#in this house we love and appreciate fat bodies and soft parts!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

camilbarnessss · 1 year

Text

¤ The Invitation ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 17 》

Final Part

When Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen's big family arrive at King's Landing for princess Helaena and prince Aegon Targaryen's wedding, things go as they always do. Dragons, uncles, nephews and cousins discussing and fighting, tension on every look, and disconfort when being with each other. Just the usual stuff...until the princess Daera Targaryen got drunk at a ball where The One-Eyed Prince happened to sneaked in

Masterlist

Warnings: constant swearing, sex sex sex sex, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡

■ ■ ■

The hours passed and, with them, the color of the clouds changed as well. The sky is now dark, decorated by a horde of stars and lighted by the softest full moon, up there, hanging in the air.

Also in the air, Vhagar and Kalistrox both fly side to side to each other, caressing the sky with their wings and scales, fading away some of the clouds above of them.

The Golden Ray remains unmounted for the monent, for his rider is still sharing The Queen of All Dragon's back with her own rider, Aemond. Kalistrox, even though he may be somewhat jelaous of this, is not annoyed by it, letting the princess to have his romantic moment.

Husband and wife enjoy each other's warmth in the middle of the cold breeze. The one-eyed prince plays with her hair a little, sometimes touching her Valyrian crown, while his lips kiss slowly her shoulders, humming in them. The princess smiles constantly, with calm on her eyes, feeling his soft kisses while caressing the two legs of his that remains at the sides of her body, like keeping her close.

Aemond closes his eye, landing a tender and long kiss on her right shoulder, resting his nose against her skin. Daera humms with a little sigh, forming a slow smirk, which she then bit, turning her head to a side to have a look at him.

-It has been a long flight-, she whispered.

-Hmm, indeed-. He answered with a love voice, talking over a mole of her.

-Are you not tired yet?-. Daera asks curiously, squeezing his thighs a little, doing it so easily because of how thin the fabric of his gown is.

-I could sleep, perhaps-. He answers, shrugging-. I had never fly such a long distance, but...I have grown entertaines by it-, his mumble was a flirty one, laughing against her neck. Daera chuckled too, staring foward.

-I know you have-. She mumbles, caressing his knees-. However, worry not, my love, for we have arrived-. She informed, raising her brows within a smile.

-How will we know where to land, I wonder-. The one-eyed asks, touching his arms while kissing her neck from behind, doing it so tenderly.

Daera answered with a giggle, and then she pointed below with her chin. Aemond, finally looking away from her skin and body, furrowed his brows lightly and moved his head to look down, curious.

He just realized that they were flying over a wide desert of green soil, where the grass was blown by the strong breeze. And, in the midst of all the darkness of the night, a dozen torches glowed from below, illuminating a single banner with the sigil of the House Targaryen. From their distance, a couple of people could be seen in there, tiny and minuscule.

Aemond lets air out from his mouth, opening his eye slowly when looking at that. Fascinated, he scoffs, causing Daera to laugh excited, holding tighter to the saddle.

From below, in between those torches, a fat woman of gorgeous and strong factions stares up at the sky with a closed smile, blinkless. Behind her, six servants are lookiung up as well, mouth-opened and breathless. All of them, mesmerized by the two grown dragons that were descending from the clouds.

Somewhat far from there, Vhagar let out a low growl, landing over her feet and wings from a moment to another, shaking the land, and teo antorches to go off. And just two seconds later, Kalistrox landed in front of her, doing it harsrhly and mighty, staring with mistrust at the seven unknown persons. From Vhagar's back, Daera looks at him within a second, seeing his spine bristling.

-Kalistrox, no!-. She says reproachfully.

But, nevertheless, the dragon boy opened his mouth and roared fiercely towards those people, clenching his horns and letting out his teeth while growling sharply. Daera groaned, whilst Aemond chuckled proudly, both ot them starting to climb down the she-dragon's ropes. Meanwhile, the servants trembled and the lady stood her ground, though she gulped strongly, closing her eyes for some seconds.

Aemond and Daera landed on their feets. She caressed Vhagar briefly, taking his hand and starting to walk. He walks firmly, narrowing his eyes towards those people, not knowing them at all. His wife, as always, walks calmer and easier, drawing one of her cocky but kind smiles towards them.

-Oy!-, she shouts from the distance, not wanting to keep the silence for so long.

-Greetings, my princes!-. The voice of the fat lady answers, also kindly.

-Who are they?-, Aemond mumbled.

-Our hosts, I presume-. She answered within a mumble as well, side-eyeing Kalistrox when they started walking close to him.

-Too many hosts, I think-. The prince muttered, narrowing his eyes again-. We are not staying in seven different manors, are we, wife?-. He asked, burlesque.

-You and your hysteria-, Daera scoffed-. Let me do the business, love, yes?-. She raises her brows, and now is he the one who scoffed. She glanced at her dragon, who keeps staring tensely at the unknowns-. That is not how we treat friends, my boy-. Daera said funnily, raising a hand and palming a side of his head tenderly.

Kalistrox growled lowly, backing up and slowly heading towards Vhagar, who looked at him silently and tiredly, shaking her neck a little. He is not that tired, though, so he just squealed briefly, looking at her.

Soon after, their riders reach those seven people, standing in front of them with the air blowing their white manes. The servants went mesmerized when seeing such unique and ambiguous factions in those two different faces.

-My princes-. The lady tilts her head to a side, smiling calmly at them. Daera does the same, while Aemond stays serious, crossing his hands behind his back-. Please be welcome, to Pentos-. She says politely, raising her brows.

-Thank you, for welcoming us to it, my friend-. The princess giggles a little-. It feels quite nice to see again familiar faces, after so long-. She confesses, gently.

-Pentos missed you, princess-. The lady noded-. It has been long, indeed, since we last saw your...blessings-, she mumbled, being uncapable of not glancing at the majestic and mighty dragons at the distance, simply appreciating their mystic beauty.

Daera draws a brief smile, thinking about the last time she stepped on Essos's lands. Meanwhile, at her side, Aemond stands quiet and serious. He nailes his eye on the servants behind, quickly becaming aware of their intense and escrutinizing gaces over his eyepatch. As always, he could hear their jokes and taunts about it. Blinkless, he stared coldly at them. And, as always too, that was enough to make all of them to look away from him.

The one-eyed hummed lowly. His wife hears him, and she instantly glanced to the crew behind the lady as well. Daera cleared her throat, giving a light nod.

-My good men, your help would be appreciated, but is not needed-. She informed, which surprised them and the lady as well, who blinks multiple times.

-Will you need no cooks for your suppers, no maidens to ready your baths or no servant to carry your baggage, my princes?-. She asked, confused and curious.

-We will not-. Aemond spoke for the first time, expressionless. Daeraa hummed with a smile, caressing his shoulders for a second.

-As a matter of fact, we wish for a most intimate stay. We will find our own way of doing our chores-. The princess sighed raising her eyebrows-. And, besides, I very much doubt our dragons would let you near to our baggage-, she joked, laughing.

All of them laughed as well, though the servants did shivered when thinking about the easy possibility of being burned alive by the Targaryen beasts. So, when their mistress dispatched them with a hand movement, they didn't think twice in turning around and walking away from them, doing it quickly and silently.

-Aemond-. Daera grabbed one of his arms, squeezing it tenderly. He looked down at her with seriousness and softness, letting go the tension in that arm-. This is Syrilia Mopatis, our host, and my family's first friend in Pentos before Reggio, The Prince of Pentos, took us in-, she informed with a little smile.

-Indeed-, Syrilia noded within a brief laugh, crossing her delicate hands over her belly.

-The Princed loved to show off about having us Targaryen as his guests. Gods, he would rub it in the face of all the other lords, I clearly remember-. The princess huffed, rolling her eyes.

-Hmm-, Aemond smiled a little, noding.

-Reggio has never been known for his discretion, I am afraid-. Mopatis pointed with a sigh, shaking her head.

-But you very much have, my friend, I also recall-. Daera said, slowly and confident. The lady pressed a smile, proudly, liking the flattery-. That is why i formally introduce you, my lady, to Prince Aemond-. She squeezed his arm again-. My husband-, she smiles.

-Daera-, he instantly flinches, not believing how easy she said it.

-Do not worry a bit, my prince, no word carrying your names will left Pentos. That I promise you-. Syrilia noded with confidence, looking at him. He licked his lips with distrust, and then he sees Daera nodding, wanting him to trust-. However, I do recommend to keep your dragons far enough from the skies of the city and out of sight-. She pointed-. For that, this desert is ideal-, the lady looks arounds.

-Agreed-, the princess quickly noded.

Aemond hummed, agreeing as well, but the first thing he thought was how they will have to move the dragons to another place. Over his dead body he will leave Vhagar and Kalistrox in a place that only this strange lady knows of. No one can do them no harm, of course, but still. They won't have them exposed.

-Well, the hour is already too late-. Syrilia spoke-. There is a carriage already waiting for us in the outsides of the desert. I propose to leave already, if you wish it, so I head you to your manor-, she says politely, looking more at Daera than at Aemond.

-Wonderdul!-, the princess instantly smiles-. Would you be so kind as to find the carriage and bring it closer while we lower our luggage from the dragons? It will take a little time, I'm afraid-. Daera tilted her head to a side.

-At once, princess-. Syrilia nodes, starting to turn around-. I shall be back-, she smiles.

Aemond sniffs his nose and turns around, taking his wife's hand and also starting to walk in a contrary direction. She jumped while walking, laughing excited.

-You are so good at meetings!-, she whispered, sarcastically.

-I care little-, he instantly snorts, causing her to laugh. He side-eyed her for a second, curious-. Do you really trust her, love?-. Aemond asks, looking back to Syrilia briefly, seeing her walking away.

-Yes, I do, and you should too!-. Daera giggles as they reached the dragons, who purred when looking at them-. My mother trusted her and...so do I, as well-, she nods with a feeling between pride and shame.

Aemond blinked a few times, grabbing Vhagar's ropes while looking at Daera's eyes. In that moment he understood why she is so blindly trusting this woman. However, he can't deny he trusts his wife, so...

-Alright-. The one-eyed sighed. Daera clapped biting her lips and shaking her head-. But we'll move the dragons, tomorrow-, he pointed, grabbing her neck from behind.

-Fine, fine!-. She laughed, understanding his motives-. Why do you al-

Before she could end her question, Aemond pulled her close and shuted her up with a kiss on her lips. She sighed through her nose, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him back with no doubt, closing her eyes.

Later, Kalistrox and Vhagar were left to sleep, and their riders went inside a fancy carriage being driven by the very Syrilia, who pulled the horses's ties and made them to shot out running within a second. The move was so abrupt that it made Daera to slip to a side and clash with Aemond, causing them both to laugh for a good while.

Pentos is, perhaps, the most beautiful of the Free Cities. Its breeze is kind and its grounds strong. The carriage has tiny wholes on its walls, allowing the princes to peek outside as they advance. For a good while they watched how beautiful the Desert of Green is, hearing the crickets singing from all places.

The One-Eyed Prince constantly glances front, watching at Syrilia through those wholes, looking for any suspicious move from her, which he did not find. The woman is just minding her business, driving the horses and sometimes humming a song he does not know the name of, strangely.

The Rogue Princess sometimes looks at the starry sky. For some reasons, these stars are different from Westeros ones. She remembers how she used to ride Kalistrox between them, and not alone, but with Vhagar and Caraxes's company, long ago, when The Queen of All Dragons was ridden by her mother. When Moondancer wasn't too grown yet for Baela to mount her, it used to be only her and her parents ruling the skies of Essos with their different colored dragons. Those yellow, green and red beasts would let anyone know the Targaryens were there.

Daera turned her head to look at Aemond, and he did the same, looking at her, too. They both smile silently, staring at each other while hearing the horseshoes and the wheels of the carriage.

-So...we'll be the ones to cook our meals then?-. Aemond asked within a funny murmur, furrowing his brows.

-Uh...yes?-. She scratched her neck.

-For a whole moon?-, he laughs dryly-. I wonder, do we know how to cook?-. His eye narrowed.

-You learned to make Moon Tea by reading a book, how hard can it fucking be?-. The princess snorted, shrugging.

-Hmm-, Aemond laughed lowly, lifting his cheeks-. We'll starve-, he joked.

-Perhaps-, she sighed, joking as well.

Not too long after, the carriage entered the city, which was easy to notice, for the multiples voices, laughs and screams coming from everywhere reached their ears within a second.

Daera gasped, quickly looking outside. Aemond leaned front, behind her, and place his eye carefully to see through one of the wholes, interested. Even though the late hour, the market of Pentos is full of people. Servants doing earrings, lords buying food, children playing and dogs barking.

The one-eyed allowed himself to smile, honestly surprise because how wide the streets are in here, all the contrary to his King's Landing, now far away from there. The princess silently smirked too, glancing at the stalls and their buyers. She harshly forced herself to not think about the last time she lived in between these market and people, where her mother died.

The married couple watches the outsides of the carriage with smiles and constant murmurs, talking between them and pointing at the different people that were wandering around the market.

And, in some point, suddenly they saw two women walking normally. But, what was not normal were their manes, which were sort of...white? Aemond and Daera furrow their brows, exaltated, and instantly some more people, as many men as women, are seen wearing a really similar hair color proper of House Targaryen.

-What is the meaning of this?-, the one-eyed spat his question, highly offended.

-Uhh, my lady Mopatis?-. Daera leans front, knocking on the wall where, outside, the lady drives the horses.

-Yes, princess?-. Syrilia answered from her place.

-I know nothing of no family of ours also staying in here-, the princess speaks with discomfort and curiosity. Her husband, silent, stares at the people of the market with disgust-. Are there more Targaryen in Pentos?-, she curves her brows, huffing.

-Worry not, my princes-. She laughs, answering calmly-. Ftom the moment you and your family departed the continent, a fever, fed up by your leave, sprouted in Pentos, for its people still wanted to feel like they were hosting dragons-. The lady talks like poetry, smiling and looking around at the market. Daera blinks surprised, while Aemond wrinkles his brows with curiosity-. The hedge witches around started mixing herbs and roots to the ones desperate of looking like you-, she laughs a little.

-Then, it is...fake?-. The princess huffs, glancing again at the group of people with nearly-white grey hair.

-Barely lasts two days, indeed-. Syrilia giggles her response, noding.

-Seven hells-, Daera laughs funnily, turning around to look at the one-eyed, who stared back at her with a cocky and serious expression. She chuckled at him, knowing he low-key likes the imitation-. Did you hear that, love? Pentosi people wish to look like my husband...-she murmured, flirty, taking his hair's ends and caressing them.

-Yet, their attempt is cheap-. Aemond answered with his husky voice, at what she bit her lips-. They won't look like my wife even if they sell their soul for it-, his eye stares deeply at hers.

-Oh they better won't-. Daera sighs heavily, shaking her head-. I'd tear each of their strands of hair apart, just so they don't get you under their spell-, she mumbled, burlesque, slowly placing her hand on one of his thigh.

-Hmm-, he nodded, drawing his gace away with taunt-. I will not deny that'd be some interesting stuff to watch at...-he muttered, almost forming a smile on his lips.

Some minutes passed when the horses drove the carriage inside of two wide open orange gates. The princess gasped briefly, instantly opening one of the windows, and watching the gorgeous garden that decorates the surroundings of the entry. The prince narrowed his eye, looking all around with curiosity.

-Are we there yet?!-, Daera asks, excited.

-Indeed, princess!-. Mopatis answered.

Soon, the horses stopped, and their driver got off her seat. While Syrilia walked to the princes's luggage, packed behind the carriage, the couple turned to look at each other, silent.

Aemond's eye softened, scrutinizing her face with his tender lavender gace. She furrowed her lips into a smile, slowly noding. They still wear their wedding's clothes, which was just this morning, and yet, they feel like they have been waiting ages for this moment. For this freedom.

Moments then, all of their package were already set inside the manor. Syrilia planned to do it all herself, but the princes helped her doubtlessly, for there were no servants for help. By the quick glance they got of the insides, Daera smiled bigly and Aemond just sighed, not believing how beautiful it was, almost not trusting it.

-This is more than we could have asked for, my friend-. The princess spoke with grace as she walked their hostess back to the exit, while Aemond stayed in the doors, watching them from there. Syrilia smiled, noding-. The shipment with your pay will be reaching the shores within two days-, she informed with a kind smile.

-Something I thank, princess-. The lady tilted her head to a side, handing her a set of three keys, one she hold with a proud smile-. I hope your stay is of pleassure, and I wish you tons of luck in your Seventh Heaven-, she smirks, honest.

-Thank you, lady Syrilia-. Daera sighs, crossing her hand over her belly.

-And my best to your husband-, the lady furrows her brows a little, looking over her shoulder-. Remind him that you are safe under my roof-, she says, laughing briefly.

Daera wrinkles her lips, turning around her head. She sees Aemond tensely standing in the door, from the distance, glancing from the insides of the house to his wife, serious. She huffs, knowing how overly cautious he sometimes might be.

Moments later, Syrilia was gone, by foot, and so the princess closed the gates, using the corresponding key. She giggles a little, turning around and walking back to the manor, where her husband waits patiently for her.

-Hey...-the princess walks in front of the now loose horses, both of them near the carriage, eating of the grass in there-. Husband-, she greets funnily, entering the manor.

-Wife-, he mumbled, entering as well. He looked at various sides and, just then, he closed the door, locking it.

-Hells...-. Daera whispers, looking around all the beautiful furniture and ornaments of the surroundings, all golden and so warm. She smiled, somewhat nostalgic-. Tell me, did you find any threat yet?-, she asks, burlesque.

-Oh, I'm glad to know my cautiousness amuses you-. The prince answered, as burlesque as her, crossing his hands behind his back as he slowly walks, looking everywhere around with his big eye.

-It actually does-, the princess laughs noding, walking around freely, twirling over her place.

-Gods, Daera, one always has to be careful-. He tsked, suddenly taking one of her elbows, and halting her circling. She stopped, breathing fastly, and looking at him with a smile.

-Well...-she bit her lips for a second-. If there is someone here who wishes to harm us, know that we have dragons, AND a very blue sapphire to throw at you!-, the princess yelled loudly and firmly, tauntly. Aemond pressed his lips, forming a bemused smile-. Surrender now, or you'll burn!-. She fakely warned, crossing her hands over his neck, hugging it.

All they heard was silence for ten seconds.

-See? They surrended-. Daera whispers funnily, caressing his neck. He clenches his teeth, narrowing his eye towards her, with that fucking smile on his lips-. You did a good job, my fearless knight-, she mumbles burlesque.

-Hmm-. The one-eyed grunts, placing his hands on her waist and gripping it lovely, nearing her to him. The princess laughs, bitting her lip-. You trust these walls, then-, he mutters, caressing the silk of her Valyrian gown.

-They are our walls-, Daera whispered, smiling confident-. All this, for now, is just ours, my husband-. Her tender hands touches every inch of skin on his neck, making it shiver multiple times-...no one else's-, she promised.

Aemond blinked, slowly beginning to soften his shoulders and posture, staring only at her, lightly grinning. Daera bops her head to a side, playful, looking at his lovely eye.

-I have a gift for you...-she suddenly whispered, twirling a finger on his long hair. He widened his grin, sucking his cheeks from the inside.

-I've gotten a gift for you as well, my wife-. The prince mumbled, letting her see his excitement. Daera inhales deeply through her nose, sucking her inferior lip, and glancing around for a few seconds.

-First, we ought to find our chamber, do we not?-. She questions, slowly turning around while still being between his hands. Aemond hummed, feeling her back lightly pressed against his chest, and her butt on his pants.

-Yes-, he murmured, begginning to walk.

Quietly, she giggled, starting to advance as well, being pushed by his steps behind her. He placed his chin over her shoulder, guiding her walk in silence. At the same time, he began to place soft kisses on one side of her neck, breathing over it. The princess laughs constantly, so lowly, walking through the halls they are discovering.

The manor is simply majestic. The hallways are wide and charged with multiple historic decorations. They walked in front of some halls, finding enormous bookshelfs or sofisticate furniture in them. In one moment they encountered the dining room, finding a fine supper served in there, still warm. They didn't stop, though, and kept in the searchof their room. They wandered and wandered the manor, being the only souls in it. Isn't this a dream?

Aemond, playful, bit a little of her neck, causing her to laugh and shiver, jokingly punching the arms that hugged her. The one-eyed giggled as well, just as they stopped in front of some open door they found. And, when looking inside, they knew they had found their chamber.

-Oh...-Daera sighs, caressing her husband's hands-. Oh fucking hells-, she huffs, bemused.

-It has class-, Aemond whispers.

The main bedroom of the manor is as huge as one would expect. The bed looks like the most comfortable one of all Essos, the buduoirs are made of some fine wood, and the carpet of the most golden lion. And, besides the sofisticate washroom, the huge balcony of the room posses a round and big pool where a family could easy bath in. It was beautiful, and all for them.

-This is what I'm talking about!-. Daera cheers happily, looking all around.

-I must admit, I am not dissappointed-. Aemond murmured with a smile, also staring everywhere. She chuckled, clapping, and he closed his smirk, lightly squeezing her waist-. Now, I do think a good bath is the next right thing to do, for both of us-. He says, raising his brows.

-I do not disagree-. The princess turned around, facing him with a cocky smile. He hummed, briefly tilting his head to a side, flirty-. And, as we are incredibly dirty after our long trip and day, it will be for the best to bath in separated washrooms-, she commented funnily, narrowing her eyes.

-Huh-, Aemond huffs. He thought about their nakedness under their gowns, and how they spent literally all day like that, so what Daera proposes is not wrong. He does need his time alone to wash himself properly, as so does she-. I'll leave you to it then-, he agreed into a murmur.

-Where will you bath?-, she asks with a smile, caressong his hair.

-I am most than sure I will find another bath fit for my needs-, he answered funnily, taking some steps back, walking away from her touch. She wrinkled her lips, amused-. Afterwards...I shall give you your gift-, he winked his eye at her.

-As I shall give you yours-, she mumbled within a sigh.

■ ■ ■

The princess bathed in the washroom of their chambers, throwing cold water to herself and rubbing a nice bar of lilac soap on her skin. The prince found himself another washroom of the manor, just as comfortable as the other. In there, he gave his body a deep wash, and then permufed his chest, neck and pelvis with a soft vanilla extract.

