woven kimono, he would whisk you away with him.

"Until we meet again."

With the sound of the window fluttering through the trees you find yourself on the fringes of the woods, just outside your home.

Gingerly you step into the field of flowers, slowly walking towards your house as you relive the time you most felt alive.

His lips, his hands, his body pressed against yours.

So caught up in your daydream, in your promise of later tonight, you do not see the eyes lying in wait.

Those prying eyes take note of your kimono and how it shimmers and shines with an otherworldly glow as you slip into your home.

It isn’t long before you hear a string of screaming and see a set of lights coming your way, close enough you can make out silhouettes and what the woman is screaming.

"SHE IS UNFAVORED! LOOK AT HER SCAR SHE IS TAINTED BEAUTY!” You realize quickly that is the wails of your mother.

Frantically you try to strip yourself of your kimono but a large hand strips away the door. Your faces are illuminated from the soft glow by your ankles making it clear to see a set of hard steely eyes with hurt but never regret as they should.

“Just like I said. A blessed kimono.” Kenji’s voice is as hard as his eyes as his father peers in, he smiles with delight.

“We are surely saved from the drought now. Kenji bring her to the festival."

"No.” Your voice is small, a foreboding dread feeds your panic as your mother cries, restrained by Kenji’s goons. You step back but he lunges for you, squeezing you so tightly you cannot breath.

The walk to the center seems like ages as you kick and scream, crying out for Kirishima.

“Yes call for our God. He will be happy to receive his gift, time is running out.” The elder speaks. You elbow Kenji square in the face, everyone panics as you begin to run. Kenji catches you again. The moon hands high over head, perfectly in the middle of the sky.

“There is no time left. Let’s do it now!” Kenji’s goon from before shouts, sending the crowd into a boisterous agreement.

Kenji withdraws his knife, both of your struggling for power. He leans in close, nose touching yours as the smell of copper and ash cling to his skin.

“You should have just stayed in your place ugly. Should’ve let me have my way.” He slices at you and for a second time a blade marrs your skin.

He is supposed to make this quick for you, one quick motion against your throat. Instead he lets the blade sink deeper, carve harder until his is splatter in your life’s nectar. Only you and your mother cry out. The rest of them pray and sing.

Kenji picks you up and tosses you into the brush of the woods.

“Have her now Kamisama and bless us with rain!” He speaks as if he is the current elder. Grey eyes cold as they look down at you. They retreat to their usual planned activities, dragging your lost mother with them to drink to their heart’s content. To make her watch what an honor it was for her child to have been chosen.

It hurts, Kami it hurts as you drag yourself through the woods. Briars tangle around your quickly growing limp limbs as you pull yourself deeper.

“Kiri…Kirishima!” Your once loud screams turn into hardly more than whispers. But that shouldn’t matter. He should still hear you shouldn’t he?

Was this not his domain? He can hear every rustling leaf, every snap of a twig, surely he could hear the pained cries of his lover.

No, no you shouldn’t call yourself that, you were not his lover, you were just favored by him.

And isn’t that always what you wanted? To be desired? Loved?

This was a festival for Kirishima himself so why did you think any different?

And why do you still call out his name?

Your vision blurs in purplish blues and blacks as you fade in and out, a soft sweet scent is tainted with stinging copper. You cough and more dark liquid sputters from your lips.

It reminds you of his eyes.

Kitsune comes into the clearing helping frantically. But you smile as you notice his fourth tail.

“At least I will not die alone…” You breathe as the fox attempts to lick at your wounds, “Why, why is he so cruel?"

Fat tears fall down your cheeks and the fox panics further. He opens his mouth, his voice comes out gravely and close to a growl without the animosity.

"Master does not know of this, master would never allow this!” He laps at your blood in a desperate attempt to heal you with what little grace he has been bestowed.

But it doesn’t matter as your world fades to black.

Kirishima steps through the portal near the top of the mountain to be met with a horrid sight, not realizing it could be worse than that. Kitsune’s normal Auburn fur is tainted a sticky black substance, Kirishima gets a closer look causing his blood to run cold.

He appears in the field of flowers, following the trail you left as a wispy form of you stands through your drained body.

“No.” Quiet before deafening loud, birds and animals flee away from him, “NO!"

The shades circle the clearing, too afraid to enter but too hungry to leave.

Kirishima shakily grabs onto your glowing hands, tears fall down your cheeks.

"I…I…” Tears prick his eyes, rage washes over his features, “Who?"

Your spirit cannot speak as you are still tethered to your fast cooling body. He follows the direction of your eyes, music and laughing become louder further angering him. A thought occurs to him, he reaches for the small golden chain that is at your spiritual ankle connecting you to your real body, he could keep you here, he could….but before he can break your life’s chain a mist of black appears.

"You know you cannot do that.” From within the mist comes a man with the head of a raven or a tengu, Kirishima is not sure. All he knows is that he loathes to see Death come too close to the things he loves.

“But.."

"Look around you Kirishima-kun. You’ve tried countless times to keep mortals before and what becomes of them? Shades, unwavering, thoughtless hungry shades as I’ve told you. Their spirits are so far corrupted they could never return to the cycle.” Death speaks the truth but it does not stop the anguish that sweeps through his body.

He cannot allow it just yet. He watches as your golden chain is unhooked, you walk backwards, keeping your eyes on your God as Death guides you.

“Until we meet again.” It is a whisper on the wind, a rustle in the leaves, a huff of a nearby fawn and babbling of the hot spring. He nods, eyes glued to you as you fade away into the black mist.

He breathes deeply as he picks you up, cradling your cold body to his hard chest. He walks gingerly with you as if he feared he would wake you, he only had on destination in mind. It does not take long before he is walking towards the center of the small town, houses darkened as the square is full of life. The smell of wine and food waft the cool air.

This only fuels his intentions.

He stands on the fringe of the crowd and it only takes a blink or two before the roaring party dies to deafening silence. People falling to their knees, their foreheads pressed into the bloodied bricks.

“K..Kamisama Kirishima, had we known you would grace…"

"SILENCE!” His voice shakes the very foundations of the homes, the shingles clinking in the wind. The trees quiver in his presence as the Earth seems to roar beneath his feet. His eyes are hard and dark like raw diamonds as he looks over their merriment shredding them with his gaze alone. The moon above suddenly glows red as if washed over with your blood, illuminating him in an ominous tone. The hue paints the village in eerie light as it fully bares witness to the wrath of the mountain God.

“Is this how you honor me?” A rhetorical question as he wonders how long this had been going on, the shades most likely and happily, eating the remains before Kirishima could have ever found out. He shakes, unable to reign in his rage.

“Look at her.” Three words, three words has well over fifty people shivering. Eyes barely coming up to look at the limp woman in his hands, skin already graying. Both eyes now clouded over and lips stained a peculiar red. Their eyes shift to the God they worship, the one they had been giving their most beautiful women too.

He holds eye contact with each and every one of them for a moment, staring into their black souls with a malice that could maim. He spies your mother, his lip snarls as he thinks of your scar.

He begins to wonder if this is why she had done it. He finds the elder, the one who wears the fine kimono. One of the few garments that is not tattered, dirtied or sullied red. He grinds his teeth.

“May you never forget this moment in all of your reincarnations. May you never forget her face and may you always feel an inkling of what I’ve felt.” The people weep, not for their own lives but from the feeling of the God’s heart overflowing in them despite him never shedding a tear. They do not ask forgiveness.

They cannot ask for forgiveness. Just as he sealed your fate all those years ago, he is sealing theirs now. With a stomp of his foot the Earth rumbles, slowly opening up into a jagged mawl. People scream as they reach for one another, grasping onto nothing. Only your mother waits for death silently. Her own tears streaming down her face as she etches into her last moments the sight of her failure. Of you taken from the world too soon.

The village is swallowed whole and now that it is over, he is still unhappy. The void in his cheat is far deeper than the Earthy chasm before him. He cries out in anguish pulling you impossibly closer. A fissure runs through the ground, deep and fast through the next village and the one after that.

In a loud puff of smoke a man appears beside the mountain God, he pulls down his black hood and his hair shines gold in the moonlight. His eyes like molten lava gleam with destructive glee. The Earth threatens to crumble beneath the new God’s feet, the dark chasm glows a bright hot red in his presence.

“No one ever strikes your ire.” His voice is dark yet excited, “And never enough to summon me. Need some pointers from the God of Destruction himself shitty hair?”

“Bakugou, I…” The mountainous man’s voice cracks, causing his friend’s brow to furrow. Bakugou takes in the sight of you withered in hands through ghastly means. Of the decimation and the level of it. Reaching over to another village and possibly the next two. This level of destruction would get the Mountain God into a lot of trouble but it was evident he did not care. Bakugou gives his back to the sight and finally speaks, lying a warm hand on his friend’s broad shoulder.

“If anyone asks, I destroyed the villages.” Molten eyes watch tears fall onto you and the ground beneath his friend’s feet. The golden haired man sighs, gently taking you from the arms of his friend who tries to desperately hold on to what is left of you.

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” A rare comfort from his companion, he takes your small frame and turns. He is going to gently lie you in the cooling Earth. A destruction God destroys in order for something new to be created. He plans to give his only friend a blessed grave for you so he can visit until, what Bakugou hopes but heavily doubts, Kirishima forgets.

“W..wait. wait. She needs…” His voice shatters as with shaking fingers he creates the very thing he had intended for you to have. Good fortune in the shape of deities or wild irises, circling one another to be a stunning crown. Instead of white they glow gold as he sets it atop your crown. Kirishima squeezes your limp hand a final time before letting you go. Bakugou breathes deeply as he works, pulling the ground back together with sheer force as the lava recedes. He does so until the two shelves barely meet, a rich bed of soil lies before his feet. Gently he lies you in the bed of dirt.

“Ashes to ashes.” Your body ignites from within, glowing in a golden flame until there is nothing left but dust on the wind and the golden flower crown. Bakugou pulls the dirt over your remains.

Kirishima falls to his knees, pressing his hand into the Earth, fearful he will forget a mortal like you, a mere blip in his infinite lifetime. The ground beneath him bursts and blooms in great color. All deep reds, golden yellows and blinding whites for miles.

“I will always love you my little flower."

The summer breeze feels warm as it rouses the scent of rain and the sound of chimes. You close your eyes and day dream of something long forgotten, of stories retold from an old book of legend you never read. Nervousness thrums through your veins as you stand beside your ash blonde friend, patiently waiting for the third party to arrive. The impatient man growls beside you as he spots someone he recognizes behind you.

"Oi shitty hair hurry up! Iris and I have been waiting here all damn morning!” Bakugou shouts, using your hero name. You turn to see your new patrol partner for future missions. The sun illuminates behind him, almost giving him a heavenly glow and you realize that there is something odd about the man who approaches you. His long flowing garnet hair is unruly in the wind, shining a red so deep in hue you first mistake it for black. His smile is sharp toothed and easy, causing a swarm of butterflies to take flight in your stomach. With your heart hammering out of your chest you cannot shake the feeling that something seems off about him. It is both other worldly and familiar, you feel as if his name sits on the tip of your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as his glowing ruby eyes drink you in. He sees a faint mark traveling through your left eye as if it were a fading scar, maybe it was something you could not shake from a past long forgotten. His heart hammers in his chest as he speaks, your reaction to his next words will tell him what he needs to know.

“Hello my little flower, it seems we meet again.”

#kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #bnha god au #bnha fantasy au #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha 18+#bnha kirishima x reader #kirishima god x reader #bnha eijirou #bnha eijiro kirishima

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mctwcsty · 3 years

Text

What Do I Do?

@sxtanshepherd paged Meredith Grey

Hello?

Hi, is he in the lab?

What?

I know this is Derek Shepherd’s phone, who is this? Who is this? Who is this.

Hello.

SIX MONTHS. Six months had passed already since Derek had left for D.C. to run the brain mapping project for the President. Six months of running their life and home alone in Seattle. Of taking the kids to school every other morning, picking them up every other night, the rest of them thankfully handled by Lynn, the nanny Meredith had found to help her out with them. Because her husband was off to Washington to take his career to the next level while she had stayed put in Seattle with their kids, which was her choice and she had taken responsibility for it. She still ran her department, alongside Bailey, and she was still working on her research. She was doing it all. She was exhausted, running on little sleep and a lot of caffeine, but she was doing it.

She was doing it all until a small detail added in, a change of scenery she had not seen coming. A unplanned turn of events that made doing it all by herself a little less possible: she was pregnant. And the best part was, she had just found out. Right in the middle of a surgery, a feeling that had taken her breath away, a pressure in her lower back and a movement. Thing was, she recognized it because she had felt it before. What she did not understand was how was it possible. And then she had the resident close and rushed out, straight to OB, all the while calculating when her last period was, the days and the weeks adding up leaving her running her way up to OB and throwing herself in the nearest room with a monitor, self-examining herself until the OB came in and shut the door, offering to help. 24 weeks. She had not been showing, she still was not. Her stomach was flat, the way the baby was located left her bumpless, even though she had been pregnant before. Those cases happened, it was not out of the ordinary, and the baby was healthy. She was 24 weeks pregnant and practically a single-mother of two, soon three children, her husband was across the states and they barely managed to talk here and there because of their irregular schedules and they were going to have another baby.

She had sat by the phone that night, after putting the kids down to bed, staring at her phone screen, unable to pick it up. She could feel it now, she could feel the baby moving inside of her. It was moving, it had a heartbeat, it had arms and legs and fingers and toes, ears, eyes, a mouth and a nose, hell it even had hair at that point and she was freaking out. And Derek was not there. She was all alone. She knew she had to pick up that phone and call him, but she could not bring herself to do it. She did not want to tell him they were going to have another baby over the phone? And yet she had to. She forced herself and picked up that phone, tapped on his contact and rang his cell. She leaned back in the couch and waited, hearing the ringtone incessantly ringing, her stomach in knots, just hoping he would pick up. They rarely caught each other, he often called while she was in surgery and she often called when he was in the lab and away from his phone. But the ringing stopped, he picked up. Or at least someone did.

“Hello?” “Hi, is he in the lab?” “What?” “I know this is Derek Shepherd’s phone, who is this?” “Who is this? Who is this.” “Hello.”

Well if you keep answering his phone, at least you could have the decency to tell me who the hell you are. Where the hell is my husband?

EIGHT MONTHS. 34 weeks, to be more precise. At least from her calculations since their last sexual encounter, which was about their last actual general encounter - the day before he had left for D.C. - he had never returned to Seattle since, and the measurements of the foetus from her last ultrasound, she measured at about 34 weeks. Exactly ten weeks since that phone call. Not a day went by that she did not think or analyze that phone call, especially because the rare times Derek and her managed to reach other on the phone, he never said anything about it, about any woman answering his phone. She had not told anyone about it, not even Alex. Because saying it out loud made it real, and the truth was, she could not bare for it to be. The idea that she had become the woman who wonders if that woman on the phone was the woman who had been screwing her husband, she could not be that woman. She could not have gone from the woman screwing the married guy, to the woman whose husband is screwing another woman. Not after everything, not after spending literally the past eight months handling everything alone and keeping the boat afloat, and growing that husband’s child in her belly.

She was sitting in the attending’s lounge, the empty lounge with the big couch where she had come to rest her feet as they were killing her. It had been about four weeks now since she had started showing, and she had been telling everyone that Derek knew, but the truth was, he had no idea. He did not know she was pregnant yet. Over two months and she had not told him. Because the rare times where they had managed to actually get a hold of each other on the phone, she had let the kids speak to him because they missed him terribly, and then he was either rushing back to the lab or was off to some meeting with the President. He did not even know she was pregnant, because he was halfway across their world, busy making his career count while she was back home, keeping it all together, alone. And he was not even seeing it.

But Zola had almost spilled it once over a call, thankfully she had caught it in time and spared an awkward way for Derek to find out, and selfishly she did not want him to know until she felt it was the right moment to have the conversation... the whole conversation. She knew she had to tell him. And so she had decided to do it. After all, she was only a few weeks away from her due date. It sure had flew by way quicker than any pregnancy usually would, especially with everything she had going on, but also because she had only just found out and half the pregnancy was done, it would certainly be a shock for him, but she knew he loved their kids and she was convinced he would be excited, deep down. It would be a shock, but he would be excited. At least she convinced herself of that as she picked up the phone and called him on his cell, then brought the phone to her ear, repeating herself those words again and again and again as the tone rang a while. She was sure she would fall on his voicemail and was about to hang up, but the line picked up.

“Hello?”

That voice again. It literally sent chills up her spine because she knew. That was not some secretary, or some random woman finding a lost phone and picking it up. This was not a coincidence or an accident. It had been two months, and she still answered his phone. And all Meredith could think about was the fact that she never answered her husband’s phone, at least not until they were actually married and it had happened on rare occasions. She felt the blood in her veins turning to ice and like something was wrapping tightly around her body, suffocating her. She managed to swallow through her tightened throat and speak up. “Well if you keep answering his phone, at least you could have the decency to tell me who the hell you are.” She snapped, pausing a moment before adding, “Where the hell is my husband?”

The woman hung up. Again. Meredith’s hand fell on the couch and she stared straight ahead, her heart dropping in her chest. It felt like her whole world had just collapsed around her. Shattering, into billions of pieces. Ten weeks of tossing so many questions around her mind, but every time shutting them out because no, Derek would not do that. The he loves me and he loves our family and we’ve been through too much for this to happen - she had told herself it all. But the woman answered his phone again, and hung up, again.

The next day, she had called Alex and within ten minutes he ended up at her front door. She told him Derek did not know about the pregnancy, told him about that previous phone call, and then the one from the previous night. Convinced him not to hunt Derek down for her in a trip to D.C. or to give him hell in any type of way. She tried to ring Derek’s phone again throughout the day, every time winding up on his voicemail, until she stopped calling. Maggie and Callie both tried to convince her that he could not be cheating, while at the same time understanding the way she felt. Callie offered to go find him in D.C. but Meredith turned the offer down. She did not want any of them to contact him. She had made the decision to stop contacting him, that he would have to contact her, and she made all of them swear to not try to call him, to respect her request and to above all not tell him about the pregnancy.

And within the next 24 hours, what Meredith thought were simply Braxton Hicks turned out to be pre-term labor. Thankfully she had been in the hospital when it started and Alex had forced her to get checked out, and her water had broke on the OB table. Everything else from that point forward went extremely fast, she was dilated at three and within two hours was fully dilated and ready to push, so grateful that she would not need C-section because that had been hell the first time, and the last thing she needed on top of everything was a post-partum C-section recovery. The baby was born within the next ten minutes, a little girl, and Meredith ordered Alex to go with her to the NICU and to not leave her side, as well as ordered everybody not to call Derek, or she would kill them. Literally.