Before cleaning themselves, though, the couple decided to bring up their luggage. So, with no help from any other people, and a lot of travels between upstairs and downstairs, all of their baggage was already on their chambers. Daera's was all over the place, with some of them acidentally opened since the transport from the first floor. She didn't care, though. Aemond's bags, on the other hand, are perfectly stacked in a corner of the chamber.

Back to his black leather clothes, the one-eyed prince slowly walks around his room, right after he looked for something in one of his packages. He glanced at the fireplace, which warms the whole bedroom with efficiency, just as he liked. After taking some more steps, he sat in one of the delicate seats, not drawing his gace away from the fire, staring silently at it.

In the middle of his silence, he listens to distant laughs from Daera, who might be in some of the other halls of the manor, wandering around. He draws a tiny smile on his lips, tapping his finger on one arm of the chair. I can't believe we are already here, the prince thinks, away from everything, everyone. This feels like is a dream, the gods forbid it. He knows this is real, he knows they deserve it deeply. And he knows she knows it as well, for she has been all shine and smiles since they arrived. His love is happy, which makes him even happier.

In this moment, only in this moment, as hearing her laughs getting closer, he felt like any obstacle from the past just dissappeared. He forgot their families discrepancies, he forgot their political differences, he forgot everything the Strong bastards did. In this moment...

-Seven fucks! Those papayas in the dining room are waiting for us!-, he hears her roar happily as she enters the room.

...he only wishes her.

Aemond turns his head, conecting his gace with her, who smiled from the door. She wears her night gown now, being that thin and nearly transparent fabric he likes so much. She erases her smile and furrows her brows, crossing her arms over her chest.

-And why I'm the only one almost naked?!-, she complained.

Slowly, he started to smile, watching her, dearly and silently. That look by itself made her to shiver lightly, erasing as well her angry look. She tilts her head to a side, silently staring at her lovely husband, so handsome and princelike sitting in that chair. He moved his head slightly, telling her to approach. Doubtessly, she did.

Daera walked with calm steps, not drawing her eyes away from his. Soon, she stopped, just in front of him, lowering her head and loosing her lips. The prince looked up, intensely but softly, admiring how her face looks with the fire burning just behind. He raised his hands, and placed them on her hips, rubbing it tenderly with his thumbs, from up to down.

Mesmerized, she sighed, also raising her hands, and cupping his cheeks in them. When feeling her skin burn against his, Daera groaned lightly, loving the feeling, the single sight of him. When Aemond felt his woman's touch, he closed his eye, thanking all the gods for sending one of them to be with him.

-We are already here...-, she whispered, so sweetly.

The prince sighed through his nose, painting her with his only eye. Seconds later, he stands up, still caressing her hips.

He tilted his head to a side, staring at her. He hums, pushing her lightly. She closes a smile on her lips, letting herself to be guided by him and his tender touch.

Soon enough, they both reached the bed. They sat on it, in silence, just staring at each other. Aemond sucked his cheeks for a moment, begginning to smile as he looked for something in one of his jacket's pockets, something she glanced at with interest, quietly. Then, he takes out a little green bag, sewed with the finest fabric and by the most delicate hand, it seems.

-Green-, she huffs-. Is my husband mocking me?-, she murmurs tauntly.

-He is definitely not-, Aemond answered with a quiet voice-. As a matter of fact, he presumes you'll very much like what's inside-, he says, funnily.

Daera's husband himself opens the bag, doing it so calmly. Slowly, he shook it over his open hand, and then, two things came out from the bag, jingling when falling on his palm. The princess gasped, loosing up her lips with susprise.

-Aemond-, she whispered.

Two silver rings. Each of them with a small sapphire as its gem, shiny and blue as the very sea, and as the jewel he wears on his lost eye's socket. She can swear is the same one.

-They are beautiful-, Daera sighs. He giggles, handing them to her, and she took them both, curving her brows and looking up at him with her mouth opened when becaming aware of something-. Valyrian steel-, she gasped.

-Indeed, my love-. He nods-. I may have taken some Targaryen relics from the castle, but it was totally worth it-. Aemond murmurs with love and confidence. She blinks, mouth-opened, listening to him-. I looked for the best smith in Flea Bottom, and when I found him...he melted the relics, and forged one sapphire into the both of them-, he narrates, so proud of himself.

Daera draws one of her most beautiful smiles, taking one of the rings and putting it on her left hand's middle finger. When Aemond saw how gorgeous the silver and the blue looks on her brown skin, he sighed, not wanting her to never take it off.

-Fucking hells-, the princess sighs, mesmerized-. Is- is the other one for you?-. She asks, looking up at him with dreamy eyes.

-It is, but for a future-. He answered, taking the other ring and playing with it between his longs fingers. Confused, she tilted her head to a side-. When we can express our love, freely, I will wear one of them, proudly, and will never take it off-. He whispered his promise, leaning front. She did so as well, curving her brows with hope, noding-. Until then, my goddess...-, he starts slipping the ring on her right hand's middle finger, sweetly-...I want you to keep it for me-, Aemond muttered, breathing through his mouth.

-You know I will-, she instantly noded, taking both rings in with a sincere smile-. I will keep them with my soul-. Daera promised, heartly.

-Hmm-. The prince smiled tinyly, staring at her beautiful eyes-. I confess that...this is the gift I had for you when we met in Driftmark for Lord Corlys name day-, he admitted then within a low voice.

They both remembered how, a little longer than a moon ago, their families and all the realm gathered together in Driftmark to celebrate her lost grandsire's birth day. They recalled their brief talk in the hall of the throne, where they confessed to have a gift for the other. Given how the circunstances turned out, they never could give their presents to the other. Until now.

-The very same happened to me-, Daera raises her brows-. I- I planned to give it to you that day, and now it's...perhaps it is just stupid-, she huffed lightly.

-Of course it is not-, Aemond instantly denies, smiling briefly before her insecureness, which is so rare of her. Daera sighs, looking at him with a small smirk-. Whatever may come...-he whispers-...if it comes from you, I desire it-, he swore.

The princess pressed her lips, feeling her cheeks burning vividly under his strong and lovely gace. She sighed, standing up, and walking towarfs her luggage. Aemond blinked calmly, resting his hands on the soft mattress. She, while walking, looked down at her hands with a growing huge smile, staring at her new rings with all the love of the world. Could he be more perfect?

-Alright-, Daera sighs when seating on the bed again. Her husband looks at her with curiosity, smiling a little-. This...this was ny mother's-, she murmurs, taking out her hands behind her back, and showing him a beautiful little box, color blue, clean and well preserved-. In this box she used to keep this very earrings I'm wearing-, she giggles a little, pointing at her ears, where she wears blue sea jewerly.

-Oh, my love-. Aemond lets air out, and she furrowed her brows a little-. You honor me-, he nods within a honest murmur, planning on taking the box.

-Man, the box is not the gift!-. Daera instantly cleared, repproaching him funnily. He blinks and draws his hands away again, interested-. I mean, it is part of the gift but, the main thing is what is inside-, she clarifies, raising her brows.

-Oh...-Aemond bops his head to a side, looking at her, who sighed briefly.

-I made this-, she shakes the box lightly-, nights after you showed me your sapphire...for the first time-, Daera whispers with a smile, one he copied, remembering that harsh night that turned out to be one of the sweetest and most intimate of them-. I, too, planned to give it to you in Driftmark, but...we know what that went on-, she murmurs, uncomfortable.

Aemond nods silently, recalling Luke and his stupidity and cruelness. His blood boiled for a very brief second when remembering so, but her voice quickly made that to go away.

-Baela is the best of us at sewing, I am afraid, but...-she sings the "but", raising her brows, and starting to open the box-...I swear did my best-, she sighed.

And so, the box is opened, revealing a black leather eyepatch on its insides, delicately placed in there, with its band tied by a thin blue ribbon. Aemond's expression went loose, his eye opened hugely, and his throat gasped, speechless. Daera read his face, slowly drawing a smile on hers.

-I know that wearing a patch gives you confidence-. She murmurs, moving on the bed, and slowly kneeling on it, leaning front while still holding the box-. And, even though you will never need to use it with me...-her free hand grabs his eyepatch, softly taking it away from his face. Aemond pressed his lips, feeling a light lump on his throat-...I want you to look good while doing it-, she chuckles a little, throwing the patch away from the bed.

The One-Eyed Prince stares deeply at his gift, blinkless. His lovely wife stares at his face with softness and dearness, cupping one of his cheeks, and caressing it. His left eye's socket, filled by a blue sapphire, shines on her face lighty along the fireplace's light. She tsks tenderly, caressing his lost eye with the finger she wears her sappphire ring on.

-Daera...-. He says her name with passion, as always. Slowly, he takes the new patch out of the box and takes the ribbon away too. Aemond stares at the piece, amazed, looking at every detail-. It's leather-, he whispered.

-It is-, she nods sweetly, getting everytime closer, walking over her knees on the bed-. I believe a patch of fur wasn't too princelike for my husband-. The princess mumbled funnily, leaning to his forehead and placing a kiss on it.

Aemond laughed from deep his throat, letting out some sweet chuckles, one she hard with a sweet smile on her face, starting to caress his mane. He narrows his eye, still looking at the patch.

-Is it stapled?-, he asked curiously, looking at the four silver buttons stamped on the leather line that runs over the top of the patch itself. On one of its sides, there are also four other buttons, only that smaller and closer to each other.

-I'm not good at sewing-, she stressed within ashamed laughs, curving her brows. He laughed as well, closing his lips, and feeling his eye shining-. Do you like it?-, the princess asked, almost nervous, really wanting to know. He huffed, looking at her.

-Daera, I love it-. Aemond answered within a sincere and sweet whisper, staring straight at her eyes. Daera felt like a cloud, flying in the sky. She pressed her lips, staring at him too, lovely, proud of her making.

-Oh gods-. She tsked, taking the patch on her hands-. I do hope it fits you well, fuck-. The princess mumbles, begginning to putting it on him, who laughed closing his eye-. I'm not the best at measures either-, she mumbled.

When she sees the patch perfectly surrounding his head, and perfectly covering all of the sapphire, she sighed and smiled, slouching her shoulders with relief.

-How do I look?-, the prince asks, smiling.

Daera chuckled excited, jumping off the bed and quickly running to one of the budoirs. Aemond expected for her, amused, feeling how comfortable the patch is, and how the leather treats his skin softly. Within a second, his wife arrives with a hand-mirror, giving it to him in the middle of her laughs.

Aemond places the mirror in front of him, seeing himself on it. When doing so, he begins to smile slowly, appreciating his reflection, his easy expression, his easy heart. He sighed through his nose, looking at himself for some more seconds.

Then, the love of his life appears on the mirror as well. Daera kneeled on the bed, behind him, hugging his shoulders and placing her chin over one of them. They both stared at their reflection, silent.

-You are so beautiful-, she whispered on one of his ears, to then kiss it. Aemond hummed lowly, placing the mirror away-. You are so fucking alluring-, she purred, placing her lips on his neck, pampering it with slow kisses.

The one-eyed clenched his teeth, feeling her burning sweet touch.

-You don't need it with me-. She whispered quickly, taking the new patch off him, and throwing it away, just like she did with the other-. Do never wear it with me-, Daera pleaded in the middle of a sigh.

Aemond groaned and grabbed her legs from a second to another, suddenly making her to sit on his lap. He hugged her tightly, and she breathed in deeply, passing her hands all over his chest.

-I want you whole, Aemond-. Daera whispered, staring at his neck with desire.

-I lust for you so strongly, goddess-. Aemond hummed, breathless, drawing his hands to the back of her dress-. I shall give you every inch of me, any time you want it-. He murmured, leaning front, and placing his forehead on hers-. I'm your servant-, he said.

-You are my husband-, she whimpered.

They still ought to believe they already are in Pentos. They already are alone.

Away. Married. Free.

With a hand, he began to take off her night gown, and the other one he directed it to his sapphire, all while placing his lips on her cheeks.

Daera kisses his neck, and caress his chest, unbuttoning his jacket. She draws her hands to his head, unmaking his hair tail and letting his long mane to fall freely over his back and shoulders.

He also heads to her hair, unmaking the bun she has been wearing since the wedding. He lost his ten fingers on all her mane, loving her curls. At the same time, he shakes his own feet from one side to another, taking off his shoes.

Daera moans, standing up and pulling down her dress, almost with despair. Meanwhile, Aemond placed his sapphire on its little green bag, which he throwed away just as with his formers patch before. He also stood up, pulling his pants down with the same quickness as her.

They both breaathed fastly, both getting rid of every clothe over their bodies. She tsked, kicking the dress away, and he hummed, leaving his pants behind. Finally, her ass is naked, her womanhood at sight, her breasts bouncing, his manhood standing, and his butt free. At last.

Aemond walked fastly towards her, cupping her face and kissing her with hunger, just in the same way she answered. Daera moaned and grabbed his ass, squeezing it and drawing him closer to her, tasting his hot saliva and feeling his heated breaths. The princess drew her nails all over his wide back, caressing it with her Valyrian rings, gladly burning him with their meaning.

The prince leaves a trail of kisses all over her body. Cheeks, lips, neck, shoulders, breasts, abdomen, navel. He kissed her womanhood twice, on each of its lips, and kept going down, molding her entire figure with his big hands. Daera moaned and sighed, staring at him as he did all this. He kissed her thighs, her knees, and her feet, kneeling before her like the servant of hers he promises to be.

She grabs his head and caress his red ears, biting her lips and staring him from her height.

Then, he pushes her and makes her to fall on the bed. As soon as this happened, he stood up again and climbed to the top of her, breathing over her skin and soon kissing her lips desirely. She surrounded his hips with her legs, pulling him closer, and feeling his familiar manhood rubbing her feminity with dearness. He kissed her the same way, humming over her tongue, and she singing against his teeth.

Daera made the position give a turn, and she became the one on top, not stopping their kisses. Now it was Aemond who hugged her hips with his legs, grabbing her ass with his handd and squeezing it with his clean nails. The princess moved over him sensually, both moaning at every second, just feeling how their skins burn against each other.

As he breathes deeply, she kisses his empry eye socket in the middle of hums, kissing his long scar and caressing the few blond eyelashes remaining in there. He groans constantly, hugging her waist and drawing her even closer, even though it is not possible. He turned around the position again, being the one on top a new time, and having the freedom to lost his tongue into her mouth.

Daera herself pulled his manhood inside of her, knowing the way too well. He cried when feeling her wet and clenching walls. He cried when feeling her nonstopping kisses on his scar, making the ghost of his lost eye to shiver every second. She cried too when feeling his long member thrusting deeply inside of her, having the same up and downs on its rythym the most beautiful song have.

-You are all I have ever wished for-. Aemond whispered over her mouth, hearing her majestical moans-. In a woman, in a person-. He groans, making his hips dance as he thrusts into her, knowing how much she enjoys it, as well as he does-. In a goddess...-, he sighed.

Her lovely brown breasts bounce with every thrust of his. Aemond does nothing but admire their beautiful structure, her gorgeous dark nipples, the very ones he leaned front to bless with multiple kisses, wetting them with his saliva. She moaned so loudly, grabbing his ass endlessly with one hand, and clawing his back with the other one.

-Here, we can scream as much as we want to-. He whispers. She groans, keeping her eyes open, just to stare at his only one-. We can dream, as much as we want to-. He moans, punching dearly her womanhood with no stop-. We can love, my love-. Aemond sobs thinly.

His back is all red, almost as much as the fire that shines within them as they make love in the purest of way, in a bed they do not know, in a country only she is familiar with. But, what does it matter, truly?

-No dreams-. She denies with a quick breathing, cupping a side of his face. He bit his lips, noding as he thrusts inside of her-. You are the realest thing I have, Aemond-. The princess groans, breathing every time faster, as well as him, who clenched his teeth in the middle of low moans-. The truest...-she whimpers, squeezing his hair on her fingers-, and the purest...-. Daera sobbed thinly.

Oh, Daera and Aemond...

Their pleassure came to its highest, and they both squealed and moaned endlessly as she is filled by his lust made flesh, all inside of her, making her belly warm. She laughs breathless, caressing his hair.

Our sweet married princess.

Aemond chuckles with no breath, all red, keeping his manhood inside of her and caressing his forehead against hers, who laughed grabbing both sides of his face, rubbing it tenderly with her fingers.

How little do they know...

The Rogue Princess smiles, staring at her husband.

...that they are doomed.

The One-Eyed Prince smirked, staring at his wife.

■ ■ ■

Taglist: @loxido @jaime-in-flannel @grungegrrrl @aemondswifey @poppyflower-22 @melaneigh2 @stargaryenx

#Spotify #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #targaryen #aemondtargaryen #the one eyed prince #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen fanfic #if villain bad why hot #baela targaryen #daemon targaryen

14 notes · View notes

what-the-water-gaveme · 2 years

Text

trigger warning: sexual assault

2am, staring at my Google search bar, furiously typing and retyping and retyping and retyping my question: “can a thin man rape a fat woman”

anxiously, i awaited the results. would my fears be confirmed or denied? would i find comfort and solidarity in the vast world of the internet, or would the answer to my question be what i feared?

I met him in the fall of 2020. I moved to the greater Philadelphia area from rural Ohio to pursue graduate school, a move I was often applauded for due to the pandemic. I was excited by the prospect of dating in a big city. I had never really had much luck with dating in the past, and I mainly attributed it to being in Ohio.

Hinge seemed like a promising option. I rarely ever liked other people’s profiles, mainly due to a lack of confidence and a mixture of anxiety and self-doubt.

A notification! “___” liked your response. I remember exactly what our first conversation was about. For the next few days we chatted about everything from favorite cocktails, what books we were currently reading, and what we had been doing since the beginning of the pandemic.

He was nice. He was kind, cool, and whip-smart. For the most part, I really did want to possibly pursue something. My self-doubt and insecurities came to surface though and I dodged hanging out with him at every opportunity. His suggestions were always met with an excuse on my end.

For context, I am fat. I’ve been fat for over half of my life. I was a slim child, but around age 8 or 9 I begin to fill out overwhelmingly. My mom met this with panic, encouraging me to lose weight with incentives such as toys, trips, and games. She even went as far as putting me on Weight Watchers at the ripe age of 10. None of this is to take a jab at my mom. She did what she knew, and I love my mother.

My whole life has been a constant struggle to accept and appreciate my body. My strong, yet soft body that houses and protects and feels. I was taught that loving my body was wrong. I should hate it and want to completely change it. And I did, and sometimes, I still do.

Dating as a fat person is, for a lack of a better word, hard. It’s a constant worry about if you’re going to be rejected, ridiculed, fetishized, or even in some cases (like mine), harmed. The trope of the secret fat girlfriend is one I know like the back of my hand. Good enough to fuck, but not to date. It’s happened countless times to me, and to many other fat people I know. A secret shame men face around the idea of being attracted to a fat woman.

I often feel like I have to prove that I can be sexual, that I can be satisfying. Every sexual encounter I have, I feel shame surrounding the way I look naked. “I am not worthy, I am not worthy, I am not worthy.” I definitely believed that. Sometimes I still do.

He seemed interested, even after I gave the “Im not skinny” spiel that every fat woman knows all too well. Months passed by, and we would intermittently talk. A few months later in November of 2020, we briefly discussed BDSM. I was 22 and did not know the slightest thing about principles of BDSM. Looking back now, what he was suggesting was straight up abuse. I asked him if this was something he did often. He responded, “I only have this kind of sex with fat women.” I was disturbed, but admittedly, I was also intrigued. I asked why. He said, “They have low self-esteem, so they let me.

I should’ve ran then. But he was so conventionally attractive, Ivy League educated (which I am learning means absolutely nothing), and he seemed to align with me politically. He was right though, I had low self-esteem, so I let him.

The first time wasn’t that bad. Some light punching to the face, hitting me with a belt on my backside; nothing i couldn’t handle. The sex felt good. I felt satisfied.

A whole year passed before I saw him again. It was November of 2021. He had moved out of the state by then to pursue a job elsewhere, but was in town to visit family. A testament to my own insecurities, I reached out to him.

I have a lot of anxiety surrounding sex. I am now a 3 time survivor of sexual assault, which complicates intimacy in so many ways for me, as I’m sure it does for many other survivors. At that point, I had been feeling so lonely that I felt myself wanting to have another sexual encounter of the like with him. I think, in this case, my need to already be familiar with my sexual partners played a key role.

He had expressed unbridled interest in consensual non-consensual sex play. I questioned if I was genuinely interested in it, as I had a lot of concern surrounding the logistics and credibility of this “kink.” I entertained the idea but ultimately, I never said yes.

He haphazardly texted me that he was in the area and I needed to make up my mind if I wanted to see him or not. I said yes, because I thought this encounter would be similar to the last.

“Here.”

I walked to the door to let him into my complex. Some pleasantries were exchanged, but as soon as we walked into my apartment and I shut the door behind me, he punched me in the face.

I was shocked and sort of chuckled as a reaction. He hit me again. At this point, I am thinking to myself, “What the fuck am I going to do?” He gestures to the direction of the bedrooms in the back of my apartment, “Which one is yours?” I point to my bedroom and silently follow him in.

I knew I could handle some punches, but these were a thousand times more aggressive than the time before. He told me to take my clothes off. I did.

His biggest fantasy became my biggest nightmare. Punch after punch to my face resulted in a severe concussion and horrific bruising. Repeated kicking to my stomach resulted in excruciating abdomen pain.

I shyly whispered through tears, “Please stop. Please stop. Please stop.” He didn’t. I thought for a second that maybe I was going to die.

He was playing out his fantasy of consensual non-consensual sex play. Except it wasn’t consensual on my end. He even forced me to say (more than once), “I want you to rape me.” Threatening to hit me even harder if I didn’t.

He finished, abruptly put his clothes on, and left. I was so delusional as to what just happened, that, I too, abruptly put my clothes on and walked him out. As headed towards my door, I wryly joked, “See you around this time next year.”

I didn’t hear from him after that.

I sat on my bed and cried. I slept. I cried some more. My roommate came home from work later that night. I hid my face and said I was tired, and I’d see them in the morning.

I didn’t quite process what happened to me until the day after, which was, coincidentally, Thanksgiving. I woke up to a bruised and swollen cheek, and I told my roommate.