The baby stayed a week in the NICU, but was thankfully perfectly healthy and Alex had kept her in a few extra days just to be sure, also hoping that Meredith might change her mind in the mean time and give Derek a call. But she was strong-headed and when she made a decision, she made it firmly. The worst part was, Derek had not even called once since that day. Not once. Meredith was done. She was done trying to keep their family together, done doing everything to make him still be the good guy when he did not have the decency to at least show her enough respect to call her back. She was done. She was exhausted, heartbroken, she felt like dying literally, but she was done. She would not be her mother, this would not destroy her.

And so when she made it home, Alex having insisted on taking her home himself, Amelia and Maggie waiting for her with Zola and Bailey and a Welcome Home! banner that the kids had made, just stepping into the house had paralyzed her. It was a house, but it was no longer home. She did not feel home anymore in that house. She was suffocating. Being around the house that Derek had built them for their family, it was suffocating.

Ever since coming home, actually ever since that first phone call, there was only one person she could not get out of her mind. And for those ten weeks she had desperately tried to toss away, as all the questions and interrogations spinning around in her mind. But that night, after that phone call, she could not get her out of her head. And standing in that house, it was all she could think about. And so while Amelia was off to the bathroom, Maggie putting Zola and Bailey down for the night, Alex had ran out to get them dinner, Meredith stole Amelia’s phone that she had left on the low table in the living room and entered her password that she secretly knew, and she searched for a specific contact, and a specific address.

Came night time, Meredith had ordered everyone to leave her be for the night, said she needed her space and to figure things out alone. Alex had promised to be at her door at 7 sharp for breakfast and to take the kids to school and daycare, Maggie promising to come by to help out with the baby and Amelia offering to help if Meredith needed it. The minute they were all gone and she found herself alone at the house, she went to her room while the baby napped in the bassinet, pulled out a bag and filled it with some of her clothes, then she quietly went into Zola’s room and grabbed some of her clothes, then some of Bailey’s, grabbed diapers and bottles from the kitchen counter. Thankfully the diaper bag was freshly packed so she had everything she needed for the baby in there. She packed all their stuff within twenty minutes, and as she found herself standing in the middle of the living room, seeing all the packed up bags, she felt like she could breathe a little better. She nodded to herself and pulled what was left of energy in her, called a cab and then went to wake the kids. She left them in their PJs and just threw a coat over them, put their shoes on, got the baby in the carseat and got them all outside. She stopped at the door and turned around to take one last look at the house, feeling completely numb as she shut all the lights, then turned back around and headed out of the house, closing the door behind her and locking it. She then slid the key out of her keyset and left it under the mat on the front porch, and turned around just in time for the cab to pull in the drive way.

Meredith got to the airport and bought three tickets for herself and the two oldest kids, and within the next hour they were off on a plane to Los Angeles. Sitting in that plane alone with her two oldest kids and a newborn in her arms was not quite what Meredith had expected her life to turn into, but it was. “Are you traveling alone with all of them?” Some old woman had asked on the plane, to which Meredith had forced a smile and nodded in response. Planes. She hated planes. She would panic the whole flight through. But with a newborn and two kids, there was no way she would sit them in a car for a 18+ hour drive, or a 35+ hour train ride even less so. And she just had to go, she had to do it. She summoned whatever force might be up there to make sure they all got to destination safely and finally breathed again when they landed in LA. She was lucky she had good kids, they had done amazing the whole flight through, had slept it right through, even the baby who had only fed once shortly before landing, which meant she would be good for a while and it was perfect timing. They all got off the plane and Meredith got the help of a man that worked at the airport, helping her getting her things together and even escorted her to a cab. She gave him a good tip and insisted when he refused, thanking him before hopping in the cab and giving them the address.

As they pulled in front of the address she had taken from Amelia’s phone, Meredith felt her heart beating so fast in her chest. She paid the cab driver and got all the kids out of the cab, then picked up their stuff. The man was kind enough to help bring the bags up the stairs to the door for her, and she offered him an extra tip that he refused, then watched as he drove away before turning to face the door. Bailey half-asleep in her arms, Zola tiredly leaning against her, her arms wrapped around her legs, the carseat at her feet, next to their bags. Swallowing thickly, Meredith leaned forward and knocked on the door. It was the middle of the night, half past 1AM, surely she would wake her up, but she had nowhere else to go. And so she stood there and waited until the door opened, feeling her heart dropping in her chest with relief when it did and her eyes locked with Addison.

“He did it again,” she breathed out exhaustedly, her shoulders sinking, the last bit of strength she had going into holding Bailey in her arms and keeping him from falling - or was it him that kept her from falling. “I’m you,” she shrugged. “He’s found another me.” She gulped thickly. “We weren’t supposed to run or walk out on each other, we were supposed to love each other even when we hated each other and to take care of each other when we were old and senile, it was supposed to be forever. It was the post-it. We were supposed to be it but we’re not, I’m not.” She shrugged helplessly. “We were supposed to do this together and he left me to do it all alone, and I don’t know what to do. But you know what to do, so I need you to tell me.” She paused, staring at Addison as she breathed out so desperately, “What do I do?”

#Para: Addison Montgomery #sxtanshepherd #( What Do I Do? )#omg this hurts on so many level BUT IM SO EXCITED OMG

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junicai · 3 years

Text

not working.

| summary | With swimming walls and tablets that don’t work, who’s better suited to take care of a feverish Aria than her doting older brothers?

| word count | 3k

| warnings | illness

| era | circa. November 2018

31. "This is the third time I've had to put you back in the bed. Why the hell do you want to lie on the floor so bad?"

a/n: cassia: “127 doesnt call aria baby that often.” also cassia: “babybabybabybaby-”

Aria got sea sick easily. The combination of the waves that had a boat rocking back and forth and back and forth over and over again had her stomach rolling in tandem. The floor would wobble beneath her feet and her vision with it, the grey water lapping against the small window in the belly of the ship.

It was an unnerving experience - and one she’d never like to repeat after the first hour-long boat trip she took aged eight, that had her hanging over the stern and gagging, face as pale as the seafoam that clapped against the sides of the small boat.

The minutes crawled by and the only real memory Aria has of the trip is how she stumbled off the boat and onto the pier, legs like jelly and hands outspread to catch herself when she inevitably pitched forward onto the cobbles.

It was not an experience she ever wished to repeat.

And yet, with her bedroom walls seemingly swimming around her head and her stomach rocking like a dinghy in a turbulent sea, Aria couldn’t imagine being on a boat was much worse than this. Hell, she’d take standing over the barriers over lying on her back in sweat-soaked sheets, tossing and turning in an attempt to keep the left side of her body tucked beneath the blankets and the right side exposed to the cool air.

She felt like she was being baked alive, yet simultaneously like she was resting beneath a block of ice. Her flushed cheeks paired with her dazed eyes made it hard to focus on anything, and for the third time in the last minute, she found herself flopping over angrily to try and find the cool side of her pillow.

She landed on the ground with a heavy thunk, and if a whine left her lips at the impact then that was between her miserable self and the walls.

And apparently Taeil, who had peeked in his head at the exact time she’d rolled herself out of the bed.

He sighed heavily, eyes pinched as he set down the blue mug he was holding on a pile of books on the desk, the steam fogging up the small mirror behind it.

“This is the third time I’ve had to put you back in the bed. Why the hell do you want to lie on the floor so bad?” He scolded with no real heat behind his words, hands already slipping beneath her knees to heave the slight girl back onto the bed.

Aria only whined again, rolling over to face the wall when she was safely placed onto the bed. She jerked lightly when her back twinged with the movement, but refused to turn back around when Taeil placed a comforting hand on the exposed skin of her lower back from her thin t-shirt riding up.

“Doyoungie’s gone to get the pills you need, okay? He’ll be back in twenty minutes, tops, and then we can get you an ice-pack,”

Aria shook her head.

“A heat pack, then,” Taeil compromised.

Aria huffed, biting her lip to stop the pained whimper from breaking out from between her lips as Taeil’s fingers pressed ever so slightly into the tensed muscle.

“I know, baby, I know.” He soothed, his gentle massaging not ceasing. “It hurts, right?”

She nodded, curling over into herself.

“Ah, no no. Don’t do that,” Taeil leant over to straighten her back up. “You’ll strain your back even more like that, and then where would we be?”

Aria swallowed her protest that told Taeil in not-so-nice-words that it was more comfortable than whatever weird pencil position she was currently lying in; knowing that he was only trying to help, and her being difficult was only going to make him upset.

But god why did it have to hurt this much?

She knew that coming down so hard off the stage was going to put her out of action for a while, but it had been eight months and she was still getting flare-ups of pain after every second practice they held. She was getting sick of needing to take a break every hour and sit against the mirror with an ice-pack cradled to her back.

With the low-grade fever that she was now running because the universe hated her and wanted her to suffer, the world sucked and Aria was content to believe that every living thing had it out for her.

Except for Taeil. He was lovely.

A tear escaped the tight hold Aria had on her tear ducts and despite the hand she shot up to cover her nose, the sniffle she made was still obvious to Taeil’s attentive ears.

He leant over slightly, looking for her face and sighing lightly when she only turned to bury it in the singular pillow that had escaped her earlier thrashing and hadn’t ended up on the floor. It was a nice comfort, and she shoved her nose further into the cotton when Taeil bent over further.

“Baby no, it’s okay. It’s okay to cry, that’s okay. C’mere,” Taeil paid no heed to Aria’s soft cry at being moved again, and ever-so-carefully tugged the girl into his lap where he could still rub a hand over her locked muscles while using his unoccupied thumb to swipe away the tears that threatened to spill over her waterline.