I had to seek medical care because I was in excruciating pain. After hours of waiting, I was finally seen, but the doctor questioned my credibility when I told him what happened. “This is why you don’t get yourself into these kinds of situations.”

I filed a police report, almost immediately regretting it. I was met with what I can only describe as complete and utter disrespect. He asked me what he looked like. I described. He asked almost mockingly, “What’s his build.” It was a statement, not even a question.

I told him an approximate guess of his height, and that he was of average build. He audibly stifled a laugh. He said, “Did you try to fight back…?” I couldn’t find a response. I sat in the exam room alone, on that bed, in a hospital gown, with a black eye and a swollen cheek in front of a police officer who had just laughed at me as I tried to recount the most traumatic event of my entire life.

He asked me a few more questions, and I explained that it had began as a BDSM encounter, but consent was never freely given in the first place and it was audibly withdrawn numerous times throughout the assault. I told him that a safe word was never established because my rapist said we didn’t need one.

I admitted that I was probably foolish to even entertain the idea of entering a BDSM encounter without a safe word, but I didn’t know much about BDSM and that I trusted him as a previously established sex partner to guide me. The police officer just sighed.

He eventually said he had all he needed and left.

I got dressed and drove myself home.

The next few days were generally a blur, and I didn’t really comprehend anything that was happening. I only told a few people, and I found myself sort of wondering why they even believed me. I was second guessing my reality; playing back every second of every moment of that encounter with him. Did it happen the way I remember?

The detective looking into my case called me the next week. He said there wasn’t anything he could do because he didn’t have any prior criminal activity and he lived in a different state. He said I could press charges, but he highly doubted that anything would come from it. I thanked him for his time.

Flash forward to seven months later. I am here. I’d be lying if I said I think about it everyday. Truthfully, I don’t. Sometimes I don’t think about it for weeks. But right now it’s all I can think about because there is now a new precedent set for survivors.

Survivors are seemingly encouraged to share what happened to them. yet, when they do, they are chastised, shamed, and called liars.

If a wealthy, blonde, thin, white woman such as Amber Heard is mocked on every single surface of the internet, what does that mean for me? Or you? Or your cousin? Or the girl you sat next to in Psych 101 your first semester of college?

I am sharing my story not because I think this is the perfect opportunity for a think piece moment, but because I can’t continue to live with it stuck inside of me anymore. I only shared the full story of what happened to me with one person. But now, I think it’s time for me to let it go.

Believe me or don’t. But next time you share an article or tweet about how Amber Heard got what she deserved, remember this. Amber Heard won’t see your post on facebook or your story on instagram or your retweet on twitter. Your friend who was raped will. And your friend who was raped will know that you mock and question and belittle the credibility of survivors.

To every survivor out there: I believe you. And I hope you believe me too.

10 notes · View notes

rawdogmeharry · 3 years

Note

will you write something about reader and harry having a 12 year age gap, but fans and everyone are really supportive of their healthy relationship? like they’re so in love. lots of fluff and maybe a tinge of smut? 🥺 love your writing 🥺🥰

old man

or, the one where Harry’s family loves Y/N and he loves her even more.

]part 2: old bones]

sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy babe <3 and thank you very much, that’s lovely to hear!!

requests go here:)

masterlist

•

“What d‘ya say, baby, red or white wine?“ Harry ponders, leaning one hip against the kitchen counter and holding up the two dark glass bottles in his hands, showing them to Y/N.

“I dunno, I‘d say red but Anne‘s not really a fan of it, so let‘s just take the white,“ she shrugs her shoulders, little animated hearts dancing around in her eyes from watching Harry look so fucking effortlesly hot for no damn reason. His sheer button-up that shows his vast collection of body ink and the way his black jeans fit snugly on his juicy thighs are the reasons her panties are drenched inside out.

Little does she know, he‘s thinking the exact same thing.

She stands in the kitchen doorway, dressed in a tight, sand colored turtleneck, black bell bottomed pants and the pointed-toe nude Louboutin heels Harry had gotten her for her last birthday, looking like Harry‘s next meal. All he wants to do, is take those pants, shove them down to her thighs, bend her over their glass dining table and bury his face in her cunt and ass.

But, they‘ve got places to be and people to see at the Styles-Twist family gathering.

Dead puppies, grandma boobs, cow udders is all that circles his head because nothing else can bring his boner down.

“Hey, where‘d you go?“ Y/N waves her hand in his face, seeing his spaced out face and eyes weirdly zoned in on her tits.

“Huh?“

“Y‘zoned out on me, Har, y‘okay?“ she slowly walks towards him with her brows furrowed, her heels making a really satisfying noise on the gray kitchen tiles.

“Oh, yeah, ‘m fine, kitty, just thinking ‘bout how pretty y‘are,“ he grins and tugs her in close by her love handles, then gradually migrates his hands down to her ass and gives it a firm squeeze once she‘s fully enclosed in his arms. And about how hard I want to fuck you, you fucking Goddess, he thinks to himself.

“Let‘s go then, bub, don‘ wanna be late. Been a while since we last saw your mum, I‘ve missed her,“ she smiles up at him. “And, wanna get home as soon as possible as well, also been a while since we used those handcuffs, huh?“

Harry watches as she bites her bottom lip and feels her dainty hands stroking up and down his back, and just as he‘s about to ram her against the wall to spank her and remind her how daddy doesn‘t like to be teased like that, she quickly slips out of his embrace and spanks his firm bum, telling him “let‘s go, Har“ and giving him a pointed look as if to silently tell him that she knows exactly what he‘s thinking.

‘‘‘

“Oh, yeah, since ‘m on winter break right now, me ‘n Harry started re-watching Friends, but my old man can barely keep his eyes open past 11, so it‘s been goin‘ really slowly,“ Y/N giggles, and that‘s the only part of the conversation Harry hears as he‘s approaching his lovie and Gemma, the two of them talking alone on the outside bench of Anne‘s back garden.

He feels finally free after hearing his uncle talk about the new corn he‘s been growing and how the high fiber content has really helped with his digestion for the past half an hour, and all he wants to do is throw Y/N over his shoulder, go home and fuck the ever living shit out of her. Maybe they won‘t even make it inside the house, he thinks, maybe he‘ll just take her in the car in the driveway.

“Hey, is the old man you‘re talkin‘ about supposed to be me?“ he pretends to be offended with raised brows and mouth open in mock offense, throwing his arm around his lovie‘s shoulders and leaning against the side of the bench in a hunched over sitting position with his bum right at the edge.

“Well, I don‘ really have any other old men watchin‘ Friends with me,“ she shrugs, her eyes regaining the light they get whenever Harry‘s around.

“Better not,“ he says in a stern tone, expression softening once again as he feels her hand on his thigh, rubbing softly in reassurance.

Then, he hears someone else giggle beside his baby, completely forgetting that Gemma‘s been sitting beside Y/N, because all he sees, knows and breathes is Y/N.

“You guys are so cute,“ Gemma giggles again and Harry notices just how tipsy his sister is from the sparkly look in her eyes, no doubt from the delicious wine set out on Anne‘s kitchen island. “Can I tell you a secret?“

“Go ‘head, Gem,“ he chuckles, brushing his fingers through lovie‘s soft hair, “jus‘ don‘ be mad at me if y‘gonna be embarassed by it for the rest of y‘life.“

“Oh, shut up,“ Gemma rolls her eyes, “I may be drunk, but ‘m not stupid, it‘s nothin‘ embarassing. Jus‘ wanted to tell you both how glad I am you two ended up together.“

“We‘re glad too, Gem, thank you,“ Y/N smiles at her, a fond look taking over her face from the realisation at how lucky she got with her sister-in-law. Or actually, Harry‘s whole family, really, and she feels beyond grateful for how accepted and loved she feels in it.

“No, like, ‘m sayin‘ just-just how grateful I am my brother ended up with someone so amazing, so understanding and just—overall such a great person. Really, at first, me ‘n mum were a bit skeptical because of—you know—the pretty big twelve year age difference and all, and Y/N bein‘ only eighteen when y‘met. But over time when we got to know you, you‘re mature beyond your years and I wouldn‘t wish Harry any other person. ‘M really glad that all the negative comments, looks and hate y‘both got at the start of your relationship didn‘t break you up or put any tiffs between you. Y‘gained the fans‘ trust, didn‘t let them overwhelm you. Just proves that no hardships can separate you‘s, you‘re meant to be.“

And Y/N‘s got tears in her eyes at the end of Gemma‘s mini speech, because she couldn‘t imagine hearing nicer words from her boyfriends family. If everyone genuinely thinks all of this about her, she‘s quite literally the luckiest person in the world.

Harry watches as Y/N doesn‘t hesitate to give Gemma a big, fat hug once she‘s done talking and all he thinks is how right Gemma is.

How right she is by saying that Y/N is the most fucking amazing thing to ever happen to him, how nothing can separate them and how they‘re meant to be. That‘s all Harry thinks about all day every day, and to think that his sister and probably the rest of his family have the same outlook on their relationship is like putting in the last missing piece of the puzzle.

Y/N pulls away from the hug and subtly wipes at her undereyes, “thank you, Gem. I just-I don‘ really know what else t‘say except thank y‘so much.“

“No, but seriously,“ Gemma grins at the next part she‘s about to say, “jus‘ the other day me and mum were talkin‘ about the adorable little buggers you‘d make with your good genes and all an-“

“Okay, Gem,“ Harry chuckles and takes the almost empty wine glass from her hand, “thank y‘for the kind words, but tha‘s all for tonight, I think.“

Gemma pouts, “hey, why‘d y‘take my wine?“

“C‘mon, let‘s go find Michal, he‘ll know what t‘do with ya,“ Harry smiles at his sister and helps her up from the bench and watches as she uncoordinately trots towards the door, heading inside of the warm house where the rest of his family are chatting away amongst eachother.

He stays behind and quickly leans down to whisper in Y/N‘s ear, gripping her thighs in both of his hands, “bathroom upstairs. In five minutes. Daddy doesn‘t like to wait.“ And walks away, catching up to his sister and leads her away to her boyfriend. He wants her, and he wants her now, because he physically cannot contain all of the love and absolute appreciation he has for her inside of him any longer.

Y/N just sits there with clenched thighs and an irregularly beating heart.

‘‘‘

“Fuck,“ Harry pants against his lovie‘s neck, keeping her hands pinned to the wall above her head by her wrists, “how are you this fucking beautiful, huh?“

“Fuck, please do something, Har,“ she mewls into his ear, desperately wanting to grind against something and longing to feel his cock lodged deep into her pussy.

“That‘s not my name,“ Harry growls and grips her wrists tighter.

“Daddy. Daddy, please fuck me, just-please, do something.“

“God, bunny, y‘drivin‘ me crazy. Can‘t fuck you here, don‘t want m‘family t‘hear you screamin‘ fo‘ daddy to fuck y‘ass harder. Gonna make it home, first. Or halfway.“ He grinds against one of her thighs and his cock is leaking so much precome he‘s sure there‘s gonna be a wet stain on his dark jeans once they get out of this Goddamn bathroom.

“Just stop talking, Daddy,“ she pants out, not really caring for the consequences of talking back to daddy at this exact moment and slots her lips to his own, immediately sucking his tongue into her mouth.

And Harry thinks he‘s gonna let her off for this one, because they both need it so much that the bloody rules daddy made can fuck right off through the window.

He moans into her mouth and takes his tongue out of it, quickly pulling back and looking into her eyes, “put your hand into your panties and feel how wet y‘are for me.“ And let‘s go of her wrists.

She does as she‘s told, feeling so fucking thankful for the small amount of friction she gets from her fingers quickly brushing on her clit as she passes it to her weeping hole and rubs her her pointer finger at the entrance of it.

Taking her hand out of her pants, she shows Harry her shiny, slick fingers coated in her juices.

“Suck on them like you‘d suck my cock.“ He rasps out with his hands put on either side of her head.

She takes them into her mouth and moans at her own mouth-watering taste, sucking her fingers to the back of her throat and gagging on them like she‘d gag on Harry‘s cock.

Harry moans out from the filthy sight and locks their lips together for a final time, “five minutes to say goodbye t‘everyone and then I want y‘in the front seat of m‘car with your pants in the back.“

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagines #harry-angst #harry angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #fanfic

1K notes · View notes

writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Prompt List #10 - Plus Size/Fat character

For the sake of this prompt list Character A is always plus size/fat. I mostly made this because I think we need more plus size reader inserts and character fics. For those who want to write them but aren’t sure of ideas, don’t know where to start I figured this might be worth while.

I’d love to see more people create plus size/fat character specific prompt lists tbh.

All my Prompt Lists

Character A is grabbed/physically assaulted as a joke/way of laughing at their body. Character B is the one person who steps in.

“I’m too heavy...baby…”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Character B digging their fingers into Character A’s hips, soft waist, stomach, sides etc. enjoying the tactile nature of their partner.

+ (You may like to add to this) Character A pulling away from Character B due to feeling self-conscious/uncomfortable with Character B touching those parts of them they’re usually admonished for.

Character A is forced into wearing something tighter than normal, maybe they haven’t had time to do their laundry and it’s the only thing they have left, or it’s a last minute formal event and the only dress they have is something they bought and never felt confident wearing. Character B is there to remind them every step of the way how lovely they are.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I find all of you attractive? That i’m not ignoring anything, not picking and choosing parts of you that I like and ignoring those that I dislike? That I like all of you?”

Character A walks past a mirror and feels unusually (or not) self-conscious, it puts a damper on their mood. Character B takes note and aims to correct this.

Victorian AU: Character A has spent their life being told they’re unmarriable, unlikely to find a spouse because of their size, that they don’t fit the mold. Character B has a few choice words for Character A’s parents and a proposal.

Victorian AU: Character B soothing the marks left on Character A’s skin from wearing an ill fitting corset in an attempt to conform to societal expectation. Lots of tender love and care.

Character A decides to wear a swimsuit to the beach/pool for the first time in years, they’re self-conscious but trying not to show it. Character B is just there hyping Character A up, showering them in love and appreciation because damn!

Character A is confident, feeling it, has worked so hard on their body confidence. Character B isn’t quite there yet with their own. Character A is here to remind Character B that they are wonderful, lovely, deserve to feel confident and good in their body.

Character B is proudly showing off their partner Character A, not afraid to show everyone how much they love them.

(You could add this) Character B is asked why they’d even be with Character A, derogatory comments are made about Character A’s size. Character B is not having it. This is their baby and they love them.

“I don’t want you to hide from me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to, ever.”

“I love you for you, for all of you. I don’t think you’d be pretty if you were smaller, I don’t think you’d look better if you lost a few pounds. You’re all I want and all I need, just as you are.”

Character B takes comfort in just cuddling with Character A. In resting their head against Character A’s soft stomach, wrapping their arms around their waist/hips.

Character A has begun distancing themselves from Character B as their insecurities take over and they worry Character B is bored of them or no longer attracted to them. Character B is determined to set the record straight

“I’m not asking you to compete with anyone, you don’t need to. You’re the best person for me, the only person for me. I think you’re the most beautiful/handsome/attractive/etc. Person i’ve ever met. I don’t want them. I don’t want anybody else.”

Soft kisses to the soft rolls of a soft stomach

Soft kisses to the soft dips and curves of hips and love handles

“I love your double chin. I love your round cheeks. I love you. I love how your cheeks dimple when you laugh.”

Kisses to stretch marks, trailing fingers over the marks in Character A’s skin.

“You’re so soft.”

Character B is kind of obsessed with Character A’s butt

Soulmate AU: It’s terrifying having a soulmate, growing up to believe that they’ll reject you, that your body will disgust them. Character A is petrified of meeting their soulmate, scared they’ll be rejected, that they won’t be attractive enough. The moment they meet Character B those fears are washed away.

“I love your stomach, have I ever told you that?”

Character A gets dressed up for the first time, Character B is a little bit starstruck

Character A takes Character B with them to go clothes shopping. Character B is having the time of their life seeing all the different outfits.

Alternatively, Character A can’t find anything that fits right/they feel good in and is getting really down. Character be is here to save the day and change their perception.

1980s/70s/60s/90s AU: Character A (fem. presenting) works in a male dominated office, she is constantly dealing with the day to day sexist comments added to that are the comments about their body/shape/size. Character B usually works out of office, but for the first time they’re in house long enough to notice. They decide to put a stop to it.

Mob/Mafia AU: Character A isn’t what people expect a mob boss's favourite gal/guy/person to be like, too sweet, too soft, too big. But that doesn’t change the fact that they’re the favourite and no one can say a bad word about them.

Character A has been in past abusive relationships where they’re shamed for what they eat. Character B is here to make sure they eat what they want and don’t feel bad about it, they refuse to let Character A fall into self-destructive patterns.

Character A is soft, sweet, runs a bakery, (massively cliché i know), character B is rough around the edges but melts around character A.

“I’m not like other girls/guys/people you’ve dated. I...look at me? I don’t look anything like them. How can you...I don’t...I don’t understand why you’d want to date me?”

“I’m not your type.” “Who says?”

Character A poses for Character B nude for a life drawing session

Character B is always drawing character A in their sketchbook when they’re not looking. Character A finds the sketches.

Character B tries to write poetry about Character A, it’s bad, but it’s also sweet.

“I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to be hidden away like some sort of dirty little secret. I can’t… I won’t.”

#plus size #plus size reader #fat reader #writing prompt #writing prompts #prompt list #prompt lists #writing prompt list #writing prompt lists

473 notes · View notes

ickymichi · 3 years

Text

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

<3 warning: none really! just slight mentions of nsfw but nothing brutal, swearing, v slight angst, mentions of insecurity.

<3 things to know!: set in the timeskip, unless i’m like ‘this was back in high school’. (implied female) reader and issei are in an established relationship.

<3 summary!: headcannons i have about issei and his appearance/body. :)

<3 a/n: see i genuinely had no idea what to call this. like it’s headcannons that i have about issei’s appearance/body?. and also to make some of the things named more normalised and to make ppl see how attractive they make ppl. reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

all contents belongs to hotboyissei 2021. please do not repost or modify on this or any other platform.

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒: listen to this okay. issei with freckles on his shoulders. beautiful i know. but just imagine it. those nice broad shoulders with thousands of freckles scattered across them from years of tanning and getting sunburned on the beach while on holidays or just from the numerous summers he spent in your backyard getting a tan. just running your hands across them seeing how some of them connected to form a bigger one. he always tells you it tickles. but never says stop. also in summer he gets them on his face from the sun.

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒: he definitely had them on like the part of his back where his arm meets his shoulders, on the under side of his biceps and definitely got some on his ass cause boy got cake. but he’s insecure about them and used to hate wearing tank tops cause you could see them. but you told him how much you love them and how cool they look. now mf thinks he’s hot shit (as he should) and walks around your house in them or just shirtless. if you have some to he would literally always be telling you how attractive it is. literally constantly.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑: he definitely is on the hairier side. like he got hairy ass legs let me tell you, but it thins out when it gets to his thighs a bit. definitely waxes or shaves his ass idc idc, was scared from this one time he was watching porn and it just got a shot of the guys hairy ass and he was disgusted. but also he got like, not a lot to where he has to constantly wax it, but a nice amount of chest hair, like it’s only on his pecs not on his stomach you know?. side story!: it was like, two months after you started dating and you were having a movie night at his and you were staying over. makki convinced, i mean convinced him you were going to have sex for the first time. so issei being afraid you’d think his chest hair is unattractive he booked a chest wax and made makki come with him. he recorded the whole thing and showed you two years later, big bad matsukawa issei himself, screaming from pain and nearly breaking makki’s hand with the grip he had on it. end of side story :). his happy trail? pheww that shit idky it’s just attractive to me for some reason. also has a bit of stubble but he shaves it cause of one time in third year he was just really lazy that week and didn’t shave and when the four of them went to go to the cinema on saturday oikawa said: “who’s uncles coming our way?”. from then on he never goes out with to them without shaving beforehand. if you tell him you find it attractive he’d grow it out a small bit just to see your reaction. but if you said you don’t like it he’d do it anyway to annoy you.

𝐀𝐂𝐍𝐄: high school issei definitely had acne. not like major but had some on his cheeks and his back. he hated it sm cause all his friends never had a problem with it. until you told him it doesn’t matter if he has it for not he’s still seggsy as fuck. now timeskip issei? not as much. he made sure to start taking care of his skin halfway through high school. that is until masks became a thing, poor guy has a love hate relationship with them now.

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆: listen, issei eats. mf has the biggest appetite you’ve ever seen. ceo of “you eating that?”. every time you see him on the couch he either has a bag of crisps, chocolate, popcorn, leftovers from last night or a takeout he ordered in his lap. man just loves food (i relate ‘sei dw). but all that eating makes boy bloat like crazy. like, he has a fast metabolism so mf never gains weight that much🙄. but he could literally eat half a sharing bar of chocolate and suddenly he’s eight weeks pregnant. also, he didn’t know what bloating was until you finished a movie night and mf took half the popcorn, had his own bag of jellies and three of the small multipack chocolate bars. so when he undressed for his shower and caught a glimpse of his stomach that normally only has a bit of pudge, pushed out to where it looks like he gained weight over night he has a stroke. this how shiz went down:

“(Y/N)!!” you literally sprinted to the bathroom thinking he fell or sum. “what issei? what happened?!”. “have i, have i always been this big?” “what? you look like you always do”. the distressed noise he let out along with him fake stumbling and grabbing the counter had you confused. “i look pregnant! what do you mean i always look like this? we’re getting a treadmill or at home gym or whatever i need to get back to how i was. good lord i really let myself go.” he ran a hand across his face while rubbing his stomach and looking in the mirror. then it hit you. “oh my god you fucking idiot, you do realise how much shit you are right? your just bloated.” “bloated? the fuck is that?”. you then spent the next fifteen minutes sitting on the toilet seat explaining what bloating was while he showered.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇: i just know baby don’t got teeth that look like a fresh set of veneers. and it’s not like they crazy crooked, just slightly that you barley notice unless you’re up close and stare at his mouth. but because he’s always looking at himself it’s the first thing he sees. this leads to him covering his mouth whenever he laughs and only slightly smirking or lifting his mouth to a small closed lip smile when he’s told to smile. everytime he has to take a picture with his family one of his auntie who’s taking it shouts: “smile issei!” every time. and he always says: “i am though”which leads to his getting pinched in the side by his mother and her telling him: “fucking smile properly before i whoop your ass” through gritted teeth while she smiles brightly herself. he grew to not care as much when, you again, told him you love his smile when he threw his head back instead of covering his mouth when you told him a funny story.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒/𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐒: heavenly i know, but bby doesn’t completely agree. we all know boy thick especially those gorgeously thick thighs! but he just thinks they’re too thick. he’s used to seeing oikawa and makki’s slender ones, so when he stands in front of the mirror in a pair of swim shorts he bought and they’re swinging on his waist but about to rip around his thighs he can feel himself start to tear up. and then, what a suprise, you walk in!