Aria blinked up at him for a moment, his hair falling in to his eyes but not masking the concern that blew his pupils wide and the way he was so gentle with swiping underneath her eyes knowing that they were strained because she hadn’t been wearing her glasses recently; and promptly burst into tears.

Taeil only tugged her closer, letting her hide her face in his stomach this time as he pet through her hair that hadn’t been washed in three days and was really full of tangles that caught on his fingers as he tried to comb through it without disturbing the crying girl in his lap.

He resumed his careful massaging of her back - well-versed with the act with Taeyong, a dongsaeng possessing the same crippling inability as Aria that left them unable to see a 'time to stop sign' if it hit them in the face - but paused when he saw the bruises creeping up her lower spine and past the edge of the t-shirt.

Eyebrows knitting together, he looked down at Aria, who’s cries were slowly beginning to peter out.

“Ari,” He began softly, “I thought the medication was helping?”

She stiffened beneath his hand, and Taeil recoiled slightly, if nothing but to make her feel a little more at ease.

At a closer inspection, the colours were a myriad of different colour; some a reddish-purple, and others a yellowing brown, spreading far over her back and onto the tops of her arms that were visible through the loose neck hole, meaning that they were far older than Aria’s first tumble out of the bed - an event that had only occurred that morning.

When Taeil brushed his fingers lightly over the bruise, Aria jerked away.

With her back pressed onto the wall, she paid no mind to the short stab of pain that fired up her spine as her wet eyes met Taeil’s, deep concern only growing behind them.

“Ari, what’s that? Are they not helping?”

She shook her head.

“You should have told us, baby, we could have brought you back to get you tested again-”

“No!” Aria’s shout startled both herself and Taeil.

Doyoung’s head appeared in the doorway. “Why’re we yelling?”

Aria shrunk back against the wall, knees curling up to her stomach. Doyoung tutted, moving forward to unfurl her legs. “Don’t sit like that, you’ll only cause yourself more pain.”

It was true, that position had sent electric shocks up her lower back but she was too stubborn to admit that to him, so instead she settled for looking down at the sheets, fingers fumbling with a loose thread.

It had snagged on one of her rings a couple of weeks ago, pulling the jewelry away from her finger in such a way that it scraped against the skin - leaving a shallow, but still painful, cut on the top of her finger.

Aria had slapped a band-aid on it without giving it much thought after rinsing the blood off of her hand underneath the tap, but when the band-aid had inevitably slipped off nearly two hours later during a dance practice, the tiny cut was still oozing blood slightly.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on? Or do I have to ask hyung?” Doyoung came to sit down on the bed beside her, hand seeking out hers to stop her pulling at the thread. “Don’t pull on that, you’ll make it worse.”

“Sorry.” Aria mumbled, not looking at him.

A silence filled the room for several seconds, broken by Doyoung’s clearing of his throat.

“Well?”

Aria’s lower lip trembled slightly. “It’s nothing, really, Taeil oppa was exaggerating slightly,”

“I wasn’t.”

“It’s just that - it’s nothing, it’s not a big deal, please don’t freak out, I promise if I was in pain I would have gone to someone, you or Taeil oppa or Yuta or someone -”

“Baby, you need to breathe.”

She hadn’t even noticed that she was hyperventilating.

With a choked gasp, Aria cut herself off and inhaled greedily, hands grasping at her throat as she coughed. Doyoung knelt forward to pat her back as Taeil came to sit down on the other side of her.

She stayed silent for the next minute, working on getting her breathing back under control as Taeil murmured soft encouragements and Doyoung coaxed her lungs back into working order with a gentle hand rubbing over her back.

It was comforting, right up until Doyoung sat back and fixed her with another look. Something that said you’re not getting out of this one and something that Aria hated with a passion being on the end of, because she never once got out of it.

It’s the reason Donghyuck got in trouble for accidentally breaking Jaehyun’s favourite mug. She just couldn’t lie.

“What’s going on, baby?”

Aria sniffed. “Promise you won’t be mad?”

Doyoung and Taeil exchanged a look. “Promise, baby. We won’t be mad, but you have to tell us what’s going on, okay? The whole truth, not a part of it.”

Breath stuttering a little bit, Aria twisted her back as much as it would allow her without pain to tug up the end of her t-shirt and show Doyoung the bottom ends of the bruises that amassed her back and shoulders.

They were crude colours, and honestly, Aria wouldn’t blame a person if they saw them and thought she had been beaten with a stick. The deep purpling, almost black colour was offset by the sickly green and yellow tinge the healing bruises had taken, only to be covered yet again by fresh contusions encroaching on the skin.

By the sharp intake of breath, Doyoung agreed with her.

“Baby,” His voice was anguished. “No, baby, you told us the medication was helping?

The medication. It had been four months since she’d been to the hospital to get the seemingly-endless bruises that appeared out of nowhere checked out. The sterile walls were cold to stare at as she was poked and prodded and asked indirect questions that were actually meant for her manager to answer, and the conversation that they’d had over her head made her feel small.

She’d been given a pat on the head for her troubles, and sent out of the ward with a prescription for PROCRIT, a small tablet that was - she was told - made of epoetin alfa, designed to treat her condition.

Having been cautioned against the side-effects, and being told to take them once a day in the morning, Aria had fitted the tablets into her morning routine; right after the multivitamin she was also instructed to take daily.

And, after a month of downing a tiny white pill each morning; nothing had happened. The bruises were still appearing at an alarming rate, barely healing before another one could take its place.

But the members had looked so relieved when Aria had come back into the dorms with an orange bottle clutched in her fist - so very relieved that there was something that could help, that yes, they knew what was wrong and there in those tiny white pills lay the answer that had been alluding them for so long.

Aria hated those tiny white pills.

Hated everything about them.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t bare to see Yuta look at her with such worry in his eyes again, couldn’t bare to see the flicker of panic that brushed Renjun’s face as he’d catch a glimpse of a mottled bruise over her collarbone.

She’d kept it hidden from most of the members, but unfortunately, some were more perceptive than others.

Taeyong, Yuta and Donghyuck were amongst the first to notice, with Renjun, Mark and Doyoung coming close behind. The other 127 members had been filled in when Aria had been sent to the hospital for her checkup, but the decision had been made to not tell the Dreamies until there was a prognosis available.

Anemia, was what they’d called it. Her blood cells just, went AWOL. Called it a day, and took the evening off.

So, taking it all into account, Aria couldn’t see the harm in keeping it all under wraps. She wasn’t in pain, and it wasn’t like anemia could kill her, even if the medication wasn’t doing what it was designed to do. It meant that she could stop taking the little pills, and if she had a stash of them buried in a cup in her bedside locker that she hid them in; then that was her business and nobody else’s.

Well. Until now.

“It did help! At the beginning!” Aria insisted, the lie spilling off her lips easily in an effort to sooth the upset that was building in the room.

A hand on her thigh had her looking over to Taeil, the man appearing grim. “You don’t have to make the truth pretty for us, baby. Tell us what’s going on. Why haven’t they been helping? Have you been taking them daily?”

“I- I stopped.”

“When?”

“A couple of weeks ago - I didn’t see the point in buying them when they weren’t helpful so I, I didn’t tell anyone when they ran out.” She hung her head slightly, focused on the flooring.

“Oh, baby.” Doyoung extended an arm and Aria all but flung herself into his chest. He ran a hand over her head and held her there, just breathing together. She really felt like crying again, even though the last time was only a couple of minutes ago. Everything was piling on top of each other; her back feeling like someone had tried acupuncture and failed miserably, the fact that she could probably sear a steak on her forehead what with how hot it was, the fact that she still couldn’t see because her glasses were on her locker, and now this?

“You know, we’re going to have to talk about this secret-keeping, right? Like it or not, you’re our maknae, and that means you don’t lie to us.” He pulled away to find her eyes, fixing her with a stare. “Especially, about important things like your health.”

“Had we known that they weren’t helping, we would have gone back to the hospital, seen what they could have told us. You didn’t need to hide this from us baby.” Taeil interjected, hand finding Aria’s.

She shook her head. “Don’ wanna go back to the hospital. Don’t like it there.”

Doyoung ran a hand through her hair. “I know baby, I don’t think many people do. Would you feel better if oppa came with you?”

That’s how you know Doyoung was really worried. If he referred to himself as oppa, in any context, then it was never really a question in the first place.

Aria forwent a verbal confirmation and chose to nod instead, pushing herself back into Doyoung’s warm embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her loosely, still mindful of her back.

Speaking of, Taeil had disappeared midway through the conversation, now re-appearing with a glass of water and a painkiller tablet in the palm of his hand. His face was apologetic, but non-yielding as he pushed the pill into Aria’s palm and held up the glass of water for her to swallow it with.

The water was nice on her throat, and she realized how thirsty she was as she held onto the glass and drank the water, not caring of the little bit she spilled over her lower lip.

Taeil wiped it away with the end of his sleeve, folding up the now damp material before extending an arm and leaning back onto the pillow on her bed.

And Aria was weak, but even more so when she felt like the world was out to get her, so she went willingly into his embrace, letting him settle her in a position that wouldn’t strain her back.

“Heat or ice?” Doyoung called from the doorway.

“Heat?” Taeil looked down to check on an already dozing Aria. She nodded sleepily and, Taeil relayed the message to Doyoung, who disappeared through the door frame.

Aria snuggled deeper into Taeil’s chest, and the man pressed a cool hand to her forehead, frowning a little at the head.

“If I leave you to get a fever reducer, will you try to roll off the bed again.”

“No promises.”