~ start story:)): “ ‘sei! you ready to go, oh are you okay?”. he whips his head around to see you standing in the doorway in the swim set you just bought your self. ‘god you look so good’ he thinks to himself. “uh yeah yeah i’m good just need a few minutes these uh, they don’t fit.” he brings a hand to his face and uses his index finger and thumb to wipe the tears in the corner of his eyes. “oh well then you can just tie the strings, that’s what they’re there for, i told you to go a size down silly”. you stand infront of him and start to tie the strings in the shorts around his waist. “no doll, they aren’t to big, they’re to small look” he motions his head to the way they’re straining around his thighs and he just wants to start crying again. “oh i see, we’ll theres nothing we can do there , is there? we’ll just buy another pair on the way.” how? he thinks. how are you not laughing in his face that his legs are to fat to fit in a pair of shorts that are 2 sizes to big for him? “i know what you’re thinking,” your soft voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “why is she not laughing at me huh? she probably thinks i’m fuckin’ ugly” you do your best to mimic his deep voice but just sound silly trying, making him let out a small laugh. “how many times have i told you how much i adore your legs hm? how many times have i done, such oh so sinful things on them while going on about how much i love them?. to many to count issei. so next time you think all those silly bad thoughts just think of me and every time i tell you nice things about them!”. now he’s definitely crying, but this time over how much your words helped him. and now he feels like a million dollars as he struts across the beach to the three men waiting for you with his neon orange shorts tied around his waist and clinging to his thighs. end story :))~

jesus i forgot about his legs. anyway, all his life he’s been told how ‘lanky he is’ and how long his legs are. this makes him feel like shit really,most of his jeans stop above his anlke so the only type of socks he had is the long ones that he uses to hide his ankles fromm people, making them think he has the perfect size. he’ll never forget the time he spent hours shopping with his mother and trying on countless pairs of trousers for an upcoming wedding that and they stop above his ankle. he feels embarrassed really, seeing the fitter tell him they can just get them custom made, but it’ll cost more plus the original price. watching how distressed his mother gets when he tells her how much it’ll be. he doesn’t want his mother spending that much money on a pair of trousers he’ll wear once so he butts in saying it’s fine and he’ll deal with it by wearing black socks and no one will notice. the same exact problem happens several years later except in his mother’s place is makki along with oikawa and iwa, watching him get fitted for your wedding. he tells himself ‘think of (y/n), think of (y/n) and how much she says she loves your legs’ but it’s hard to when all the other men have no problem finding the perfect suit size. he doesn’t want to pay extra for a custom suit but that’s what it looks like is going to happen.

-end <3

#🤍.issei #🧸.soft times #🍬.hcs #matsukawa issei imagines #matsukawa imagines #matsukawa issei x reader #mattsun fluff #mattsun smut #matsukawa #issei matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #mattsun x reader #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa smut #matsukawa headcanons #matsukawa fic #haikyuu matsukawa

311 notes · View notes

hrina · 4 years

Text

In The Ring, Pt. I - Jab

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 4k REQUESTED: not exactly lol

hey everyone! this is PART 1 of the boxer!harry AU i’ve been working on. i was so inspired by this concept that i wrote it all in one day lol. if u enjoy reading it, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated! it really helps in terms of motivation and just knowing how my readers feel about this story in general. so yeah, that would really make my month!

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, go stupid go dumb! my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio, for anyone who would like to check out my other fics or who feels like chatting. can’t wait to hear your thoughts 💘💘💘

~*~

January 7, 2021

All of Harry’s teeth are still intact.

For now, at least.

He knows that mouthguards exist—there’s one tucked between his lips every single time he enters the ring. But even then…sometimes punches go awry. Sometimes your opponent dodges at the last second. Sometimes people end up with a mouthful of leather and a few loose incisors. He always keeps one fist near his chin, shielding the lower half of his face from any blows that come his way.

Speaking of blows coming his way…

He ducks away from the straight jab that the man throws—The Wall, they call him. Harry had rolled his eyes when the nickname boomed across the room, soon lost in the roar of the crowd.

He’s never been one for flashy introductions. He prefers to let his technique speak for itself. His brand is his name. Harry Styles. Simple, concise, and so utterly deceiving. He loves watching the smile melt from his opponent’s face, basks in the moment when they realise that he’s tougher than his name suggests.

The Wall jabs again, and Harry successfully dodges the punch. He doesn’t register the other fist hooking around, however, until the blunt front of the man’s glove makes contact with the side of his head. Usually, a blow like that wouldn’t even faze him. But the sheer force behind the hit knocks him off-balance, stumbling to the side as he loses his footing and inhaling sharply when his shoulder collides with the ground.

The yells from the crowd are deafening. Harry coughs, trying to guide air back into his lungs. When he blinks, black spots dance across his vision. Subconsciously, his eyes trace a path upward, past the floor, past his opponent’s feet, past the ropes encompassing the ring. Higher and higher, still, past jeering faces and sloshing beer bottles and grungy eye makeup. All the way to the top of the bleachers, to the exit—to you.

That’s been your unofficial spot for the past two years. Once you turned twenty, your father finally gave in, allowing you to attend Harry’s matches in exchange for the cessation of your endless badgering. You always stand near the door, observing the commotion with thoughtful eyes and puckered lips. Despite himself, Harry has started to think of you as his lucky charm. It’s dangerous—he always swore that he wouldn’t be one of those overly-superstitious athletes—but he can’t help it. He just seems to perform better when you’re around.

Through the rocky field of his vision, he can see just how wide your eyes have grown. There’s an unmistakable look of concern on your face as you watch the fight unfold. Your hand finds its way to the base of your throat, playing nervously with the rose-gold pendant resting there. You crane your neck to get a better view of the ring, your pupils flitting back and forth between Harry and the frighteningly large man looming over him.

A warm rush of adrenaline floods Harry’s veins. The saliva that has gathered in his mouth tastes stale on his tongue. He spits it out as he staggers to his feet. The crowd grows louder, somehow.

The Wall’s smile shrinks as Harry assumes his previous position; his hands orient themselves in front of his face. His opponent gnashes his teeth, seemingly annoyed with the fact that the match has not ended. Harry shakes off the dizziness clouding his brain, and then he’s lunging forward with a newfound sense of determination. He throws punch after punch, sidestepping The Wall’s returning attempts. All he can think about is the fact that you’re up there, watching, waiting, worrying. He never wants to see you like that again.

You’re his goddamn lucky charm.

His victory comes in the form of an uppercut followed immediately by a nasty right hook. The Wall—this big, towering man with bulging biceps and rippling pectorals—crumples to the ground. Harry waits, his chest heaving with exertion as the countdown begins. He’s prepared to watch his opponent rise again, to shift back into a fighting stance and start over. But as the seconds trickle by and The Wall remains motionless on the ground, he soon finds the tension in his body seeping out into the hot, sticky air.

His shoulders sag in relief as a single promising word echoes through the grimy arena.

“Knockout!”

~*~

The crowd thins out considerably in the ten minutes following the termination of the match. Harry stumbles out of the ring, sliding through the ropes and pulling his mouthguard from between his lips. Your father is waiting for him with a smile on his face, holding out an arm and helping him jump down from the raised platform.

“Well done, H,” he says, patting his back proudly.

Harry pants and nods. Your father holds out a reusable water bottle for him to take—he accepts it graciously and gulps down the cold liquid with fat, greedy slurps. Once he pulls the nozzle away from his mouth, he runs the back of his hand over his face to catch any stray droplets that have collected on his chin.

“Thanks, Coach.”

“You took a pretty hard fall, there,” your father says, guiding him to sit down on a bench propped up against the wall. “Medic’s in the back. He’s checking out Aaron right now, but you’re next.” He taps his index finger against Harry’s temple. “We’ve got to make sure everything’s alright up there.”

Harry sucks in a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Who the fuck is Aaron?”

“Oh.” Your father laughs. “Aaron. The Wall. Whatever you want to call him.”

Harry frowns. “Don’t like that. Makes him sound like a dick.”

A new voice enters the conversation.

“That’s because he is.”

Harry’s head snaps to the side, and there you are.

You look nice, as usual. There’s something about you that he can never seem to properly describe. You always look so…clean. If he tried to vocalize his thoughts, he’s sure that you would look at him like he was crazy.

But in his head, it makes sense. You take care of yourself. Your nails are spotless, your hair smells good, and he knows that you must dab spritzes of perfume onto your pulse points before you leave the house, because a fresh scent follows you wherever you go. Even now, as you stand a few feet away with your hands on your hips, he catches it on a deep inhale. Not flowery, not fruity, just…clean. Refreshing. Light. Breezy.

Your father snaps him out of his reverie, and he realises that he should probably stop listing every word in the thesaurus.

“How do you know?” Your father’s inquiry is curious. He shoots you a puzzled look, his mouth curling down into a soft scowl.

You roll your eyes. “Called me ‘sweet thing’ before the match started and asked me if I was the prize,” you say, sticking your tongue out in disdain. “I told him to go fuck himself.”

Harry’s lips twitch.

Your father chuckles. “That’s my girl.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “What time are we leaving?” you ask. The question is directed at your father, who is fiddling with the drawstrings hanging from his sweater. “I was hoping to study a bit more before bed.”

“Soon, gioia,” your father says. “As soon as Harry gets checked out, we’ll be on our way.”

You nod, and—for what feels like the first time since you cut into the interaction—you glance down at Harry. “Hi,” you say softly, shooting him a small, friendly smile.

He meets your gaze for only a moment. Everything about you is so gentle. Your irises are like melted pots of honey, regarding him with such warmth he feels like he’ll never be cold again. “Hi.”

“Congratulations on your win,” you murmur. Harry wants to bottle your voice and save it as a keepsake. “You made a great comeback.”

Because of you, he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. “Thank you,” he offers up instead, the words scraping against the roof of his mouth and tumbling unceremoniously into the air between you.

A moment of silence ensues as you wait for him to say something—anything—else. But he’s done. You nod once before turning back to your father, who is tweaking the settings of the watch wrapped around his wrist.

“Do you know where the washrooms are?” you ask. You toy absentmindedly with the necklace hanging from your throat. “I need to pee.”

“You can use the one in the women’s locker room,” your father tells you, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Around the corner, first door on the left.”

“Thanks,” you say, slipping by and pressing a quick peck to his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

He just nods in agreement, still too preoccupied with his watch.

Harry, on the other hand, can’t keep his eyes off of you as you walk away. He takes note of the way that you tuck your hair behind your ear, how you shoulder the strap of your purse to keep it from slipping down your arm, how you walk with a purpose despite being so moderate and kind. His gaze falls momentarily to the sway of your hips, the enticing nature of your waist. He stares for a long moment before tearing away, clearing his throat and blinking a few times in quick succession.

“Proud of you, H,” your father pipes up, tapping the face of his watch twice before dropping his arm with a sigh. “You did well out there.”

“Thanks,” Harry mutters. A spark of guilt flares up in his chest when he realises that he had been blatantly ogling you with your father standing only a few feet off to the side. He silently berates himself, shaking his head free of any alluring thoughts.

Your father’s phone chirps with the arrival of a new notification. He fishes the device out of his pocket and glances down at the screen.

“Let’s go,” he tells Harry, jerking his head to the right. “Medic’s ready for you, now.”

January 13, 2021

“C’mon, H, be smart with it! Watch how he angles himself!”

And Harry’s trying, really, but Arthur—or Artie, as your father likes to call him—is a hunkering titan of a man. He used to be your father’s star athlete before retiring, and now…now he’s working in finance, or something akin to that. Harry isn’t one hundred percent sure; he usually zones out when people begin to discuss the stock market.

Artie throws a right hook, but Harry sees it coming and blocks it with ease. They move in a circle, focussed only on each other while other individuals outside of the ring totter around.

Harry prefers to train on weekdays during the afternoon, because that’s when the gym isn’t as packed. Right now, only a handful of other people are working out, lifting weights or doing cardio exercises. Harry and Artie are here so often that nobody even blinks an eye anymore. And your father…well, he runs the place. Of course he would be here.

The sparring continues. When Harry refuses to make the first move, Artie sticks one glove out, beckoning him forward. “Come here, pretty boy.”

“Don’t make me pull your hair,” Harry grits, because Artie’s ponytail is swinging temptingly from beneath his headgear.

The other man laughs good-naturedly before lunging. Harry blocks his uppercut and delivers a strong, pointed jab right to the middle of his chest. Artie stumbles backward, inhaling sharply as the breath is knocked from his lungs. Harry bites back a smile.

“Nice, H!” your father calls.

“Thanks, Coach,” he mutters.

The front door of the gym opens, accompanied by the soft tinkling of a bell to announce the new arrival. Harry’s attention is reflexively drawn toward the direction of the sound, and his heartbeat stutters beneath his ribs.

You’re there, with your hair tied back in a low bun and silver hoops hanging from your ears. You’re holding a tray of coffee in your left hand, and there’s a warm smile on your face. You wave excitedly as you greet Portia, the middle-aged woman sitting behind the front desk. The two of you chat as you shrug off your jacket and tug the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

Your mouth moves languidly. Though Harry is too far to hear your voice, he has a pretty good idea of what you’re saying. Your eyes widen and you shiver dramatically, shaking your head.

It’s cold!

A heavy fist makes contact with the side of his jaw, and he falls to the ground.

Your father’s loud exclamation pulls your attention away from Portia and toward the ring on the opposite end of the room. Harry groans lowly as he pushes himself to his knees, tilting his head from side to side and cracking his neck. When he turns to face your father, he finds him frowning through the gaps between the ropes.

“What the hell was that?” he asks, shooting Harry a disappointed look.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, climbing to his feet with a grunt. “Got distracted.”

He chances a glance back at you, and his shoulders grow tense when he realises that you’re making your way over to the ring, the tray of coffee held between your hands like a peace offering.

“Hello, boys,” you singsong. “I brought drinks.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” your father says as you hand him his designated cup. He leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to your hair. You hum happily in response.

“Jason!” you call out as Artie approaches the side of the ring. “I got your lemonade.”

“Thanks, little girl,” Artie hums, accepting his drink graciously and taking a long sip from the straw. “And for the hundredth time, stop calling me ‘Jason’.”

“Stop calling me ‘little girl’,” you shoot back, laughing deviously. “I can’t help it if you look like him, okay? You’re even the same age, too.” You cock one eyebrow. “Should I start calling you ‘Aquaman’ instead?”

“God, no.” Artie shakes his head vehemently. “Let’s stick to Jason. ’Least that’s a real name.”

You giggle as he ambles away. Your eyes shift over to Harry—who has kept silent the entire time—and your lips curl up into a kind smile. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi.” His voice is guttural.

“Last, but not least,” you murmur, plucking his drink from the tray and holding it up for him to take. “One black coffee, right?”

“Right,” he confirms with a curt nod. He tugs his bulky gloves off, dropping them to the floor and reaching out to accept the cup. A strong spark pricks at his hand when his fingers brush against yours. Your responding gasp is soft, barely-noticeable—if he weren’t so painfully aware of everything you do, he would have missed it completely.

“Thank you,” he says, guiding the coffee to his mouth and taking a small sip.

“No problem.” You smile up at him again, and God, that fucking smile. He wants it tattooed onto the backs of his eyelids. A wave of heat blooms in his chest and creeps up his neck, but thankfully, the pink flush blends in with his sweat-slicked, already-rosy skin.

“How was class, sweetheart?” your father asks, tilting his head to the side.

“It was good.” You shrug, tossing a thumb over your shoulder. “I’m going to head home now, though—I have a proposal due in a few days and I really need to get started.”

“Go, go,” your father concedes. You bid him goodbye before standing on your tiptoes and craning your neck to catch sight of Artie, who is quite evidently enjoying his lemonade.

“Bye, Jason!”

“Bye, little girl!”

You laugh. Your gaze lands on Harry again, eyes sparkling and features resolutely tender. “Bye, Harry.”

He swallows down the hard lump in his throat. “Bye.”

January 16, 2021

Harry’s workout playlist features a lot of Ariana Grande.

He just thinks that she’s good, okay?

But he knows that Artie and your father would never let him hear the end of it, so he keeps that information private. During practice, he’ll endure whatever shitty tunes Artie picks from his own library, and he won’t say a word. He’s not in the ring to dance, anyway. He’s there to make money—albeit illegally—because quite frankly, he hasn’t discovered an aptitude for anything else.

It’s late—the gym is technically closed. But the great thing about having the owner for a coach is the fact that Harry was given another key to add to his collection. Your father doesn’t care, as long as he locks up after he’s done. Harry has spent more time here than at his own home, he imagines. It’s nice when it’s quiet—it gives him plenty of time to think.

The back of his t-shirt is soaked through with sweat. He’s gazing at the ceiling as he lifts the heavy weights up and down over his torso. A bubbly song is playing on his phone, keeping his energy high.

So what if he listens to Ariana Grande? She makes great music.

The distinctive sound of footsteps reaches his ears. He pauses, setting the weightlifting bar back onto its rack and sitting up quickly. The noise is coming from the stairs that lead down to the swimming pool in the basement. Harry stands, and though his muscles are already screaming from previous exertion, he readies himself for the worst.

You appear at the top of the flight, your slippers smacking against each step loudly. You’re ruffling a towel against your wet hair, your head angled to the side as you squeeze out any excess water. Upon catching sight of Harry, you freeze in your tracks.

“Oh. Harry. Hi.”

“Hi,” he says slowly. “I…didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were here,” you reply wryly, a small smirk making its way onto your lips.

Harry scratches sheepishly at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Er…I was just working out.”

You nod, your expression coy. “I can see that.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air. Harry clears his throat, rubbing his jaw with his fingers because what else is he supposed to do? “Were you—did you go for a swim?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your shoulders deflate, like you’re almost grateful that he’s contributed more to the conversation. “Spent half the time doing laps, and the other half on my phone.” Your lips quirk up with the feeble joke.

Harry chuckles weakly. “That’s just how it is, sometimes.”

Your eyes flutter shut for only a moment. “Yeah.”

More silence. Harry chews nervously on his bottom lip. Why the fuck can’t he speak?

The song playing from his phone changes. Your eyes narrow ever-so-slightly when a few upbeat notes trickle into the air, followed immediately by the smooth crooning of a woman’s voice. “Is this…,” you hesitate, and he can see how you’re fighting a smile, “…Carly Rae Jepsen?”

“Uh,” he says dumbly, uncertain of how to proceed. Sure enough, I Really Like You by Carly Rae Jepsen is filtering through the taut atmosphere, painfully loud now that the two of you are truly paying attention to it.

A high-pitched laugh falls from your mouth, and your shoulders shake with the force of your amusement. Harry, unable to help himself, begins to chuckle along with you. Heat blooms across his cheeks, but he’s not as embarrassed as he thought he’d be. Your giggles aren’t derisive, he realises.

He’s nearly overcome with the urge to take you in his arms, then, but he resists.

“Late night, watching the television…,” you sing quietly, and then you’re dissolving into merriment all over again.

Once your joint laughter subsides, you shoot him a bright grin. Harry tries his best to return it, though he doesn’t think that he mirrors your smile to its full extent. You sigh in delight, shouldering the strap of your bag and tossing your towel over your forearm.

“That honestly made my night,” you tell him, utterly sincere.

His heart somersaults in his chest. “’M glad.”

“Well,” you say, shrugging gently, “I should probably go.”

“Yeah.” His response is hollow. He lifts his hand in a half-hearted wave. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

He lies back down with a grunt as you make your way toward the exit. His fingers wrap around the weightlifting bar, about to pull it off of its resting place, when your voice suddenly rings out again.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He sits up too quickly, nearly catching his forehead against the metal of the bar. When he turns around to face you, he finds you doubling back, approaching him and nibbling apprehensively on your bottom lip.

“I actually—,” you pause, like you’re unsure of how to continue, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Sure,” he says, rubbing his hands over the black shorts covering his thighs. “Go ahead.”

“It might be kind of weird,” you warn. “Don’t laugh at me.”

He shakes his head, blinking solemnly. “I won’t.”

“Would you—,” you begin, and your fingers come up to play with the pendant resting at the base of your throat, “—teach me how to box?”

“I—,” Harry recoils slightly, taken aback by your question. “What?”

“Would you teach me how to box?” you repeat, though your voice is significantly smaller. “I want to learn how to defend myself.”

“Against what?” he asks, his brows knitting together in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine.” You wave away his worries with an inattentive flick of your hand. Harry’s eyes narrow as he studies your face. You refuse to meet his gaze.

You’re lying, he realises, straight through your pretty teeth. But it would be impolite of him to pry, wouldn’t it? And this is the first time that the two of you have ever been really, truly alone; he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“Okay,” he says slowly, even though he doesn’t believe your guarantee.

He pulls at the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up and wiping his face with the fabric. When he fixes his gaze on you once more, he thinks he catches your eyes drifting across his torso. Cocking one eyebrow curiously, he climbs to his feet.

“What do you want to learn?” he asks, reaching for his phone and pausing the music streaming from the device.

“Anything,” you say breathlessly. “Everything.”

His lips twitch.

“I—,” he scratches at his nose with two fingers, “—I don’t really have a set schedule, you know, between practice and actual matches.”

“I know.” You nod understandingly.

“And I know you have school,” he continues, tilting his head to the side. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Positive,” you tell him. There’s something strong burning in your eyes; he can’t quite figure out what it is. “I want to train. Just…don’t tell my dad, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats. He swallows heavily, offering his phone to you. “Put your number in, yeah? I’ll text you on the nights I’m free, and if you’re not too busy, we can meet up here.”

“Alright,” you concede softly. You take the device from him, and he pretends not to notice just how badly your hands are shaking. Your nails tap quietly against the screen, and before you know it, you’re passing the phone back to him with your information saved under a new contact.

“Alright,” Harry echoes.