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scintillasofbeomgyu · 3 years

Text

˚ · . 𝘁𝘅𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻! — 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙜𝙞𝙛𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨/𝙤

pairing: txt x fem!reader

genre: fluff!

word count: tbd

a/n: I took the longest time with this, I’m so sorry anon! I tried the best I can to make it good but it still doesn’t feel quite right. anyways, I hope you enjoy!

᠃ ⚘ choi yeonjun:

this was a little tough for me to do, bc Yeonjun is the oldest member and I feel that even if they did do something that’d upset him he wouldn’t really go off? If you know what I mean

but at the same time, he is also your boyfriend and he loves you to bits and pieces

so when they were messing around this time and didn’t break just anything, but the gift that you had gotten him for his birthday

he’d try to keep his cool, but would be visibly distressed

“Ah, come on guys do you see what you’ve done?” he’d whine

Thinking about how you had saved up to get him this cologne (you loved nice smells, and nice smells + your boyfriend = yes pls), and the face you had made when you cutely insisted he only where it when he’s with you

it’d just hurt his heart so much

but at the same time Hyuka and Soobin were standing at the crime scene looking like they’d burst into tears at any given moment

he’d eventually just settle on telling them off in a serious-but-not-serious tone, and he’d make sure to remind them of this mistake every freaking day skks

he’d make them apologise to you as well, which resulted in you sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth before you hit the back of his head playfully

you’d asure them (and Yeonjun) that it was no big deal

“I’ll be buying you cologne for the rest of our lives anyway,” you’d whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek – for effect, ofcourse.

And although he’s still pretty bummed about the broken gift, man’s would just get extremely smiley and giggly cause he WEAK for you

᠃ ⚘ choi soobin:

we all know this boy about to put himself through the most sksks

he’d wear the bracelet you got him for your 2 year anniversary EVERYWHERE and blush a little each time he looked at it

(the members would drag him so bad omg)

so when Beomgyu’s piercing got caught in it while he and Yeonjun were messing around in the van on the way to the next schedule, his heart started doing laps

he tried to gently move it away, but the van hit a pothole, and the next thing he knew, the beads were scattering everywhere

even though he’s clearly not to blame, he’d so blame himself for it

“I’m so sorry, Hyung” “No, it’s okay, I should have taken proper care of it”

he’d tell everyone it’s fine and it’s not that big of a deal, but there’d be a visible dark cloud hanging over his head 24/7 and he’d be completely despondent

he wouldn’t know how to tell you, so when Yeonjun and Beomgyu eventually apologized to you, you sighed, realizing that this was the reason he’d been avoiding your calls and texting back so dryly

“It’s okay, baby,” you’d coo, running your hands through his hair and giving his scalp gentle massages as he nuzzled his head into your chest.

᠃ ⚘ choi beomgyu:

As I’m sure you can imagine, a large can of the Daegu satoori will be whipped out for this one

mans would be going through the five stages of grief as he watched Taehyun’s coffee seep into the handmade songbook that you had made for him last Christmas

they had been deciding on a title for a song that Beomgyu had initially written, but had now become a collaborative piece, when Huening had suggested that they just play rock-paper-scissors

them being them, they got way too into it, and Taehyun had accidentally knocked over his coffee onto the song in question

“H-hyung, I’m sorry...”

His heart would ache so bad omg, and he’d try and hurry and wipe the coffee off or something ugh this poor baby

I don’t feel like he’d be angry about it, but I do think that he’d be thinking about you and the amount of time and thought went into this gift and how much it meant to him to have received it from you

heck, the only reason he even used the book was because you had to convince him for weeks that it was meant to be used and not to gather dust

like Soobin, he’d also struggle to tell you about it, worried that it might hurt you which would hurt him – so he’d just resort to being playful about it and tell you in a roundabout way

“See, Y/n! This is why I didn’t wanna use it. I knew something like this would happen; I live with animals you know”

you’d just laugh it off and wrap your arms around him, knowing all too well that he more than likely cried about it before coming to tell you what had happened

he’ll NEVER let the members live it down lmaoo

“Remember that time you destroyed that gift from my girlfriend”

playfully obviously, ya know mans is a professional chain-tugger

expect that the next time you come over you’ll find that songbook framed and on a shelf in his room with a polaroid of you on the outside corner

᠃ ⚘ kang taehyun:

He really strikes me as the kind of person who wouldn’t normally get upset about something like this happening, but because it’s a gift from his s/o he’d be ticked off – at the very least

however, despite being ticked off, he wouldn’t let his emotions get the better of him.

You know our king of rationalism

He’d see the glass shatter as it hit the laminated floor of the dorm room, and he’d simply just stand there looking at it, absorbing the situation, trying the best he can to keep himself as calm as he possibly can

Yeonjun had came into the room to smother Huening with affection again, when he had accidentally knocked the watch off the dresser (it probably sent shivers down their spines as they imagines the many ways Taehyun could kill them in their sleep for this one)

“It’s okay, it’s not the end of the world,” he’d say, but really it felt like it was.

Taehyun may come off as someone who is cold, but in reality he’s just such a soft boi who’d take care of and show affection to his s/o in his own ways

he hates to see you sad

it’d break his heart to know that the first gift he had ever gotten from you was in smithereens just bc yeonjun and hyuka couldn’t sit still for five minutes sksk

he’d want to tell you right away and he’d apologize in the sincerest way possible

“I’m really sorry about this, Y/n. I’m sure you spent a lot on this gift; I should have taken proper care of it,” he’d say, eyes literally begging you to forgive him

and you’d just slip your hand into his, giving it a squeeze, before snuggling into his figure and telling him that it was an accident, and how warm it wakes you feel knowing it meant that much to him

he’d gently push you aside and frown, before planting a kiss on your forehead, “Of course it means that much to me. It’s a gift from you.”

᠃ ⚘ huening kai:

“ANDWAEEE!”

you and I both know that we can hear that

Soobin and Taehyun had been teasing him about his plushies again – his collection was growing way too big for the space which he and Taehyun were supposed to share; and even he knew that

and as per usual, every time they picked a few to give away, Huening would get really sad and be unable to part with any of them – so they decided to tease him a little

they picked the plushie they knew you had given to him (the big, fluffy pink one with the floppy ears :((( )

he’d beg them to not tease him as they tossed it amongst themselves (THIS POOR BABY PLS)

“Please be careful! It’s going to break!” he’d whine

and it did :((((

one of the ears tore, and poor Huening just stood there with upset tears rimming his eyes, looking like his world just ended oml

Soobin and Taehyun would be extremely apologetic, and like Soobin, Huening would say that it’s okay even though it isn’t; he’d probably need like an hour to himself before being himself again

oh but he’d so rat them out though lmao

“Y/n! Look what they did! They hurt our Ae-Cha!” he’d say, playfully pouting as he showed you the tear on the plushie; to which they’d simply roll their eyes while Beomgyu and Yeonjun laughed

“Oh no! Our Ae-Cha!” you’d gasp in response, pouting just as much, before giggling and taking out the needle and thread from your bag

he’d wrap his arms around you and rest his head on your shoulder as you fixed the toy, telling you every other minute how lucky he is to have such a beautiful and talented girlfriend uwu ^.^

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apinklion01 · 3 years

Text

Going Angst

Day Three: Family

Walker didn’t go far from his post at the prison unless it was for patrols or if a prisoner escaped. He had a very private corner tucked away within the walls which served as his main lair where no other ghost could go.

So any other ghost stood clear when he did venture further out into the Ghost Zone. He liked that they kept their distance. They knew the consequences if they didn’t. He was the only one trying to keep any sense of order down here, and he worked hard to keep it that way.

There were only two occurrences where a ghost didn’t give him respect: the mangy excuse for a werewolf and the Phantom.

The werewolf he could care less for. The ghost was powerful, yes, but Walker knew more about his time in the living realm than the mutt would ever know, and that was all he needed to give him an upper edge when dealing with the furry convict.

The Phantom was another story.

He was a freak even by ghost standards. A spirit boundless from the planes of life and death who moved between them freely thanks to the wrenched machine his family had built within a place called Amity Park.

The teen was impulsive, rash, and even led a prison escape that left Walker and his squadrons beaten up and reinforcing the security measures.

However due to being half ghost, the Phantom remained the sole convict that the warden knew he couldn’t lock up permanently.

But something was odd during the time he talked to the teen.

Walker heard an unusual song in his ears. One he hadn’t heard since his time in the living world. A song from his mother, supposedly handed down from members of her side of the family tree.

That very song kept repeating while he fought the Phantom, and only stopped after he was long gone.

But why?

Tired of asking himself questions, Walker decided to venture to the Library of Alexandria. The legendary building was open to any in the Ghost Zone so long as you didn’t start any fights that could damage the books and scrolls inside.

Walker didn’t learn everything about ghosts from word of the ear. Prior to dying, he came across a few books teaching him an intermediate amount of how the spectors worked. Their powers, obsessions, weaknesses. While Walker didn’t have access to the more offensive abilities, the knowledge was all he needed to fight such supernatural entities, even beyond his final breath.

He continued building more knowledge by returning to the library. There was a section specifically for new ghosts who wanted to learn about how to handle the afterlife, but also for older ones to learn of rituals, common spells, and caring for their cores.

Walker made his way down the aisle, a young apprentice of a librarian having handed out the book that might have the answers he needed.

His eyes spotted the name of a book: Melbourne’s Guide to a Spectral Entity. It appeared to be far older than anything Walker had read, the spine of the book faded and tearing apart, the threads loose on the covers.

Walker took out the book from the shelf, a few lowly blob ghosts scuttling away to undisturbed places of the library. Prying the book open, he grazed through the pages, the words mostly in Old English, yet he somehow was able to read them.

One page stood out. A ghost and a human side by side, the older being a ghost, a depiction of their core present.

If a ghost dies prior to learning about any future descendants or relatives, a song they hold dear will be heard when they encounter them. The living or dead relatives will not be able to hear the song until the older one speaks the truth. When they do, then the relative will be seen as a true descendant.

Rediscovering and reuniting is held as sacred to all ghosts. To break the bonds of family is viewed as disgraceful unless done properly. If not, dire consequences may occur to both the living and dead members.

Walker nearly dropped the book. It was impossible. There couldn’t be any connection between the Phantom and him.

Either the book was speaking blasphemy, or it was some sort of joke that the half ghost conceived. But the boy looked too young to think up such an act.

There was only one ghost who had the answer: the master of time himself.

One doesn’t simply wander into Clockwork’s lair. To some it’s visible occasionally, and to others it doesn’t even appear in the Ghost Zone unless they need his assistance.

Clockwork already had seen a few timelines where Walker would come inside, but didn’t bother to turn around, cleaning up a gear connecting the multiple clocks the building held inside.

“A simple greeting wouldn’t be too much to ask,” He said.

“I need you to show me something,” The warden’s deep voice spoke.

“Do you know what you need to see?” Clockwork answered, drifting down to the place where the ghost stood. He noted in several timelines that the ghost preferred touching the ground, avoiding acting like a ghost during his time in the Ghost Zone for more than half a century.

“I need you to show me a family. Any related descendants of John James Walker,” The ghost narrowed his eyes. It was dangerous to reveal the true name a ghost had prior to dying, but Clockwork had no usage for such knowledge and never told a soul any when they asked. Not even a certain Daniel James Fenton had the privilege.

“As you wish, though I warn you Walker, you may not like what you’ll see.”

Clockwork escorted Walker to an old mirror, where a small clock was inserted on the wooden frame. Nothing was visible on the mirror except both their reflections. A small flick of his wrist to the right, and the hands turned back fast until they were a mere blur.

Clockwork held his hand out and the clock stopped. In the mirror there were three children running on a farm. One was Will, a red headed boy, the other a brown haired girl named Elizabeth. The third was one he knew Walker recognized: himself. His hair was a dirty blonde color, yet his eyes were a stormy gray.

“Is this you,” Clockwork asked. Walker didn’t respond, stunned at the sight that he thought was all but in his memories.

“Bet you can’t catch me,” He heard his eldest brother shout.

“No fair, you had a head start,” His younger self cried out. Walker tentatively placed a hand on the mirror, the surface flickering like a leaf touching a puddle.

The ghost was silent as he watched the scene play out: a normal game of tag, with not a care in the world.

“Continue forward,” He spoke dryly, and Clockwork obliged.

The clock spun forward, and Clockwork halted it. The scene had changed to the inside of an old house. The sky beyond the windows was a dull gray, the grass in the distance muted green and brown colors.

A woman, Walker’s mother, stands by the door, reading a letter she had long awaited back from the army. Her anxious smile soon faded into disdain, and she muttered a few lines of the telegram to herself before she began to shake her head and cried. Her daughter Elizabeth, who was standing nearby, tries to console her but her words falter, and tears too begin pouring from her eyes.

A young Walker runs down the stairs, looking at both his family members. “Liz, what’s going on?” He asked worryingly.

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes wet from crying. “Dad,” She began, pausing as she coked up. “He’s not… coming back from the war…”

Clockwork maintained his distance, but saw Walker’s shoulders tense up. He took his hand away from the mirror, placing it inside one of his pockets.

The younger Walker in the mirror appeared confused. “Did he get held back again? Liz, tell me-”

“He’s gone Walker!” Elizabeth shouted before biting her lip. A shaky sigh escaped her mouth. “He’s gone…”

Clockwork turned the clock forward again. Walker didn’t seem to mind.

They paused again. Walker backed away again as the scene unfolded. It was a funeral being held around sunset. His mother appeared older, having begun growing gray hair and crying gently. William and Elizabeth were nearby with their own kids. Clockwork reckoned they were but six years old at the time of the unpleasant event.

“John, you didn’t deserve to go like this,” William spoke solemnly. “If we had known this was going to happen, maybe I’d have tried harder to convince you to tell the army to give you a break.”

“But you were an awful lot like dad,” He continued. “You didn’t want us to get too wrapped up in your troubles. I don’t know how many you had on your hands, ranging from learning I was drafted into the war to getting into the paranormal. All we have left of you are our memories. “

He set down a white lily onto the headstone marked with Walker’s name.

“I hope you still have them when I meet you on the other side.”

The rest of the funeral played in silence.

“Why are you showing me this,” Walker spoke, his head hung low.

“Your mother died sometime after your funeral,” Clockwork said quietly. “But her name lives on in one of your living relatives, Maddison. Elizabeth’s granddaughter.”

Walker perked up at the news, his eyes uncertain but wanting answers. “... Show me,” He muttered in slight disbelief.

The scene changed quickly, the hands slowing to a stop inside a modern home. Four figures were present. A woman, presumably Maddison, held a baby in her hands. It was easy to see the reason she was given the name, as she had a resemblance to Walker’s mother.

A man, the father of the baby, stood by, beckoning a smaller child to come forward. This one had reddish hair like her mother’s. The baby looked like it was recently born, their eyes remaining closed.

“Jazz, meet your baby brother,” The father spoke.

Jazz looked at the baby with big eyes. “He’s small.”

“He’s only a baby Jazz,” Maddie said quietly, her eyes full of nothing but love for her children. “And he’ll need you to be there for him, even if we’re not around. Can you promise me that?”

Jazz gave a tiny nod.

“Here, you can hold him,” Maddie spoke, handing the sleeping child into the other’s hands. Jazz carefully held him. The baby stirred, but didn’t wake up. Jazz gave a smile in awe.

“What’s his name?” Jazz asked.

“We’re giving him a special name,” Jack told her. “One part comes from a relative of your mother’s.”

“I had a great great grandfather who was around long before you or I were born,” Maddie said. “He passed away in a war, but he gave a name to one of my great grandfathers, John James Walker.”

Walker let a faintly audible gasp that Clockwork made out.

“We’re naming him Daniel James Fenton,” Maddie continued. “So he can grow up and be just as good as both of them.”

At that moment, baby Danny started to cry, startling Jazz. Maddie took her younger child back into her arms, rocking him back and forth.

“Shhh, don’t cry sweetie,” she spoke softly. “Shhh. I’m right here, I’ll always be here to protect you, my little Danny.” She began humming a melody Clockwork knew Walker had known his whole life.

Clockwork let the hand return to the present, and the mirror reflected both ghosts.

“So,” Clockwork said, floating over to clean the clock on the mirror. It had been a while since he had done so. “What will you do now?”

Walker didn’t respond for a minute, placing together the pieces in his head. The older ghost counted till the moment where the warden would ask the question.

“...He doesn’t know anything about this yet, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Clockwork said.

“You better not do any funny business, old man,” Walker muttered, walking toward the exit.

“What do you intend to do,” the time keeper questioned.

Walker stopped at the steps. “My job. I’m the one making any attempt at order. Only something like Pariah Dark could stop me from doing that.”

Clockwork sensed that the ghost had left before glancing at another mirror playing a particular timeline scenario: Danny looking through a scrapbook detailing Maddie’s side of the family tree.

“Fate isn’t kind to you, is it Daniel,” The Master of Time muttered.

#danny phantom #going angst week 2021 #dp walker #clockwork #pink lion dabbles

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hanniiesuckle17 · 3 years

Text

Blue Skies Chpt 3: The Mexican Standoff

A/n: I know the title is hella weird so imma just drop a definition for yall. Mexican standoff- a confrontation in which neither party stands any chance of victory. (also this is not edited so sorryyy) Tag List is open <3

Tag List: @woodiegochile @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @jeonqqin @geminirules @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00 @cotccotc @kodzu-ken @konenichi @yangs-jeongin @binniebutter @orangegyu @little-precious-baby

Blue Skies TL: @etherealyoonghwa

Summary: Y/n and Hongjoong were only acquaintances in college. They were on the same dance team but never crossed paths until one day both took notice of the other. One magical night after a party resulted in Y/n leaving with a guilty and angry conscious and surprisingly a blue stick. Three years later, Hongjoong is a hit producer and Y/n is a successful single mom. What happens when their paths cross yet again?

☁

Hongjoong’s POV

The three of us walked down the street, hands shoved in out pockets. Yunho’s little brother had told him about this awesome bar he had been to the other night and now the six foot man was dragging both San and myself all the way to Sangsu-dong just to go to ‘The Tipsy Devil Pub’.

“You guys are so slow. Come one!” The giant bellowed, already several steps ahead of San and me.

The red neon sign glowed in the night. It was hard not to smile seeing the cheeky devil design illuminating the street below it. “This place better have amazing food.” San groaned as Yunho pushed open the door excitedly. A buzz of volume leaked out of the pub.

“It’s not like you’re going to eat it. You’re on a diet.” I said with a laugh.

“It could be my cheat day. You don’t control me.”

As we entered the establishment my ears were greeted with a familiar sound. The door shut behind me and I watched my two friends ahead take in the dimly lit and packed bar. From the speakers my song drifted over the heads of everyone in the room.

Blue skies don’t stay when yours is the only smile in my mind

Lips on mine.

Legs entwined.

Little Miss Blue Skies will never see the sunrise.

Not with me.

Little Miss Blue Skies,

Come back to me.