The two of you stare at each other for a long, silent moment. The spell is broken, however, when you finally take a step back, clearing your throat and tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear.

“I should go,” you say. “For real, this time.”

“For real.” Harry nods.

“You’ll lock up, right?” you ask, retreating toward the exit.

“Yup,” he says, popping the last letter instinctively. At that, you smile, your mouth curling up into a soft, inviting crescent.

“Okay,” you murmur, placing one hand on the door. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He watches you go with forlorn eyes and empty lungs. “Goodnight.”

~*~

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry writing #boxrry #alrighttttttt here she is! hope u guys enjoy <3

3K notes · View notes

rebelliouslala · 3 years

Text

A Man Who Plays Volleyball.

happy birthday my beloved little anime boy, Ushijima Wakatoshi!

summary and warnings!: OC!Yuri-Chan (they are there as you, the reader!) x Wakatoshi, fix it fic! Shiratorizawa wins to go to the Nationals; angst, descriptions of parental abuse, descriptions of anxiety, flashbacks, a form of s/lf h/rm, accidental cause to injury, unwanted touching, a creepy guy, divorce drama, this story describes the suppression of men’s mental health, a good spoonful of fluff at the end

word count; ~10k words

a/n: this was SUPER rushed. but, i love him. you have no idea how much i saw myself in satori. in wakatoshi. i love shiratorizawa. may this alternate universe make the original ushijima wakatoshi smile :)

The Shiratorizawa volleyball player, Ushijima Wakatoshi walked home. He carried his volleyball clothes in a duffel bag. He wore a white hoodie with a purple outline. It said, printed, “Ushijima #1” on the back. He walked in silence. Because he preferred it. He felt tired.

The Miracle Boy felt tired. The crickets in the warm farm fields began to buzz with the swift wind that came from behind. He closed his eyes and stopped. He softly smiled as he looked up at the cloudy autumn sky. The sun was setting.

How long has he waited for this day; His eyes, to anyone else, would be dull. But that day, after his battle against Karasuno, they sparkled like freshly oiled olives. His hairdo was gently ruffled as a train passed by to his left, and he took a deep breath. He pumped his fist as a tear went down his cheek.

“I won.”

Once the Miracle Boy arrived home; He placed away his uniform in a laundry machine, and gently sucked on a popsicle. He blinked a few times, watching the machine churn and churn and churn and churn and churn and churn and- His lower back ached. He leaned against the wall, continuing to gently bite the tip. Satori once called him insane for biting ice cream.

“Doesn’t it hurt?!” Satori cried during their summer training. Wakatoshi had offered his land to use for training. Coach Washijo had taken the offer with happiness. He had bit his thick popsicle in response. “No.”

Wakatoshi turned to a sob from the threshold. There sat on its diaper ass one of the Ushijima twins, Kazane, who blinked. She had a straight bob and palm green eyes. She whined.

The boy sighed. He gently bent down and picked her up. She babbled stupidly and gripped at his hair, then whined more for his popsicle. “No.” He continued to bite it and he frowned as Kazane started to whimper. Wakatoshi now began to bounce her and he looked at his uniform as it continued to wash. She stopped making noises and instead clung onto him.

“Wakatoshi? Wakatoshi have you seen—?” He let his mother find him as she sighed. She had straight black hair, one that was in a messy bun since she gave birth to the twins.

“Hello Oka-san.”

“Wakatoshi, you know she can’t have ice cream!” She said, exasperated.

“I know that. She is trying to take it.” He continued biting it.

“Here, gimme,” Ms. Ushijima took Kazane, and let her soft cry in her neck. Wakatoshi simply continued to look at the swirl of his clothes. “I called your father.”

Wakatoshi turned, and he blinked. Once. Twice. His eyebrows furrowed, but he straightened himself up. “Is he not busy?”

“Yeah, but you know, it’s nice because you‘re going to Nationals-, isn’t that what you wanted, Wakatoshi?”

The boy sucked on the stick as the machine stopped. He went down to take the uniform, and began to fold. “Yes.”

She sighed, “Stop acting dramatic. I know you’re happy. Oh- I also invited your girlfriend over.” Wakatoshi now walked past his mother, and his baby sister as he went to his room. He hung his shirt and pants. Ms. Ushijima followed him, “I suggest you wear some nice formal wear, got it? And I want you both in the family room.”

“I was thinking of a nice berry bush, a purely platonic meeting. In the back—?”

“Ugh, fine. Whatever. Sure. Remember to change Mayumi’s diapers.”

Yuri had met Wakatoshi at the side door of his house. Yuri hopped up and gave him a kiss to his jawline. “Good afternoon, ‘Toshi-Chan!”

Wakatoshi blushed. He held his cheek. “Afternoon, my flower.”

The wind that messed up Yuri’s hair passed, and Wakatoshi with no hesitation helped them fix it, after a soft question if he could. He gently petted their hair back.

The couple sat peacefully in the bushes. Yuri, after the wind, then went to the strawberry bushes and started to pick. They hummed as they put them in a small bucket, as Wakatoshi instructed them to, and rinsed them in a bucket his Grandfather made. After that, they handed the small fat berry to his hand, as he cut off the top part of the berry.

“The leaves are edible, but are annoying to the throat. It’s better to mush them together, since they have good properties for the body.” Wakatoshi explained. Yuri giggled in response, continuing to pick a few more, with a here and there bite to the smallest one.

Yuri might even turn around, and coo, “Look at this, ‘Toshi-Chan! Aw, it’s no bigger than my thumb!” At which Wakatoshi leaned over, uncomfortably on the small blanket his Mother gave him, before nodding. “Do you want to name it? Like a child?”

“Oh great idea! How about, hmm, Plate!”

“Hm?”

“Because strawberries, and plate berries!”

“Ah.” Wakatoshi nodded, and he gave them a small side of the mushed leaves. “This should be enough for both of us. Do you think so?”

“Mhm! Oh, how are the twins?”

Wakatoshi leaned back and took a deep breath. Kazane cried so much he had to wake up Grandmother Nijiko for it. She complained loudly, but went over and in a few hours the silence was gone. Mayumi singlehandedly ate the rest of the prepared milk bottles his Mother made. Wakatoshi lost approximately 3.26 hours of sleep. “They are well.” He said.

“Oh! They’re the cutest!! With their little soft lettuce cheeks-! I can’t wait until I can feed them little berries!” Yuri popped one in their mouth.

“Mayumi-tan loves blueberries. Especially playing with them. Kazane-tan prefers spitting the strawberry seeds in my hair.”

“No wonder you take so many showers, Wakatoshi-Chan!” He ate a bit of the mush, and he looked above at the clouds. Yuri laid next to him, and dipped their finger in the mush.

“Satori-kun told me- you- uh, you got mad. I was wondering where you were after the game.”

“We had to celebrate. Besides that, I could not charge my phone. The TV crew took up all the outlets.”

“Aw, bummer! But still, Wakatoshi-Chan~,” Yuri poked his side. He twitched in response. “You got mad. It was a close game.”

Wakatoshi ate another strawberry dipped in mush. “I won. Do not worry. I am okay.” Yuri laid on their stomach and pouted. “Promise?”

“I would never lie to you, Yuri-Chan.”

“Good. Then critique me on my violin, okay!”

He nodded, as Yuri brought out their violin case. Being best friends with Satori, all sorts of little stickers were on it, especially a large Pokémon one. Wakatoshi crossed his legs as Yuri took their violin out, and their bow. They hummed quietly, tuning the violin and hastily rubbing rosin on the bow. They used the bow on the violin, once- twice -the first made Wakatoshi fear the twins would wake up from their nap- before Yuri played.

The Swan.

Wakatoshi laid back. Yuri closed their eyes, leaning into their instrument, and played. The wind picked up again. And Wakatoshi closed his eyes.

Yuri and he met in freshman year. Wakatoshi saw Yuri come in, shy.

“I am so sorry! I thought this was the auditorium.” Wakatoshi had just worked out. He assumed in their vision, this would be attractive and more romantic. To him he felt more comfortable and relaxed.

“It’s a few more blocks down. But I believe the Coach will not allow music.” Seeing Yuri’s jolt of embarrassment, Wakatoshi added, “But I believe outside is a perfect place to play. I would help you, but I know the plants shall tell you what to do.”

And here, as the wind guided Yuri’s fingers, their bow, the soft and intimate touches to the strings, did Wakatoshi hear how his advice had really counted. From Day 1 to Day Now, their improvement let him smile quietly in pride. They were perfect.

After a few days of waiting for a response from Wakatoshi’s father, it was settled and official. He would join them that night for dinner.

Yuri held onto Wakatoshi’s arm, their middle finger writing characters he could not decipher. He looked around at Grandmother Nijiko holding the twins. Kazane was in a little blue robe and Mayumi in red. His mother opened the door to the wardrobe for Wakatoshi. He wore a tight white shirt, and black sleek pants. He observed a royal purple kimono.

Yuri gulped as they watched his mother gently pinch his ear, “Nuh uh, do the Atlantic Blue.”

“I believe it is Pacific Blue.” Wakatoshi responded as he took that instead, and dawned it. He helped Yuri with their kimono.

“Wow, your family is like, really traditional, Wakatoshi,” they said quietly, looking at Wakatoshi.

“It’s my father’s arrival. Oka-san likes it like this.” He paused, before he continued to help them put it on, “and Oba-san, of course.”

Wakatoshi could not admit it, but he did appreciate it too. The clan was well, they just valued the importance of continuing to be perfect. It was only in their strict rules he did not want his new siblings to be subjected to. Wakatoshi glanced at his left hand. as he tied Yuri’s pink clothes together.

“‘Toshi, remember to smile.” Ms. Ushijima reminded him.

Wakatoshi grimaced. “Yes Oka-san.”

Yuri squeezed his hand, and looked up at him. He gently smiled back.

“Yuri-kun, make sure Wakatoshi doesn’t go on about volleyball again!” Grandmother Nijiko said. His smile faded.

His mother went from the twins, to going to him and attacking his stance.

Ms. Ushijima went on her tippy toes, muttering and complaining about his height, then how his hair was so dry, how he needed to use lotion more, and how filthy he was.

Yuri only stared at their feet. The Ushijimas stared at Wakatoshi, having his mother flick his ear and pinch at his stomach. “Stop eating so much rice! Obviously this sport isn’t putting off enough weight, eh?”

The doorbell rang. Finally, Wakatoshi took a gulp of fresh air as his mother went to the door.

It opened. Wakatoshi couldn’t stop smiling.

Everything seemed to blur and fade into each other. Wakatoshi took his coat. Yuri was taken away. The twins began to cry and whine for food. Ms. Ushijima said nothing.

The dining room in the Ushijima home was tiny. The dinner table was small, made of driftwood from Wakatoshi’s great grandfather. The clinking of dishes were mixed in with the twins crying. Yuri sat uncomfortably. Wakatoshi only ate as he looked at his father.

Mr. Utsui Takashi barely had hair- he was balding. He had a curly like stubble though, and he had developed an annoying, wheezing-like cough after inhaling any sort of food. It seemed his vision got worse, since he had thought the twins were identical. He had to take a double take to Yuri and Wakatoshi before laughing and embracing him tightly. His hands were disgusting. He smelled of fish and B.O.

But Wakatoshi put his face in his neck, and embraced him thrice as tightly once he had seen him minutes ago. Wakatoshi nearly lifted his father from the ground. Now, as Wakatoshi picked at his small serving of possibly 382 pieces of rice and steak, he watched his father talk to Yuri.

“Ah, Wakatoshi, she is so cute! Ooh~,” he pinched Yuri’s cheek who giggled and thanked him, a little awkward. Wakatoshi ate his steak, a little curve on his lips from their interaction.

“Utsui-san, I am so excited! I cannot believe you came all this way, because ‘Toshi-chan is going to nationals!” Yuri smiled.

Wakatoshi’s grandmother stopped feeding the twins and sighed. “It’s not why he came.”

The young man felt the steak he swallowed start to froth in his mouth. He forced it down, and turned to his father. “What is the news that you have?”

“I got fired from my job.” Mr. Utsui said, a little weak. “Well, they laid us off—,”

Ms. Ushijima stood up and gathered the plates. “Your father is coming back to live with us until he finds something good. Hopefully in Tokyo so he can move out again.”

“Y-yes...” Mr. Utsui slouched, but he continued to eat his rice.

Wakatoshi ate his steak, and he quietly let his mother take it as he looked at Yuri’s hand. “Will you be taking care of the twins, then?” he said.

Mr. Utsui opened his mouth, a little confused, but he only sighed, “Ah- well yes. I will. I am also discussing that matter with your mother.”

“Do you need to go to court for it?” Wakatoshi continued to sit as Yuri held onto him, adjusting their feet from the long period of sitting on them.

“No, Oba-san will handle the matters.”

Wakatoshi nodded, and quietly asked his grandmother to be excused. Once she nodded, she eyed his left hand as he helped Yuri up.

“Your lover cannot go. I need to ask them some things as well.”

“Oba-san.” Wakatoshi bowed his head, “they need to stretch out their feet.”

“I don’t care. Sit by me, Yuri-tan.” Yuri looked back, and shooed Wakatoshi off. He bowed, only slightly, before sliding open the doors, and going outside.

The Ushijima Land stretched for only a couple of square acres. Wakatoshi sat down awkwardly by the lake.

It was technically a marsh but his mother never liked him calling it that. He fondly remembered how he invited his team here to train. Goshiki nearly passed out in the fields further West, if Grandmother Nijiko had not taken care of him. Wakatoshi smiled remembering how she pinched his cheeks and cooed, “Goshiki-Bo.”

“Wakatoshi.” He turned, slightly, and Mr. Utsui sat down next to him with a bit of difficulty. “Ah, what a nice night, hm?” he tried to hide his cough.

“Yes.” the young man said.

Mr. Utsui sighed, tapping his fingers and looking off at the side, towards the stars. “H-How is Shiratorizawa?”

“We won against Karasuno a few days ago. My team and I are going to nationals.”

Mr. Utsui smiled. “Ah, perfect, perfect, good for you. I’m happy that it makes you happy.” Wakatoshi looked down. He did not feel anything. The dream that had woken him up this morning has scared him. He had no idea why. “You trained hard for this, hm?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad my son has come all this way. You’ve gotten so big and strong! Tell me, do the twins bother you? I hope the farm work isn't too much either. But you’re 18 now, and-,”

Wakatoshi stood up. He took a deep breath. He simply took off his kimono.

Mr. Utsui blinked. “‘Toshi?”

“I’m going for a run.” The boy ran without a word to his father. He was glad Mr. Utsui didn’t follow. Because Wakatoshi began to cry.

After a good ten minute run, Wakatoshi took yet another shower once he got back. He now wore his pajamas. A big shirt he had been gifted once from Mr. Utsui, and Pokemon themed pants he got from Satori a year ago.

Wakatoshi went to the entrance of his home, holding Yuri’s hands. It was time to say goodbye to Yuri-Chan. “Your Grandma is so weird.” they giggled, trying to hush their voice. That made no sense to him, really. Grandmother Nijiko heard everything.

“She is my blood. I got it from her.” Yuri giggled and kissed him softly, and he did in return. “You’re so weird~,”

“Yes.” He wanted to go inside already. He needed to think of what the matter was with his father. But he needed to also stall for Yuri to feel safe.

“Heh, okay, tomorrow is my practice.” They pulled him close and cooed, “I’ll see you?”

“Of course.” He stared at their features. He remembered hearing a few opposing volleyball players try to bully Yuri. He made sure they lost within two sets. For Yuri was like a flower to Wakatoshi- they had a timeless beauty. He loved staring at the shape of their eyes, how their nose scrunched ever so slightly when they smiled, and especially, when their irises dilated. He never felt such an intense feeling pull himself toward her.

They hugged him tightly. “Love you, ‘Toshi-Chan.”

“I love you too.”

After another kiss, Yuri-Chan’s aunt pulled up in her car. With another wave, Yuri had disappeared from his grasp. Wakatoshi was all alone.

☆彡

The Last Set. Wakatoshi took his stance as one of the outer blockers. He watched the ball be served by the Karasuno Crows. The Samurai Crow, Asahi, paused before spiking, causing Wakatoshi to miss his timing on the block. On the next turn, when Kenjiro sets, Wakatoshi returns his point as he spikes against the block. In games, he lets Satori do the blocking, since he is better. Wakatoshi is smart, he has no doubt about that in this sport, but he knows his teammate’s instinctual guess is better than anything. When Satori went left, Wakatoshi followed and blocked it correctly. He quietly nodded as Satori beamed with pride.

After another few more scores, Wakatoshi blinked at the sudden point Karasuno took. His eyebrows were raised as he drank his water. He was surprised by the new attack Karasuno made. Never in his years of volleyball research, of play, did he believe it could work against his strong team, or actually score. They were extremely fearless.

Wakatoshi frowned at himself when Reon missed. But now he can make a point to honor him, and also win back the lead. As he spiked, he spotted the little short Libero, the Lightning Bolt Crow Yu. He frowned, and he spiked quickly to his left. It was quick, causing a jolt of pain to his shoulder, but it did the trick for them to get a point.

Despite that, the Blond Crow, Kei, tried to go against him. Which made him annoyed. This tiny blocker, tried to go against his immeasurable strength? Wakatoshi huffed quietly.

Wakatoshi hated how Kei knew how to one touch, how to time his spikes perfectly. But he didn’t even have the strength like Satori did. He was just a wannabe Satori. And no one is like Satori. And such thoughts, that the young man had, made his strength greater with the stress of the Blond Crow. Kei made a grave mistake. Pissing off the Miracle Boy.

With the next point to be made, and with his new power up that Kei unknowingly gave Wakatoshi, the Miracle Boy then, out of pure anger, made sure he could not play. Using his entire body weight, he made sure that Kei was out. Against Kei’s perfect block, Wakatoshi had spiked so hard to Kei’s right fingers, he heard the crack.

As Wakatoshi landed, he turned away. He had scored. And Kei would be gone.

After Karasuno��s kerfuffle of Kei’s condition, now Wakatoshi could serve. Now that the Blond Crow was gone, just a few more points were made by him and Wakatoshi could see Father.

“Bring it!” Karasuno yelled.

Bring it? Wakatoshi thought. How amusing. He will. He threw the ball up, jumped, and struck it hard. The Samurai Crow hit it in the air, his skin turning red from impact. Typical. Karasuno was playing yet another synchronized attack. But Wakatoshi saw how Satori eyed Sugawara’s shoes, and jumped immediately. The Captain relaxed at seeing Satori’s correct guess, and watched. He watched Satori glare down at the boy, a blush blooming on his pale cheeks. Wakatoshi could not help but smirk to himself as well.

The Eagles were soaring far above the Crows.

The Last Set. Wakatoshi, being a not loud person, clapped for Satori as the rest of his team screamed. Satori’s blocks were always one to be celebrated. His skills were amazing, and were an important asset to the team.

After switching sides, Wakatoshi served. But he can feel himself getting tired, as he jumped he got a blurry vision and hit the ball to the net. He makes a genuine apology, deciding to let his team do some more of the heavy lifting. After all, the Blond Crow was gone.

But seeing the Chibi-Chan, Shoyo Hinata, Wakatoshi stood taller. He scowled at the boy. Kenjiro sensed his anger, and set the ball to the Ace. Now he spiked it down. But no. As if the boy was blessed only with his speed, he saw, in awe, how the boy caught the damn ball with his face. Satori missed his spike, the two comrades tched at the boy. Wakatoshi could feel his and Satori’s hatred at the boy’s talentless smile. Even more so, what made Wakatoshi steam further was that Shoyo still scored points. Not only was he reckless, he always just went for his head. It made the Ace sick to his stomach. Ungrateful runt.

Wakatoshi had not doubted he wouldn’t win, but now he wanted to crush the small boy. He wanted to win just as bad as he did.

After the next loss, due to Satori’s overthinking, Wakatoshi tried not to chuckle at seeing Satori get yelled at by the Coach. Despite the hilarity, now the Captain had to make up for Satori’s lost concentration. Right now he couldn’t depend on him. Right now he needs to win. Even if Satori can’t pick up his slack.

The first years’ reckless quick attack. Wakatoshi hated it. Speed was all he had. Nothing like the great rival Wakatoshi had expected him to be; no, just Stupid, Small, Sly Shoyo.

Wakatoshi can hear Yuri-Chan cheer loudly from the bleachers with his school. He heard his school cheer proudly after Eita’s no touch serve, only to find Karasuno's ridiculous cheering. Now he turned around, to his team, and he furrowed his brows. He looked upon their glistening faces. “We Shall Finish This.” Now all of Shiratorizawa sang aloud. Perfect. A traditional song. A traditional strength of his. He will beat all of Karasuno, if he has to, to the ground.

Wakatoshi watched as Shoyo reflected his spike, and made what should’ve been his point, theirs. He never wanted anything more than to crush Shoyo as he did to Kei. He clenched his fists and turned away.

Goshiki talked. Gushed about the Shrimp. “Can you believe it, Wakatoshi? It’s like his speed can power through your strength!” The Ace said nothing in response.

Stupid Shoyo....he shouldn’t have done that at all.

Goshiki was trying to prove himself, to help Wakatoshi’s previous loss- Wakatoshi felt like he was trying to watch paint dry.

In retaliation, Wakatoshi hit hard against the New Crow despite the Samurai Crow’s time block that he copied from the Blond Crow. But now he felt his arm throb. Store. He would need to wait until he can use all of his strength to beat them. To finish this. But first, Wakatoshi needed to calm himself down.

He needed a replacement.

Wakatoshi turned to the smaller, youngest member. He put his hand on his shoulder, and made strong eye contact. “Goshiki. Do not panic, you have much talent. Let us finish this.”

Wakatoshi moved out of the way, and he caught his breath. Goshiki made a great point. As he planned. As he should. So he can finish beautifully. It was often like the paintings his Uncle Hideaki would make, little colors mixing in, adding up to the pine forests next to the Ushijima Acres. What Goshiki did was pure art. With a serve to get them back in the lead. With Goshiki’s now flared ego, Wakatoshi knew he could lead this. He had successfully stored up enough energy, and calmed himself down-

A tie.

He noticed Coach staring at him. As Captain, as Ace, as a Volleyball Player. He needed to win for him as well. He lowered his stance. Kenjiro made the set to, The Traditional Wakatoshi, The Traditional Strength, The God, spiked hard to the Libero Crow. The ball flew past.

One More Point. Wakatoshi heard. One More Point. Because they are stronger.

But who came running back? Just as they were winning, for one more point. The Blond Crow had flown back to the game.

The Last Set. 15 Shiratorizawa. 14 Karasuno.

Wakatoshi wanted to crush his dreams, and now his other fingers. Yunohama came in, but Satori read failed on a part of the play against Tobio. Wakatoshi wanted to say something to the Blond Crow. But he realized he did not despise him like Shoyo. Only found him as an obstacle to crush.

Wakatoshi reminded Kenjiro. “Use me mercilessly.” He had enough stamina. He needed to be ready to beat the dreams of these foolish crows. As Reon made the ball go up, Wakatoshi struck Kenjiro’s fake set, right at Kei. He stared him down during their fall. He felt himself puff out his chest. He talked with his glowing eyes, as if saying, I can beat you.

Wakatoshi needed to serve again, but at the stupid Libero. He felt his thighs shake as he readied himself. He leaped up high, and hit the net to fool them.

But it didn’t work.

Satori couldn’t block the return attack. And now Karasuno was in the lead. Despite how hard Wakatoshi used his strength to get through the Blond Crow. During Coach’s timeout, Wakatoshi squeezed the pouches the twins had packed for him. Every game. Every practice. The twins packed him a little juice pouch.

He relaxed. His legs really needed to sit. A lot. Despite how tired he was from that run, he caught his breath. Kenjiro asked if he can still be used. He saw his teammate’s red, exhausted faces. This game was worrying them. Karasuno was in the lead.

Wakatoshi agreed with a warm smile. Because now he can win, with real, strong teamwork. Everyone depended on him. “Use me.”

On the court, the Libero saved it from the Samurai crow’s attack. Meaning he can serve, and he- It didn’t count. He tried to push it far. But his shoulder ached. Stupid Shoyo. Too late. He was too quick. Wakatoshi felt his muscles ache, like quiet screams.

This time, he spiked inside. Stupid Shoyo.

Wakatoshi was breathing heavily. But, he looked up, and grunted out of happiness. Stupid Shoyo!! He thought to himself.

Reon served. But, Shoyo made the next point.

Stupid Shoyo.

Wakatoshi smiled though, when Shoyo tried to quick attack, and Satori blocked it. But he didn’t grimace out of disappointment. He only kept thinking.

Stupid Shoyo.

Wakatoshi watched the ball on the next attack. He watched Hinata not jump. His legs froze. Stupid Shoyo. He congratulated Goshiki on the new point, with a nod as he went to the net.

He watched the ball slowly fall as a new play began. Another point-

The Libero. Wakatoshi felt the ball slip through his block. He hated the feeling as he grimaced at the passing and quick sting to his pinky. Wakatoshi stood and watched the Blond Crow figure out their attacks, he couldn’t help but now feel the same sense of annoyance as with Shoyo. He needed to truly show them who was going to win.

The Last Set. Hinata served. They do a minus tempo back attack. Shoyo spiked at Taichi. When he failed, Wakatoshi picked it up and yelled at his server. It’s time. Merciless Attack.

He wanted to hit. He wanted to hit Stupid Shoyo’s face so hard. Kenjiro noted Wakatoshi’s burning fury. Goshiki whimpered under his breath as he ran. But Wakatoshi flew up, and he spiked it to three blockers. But he spiked it right at their setter.

No point. The ball went up.

His nose flared, and he grunted underneath his breath.

Those crows.

Those.

Those damn crows.

THOSE BASTARD CROWS DARED DEFY HIM. HE HAD NEVER FELT SUCH HEAT IN HIS BODY; AS IF LAVA HAD BEEN SPURTING OUT OF HIM IN RAGE. SUCH ANGER INSIDE HIM AS HE SAW THE KARASUNO CROWS WEAKLY FIGHT; SUCH ANGER INSIDE HIM AS HE SAW THE KARASUNO WEAKLY TRY AND CONTINUE TO FIGHT AGAINST HIS STRENGTH. HE WAS PINNING THEM DOWN.

THE BALD CROW PICKED IT UP. CHANCE BALL.

WAKATOSHI COULDN’T STOP. HE NEEDED TO FIGHT.

STUPID SHOYO NEEDED TO LOSE!

This time, Shoyo flew up in the all out quick attack. Wakatoshi saw the ball. Where it went. Down. On his side. He felt his throat being choked, by someone.

Beneath him.

Wakatoshi saw it. He shook Shoyo’s hand and walked away. His face was grim. He saw Coach;s face staring at Shoyo. He noted how Satori was painted, with a tear falling down his face. How Goshiki sobbed. Reon staring at his hand. The Libero panting, his face a bright red.

Wakatoshi heard it. A flat thanks. No one spoke. Except the single mutter, “I thought we couldn’t lose.”

Wakatoshi smelled the salt, he saw the youngest shake and cry, hugging his broad body. A single, disappointed turn from the Coach. A flat, “hit 100 serves when we get back.”

“Wakatoshi, didn’t you get mad?” Satori asked.

Wakatoshi felt his body relax. His inner thigh was being stretched out. He paused. “I wanted to say I am stronger than them. Isn’t that childish? I wanted to say it.”

“Childish reasons are what drives us. What a great game.” A pause. “I’m quitting volleyball. I’m going to watch you on TV and brag about how we were best friends.” Satori giggled. “It’ll be fun to be interviewed about you when you get big and famous!”

21 Karasuno. 19 Shiratorizawa.

He turned away to the bright smiles of the first year duo. The Great Eagles had lost their feathers.

Wakatoshi woke up with a gasp as he held his throat. He panted, beads of sweat dripping down his bare chest. He groaned quietly, and he held his head.

It was a dream. A Dream.

Stupid Shoyo...he had invaded his dreams. And Wakatoshi looked at his left hand. He held the trophy.

He had held the trophy. Not the Karasuno Crows. He did. He touched it. And no one else could ever take that feeling away from him.

Wakatoshi turned on the bath again in his personal restroom, and got in. He sat in complete silence, and he filled the bucket with water. He dumped it upon himself. It was cold. He let his body shiver. He let himself sink as he weakly washed himself.

He heard his dad snore a few rooms down. But the worst thing that Wakatoshi did that night was cry.

☆彡

Wakatoshi knocked on the door to Coach Washijo’s room. “Wakatoshi-kun, come in.”

The boy walked inside, and blinked softly. He wore his school uniform, freshly ironed. “Coach Washijo. May I sit down?”

“Of course.” Wakatoshi pulled out the chair, and sat, he looked at his feet. Coach Washijo sighed, and he looked to the windows. “You know it, hm?”

Wakatoshi nodded. “We do not deserve this trophy.”

“I am already surprised you finished your punishment. I am extremely disappointed by the fact you brought the Chibi-Chan on our school grounds before. And for the game itself, Captain.”

Wakatoshi moved the chairs aside and he got on his knees, bowing his head. “I do not deserve the title as Captain.”

“Neither does anyone else on the team, son. But, I was the one who called you in here,” Coach Washijo went to him, and tapped his back. Wakatoshi slowly got up, and looked down. “I am proud. Don’t tell the others this, Wakatoshi-kun. That was a close game. I need you to practice with everyone. Get everyone ready for the Nationals. You deserve it.”

Wakatoshi bowed. “Thank you, Coach.”

As he left, his mind became fogged. How, how could he have even let himself be seen like that? Coach knew. Coach and he are the only ones, only ones who know the Karasunos were so, so so close to becoming the winners.

So.

Close.

Wakatoshi turned to the restroom quickly, and he began to breathe heavily. He loosened his tie as he stared into the sink. That close. Two points away from his dreams, his father, everything he had known into the sink, washed away because of Shoyo.

“STUPID SHOYO!”

With the force of thunder, he punched the mirror. He panted, and looked at his reflection. The mirror didn’t shatter. The boy sighed as he turned on the sink, and washed his face. He rinsed it, as the water turned hot. Hot. Hot. Hot-

He held onto the sink, gasping for air. He remembered it. He remembered his mother scrubbing him fiercely with a wood scrubber. “Wakatoshi you need to start scrubbing!” She picked at his hair. “You need to start getting off those dead skin cells!” She ripped off anything that came off him. “Or else no one will like you! You wanna end up like your Dad? I married him out of pity! He was supposed to give me money!”

Wakatoshi held onto the sink, panting again as he washed his face. No. No he did not want to be like his father. Injured. No, that's why he ate well. He treated his body well. Run no less than five laps around the acres. Avoid the tree stump to the right. He could never, ever end up like his dad.

He threw his head up and panted as he stared at himself. His skin was pink. He felt nothing on his skin. He only sighed. He grabbed the paper towels and wiped his face. He started to cry.

He was so close to ending up like his Dad. Like Tooru. No. He is strong. He got to Nationals.

He’s living his true, and only dream.

Then why is The Miracle Boy panicking?

☆彡

The lunch room was bustled, filled with happy and chattering students from the game that happened a week ago. The chefs served sushi today. Yuri was away in the auditorium for practice.

Wakatoshi ate with his team. Satori smiled. “Wow! Did Yuri give you good luck concerts for their concert, Wakatoshi-kun?”

“No.” he responded, eating a salmon roll after.

Eita sighed, “Well, I hear they’re playing with that new transfer, Choboyo-kun.”

Wakatoshi looked up, and scowled. “Oh.”

“Ooh, Eita-kun you’re going to get Wakatoshi-kun so angry!!” Satori laughed.

Wakatoshi continued to eat, and he frowned as he looked down. It was one of his worst flaws. Jealousy. Shoyo. Tooru. Despite how they collapsed, how they looked up in anger, he knew they still probably had nice days. Tooru probably was nice with his nephew. Shoyo had hugged his best friends. Wakatoshi had his teammates and the twins. Yuri and he had been dating for a year, four months, and 27 days. The thought of Yuri being with another boy, of course it was rational he would get upset.

Besides, Yuri never told him of anything remotely close to the concert for that night. He continued to eat. He would tell them later.

☆彡

Wakatoshi slammed the ball against the ball in a beat. One two, one two three. He remembered the beat from a lullaby his Uncle Ushijima Hideaki sang to him. He threw the ball up, and ran, staring at the ball. He wanted nothing more, like Left Handing Hideaki, than to show his strength. He hit the other side of the net.

Satori, Goshiki, and Kenjiro were across Wakatoshi. Taichi and Eita were with Wakatoshi. He watched as Satori took the first hit, giving Kenjiro time to serve to Goshiki. Wakatoshi moved with Taichi to go for a block. Wakatoshi jumped early, but blocked Goshiki’s spike.

“One touch!” Taichi yelled. He jumped down, as Wakatoshi quickly caught the ball and moved it up. Eita made a pretty decent set. Wakatoshi did not want to upset him by saying it was much too far from the net, but he jumped.

Satori jumped perfectly. A great timing block.

Wakatoshi froze. He saw Satori’s crazy blood red eyes flash into the Blond Crow. Wakatoshi smacked down the ball.

“FUCK!”

The game stopped, and everyone went to Satori’s hand. He winced quietly, and he flexed his middle finger. His comrades gasped out of grotesque. “Wakatoshi-kun! Shit-, you do scare me!”

“Sorry.” Wakatoshi panted. He was sweaty. He was sticky and sweaty. He wanted to shower.

“Is everything—?” Coach Saito started.

“Let’s put Hayato in while we practice.” Wakatoshi grabbed the ball, walking over. “We need to make sure we win the next game.”

“Captain, we did win.” Goshiki gently took Satori close, wrapping his fingers with a tape.

Wakatoshi scowled. He didn’t want to admit to his comrades they barely won. Stupid Shoyo almost took away their name of the Great Eagles. But he turned away. “One more game, then Eita and I shall take Satori to Nurse Yui.”

Everyone gave a hesitant agreement. Wakatoshi sighed, he banged the ball against the wooden ground. He looked across the net.

Six players in black and orange uniforms. Goshiki’s hair had faded to the Captain Crow. The foolish Lightning Libero Crow. Kenjiro looked so much like Tobio.

Wakatoshi twitched. He threw the ball up. Not again. Not again. He leaped into the air, and he felt- no he saw Goshiki move. Shoyo. He spiked hard, past Hayato, past Goshiki’s defense, so hard the ball had flown to the ceiling, and had gotten stuck in a beam.

Wakatoshi panted, his muscles spasming, and he looked at Goshiki with anger. He showed him. He showed him he is the strongest. He showed him no matter how hard he would train like Tooru he would not—

Satori gripped his arm. Wakatoshi stopped breathing. His best friend frowned. “Wakatoshi. You won.”

☆彡

Yuri smiled and they held Wakatoshi’s hand. They had been wandering the neighborhood for awhile, and now Yuri was just beginning to look at the music stores and babbling about their new deep desire for something about a gem. They said it would make the music sound crystal clear.

“Is it not clear already?” The boy asked.

“Silly! No!! It needs to be perfect for the concert!”

The concert. Wakatoshi followed them around, and after the eighth story about how they loved little stuffed animals, he asked, “Who is Choboyo?”

“And- huh? Oh! Choboyo-Senpai! He’s in university, so he offered to play with me! He’s a little bit much though...”

Wakatoshi went closer as Yuri continued in telling their story. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yuri looked over and sighed. “Because look at you! Wakatoshi-Chan, you’re slouching. Don’t worry, he’s only in the background of my performance for tomorrow. Now come on! Chin up~! I need to pick out a good outfit for tomorrow! I wanted you to help!”

Wakatoshi was too tired to disagree, despite him having promised his mother to babysit the twins. That morning. He knew Grandmother Nijiko would tell Ms. Ushijima, and he knew he would be subjected to the marsh cleaning, but, seeing Yuri’s smile as they picked out a strawberry shirt for their suit, was enough for him to think;

“Who cares?”

Wakatoshi was benched. Coach Saito had explained to Wakatoshi that he had to maintain his speed before he could be put back on the court. Which was perfect. During lunch, privately, he practiced. It was better for him then.

No more Karasuno Crows.

But tonight, the concert hall had changed. However, Wakatoshi's face was non wipeable of his scowl. He wore a hand me down of Mr. Utsui’s suit. It smelled horrible. It was stiff.

“Ah~, Yuri-kun!” Choboyo was indeed a young man, with a stubble, messy and sleek white hair, his eyes a never-ending black.

Wakatoshi scowled as he watched Yuri hug him. Yuri wore a lovely green suit, their hair pulled back.

They were so beautiful.

“Choboyo! This is my boyfriend, Ushijima Wakatoshi. He’s a volleyball player- He’s going to the National Championship!”

The young men stared at each other. Wakatoshi nodded. “Good luck.”

“We say break a leg, actually.” He only despised him even more, now. “Come on, Yuri,” Wakatoshi eyed his hand. His right hand lingered on Yuri’s waist, on their shoulders, and on their hands.

Wakatoshi sighed to himself.

Yuri turned. “Is something wrong?” Choboyo also looked, raising a white eyebrow of his. Wakatoshi gripped his fists and he scowled at Choboyo.

“You like Yuri-Chan. My partner.”

“Wakatoshi—!”

“I won’t lie.” Choboyo took his hands off Yuri, “They’re very attractive.”

Wakatoshi widened his eyes. He didn’t expect the man to just admit it. It was almost like he was trying to be a pervert.

“E-excuse us,” Yuri put a hand to Choboyo’s chest. “I-I’ll be right there.” Yuri sighed as Choboyo smirked to himself, kissed their hand, and walked away.

Wakatoshi stepped closer. “Do you not see this? He’s a pervert.”

“It’s one performance,” Yuri said, rubbing their arm. “Don’t you realize this is why I’ve been asking you to be with me? W-why I’ve been playing more around you, and not practicing here? I know.”

He blinked. He wanted to say something. Anything. He gulped. He blinked. “Yuri-Chan. I do not think you should play with him.”

Yuri looked up with teary eyes. “If you’re not going to be here to support me right now, I-I want you to leave. I can’t do this right now, ‘Toshi. I want to take a break.”

He gulped. “Yuri, perhaps you should think straight. D-don’t—.”

“I’ll see you around.” They turned around, and just like that, Wakatoshi again, was alone.

☆彡

Wakatoshi locked the door behind him. He sat on his bed. It creaked. Across the hall, he heard the twins.

The twins.

He got up as fast as he could, and he went to their room. Everything in the room was painted pink, and had little birds that twittered happily with the characters of bird songs next to their beaks. The room was split into Mayumi’s play space, and then Kazane’s.

Wakatoshi squatted down.

The twins were on the floor, Mayumi’s foot was in her mouth. Kazane was trying to climb back in her crib. Her left hand was on the crib. Wakatoshi picked up Kazane, and started to hum.

Before he had heard his mother and father fight, he actually wanted to sing. He remembered seeing his father’s sisters all perform and sing. It made him stare in awe. The twirling of their batons, of their voices, their silks. Wakatoshi adored it. He once thought of himself there, dancing.

It was Grandfather Ushijima Touma who frowned at catching him. “Nijiko.” he had stated firmly. “He is pretending to be a daughter.” Wakatoshi had never felt such pain as he did that evening.

But being an artist was worse. That was when they discovered he had a tendency to write with his left hand. Just like the exiled Uncle Hideaki. He was supposedly in Germany.

“You had let him draw?!” cried Ms. Ushijima. Her parents stood next to her. She gripped his hand. “Does this look right to you? Huh, Takashi?!”

It was only his father. Little, nothing for brains, Mr. Utsui, who stood in front of his son. “He’s just a boy! He’ll use it for-for something great! You just wait!”

Wakatoshi picked up Mayumi as well, and began to hum. He began to quietly sing the lullaby. An old song. It was about change. About the discovery of an island. About how the tide changed with each roll onto the warm sand. Yes, everything to the nude eye was the same, but change happened. With tradition, came slow, but sure, change.

He lifted his baby sisters above him. He teared up. “This forbidden, new world, on a summer day we meet.” Mayumi was the only one awake now. He hummed as he knelt beside her. “On a summer day, we will meet again, Imoto-san.”

“Wakatoshi?” The boy turned, with teary eyes as Mayumi drifted into sleep. Mr. Utsui stood there, his mouth slack open. He closed it. “I didn’t know you sang.”

“Me either.” Wakatoshi stood up.

Mr. Utsui looked away, “Ah- well, Wakatoshi, why don’t we go outside?” He nodded and stood, awkwardly following him outside.

The sun was setting to the west of the Ushijima Acres. Wakatoshi sat on an old swing. Mr. Utsui sat next to him. Wakatoshi made sure not to look at his father; for he smelled horribly.

“Son, I- well, I have some news about you and your sisters.” Wakatoshi looked at him. Mr. Utsui had gained many splotches of white on his face, and wrinkles.

“Yes?”

“I got a job out of Miyagi Prefecture. I’m taking the twins with me. You will continue to live with your mother.”

Wakatoshi paused. He looked out at the sunset. “No.”

Mr. Utsui wheezed out of his age, “I beg your pardon?”

“You have not been here for the divorce. You were not there for Oka-san when she gave birth. You were not there to take care of the girls. You were not even here for me.” Wakatoshi looked at the sun, and it disappeared.

“You do not deserve the twins.”

The boy got up, before he stopped. His shirt was caught on something. He tugged. To no avail. He tugged and he- Wakatoshi had stumbled, back, he was trying to regain himself.

But everything flashed.

Yuri.

Kazane.

Mayumi.

Mr. Utsui.

Ms. Ushijima.

Grandmother Nijiko

Grandfather Touma.

Kei.

Shoyo.

Himself.

Wakatoshi had fallen into the marsh, and he had passed out into the water.

☆彡

Wakatoshi awoke, to Kazane biting his finger. He gasped, and he groaned. He began to gently flex his body, and groan again. “O-oka-san-?”

“Hold still.” Ms. Ushijima scrubbed his body. “You nearly drowned in the lake. Ugh, look at the water! Oka-san!” she cried. She wore a bra- she never wore such things. Sweatpants?

Were Satori’s theories true? Did alternate universes exist?

“Oka-san- agh- I-I cannot-,”

Ms. Ushijima smacked his face. Satori was wrong, alternate universes did not exist. “Still, I said! You banged up your knee pretty badly.”

Wakatoshi sat up, practically leapt up, but he moaned loudly in pain. “N-No, no. No- O-oka-san- please- I can’t-!”

“Shut up, you’ll heal if you sit still!”

Wakatoshi looked up, and started to cry. “I-I won’t win. Oka-san,” he hugged her, he cried in her neck. “I-I won't a-able to play! I’ll fail at nationals! Tell me!!” He held her tightly as he looked at her.

Ms. Ushijima stared down at her son.

Wakatoshi had clear snot on his upper lip. His tears were salty, and stained his cheeks as they dripped down into the tub. He was only in his bare underwear. The water was marshy. He had a rose colored bruise blossom on his knee.

Ms. Ushijima took his chin. “Listen to me, Wakatoshi. If you sit absolutely still, I’ll see what I can do. Just,” she heard the baby whimper.

“O-oni. . .” one of the twins started to cry.

Wakatoshi sniffled, and he looked at Kazane. Ms. Ushijima gave the baby to him. “Kazane-kun, go comfort your Oni-tan.”

“Oni~!” Kazane wrapped her chubby arms around him, then Mayumi as Ms. Ushijima placed her on him. Mayumi, adorably, finished her sister’s sentence, “tan!”

Wakatoshi smiled, and he softly cried, as Ms. Ushijima lifted up his right leg. “It’s alright, Wakatoshi-tan, I’m here.” She held it with care, and repeated, quietly as she wet some rags, “I’m here.”

☆彡

It was the night of the concert. Wakatoshi wore his school outfit, despite it being the weekend. He told his parents it’s on school grounds. They did not argue.

Goshiki found out about his injury. He had gotten the word out. Wakatoshi had been numb the entire night. He went to bed the night before, sleeping with his sisters in their room. He had awoken to their stuffed animals on his face.

Mr. Utsui chuckled about how their first word was for their elder brother. Grandmother Nijiko spoke nothing as she ate breakfast with him.

Satori sat next to Wakatoshi, wearing a hoodie, and he smiled. “Yuri-kun looks awfully pretty today, huh Wakatoshi-kun~?”

Wakatoshi said nothing. He only looked down. Strangely, he did not want to get up this morning. He did not want to do anything. He felt as if he should retire from life.