Yunho smiled turning around to face me. His long finger point up as if gesturing to sound waves in the air. “Dude! They are playing Blue Skies!” I nodded, getting my own look around the bar.

“You think if we are with him we can get free drinks?” San suggested, pushing to the back of the bar. A row of booths lined the wall, a maroon velvet covering the seats.

“If you can afford that Chanel belt, you can afford your own martinis.”

“That’s offensive,” San paused, not bother to look back at me. “You know I drink Daiquiries.”

Yunho scoffed, sliding his long legs into the curved booth. “Like that’s any better.” I sat on the outside of the seat- my eyes scanning the crowded venue. My eyes fell on a certain figure sitting at the bar.

He was a pretty lanky guy, but his features were soft and very attractive. One arm of his was wrapped around a young boy who couldn’t be much older than three. The boy sat in the stool next to the man, feet dangling over the edge.

A nudge to my shoulder brought me back to the conversation which apparently had moved on without me. San tilted his head as if to ask what I was looking at. Not really knowing how to justify the fact I was looking at a three year old, I just pointed to the bar.

“Who the fuck brings a child to a bar?” The handsome man scoffed, tossing a cashew into the air and catching it with his mouth. He grabbed another handful from the bowl on the table. Guess today was his cheat day.

Yunho followed where my gaze led and pouted his lips a little. “Oh- Gunho, told me about that. Apparently that’s one of the owner’s kid. Sometimes if they can’t find a sitter I guess one of their friends at the bar watches him.”

“So that’s his dad? The owner?” I asked, pointing to the good-looking man at the bar.

My friend shook his head, stealing some nuts from San. “He said his mom runs the bar with her friend. I think she’s single.” He looked around all the moving bodies in the space before pointing to a woman behind the bar. She was turned away from us, but she gave off an aura that sent chills down my spine in a good way.

“Single moms aren’t usually your type, hyung.” San laughed, flagging down a waitress to order some drinks. Tearing my eyes away from the girl’s back I turned to my friend, brows raised and questioning his teasing tone.

“Hongjoong’s type are usually the ones who leave,” Yunho struggled to say without laughing. Seeing my glare he chose to sip on a glass of water. “I could have said you like psycotic bitches..... It’s really a toss up between the two.”

I rolled my eyes, thanking the waitress and she handed us our drinks. After a few rounds of some random drink in a rocks glass (Never again was I going to let San order for me), I felt a tug on my sleeve.

Thinking some drunk stranger just bumped into me I paid it no mind. Feeling a harder pull I turned, vision not quite keeping up with the speed of my body. Once my brain could decipher through the alcoholic daze I saw the little boy from before.

“Hey, bud,” I put down my drink and saw that Yunho had a goofy smile on his face looking at the kid. Should have known the gentle giant liked kids. “Can I help you?”

The toddler looked up at me with big curious eyes. “What’s your name?” The boy asked in choppy words. My brother had a daughter and she talked like that around this age. I smiled, leaning over to better speak with him.

“My name is Kim Hongjoong. What’s yours bud?”

The little boy smiled, revealing a toothy grin. “Mr. Kim you look like my daddy!”

I blinked a couple times attempting to process what the young child just declared. The other two men with me froze as well. “Hyung- is there something you need to tell us?” San stuttered, looking from the boy to me.

“I-I... I don’t think so....I haven’t had a girlfriend since.....”

“Blue Skies- we know.” Yunho interrupted. “Maybe you just look like the guy?”

I nodded, trying to convince myself that Yunho’s suggestion was probably the most likely one. There was probably a ninety percent chance I looked like the kid’s father. Wetting my now dry lips I said, “H-how do you know? Where’s your dad?”

The boy shrugged, completely oblivious to the panic on my face as most kids would be. “My daddy isn’t here, but my mommy showed me a picture of them together.” He stumbled over some of the bigger words and if I wasn’t freaking the fuck out I would have found it cute. “My daddy had dark hair though,” The boy smiled, pointing to my fading blue locks.

Pushing past the lump growing in my throat I asked the question burning in the back of my slightly inebriated mind. “Where’s your mom?”

Fully turning around, the little boy pointed to behind the bar where not only the man from before was staring at me, but also a familiar set of E/c eyes. Staring back at me was a face I thought I would never see again. A face I thought I lost. A face that left.

Y/n.

She looked just as beautiful if not more than when I remembered her. Unable to stop myself, I stood up trying to see her better from across the crowded room. “Hyung... is that?” Yunho asked, probably not wanting to say her name just in case.

“Yeah.....that’s her.”

Before I could say anything else or turn back to the boy, a woman sprinted across the bar and scooped up the kid. As she was running towards the bar, the toddler waved at me with a clueless and happy grin. Even if I hadn’t just drank three...whatever San ordered...I don’t think I would have been able to process what happened in those next few seconds. The woman shouted something to Y/n, who nodded not even batting an eye as the in my eyes, kidnapper, rushed out the door with a man who challenged even Yunho’s height.

Shaking myself out of shock, I pushed through the rowdy mass of intoxicated young people, Yunho and San following me. I never took my eyes off of Y/n, not even when she yelled something to a man coming out the kitchen and bolted towards the exit.

The second she got to the door I switched directions only to be stopped by the handsome man from the bar and the guy who basically Naruto ran out of the kitchen.

“Hey! Big fan! I’m Wooyoung,” Naruto said, introducing himself all while keeping me from following Y/n. “I’m one of the owners and I just want to say how honored I am you came tonight. Can I get you a drink?”

“No. I just need to talk to that girl.”

“Sorry, dude. That’s not gonna happen.” The other guy stated. He obviously wasn’t strong and the owner, Wooyoung was holding me back the most but I got the feeling I didn’t want to mess with this guy.

I sighed, looking back to Yunho and San who were being absolutely no help. “I just need to fucking talk to her okay!”

The two shared a look, before the skinnier one turned back to me, shaking his head. He was about to open his mouth and say something when the more excited one interjected. “You know....I can’t let you go talk to her....but for the right price....I’ll give you her number.”

“Woo, you devil spawn.��

“He’s not going to agree to it-”

“Done.”

“Excuse me, what.....” Wooyoung turned away in surprise from the argument he was having with his friend.

At this point I was desperate. Wooyoung’s eyes turned to saucers as I started pulling out all the cash in my wallet (which was quite a bit). “How much?” The two of the just stood staring at the money in my hand. “Not enough?” I heaved an anxious sight before looking over my shoulder at my friends. “Yunho give me your wallet.”

Not batting an eye, the tall dancer gave it to me and let me start taking cash out of his billfold. I handed them the thick stack of cash, looking at them expectantly. Slowly, Wooyoung reached out and pocketed the money before speaking again.

“You know I was just going to ask for a selfie, but that works too.”

Previous Chapter �� Next Chapter

Blue Skies M.List

Masterlist

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lordabovehelpme · 3 years

Note

AHHHHHHH! I just read A Day at the Lake!🥺😭 I swear that was the cutest thing I’ve ever read!😭 I need to go reread it!

Other than thaaaat... if u make another part... what if it’s twins?! Like a boy and a girl bc Din would lose it and it would be so freaking adorable! Ahhhh! I have baby fever now thank u😂

Delivery Day- Din Djarin x Reader

A/n: Please, you can’t do this to me. I kinda went overboard but I hope you like it!!! I am so happy you liked Lazy day and a day at the lake. I had so much fun writing them! Also yes, baby fever is deadly! So your welcome for infecting you ;)

Amazing moodboard by @jedi-jesi I love this one!!!!

Warnings: Pregnancy, birth, and children

This is the third part to my Lazy day fic. You can find part one here and part two here. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You twist and turn in front of the mirror. A frown is plastered on your face as your hands trail over your swollen stomach.

“Din, do I look bigger than usual?”

The mandalorian looks up from where he was cleaning his blaster. His helmet tilts and soon he arises from his seat. Two large hands press and rub over your taut skin. “Cyare, you’re pregnant.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.” Glaring at him through the mirror, you sigh, “No, I just feel like… I don’t know… bigger.”

His hands leave your stomach to quickly pull off his helmet and attach his lips to your neck. “Hmmm, well I think you look amazing.” The vibrations from his voice travel down your spine and send tingle throughout your body.

Smiling, you turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks love.”

“It’ll be alright, don’t worry.” Stopping his attack on your neck, he rests his chin on your head and peers down at your stomach. “I’m so excited for him to arrive.”

A loud laugh breaks from your lips at his certain belief of your unborn child being a boy.

***

Reeza, your daughter, has sat herself on the counter near the sink. She peers out the small window longingly at her father and her brother.

Din has decided that Myles, your firstborn son, is finally old enough to begin his mandalorian training. Most mornings are now spent with you, Reeza, and Grogu setting up breakfast while your husband and Myles will train outside.

“Mommy?”

“Yes dear?” You look up from your sizzling pan of vegetables.

“When do I get to start training? I want to be a warrior too.”

Sighing, you wipe your hands on the towel that was draped over your shoulder. Walking over to her, your hand cups her cheek and you press a kiss to the top of her head. “Well, it's up to your father, but probably next year.”

“Next year!” Her arms fly up into the air in distress and she buries her head in your chest. “I can’t wait that long.”

Looking down, your brush through her long brown hair. Both of your children are carbon copies of your husband. “Maybe if you ask nicely, Myles will tell you what exercises he does and you can copy them. Then maybe Daddy will notice and he’ll start you early.”

“Good idea Mommy!” She releases you and turns to carefully watch them again.

Smiling, you go back to your pan and add some species. “Ree, could you go tell them that breakfast is ready.” She nods and jumps off the counter, running outside the hatch.

You set five plates down on the small table, and walk over to Grogu who was focused on memorizing his metal ball. He looks up and coos at you, arms lifting into the universal sign for “up.” Frowning, you peer down at him.

“You know if I get down, there's no way I’m getting back up.” His arms lower and he walks over to his seat at the table, before pulling himself up onto the chair. He looks at you and babbles something. Shaking your head you jokingly wave a finger at him. “You just wanted to see if I would fall for your tricks, didn’t you.”

Before he can respond, arms are wrapped around your middle and a helmet is shoved into the crevice between your head and your shoulder. He chuckles at your soft squeak of surprise, “Smells good, mesh’la.” Giving you one last slight squeeze, he releases you and sits down at the head of the table.

Smiling, you start dishing up three plates and setting them in front of your children. “Thanks Mommy.” “Thank you.” and “Gaa!” Reeza and Grogu sit next to each other while Myles sits across from them, your husband sits at the head and you sit at the other end.

Reaching for Din’s plate, he swats your hand away, “Go sit down, I’ve got it cyare.” Taking his helmet off and setting it on the floor next to his chair, he smiles and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Ewww, stop it!” Myles complains and Reeza makes a gagging sound, Grogu just giggles at them.

Breaking away you look at your children who all look disgusted. “How do you think you little rascals were made?”

“DIN!” You slap his chest with your towel and he just grins at you. Turning to your children, you exclaim, “Don’t listen to your father!”

“Mommy, what does Daddy mean?” Sweet little innocent Reeza asks.

Glaring at your husband you walk over and brush her hair away from her forehead, “You ask Daddy that in a few years, okay?” You can tell she is confused by the way her head tilts, mirroring the frequent habit of your husband perfectly. Albeit, she just nods and shoves another spoonful of vegetables into her mouth.

Sending Din one last glare, you sit down and start at your own plate. “Myles, stop playing with your brother. Eat your food.”

His head whips to meet your own, shock written all over his face that you caught him. Recently, Myles and Grogu have been playing the game of “levitating food.” Myles will point at a specific piece of food and Grogu will try and lift it into his mouth. Pouting, he looks down at his plate and stabs an unsuspecting pepper.

Silence is a foreign term in the Djarin residence, and today is no different. As soon as everyone settles down, the child gives a hard kick to your ribs. A whine falls from your lips as your hand flies over your stomach. The mandalorian instantly is at your side, rubbing and massaging whatever skin his hands can reach.

“Sorry, they’re just kicking hard.” Giving your worried family an apologetic smile, you try and laugh it off.

Your husband’s eyes frantically watch your features, checking to see if you are in any pain. When he finds no signs, he places a hand over your stomach in a protective manner. Turning to his children he sighs, “Your mother and I have made a decision.”

All three children stop eating and look at him. They all look so serious. You have to bite back a smile at how they all sport the same serious face their father uses, even Grogu has started making the same expressions as his father.

“We’ve decided that we are going to travel and spend the next month and a half at the covert. That way the child will be born safely there and Myles you can get your first helmet.”

“I want a brother!” Myles shouts before the idea of his own helmet even processes.

“Not fair, you have Grogu. I want a sister!” Reeza sticks her tongue out at Myles.

“Wait!” Myles turns to his father, eyes as large as the moon. “I get my own helmet?” With a proud grin, your husband nods and Myles yells out in delight. “When are we leaving? Can we go now?”

Din turns to look at you and asks, “Well should we go now?”

You nod your head and everyone jumps into action. Reeza grabs plates and brings them to the sink. Din and Myles practically run to the cockpit and start the procedure for liftoff. Even though it’s only been seven months, your stomach has already surpassed the size of your last pregnancy. They do say that every pregnancy the child is bigger than the last, but this is alot bigger than you expected.

***

“Din? No way. How have you been? I haven’t seen you in years man.” Paz Vizsla envelopes your husband into a large hug and they both pat each other backs. They talk back and forth for a while before Paz finally sees you walking down the hatch. “I see you’ve been busy.” He throws your husband a glance before walking over to also hug you.

You stand at the base of the hatch, Grogu attached to your hip while Myles holds your other hand. Reeza, a tad shocked at the size of the man, hides behind your legs and clutches your skirt. “Fancy seeing you here.” You toss the familiar helmet a wide smile and he walks over to hug you.

“My my, Reeza you’re so big! Last time I saw you, you fit in the palm of my hand.” Still unsure of the warrior, she slowly makes her way from behind you. “And Myles, I heard you are coming for your helmet. I’m so proud of you.”

Your son smiles at Paz and lets the man pick him up. “Thanks, I’m super excited.”

“You should be, you’ve been the talk of the covert recently.” Din walks over to your side and Reeza runs over to him, wanting to be in her fathers arms. Picking her up, you all walk into the covert.

As soon as you make it through the doors, everyone is greeting you. Women coo at the large swell to your belly and the men pat Din on the back, your children have run off with the other covert children.

Shortly the armorer greets you, “Welcome back. Your room is ready, right next to the med bay.” She gives you a nod and goes back to her duties. It took awhile for her to warm up to you since you are not mandalorian. But as the years have gone on and the more children you produce, she seems to have now taken a liking to you.

The women pull you away from the main group to sit by the fire. “You look like you could pop any second! How far along are you?” Beti, one of your friends, asks.

“It’s only been a little over seven months.” All the women gasp in shock and hands fly over your stomach.

“No way, the baby is supposed to grow the most in the next couple months! You can’t grow much more.”

“I know!” Seeing Beti’s look of question, you sigh, “Yes, I’m sure it’s only been seven months.”

She throws her hands up in defense. “You know, Mirta was huge, about as big as you are, and she had twins.” Women nod and make sounds of agreement.

All the sudden, the dots start connecting. You thought you remembered less activity from your other pregnancies and now it makes sense. Your hand flies to cover your mouth that has hung open in shock. But your mind rejects the idea and you shake your head. “There’s no way.”

***

The bed dips as your husband crawls under the covers with you. “Hey handsome.”

He nuzzles up against you and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Mmm cyar’ika.” You let out a giggle as his scruff tickles your neck. All at once, pain erupts from your stomach. “Cyare?”

“Din…” A pathetic wail falls from your lips and you roll off the bed, standing and clutching the edge of the bed for stability, “the baby.”

His features flood with panic before they fall back into his stoic facade. “Alright, let’s get you to the med bay.” Nodding, you grab his shirt and clench your teeth as another wave of pain passes through your body.

Your eyes widen when water runs down your thighs. “Din, my w-water-” A groan interrupts your own voice.

He scoops you from your feet. “It’s okay, cyare, I’ve got you.” His voice soothes your nerves a little, but there is little you can do to a woman in labor.

As you enter the med bay, the doctor instantly starts informing you both on the procedure and plan however you can’t focus on what she’s saying. Din lays you down on the medical bed and moves to clutch your hand.

After many excruciating hours of pain and yelled curses you finally hear the wail of a child. You catch your breath as the doctor informs you that you’ve had a healthy baby boy. Handing your son to you, she nods before closing a curtain around you both.

Din rips his helmet from his head and instantly presses a kiss to your forehead and then to his new son. “Oh mesh’la.” His voice cracks with emotion and a tear falls onto his cheek.

But before you can respond another wave of pain travels through your body. “DIN!” Handing your son to him, you clutch the blanket. Instantly, he throws his helmet on and flings open the curtain to find the doctor.

“Somethings wrong!” You can hear the panic in his voice as he beckons her back to you. “This has never happened before. Please, help her.”

She takes a look at the spot between your legs before glancing at your husband. “She’s having another.”

“Kriff, another?!” You should have known, Beti told you so. A nurse walks over to Din and takes your son from his arms, needing to clean him.

“Alright cyare, you got it. I’m right here. Come on, cyar’ika.” You don’t miss the way he grimaces when you squeeze his hand.

After what seems like seconds and yet hours, another cry is heard and finally the pain subsides. Din gasps as he leans forward, trying to catch a glimpse of his child leaving your body. “Congratulations, you have a healthy baby girl.”

The nurse arrives back with your son, handing him to Din, and the doctor hands your daughter to you. Once again, she nods before closing the thick curtain.

Pressing a kiss to her head you peer up at your husband who hasn’t moved since the nurse offered him his son. He seems frozen, you’re not even sure he is breathing. “Din?”

It takes him a second to slowly turn his helmet to meet your gaze. One shaky hand lifts up his helmet, his eyes as wide as saucers and swirling with unshed tears. The helmet makes a loud bang as it falls from his grasp onto the floor. That same hand reaches over to your daughter and caresses her head. “They’re perfect.” A tear falls from his eyes, “Kriff, you’re perfect.”

He falls to his knees, but makes sure to keep his new son secure and safe. His head leans on your shoulder and finally all his tears fall. Loud sobs echo throughout the small enclosed space.

“I’m so happy.” The twins have both fallen asleep, one on your chest and the other in his embrace. He chokes on a tear before offering you a kiss, teardrops falling from his eyes to mix with the ones you are now shedding. “You’re amazing.”

One of your hands moves over to lightly trail over your son's figure. You meet his eyes and a loud cry breaks from your lips at the twinkles of love and softness in his.

“I love you.” He rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes. “You’re too good for me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Part: Daylight

Okay so now I have the deadly case of baby fever. (because I obviously didnt have it before)

Anyway, I had alot of fun writing this one and I hope you guys liked it!

Love you all, Lordy :)

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#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #anon reply #baby fever #tw: child #tw: pregnancy #tw: birth

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