The Miracle Boy was supposed to be strong.

Never to get hurt.

And yet, here he was. Pathetically existing next to his family. He did not even mention to them that Yuri did not love him anymore. He did not tell anyone, either, of his sisters moving away from him.

They sat on his lap though, pacifiers in their mouths.

“Wakatoshi-kun, your sisters are so so so cute!” Satori laughed as he picked up Mayumi. She began to whine, aher pigtails bouncing as her blue eyes stared at Satori in fury. She fussed before Wakatoshi gently put her on his lap.

“She does not like to be held from under the arms. Only by her stomach, Despite her being ticklish there, she loves it.”

Satori smiled softly. “You love them a lot. Were they there for you when-?”

Wakatoshi nodded. “Yes. They were born right after. Oka-san was tired. They kept me company.” He paused. “I do not know what to do without them.”

Satori sighed softly, “I understand.”

The lights dimmed. A hush over the audience. The auditorium was huge and packed.

Yuri, and Choboyo came out. Yuri was so uncomfortable. Their eyes looked down at the ground. Choboyo grabbed the microphone. “Thank you, everyone, for our performance tonight! I gotta say- Yuri has something great planned out!”

The two turned to the middle of the stage. Yuri nodded. They held a different violin. It was not theirs.

Choboyo went to his grand piano proudly, and he looked at Yuri’s body, then at their eyes. They both looked at each other, finally, nodded and looked away. After a few seconds, Choboyo started off.

Wakatoshi hated it. He pounded a key, then followed it as if he was trying to sing a love song for Yuri.

Despite the famous classical song, it was still the one Yuri had played what seemed like eons ago. The Swan.

Here it went by the Carnival of Animals.

But Wakatoshi knew what Yuri was trying to replicate. But their music, their bow, the sound made Wakatoshi cringe.

It was not the joy, peaceful, calm song Yuri played in the land. Here, mixed in with Choboyo’s romantic noise; was their song of sorrow. They focused, as if on the music, and not on their own play.

Wakatoshi looked down. Two birds. One defeated. Another attack for more.

The song ended.

Wakatoshi clapped, his hands smacking like thunder, and Yuri looked at him, just for a moment. They went backstage, and the next duo came out. The song was the infamous Clair De Lune.

“Wakatoshi?”

He looked at his dad beside him. Mr. Utsui showered the night before due to falling in the marsh to save Wakatoshi. He had done his hair. He had also shaved.

“Your mother and I talked, we decided that I’ll live here. After my first paycheck I’ll get a good car, so I can drive in and out of the Prefecture. And, son?” Mr. Utsui moved in closer.

Wakatoshi suddenly teared up. When he was little, he remembered exactly how his father smelled when he protected him from the traditional rules that had ached his once frail bones.

Like hot sand.

Mr. Utsui, in that moment, murmured into Wakatoshi’s ear, as the song had ended, “I am so proud you got into Nationals. Keep working hard. Keep getting stronger for us.”

As Wakatoshi’s hot tears fell, he whispered, looking at his father, “T-Thank you, Oto-san.”

☆彡

Wakatoshi had bounced the ball. He stood firmly on his right leg. He breathed in deeply. He eyed his friend across from him, and Mr. Utsui who held the twins. Mayumi was on the sand, babbling and trying to eat it.

“Imoto-san, do not try to eat the sand, okay?” Wakatoshi looked across to his sister.

“Oni~!” Kazane cried with a laugh.

Wakatoshi chuckled, and he gently bounced the ball. The sand underneath his sneakers. His deep and panting breath. He looked at his friend with a soft smile.

Satori panted himself, his red hair sticking to his forehead. He only smiled widely with happiness.

Wakatoshi breathed deeply, and calmed himself.

Satori and he, underneath the midnight moon.

Wakatoshi served. Satori dived under and threw the ball up, before spiking. Wakatoshi, with great speed, blocked and Satori read him. Satori gathered himself again to throw the ball, set, then spike. Now Wakatoshi served it to himself, and he quickly set it. He now went to the left, and spiked hard right. Satori tried to follow for a moment, before he watched the ball slam beside him. Satori, however, blocked enough to make a dump. Wakatoshi nodded.

A great defense.

Satori smiled with a small breath of relief, “Wakatoshi-kun, I love playing with you, but you scare me.”

The young man smiled as he went underneath the net to get it. “I try my best to be a Strong Monster as well.”

“How scary!” Satori gasped, and Wakatoshi took the ball. He spun the ball as Mr. Utsui cheered happily.

“Go Wakatoshi-kun!”

“Are you okay? I know your dad is back.” Satori said quietly.

Wakatoshi turned around. “It’s okay. I-I’m not happy he is back.”

Satori widened his eyes. “Oh?”

Wakatoshi sat beside him against the barn. The Ushijima space was so peaceful now. Not in a flash as he usually saw it. Wakatoshi took a deep breath again. “He came to announce he lost his job. He told me he was happy and I was happy. Not that he was proud.” Wakatoshi began to practice throwing the ball up and setting, as if it was instinct. “I was thinking. I am not happy. We nearly lost, Satori.”

His friend looked up at the stars. “I wanted to quit after that game.”

Wakatoshi stopped. He looked at his friend. “But you have so much—,”

“Those memories won’t stop flowing. Once we win nationals, Wakatoshi-kun, that’s when I’ll stop. Seeing your smile hold that big, big trophy, that’s when I’ll quit. Because then you won’t need me, and I won’t need you anymore.” Satori smiled. “I love you.”

Wakatoshi opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it. He closed his eyes, before he looked at Satori. “I love you too, Satori. Thank you for being by my side.”

They both, slowly, turned to gaze at the stars.

“So, you’ll recommend me for a movie interview, right Wakatoshi-kun?”

“Perhaps.”

☆彡

Snow drifted down. It fell against Yuri’s umbrella.

“Wait!”

Yuri stopped walking, and took out their earbuds as they turned around. They widened their eyes. “Wakatoshi-ch-? What are you- Why are you running?” Yuri started.

Wakatoshi winced, and he sighed. He hid a huge dandelion bouquet behind his back, with a small box.

“Yuri-Chan.” the young man panted, “I-I am not the strongest. I lost a lot of things in the past few days. I gained some of them back.” He showed the bouquet, and the box.

“I should have focused on you, my flower. On your music. I went to your concert. You did not practice, did you? It is alright. I do not want to jump back to our relationship if you are not ready. I believe we should go back to the beginning, Yuri-Chan. If you like, we can go back to my farm, and I can listen to you play, and play, and play until we fall asleep.”

Wakatoshi, after a moment, opened the box. There was Yuri’s dream sapphire blue rosin. One swipe, said the ad on it, and the bow is brand new.

“I will always love you. But I was not okay. Now, if you take me back, I will be. Then I will never break that promise.”

Yuri looked at his big tearful eyes. “I love you, stupid!” Yuri cried and they jumped on him, tackling him. The couple held each other, with laughter and deep chuckles as they cuddled close in the soft winter wind. In an act of warmth, Yuri hugged. In an act of love, Wakatoshi kissed.

The couple was late for their classes that morning.

☆彡

Wakatoshi rinsed his face in the sink, lightly with cold water. Goshiki stood beside him by making faces. Reon patted the youngster’s back, and laughed. Eita instructed, but also listened to Kenjiro. Satori sang to himself.

The clinking of the lights above the young man began to go into a rhythm. His eyes tilted up, and he blinked. Once. Twice. And again.

He, and his teammates, were in a full purple volleyball outfit. The Number One on his shirt was bold white. His muscles flexed gently when he looked at his short olive hair. His eyes glimmered seeing where he was. How he was there.

The young man smiled to himself.

“Great Eagles.” The young man who played volleyball said, “Let’s finish this.”

#haikyu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyu angst #shiratorizawa #Shiratorizawa angst #ushijima angst #ushijima x y/n #hq ushijima #Shiratorizawa Nationals au #ushijima wakatoshi #dee writes #ushijima fluff #anime scenarios #haikyu scenarios #happy birthday Ushijima #:)

40 notes · View notes

omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

😡🤬ANGER MANAGEMENT (PART 2)🤬😡

Prompt: Y/N has the life she’s always dreamed of: a good house, a nice car, a fat paycheck, her dream job and some loving friends. Her life feels like a fairytale...but just like every fairytale she’s not safe from the villain, the problem with that? He’s not only an incredibly hot Scotsman but also a fucking pain in the ass!

Word count: Long bitch, just long 😩

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut, dom x sub dynamic, public sex (work place environment), rough sex, oral sex(female and male receiving), masturbation(female and male receiving), dirty talk (because you can never have too much of that 😏), marking kink(biting/ female), branding kink (marking by ejaculation), breath play/ asphyxiation kink(choking/ female) and some good old trichophilia (hair kink/ pulling)

Notes: Forgive us father, for we are about to sin 🔥. I can’t thank you all enough for all of your positive feedbacks, they gave the strength I needed to commit this handsome Scottish sin.

I would like to thank from the bottom of my heart my fellow beloved beautiful souls: @new-zealand-chic, @nightlummer, @drew-is-boo, @tomandbuckyfan1, @akiko-tanaka, @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan and @beckyann6879 for not only taking some time off of your day to read it but to also leave nothing but kind words to this girl right here 💕😘 I know that technically only two of you asked to be tagged but I blame it on my excessive need to please people ok? Sorry 👉👈 Alright, and now I’m rambling...so y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

My mind was in a pure excitement haze, which made me think for second if I had heard him correctly.

“Drew...are you serious?” I asked hesitantly

He carefully approached me, placed his hands on the sides of my cheeks, making me look up to him

“Does it look like I’m joking to you Y/N?” He asked firmly

“It’s just..” I liked my lips “For a moment I thought that you were-“

“I’ve been wanting this every since I laid my eyes on you,lass” One of his hands leaned down, securing my wrist on his firm grip, pulling my hand towards his pelvic bone so I could grab a handful of his erection through the jeans.

“Do you feel this?”

I nodded

“This is the result of 5 painful years of foreplay princess” His hand cupped mine,making my grip become tighter “I’ve tried everything you can imagine to get rid of this fucking teenage boy boner I get every time I think of you... I’ve tried porn, endless sessions of jacking off and everywhere: hotel room; shower; locker room; arena bathroom; car even your office whenever you were not around! Fucking other women while I thought about you...you name it and I have tried, but nothing shakes off my cock’s need of you. Your pussy, your ass, your mouth, your hands...he wants all of you and JUST you”

I don’t know what lustful force took ahold of me but the only thing I could do while his words filled my ears was shove his jeans and underwear down so my hand could slide up and down his full length...skin to skin..

“Oh fuck yes” He growled as he moves his hips to meet my hand. Drew’s hands reach up my pants pulling it down. I hear a tearing sound as I look down to see that he had ripped my panties off leaving me as exposed to him as he is to me.

Soon after, one of his thick fingers slides through my folds lubing it up, before carefully entering me

“Oh lass, this is going to be heaven on earth... I’ve always imagined how tight you were, but fuck me, my finger can’t barely move! This is going to be fun” He makes a noise that was a mixture between a grunt and a laugh. “Let’s see how you can handle two fingers” He muttered to himself as he stops my action on his dick by taking me on his arms and sitting me on the massage table.

“I need all of this off” He says as he grabs my t-shirt and bra.

Once I’m at my full naked glory I lay down on the table and he stops to admire me

“You’re so perfect, do you know that?” As his hands caresses every inch of my exposed skin. “Your skin is so soft...so delicate” He leans down to place several feather light kisses all over my neck, breasts, belly and thighs making my arousal become more evident in between my legs.

“Drew” I whisper “As much as I love this, I really need you to fuck me senseless right now. We can do the softer things later tonight but right now I just need you in me” I panted

He confidently smirks before saying “So you haven’t even tasted my cock but you still want some more later huh?”

“Shut up you prick” I answer slightly annoyed at his teasing

“Oh c’mon now Y/N, if you want it so badly why don’t you ask for it nicely, love?”

“I don’t gotta ask you for shit McIntyre! Fuck you” I was feeling the anger starting to rise to the surface again

“Oh princess, I would keep that attitude down if I were you” He warned me

“Fuck off” I huffed

He lightly slaps my face, grab my cheeks and whispered

“We’ll have to work on that potty mouth of yours, princess... I guess I will have to keep your mouth full so you don’t have time to talk shit huh?”

He releases my cheeks “Kneel in all fours on the table” His voice has a ‘I wouldn’t test me if I were you’ tone to it, so I just did as he said.

Due to his incredible height, my face in this position, gets on the same level as his cock. He looks impressively intimidating when I look up to meet his gaze.

“Open your mouth” He says and I obey “Now, since you like to trash talk so much princess, let’s see if this clever pretty mouth can do some proper sucking as well”

I reached out to grab his length with one of my hands(to help me out since he’s so large) but he lightly slapped my hand before it could touch him.

“I said that I want your pretty lips around my cock. You don’t need your hand for that darling”

I decided to be up front about it and said “Drew, you’re too big, I can’t fit-“ A warning hair pull made me look up to meet Drew’s beautiful (now cold) blue gaze

“First of all, it’s Sir to you, don’t make me repeat myself again about that. And secondly, I thought you were the one who liked to talk back at me, so if those sweet lips of yours are good enough to disrespect me they’re also going to be good enough to make my cock feel good, even if you have to gag and drool all over it. Get it?”

The combination of Drew’s beauty, his enormous body and his dominating words made me speechless.

He pulled my hair harder to get my attention back to him and asked

“Do. You. Get. It. Y/N? Use your words”

“Yes...Sir”

He smiles approvingly of my response “So what are you waiting for princess?” He playfully smiled

His grip on my hair loosen, but he kept his hand on my head as a way to ensure me that he was in charge.

I debated with myself whether I should lick all of his length first or if I should just swallow him all in at once(at least til where I could reach it)..My decision was to leave the conventional and predictable first option behind, betting all of my cards in the latter one.

I sunk my mouth all the way down his cock making him gasp in surprise, feeling every inch of his length stretch my jaw. His animalistic growls made me feel confident so I decided to go up a notch and made him hit all the way back in my throat making my mouth produce extra saliva easing him down further more every time I bobbed my head. The deeper he got the sloppiest it would get, I had drool dripping from my chin to the massage table.

“Oh fuck me Y/N! You sure know how to give head baby” He said while staring down at me in awe “You’re so raw princess, is beautiful” He stokes my hair gently “Look at you, all messy around my cock, do you like that cock baby?”

A thick string of spit still connected my mouth to his cock as I release it to say “Yes, sir” I answered sheepishly as I return to my previous action of sucking him off.

That’s when I felt it..two of his thick calloused fingers in between my slick folds, finding my clit and massaging it.

I moaned around his cock, the vibration making his length throb inside of my mouth. I couldn’t handle anymore of the teasing.

“Sir, please” I gasp as I released him “Please I need...something inside” I look at him desperately “Please” I whisper

His fingers actions on my clit stopped and he looked down at me

“Did I told you to stop?”

I just shake my head ‘no’

“So why did you?” He raised his eyebrows

As soon as he finished the question I opened my mouth again for him to slide in it and he did it moaning , while he began to circle my clit again.

“Look at me” He said panting “You’re going to suck me til I cum and in the meantime we’ll see how hard can this pretty little pussy cum” He smirks “Then once I’m done claiming that smart ass mouth of yours I will clame this pussy as mine too” With that, his two digits entered me, stretching my walls, moving at a merciless pace. “Hmmmm, MY pussy feels so good, so wet around my fingers” He hummed in pleasure “This pussy is all mine isn’t it my little pet? It belongs only to me doesn’t it?”

I could only nod in response and could already tell he was close to cumming as he turned up the pace of his fingers and changed our position so he could reach my clit with the hand that was previously on my hair while the other one mercilessly fucked me.

The sudden chance of positions made his whole back curve on top of mine, making him go even roughly further down. As he brutally fucked me with his fingers, his hips start to bulk forward, fucking my mouth as well.

I could already feel my release was about to burst out at any minute now

“Go on lass, cum for me princess” His words along with all of his moves made me cum as hard as I’ve ever had! Soon after my mouth was filled with Drew’s thick seed that I happily swallowed.

“Let me see” He soothingly said as he places his now licked clean fingers underneath my chin, tilting my head up.

“Open your mouth, love”

He hummed in appreciation when he saw I had already swallowed all of his cum

“What a good well trained pet you are princess” He smiles fondly “You didn’t miss not even one drop. You’re so beautiful” He leans in to capture my lips in a famished kiss.

“I think is only fair now for you to give me the pleasure to really taste you princess. Would you like that love? Would you let me eat MY sweet pussy?” He asks as he stroked my cheek softly.

The simple thought of seeing that beautiful Scottish face in between my legs, made me turned on all over again.

“I would love that, sir”

I can see the satisfaction on his eyes as he says “Stand up on the table, love” as he smirks deviously

*What is he planning?* I thought as I stand up as he said

I didn’t even had to think too much about what that meant as for his thick arms slid in between my knees to lift me up, so I could straddle his face with my hips as I sit on his shoulders. The surprise action made my hands grip for dear life on his long black strands for balance. He gave me no time to adjust, he just simply began to perform the best pussy eating I’ve ever had in my whole life.

I was quite a big fan of oral sex(performing and receiving it), most guys they don’t really care about doing it properly, they just want to do it so you’ll give them head back. It would take a real man to eat a pussy properly and I was more than happy to say that Drew McIntyre was a fucking real man. He knew what he was doing and you could tell by his moans that he was enjoying it as well! Everything was perfect, the pace, the pressure, the tongue movements, the sucking and even the right amount of spit. I was sure by now that he had ruined me for any other man but him.

He grips my hips tightly to both help me keep balanced and keep my hips from moving away from his lips

“Oh my fucking...” I gasped as my eyes rolled to the back of my head

My grip on his hair tightened so I was full on pulling his hair HARD.

He grunts at my action, causing a sweet vibration against my clit making me moan a little too loud.

Drew moves his body away from the massage table going to the wall that was closer to his reach, supporting my back on it. The contact of the cold cement against my heated skin made me moan loudly once more, therefore he stopped his assault on me, to look up.

I don’t know if it was the vision of his dark beard glistening with my wetness, the smug smirk he had placed on his face or his incredibly lustful blue grayish eyes that were glued to my face..whatever it was made me squeal pitifully.

Drew cackled “I know I said that we should make this whole company hear us, but if you keep it that loud, I’m afraid we might get fired, love” He winked

“Sorry, I didn’t-“

“You don’t need to apologize princess, I love hearing your moans, it makes my dick rock hard. Just not here, even though I can’t say that the thought of somebody walking in on us doesn’t sound very tempting to me” He smiles as he kisses my thighs, trailing up, back to his previous place.

I made a mental note on keeping it down, but that went down the drain when that delicious Scotsman began his attack again. Noticing I was having a hard time keeping it shut, Drew roamed one hand up, covering my lips forcefully to muffle my noises. This thoughtful yet dominant act along with his incredible tongue ability to turn any woman into a pitiful moaning mess had me cumming once more, all over his face.

He licked me clean and lay me down on the table.

“Princess, are you still with me, love?”

I could feel my mind drift to a very familiar and quiet place

“Y/N, I’m talking to you baby” His voice is still soothing but a little more firm now

“Yes, sir” I murmured

“Open your eyes, darling”

My eyes opened to meet a blue grayish pair, starting at me with both amusement and affection

“You still gonna fuck me right?” I pleaded

He laughed saying “If you still want it of course, love”

“Can you fuck me from behind?” I whispered

“Is that how you want it princess?”

“Yes” I say sheepishly

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir”

“Okay. Then turn around baby”

I spread my legs further apart and knelt down on the table with my back turned to him and my core out at his disposal, placing all of my weight on my arms who were pressed down between my legs against the table.

“Look at you princess” He squeezes my ass cheeks “I’ve always loved your ass baby...so fucking thick” He slaps each cheek vigorously “I can’t wait to see it bounce on my cock” Another slap “You have no idea how many times I almost fought some idiot of this roster, because they couldn’t stop talking about this sweet ass if yours” He leans down and bites each cheek “But now it’s just mine, isn’t it love?”

“Yes, sir”

“Yes it is” He says in awe “And I’ll fuck this sexy as too, when the time is right” He slaps each cheek one last time

“Have you been with anyone lately Y/N?”

I look over my shoulder and hear a faint fuck leave his lips

“No sir, I haven’t” It was true

“Good. Me neither, the last time I had intercourse was three months ago and my tests are clean, I can show you if you want”

“There’s no need for that, sir. I trust you” Which I weirdly did, also if he had something he would be suspended by now.

He sincerely smiled before asking “Do you use contraceptives?”

“Depo injections, sir”

“That’s good love, because I want to fuck you raw, are you ok with that?” He asks as he strokes my hair.

Just the thought of feeling each and every vein of his cock had my pussy clenching.

“Yes, sir” I whined

“Would you let me cum inside of you?”

“Yes, sir. Please I-“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence since he pushed his length in slowly.

I was going to turn my head to face the wall, but he grabbed my hair, keeping my head in place and our gaze locked.

“Keep your eyes on me Y/N, I want to see your face as you take every inch of my cock, do you understand princess?”

“Y-yes, sir” I stuttered

“We’ll take this slow, I don’t want to hurt you. If at anytime you want to change the position you tell me ok?” He said and I just nodded

I already knew he was a generous size which now made me regret choosing this position for our first time. Damn you Y/N and your incapacity to think while horny!

Drew was moving at a very slow pace, being careful to give me some time to adjust every time he went further in.

It was a mixture between heaven and hell, and my mind started to overthink...fuck that’s not good!

“Don’t overthink princess” Drew said “I can feel you’re getting tighter because of that” He press his chest against my back and one of his hands roams around my waist so his fingers can play with my clit.

A muffled moan left my lips and I could feel my walls begin to loosen up from his stimulation on my bundle of nerves.

He kiss my lips passionately as he sinks the rest of his length in my core.

“Fuck you feel so good, sir”

He nibs my neck and shoulder

“I can already tell my cock will never, ever want other pussy but yours, princess” He whispered in my ear, giving me goosebumps all over my body.

“Sir, you can move if you want”

Drew started with a soft and sweet pace that grows into a very hard and rough one after 10 minutes. But I still need more...

“Sir, please, fuck me harder” I beg

“My sweet angel likes it rough huh?”

“I love it, sir”

He chuckled and turned his pace up, now mercilessly pounding me. A loud moan threatened to leave my lips so I covered my mouth with one of my hands in an attempt to muffle it but that wasn’t enough.

Soon after, I feel one of Drew’s big hands closing around my throat, pressuring the sides of my neck, making it hard for me to breath or speak but not enough to make me pass out.

The chocking made my walls clench around his cock, earning me a low growl from him.

The unstoppable pounding had my mouth hung open in an silent ‘O’ shape.

Drew let go of my neck and grabbed a fistful of my hair, tilting my head up to look into his eyes

“Tell me princess, has anyone ever fucked this pussy, this good?”

“No, sir” I panted

“Will you want any other man to fuck your pussy after today?”

“No, sir” I whine

He licks my ear lightly before whispering “That’s good baby, because now that you’ve got me addicted to this pussy, you’re stuck with me princess” He softly chuckled

This man has a devilish way with his words...“Sir, I’m gonna-“

“Cum baby, let me feel you milk my cock real nice princess”

My orgasm exploded making my vision blurry. Soon after I hear Drew cursing and feel his warm seed fill me up.

We are trying to regain the normal pace of our breaths when he says

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing Y/N but I also can’t do the friends with benefits arrangement”

“What do you mean then, Drew?” I faintly ask

“I mean that I want us to be together, you know, officially”

“Like...” I vaguely say

“Like a couple” He blushes lightly

“So, you want to do the whole boyfriend/ girlfriend thing?”

“If you want it, yeah. I would love to”

“Are you sure?” I ask, still insecure

“Y/N” he cupped my cheek and pecks my lips “I’ve been wanting this for 5 fucking years lass” He chuckled

I smile before saying “We should hurry up then, because we have a lot of time to compensate for, Gastón” I wink and he laughs while leaning in to kiss me again.

Who would’ve thought that my villain was in fact the perfect Scottish version of a Prince Charming...

Oh my Lord, I know this is long as fuck! Sorry I got carried away(can you blame me tho?!) Please let me know if it was worth the wait, if I fulfilled your expectations, that sort of stuff 😘

#drew mcintyre smut #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre x oc #drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre one shot #drew mcintyre #drew galloway #wwe smut #wwe imagine #drew mcintyre imagine #wwe one shot #wwe fanfiction #masochist writes

184 notes · View notes

bulletproofscales · 3 years

Text

wrote a wg-dysphoria fic for comfort purpouses

it is very cliche and kind of a word dump and kinda has no plot

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32177632

Tags: FtM hobi, trans man hoseok , insecurities , weight gain and gender disphoria , gender discomfort , hurt comfort , chubby jung hoseok , namseok , literally pure fluff

1.8k

Hoseok doesn't understand himself most times. Or more specifically, on days like this. Where the mere thought of feeling his body resting against the mattress is cringe inducing. But not as bad as the idea of leaving his bed, starting his day, going outside.

He and Namjoon had plans. Plans that they've been looking forward to for weeks, waiting until they both had a completely free day all to themselves. Hoseok can't just stop everything because he woke up feeling like a gross sack of skin, meat and bones. The entire day was planned to their liking too: favorite restaurants, hiding spots in the city, places to shop, and ending the day probably going back to Namjoon's just to hold each other until the next morning. Nothing too special, really.

They loved the domesticity of days like this.

Hoseok should feel excited right now.

He musters to stand up, and just pushes through normally. Yes, he is a responsible adult and doesn't have to stop his entire life because of some mental turbulence. It's easy for the most part, these days he always wakes up hungry. It's all good until he has to get dressed…

See? It was Hoseok's idea after a few months of dating, to start gaining weight. Thinking, if he grew enough, the parts of his body where weight settled the most would become less noticeable. No matter how slim he was before, there was no escaping the personalized curse that seemed to settle all of his weight at his hips and thighs.

And gaining weight worked! Namjoon was on board with any idea that would help his boyfriend feel more comfortable, and Hoseok found himself feeling genuinely better in his own skin.

Yet... he could barely have the courage to undress right now. Let alone try on something to wear for today, knowing everyone was going to see him on it. Today, it felt as though the plumpness did nothing to hide his body the way Hoseok wanted it to. All he could focus on now, was the fact that if he left with Namjoon today, everyone was going to think Hoseok was his girlfriend.

The thought alone makes it harder to swallow. The roundness all over his body whIch he had come to love, the thickness of his legs that hid his butt. The fat that piled on his torso hiding the curve of his waist and taking attention away from his chest. Even his hands, which had grown a little chubby, were perfect to hide the daintiness in them. All of that on a day like this, just seemed to amplify the pear form that his body grudgingly took in spite of him.

His hands rub at his hips, soft and squishy to the touch, but Hoseok wouldn't dare touch. Only Namjoon gets to touch them without making the older tense up in discomfort; the only thing that makes the squishing of the fat bearable is the deep voice that always comes after it, pouring praise to Hoseok's ear making his shiver in the best of ways.

He doesn't know how he'd react if Namjoon was to touch him now, though. Hell, he didn't know how the younger would react to Hoseok's poor excuse. That's a lie, he knows Namjoon will be nothing but accepting if he so much as suspects his boyfriend is having a bad dysphoria day.

But it doesn't make the guilt go away.

So he pushes it down, rather grabbing something that will cover his body at all, even if it won't hide the parts he doesn't want to see. At least it won't show so much skin.

Hoseok is trying outfit number 6 by the time the doorbell rings. Absolutely not prepared to greet his boyfriend, Hoseok takes one last disgusted look at himself in the mirror before rushing to the door.

"Hey." Namjoon tries to say subtly, but the grin on his face is so wide and eager, it grips at Hoseok's heart. Guilty as he smiles back. "You ready?" He has to slightly look up to meet Namjoon's face; brain unhelpfully reminding him of just how tall his boyfriend is, how masculine he is without even trying.

Ugh, there's no way he is getting through today, is there?

"About that..." Hoseok's smile turns sad, apologetic. Heart breaking at the way Namjoon's expressions drops. "I don't think I feel like I can handle going out today..." He fiddles with his own hands.

"Oh...'' That's Namjoon's own response, and Hoseok understands the disappointment. Can only imagine how tiring it must be to have to cut not only their daily life, but plans they've been looking forward to for weeks, just because Hoseok doesn't feel good about himself that day. He probably thinks the only way for him to progress is to push himself to go out and live despite the dysphoria, to suck it up; maybe even doing that would be the masculine thing to do.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Seok-ah." The voice that speaks is so gentle, though. Warm hands cupping at his soft cheeks. He doesn't manage to answer, rather looking at Namjoon with wide, anxious eyes. "Lets go inside, yeah?" He smiles softly, hands settling at his shoulders before guiding Hoseok back into his own house.

It definitely feels like Namjoon isn't as upset as he should be, being unfair to himself and too kind to Hoseok's dysphoric taunturm. But the older doesn't know if he wants to bring it up, just in case he changes Namjoon's mind. He has to, though.

"It's not that big of a deal J-Joon, we can still go out, I just need to find something to wear." He tries to reassure as Namjoon guides him to the couch. However, the younger has known Hoseok for far too long to buy that.

"If you start feeling better, then we can go out." He smiles innocently, gentle; but knowing fully well that Hoseok was just trying to belittle his experiences.

A weak smile shapes Hoseok's lips into a heart. "It's not fair how you use your knowledge of me against me." He complains, though it has absolutely no bite to it.

"You can't stop me." Namjoon grins back smugly, sitting beside Hoseok and leaning for their lips to meet. The older sighs in defeat; he's lost.

Yet it feels absolutely nothing like losing. At all.

"Fine, but I want your hoodie." He demands, bratty. Hoseok would feel guilty about it if Namjoon didn’t immediately comply with all his commands. Eagerly pushing his hoodie off, silver of tan skin showing as his shirt rides up along with it; which Hoseok absolutely does Not stare at. An quickly snatches it off his hands, before sliding it on his own.

Probably, stealing your boyfriend’s hoodie which fits significantly bigger on him, would be considered a femenine thing to do. But Hoseok will be damned if he doesn't let his nose sink into the fabric and immediately melt at Namjoon’s scent. Only enhanced by Namjoon’s arms, wrapping around his shoulders.

Hoseok never told him to do it, but on days like this Namjoon makes sure to keep his hands off the parts he knows his boyfriend is insecure about. He appreciates it, even if the idea of wrapping his chubby arms around Namjoon’s thick waist seems silly considering their different bodies. But it does make him feel masculine, so he guesses the younger’s strategy works perfectly; as they cuddle closer on Hoseok's couch.

The silence is comfortable for a while, Namjoon tucks his head into Hoseok’s shoulder, as the older gets to caress the warm skin at Namjoon’s lower back.

But oh, Hoseok could never be so lucky.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Namjoon’s voice whispers into the older’s soft neck. And he can only sigh, parly endeared, and partly annoyed.

His boyfriend is so caring. Too caring

“Do I have to?” He groans, and Namjoon takes it as his cue to tangle his fingers gently through the hairs of Hoseok’s nape; soothing.

“I’m asking if you want to, silly.” The older doesn't have to look to know Namjoon is rolling his eyes.

“Nothing happened in particular, cus I know you are worrying about that.” Hoseok grins at the way he feels his boyfriend's body sigh relaxed at that reassurance. “I just woke up feeling this.”

“You better not be using the fact that ‘nothing happened’ as a way to invalidate your feelings.” He scolds gently.

“And you better not be using your knowledge of me against me!” Hoseok whines in an attempt to lighten the mood, and pats his own back when he hears Namjoon’s laughter against his neck.

“I mean it, hyung.” He raises his head from the safe space of Hoseok’s neck; who’s still trying to get past the flips of his stomach at the sound of Namjoon calling him ‘hyung’. “I wouldn’t spend our free day any other way.” And as if to seal the deal, he lands a gentle peck onto Hoseok's nose.

He feels it in his chest, the bursting love he feels for this man. How his body doesn’t feel squirmy at the feeling of his body against Namjoon, just from having him close, having him be treated with such...normality.

It feels like he is broken out of a transe with the movements of Namjoon’s hands at his shoulders. “Y-you know… You don’t have to avoid touching me.” He chuckles a bit nervously.

“O-oh.” His expression grows bashful. “I don’t actually know like--I don’t want to make you uncomfortable!” He whines.

“Namjoon you’re like three times my height, it is not comfortable. You can touch my hips.” It even manages to burst giggles out of Hoseok’s chest.

“Okay, okay.” The younger chuckles as well, as he begins to untangle his arms off Hoseok’s shoulders. And they rather find a comfier route settled at the plush of his hips. And it always feels unfamiliar the first time; as if Hoseok avoids and ignores them so much that they only exist with Namjoon’s gentle squeezing.

His eyes close, as the younger kneads the pillowy skin. Hoseok doesn't realize he is humming until a chuckle bubbles out of Namjoon’s chest. Soft body entirely melted against Namjoon’s firmer one. “You should’ve just told me you needed this.”

“It's hard to admit I need it sometimes, the gentler touches.” The older speaks softly, as Namjoon’s hands rub up and down the curve of Hoseok’s waist, thumbs caressing at the sides of his belly.

“Aish, you speak like I’m not gentle with you ever.” Namjoon groans quietly, rolling his eyes. His hands squeeze at Hoseok’s waist unaware. And okay, he does not mind this.

“I know I know. But I overthink everything when I get like this, you know that.” He cups the younger’s face, whining softly. “I like it though.. I just feel like I might not deserve it sometimes.” He confesses with an apologetic smile.

But Namjoon doesn’t falter, still grinning with so much love. “That’s alright, I love reminding you.” He leans to Hoseok’s hand still cupping his cheek, kissing it.

#namseok #chubby hoseok #trans jung hoseok #dysphoria #gender disocmfort #hurt comfort #unadultarated fluff #i stayed until 3 am writting this just to feel soemthing

52 notes · View notes

nice-kill-tanaka · 3 years

Text

🌄Karasuno 3rd Years + Confessions🌌

A/N: lowkey, these turned into crush scenarios too 😭can’t blame me for getting carried away. these beautiful boys are too perfect ❤️

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

🎋Daichi Sawamura🎋

If I'm being honest? Daichi would probably take an agonizingly long time to realize and act on his feelings for you

My dude literally never noticed Michimiya's feelings for him, so do you really expect him to be that in touch with his own feelings?? Nah, he's too busy parenting approximately ten teammates (eleven if you count Suga in his more chaotic moments)

He would have to have known you for more than three months for a crush to form

And even more time after that to get it through his thick skull that what he’s feeling isn’t just immense respect for you

But, once Daichi realizes that he wants to date you, he’s gonna be very careful about his approach. I.e. presenting himself as boyfriend material rather than friend material

Offering to walk you home, giving you moral support with your hobbies, hell, even making you lunch once every few days!

In his head, he’s got his official confession all planned out:

He’d take you on a walk around town (Or a jog, depending on your athletic prowess)

And at the end of said activity, you’d both stop at a place where you can see a beautiful sunset. And you would sit there while you cooled down

Dude brought snacks and everything 😪

And while you guys ate and talked about whatever, he would find a good stall in the conversation to explain his feelings

“You know...I’ve liked you for good while. You’re everything I never knew I needed in my life. If you don’t feel the same way, we can keep being friends and that’ll be fine. But, I want to be closer to you. So...how does a date sound...?”

However, if you decide to confess first, sure he’ll look fine on the outside. But, his train of thought just had a literal catastrophic crash

He wanted to be the one to make the first move

Wait...his crush on you was reciprocated??

Wtf??

He’ll snap out of his surprised stupor when you ask if he wants to go out and watch a movie at some point

“...Hm? Oh- yeah! I’d...I’d love to go out with you.”

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

🍄Koushi Sugawara🍄

I honestly think it would be SO HARD to tell if Suga had a crush on you

You can’t go off of his regular acts of sweetness, since he’s that way towards everyone

But, there will be a change in his behavior. You just have to be observant

First, he’s still gonna make sure you’re taking care of yourself on a regular basis. However, instead of the situation looking like a parent scolding a child for not taking their vitamins or whatever, he gets on your level and lets you know he genuinely cares about you and wants to see you healthy. Lots of soft looks and touches 🤧

And y’know how Suga gets a bit flustered when people praise him? Amp that up about fivefold when it’s you that’s praising him. He’ll say “Oh- really?!” with that cute little voice crack and get incredibly red over your compliment. But, his friendly crooked smile is what usually makes those moments fly under your radar

Lastly, he’ll want to involve you in a lot of his mischief-making with the underclassmen (You’d have to be close to the team to really get in good with Suga). If he feels comfortable enough around you to not act so responsible, he’ll show you the “tequila” part of his “tequila aunt” reputation real quick

I feel like if he wanted to confess to you, he’d want you to feel as comfortable as possible before dropping the bombshell of feelings

He’ll ask if you want to hang out at his place on a Friday or something when you both have no homework

And it’s agreed that you’ll bring the snacks, and he’ll set up the place with every blanket and pillow in existence

Surprise! It’s a movie night! (A Pixar movie night to be exact)

It’s in the middle of watching Wall-E, when the lights are dimmed low and you both are sharing a blanket and a bag of chips, when he tells you

After his small speech, he goes: “...So, what do ya say, Eva? Let me be your Wall-E...?”

Ofc you said yes (With an asterisks because of how adorably corny he was about it)

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

🐻Asahi Azumane🐻

Two seconds in, and I can already tell this wreck is gonna need some help expressing his feelings for you 💀

The moment he gets that warm and fuzzy sensation in the pit of his stomach when you give him your perfectly imperfect smile, he probably assumes that you’d never date someone like him. Someone who hardly lives up to the big tough guy image people seem to pin on him

Either that, or you’re just plain scared of him and too afraid to say something about it

Suga and Daichi try their darnedest to explain that Asahi’s worries are not the case at all. And if Asahi just pulled his head out of the sand for once and told you the truth, that you’d at least understand and react respectfully

But, doing so can be tricky when anxiety is kicking your butt over the worst case scenario

Really and truly, you would’ve confessed to Asahi, had he not given you the impression that he never wanted to be around you. He’d always get so visibly nervous around you and make a sad excuse to leave the room

“So, what to do about this stalemate of love?” Thought Suga and Daichi in this most perplexing dilemma. You and Asahi both clearly liked each other, but what would give you two that nudge you needed?

Well, it took a lot of consideration, but Suga and Daichi decided that they needed to bring in someone else: Yuu Nishinoya, to be exact. Appealing to Asahi’s fear of his crush being exposed without being able to properly explain his feelings would definitely work

And it did! Asahi was so terrified of Noya bluntly outing him, that he promised to confess to you by 2:00 tomorrow. No later

Well, come tomorrow, it seemed Asahi was stalling for time, letting his fears get the better of him. But, he managed to catch you in the hallway at exactly 1:59

Asahi showed himself friendly, trying to drum up small talk before dropping the big thing. And you blushed and went along with it, unaware of what was about to happen. Before the big moment, Asahi stumbled over his words:

“I uh...well, you see- I just, y’know, wanted to...to tell you that I- well...I may or may not-”

“Asahi’s got a big fat crush on you and he’s been too big of a chicken to say it for the whole year!”

Asahi tried to hide his face in his hands while your body was internally burning up. Gee, thanks Noya

In your embarrassment, you stepped forward and took Asahi’s hand, asking if Noya was right. Asahi gave a quiet “Yeah...you’re amazing. How could I not like you?”

Romance bloomed that day between you two, and Suga and Daichi were just around the corner snickering about it

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

[🌌Take this for your travels, bud. Don’t worry about paying me or anything, everything’s on the house! Though 🍁likes🍁 and ☘️reblogs☘️ are appreciated!🌄] — Reagan

141 notes · View notes

ask-feederjin · 3 years

Note

Hi Jin! What are you favorite things to do with each of the boys separately and what's your favorite thing to do with everyone together?

Jin logged onto his Lavender Love-Handles from his desktop computer. Might as well have it running in the background as he gets back to some higher ups.

Ping!

Oh, another comment! Jin clicks on the link.

“Hi Jin! What are you favorite things to do with each of the boys separately and what's your favorite thing to do with everyone together?”

That’s a fun one to think about, let’s see…

That’s a really great question!

When it comes to non-kink related activities, one thing we all have in common is our love of music and movies! It’s a great hobby to share now that we’ve decided on fattening them up, cause you don’t have to move around much to enjoy it. Jungkook is really the movie buff, so he tends to pick those out, but since we all have such different tastes in music we’ll have what we call a ‘jukebox night’. We all sit down together and take turns introducing each other to new music. It’s actually super relaxing and it’s one of our favorite things to do post-stuffing.

Individually… Hmmm, let’s see.

With Yoongi, he likes to do his own thing for the most part. He claims that he’s a lazy fatass, but he’s actually a total workaholic! I have to sometimes drag his ass out of his office for dinner cause he lost track of time. It’s a miracle he’s gained any weight at all with how often he would skip meals! Really, it’s only thanks to his completely sedentary lifestyle combined with constant snacking that he’s packed on any pounds.

Since he doesn’t come out of his office often, we like to spend time together while he works. We don’t talk a lot, but’s a comfortable quiet that we can just exist in. The younger boys can be pretty rambunctious sometimes, but with Yoongi there’s no expectations of doing things, you know? Sometimes he even asks for my advice on a track he's working on.

Kink wise, I like to make sure he’s always topped up on snacks. Yoongi doesn’t like feeling too full, at least not to the point of nausea, so we’ve decided to just make sure he’s never hungry and see how that goes. I will come into his studio while he’s engrossed with a project and feel his tummy. If I think it’s getting too soft, I'll feed him a few snacks while he works. It’s so cute how he absentmindedly takes them from my fingers, chewing slowly. I only leave once his belly his nice and tight again.

Namjoon and I enjoy going out together. There’s a park next to a nearby river that’s always beautiful this time of year, so we like to have picnics together there. Sometimes the other boy’s come too, but it can be a little too much of a walk for them now. Joonie is the only one who’s maintained the majority of his muscle mass so far (it used to be him and Jungkook, but Kookie is actively trying to lose mobility so he doesn’t like to leave the house much).

We talk about books we’ve read recently, our favorite cafes and watch the ducks toddle around.

I’ll tease him about how soon he’ll be the one waddling like that. It’s so funny seeing him try not to get flustered in public when I say those things.

When we feel a little friskier, we’ll go out with him dressed in his smallest clothes. The lower curve of his belly is always on display, sometime with a little of his butt crack if the pants slip down. He’s gained over thirty pounds of fat since we started and it seems like it’s only really gone to his waist, so no double chin yet :’(

Those are the days I’ll pack a massive lunch. He’s required to eat all of it while we’re out, and by the time we’re done he’s so stuffed his shirt often rides up over his belly entirely!

It’s so hot, as he gets fuller, seeing him slowly stop caring about strangers watching. He goes from embarrassedly tugging down his shirt and wiping his mouth to belching openly, belt buckle undone.

Jin had to take a short break from writing to slap his red cheeks. Oh man, this was so weird talking about these moments. The time he spends with his boy’s has always been very intimate, especially their kinkier interactions. Seeing it written down like this made Jin feel like an old man that just saw a slip of ankle from across the street.

Joonie usually needs help standing after one of those outings. We take a cab back home too, so no worries about him getting any cramps!

Hoseok is interesting. Before he started gaining, he was actually one of the most active people I knew! He would frequently attend dance lessons and even wanted to start his own studio at some point. He actually confessed to me once that although he does love dancing, a lot of his commitment to it was an attempt to suppress his desire to let himself go.

He still likes to dance, just not for hours every day like he used to. I’ve got two left feet myself, but Hobi never makes me feel bad about my abilities, or lack there of. We will turn on some of his favorite music and totally let loose. I used to be the only one that would get out of breath, but now it’s the both of us. He turns bright red when I mention this, haha! He totally likes it though, he’s one of the ones that gets off on teasing.

Lately, he’s really been enjoying dancing due to feeling his new fat jiggle. He’s gained the least out of all the boys, no thanks to his hobby, so there’s not a lot of pudge to feel.

He swears up and down that he can feel his upper arms and belly shake slightly though. I believe him. It’s only a matter of time anyway before it’ll be visible to others though, so we’re looking forward to that.

Jimin is a people pleaser. He likes being helpful, and what a sweetheart he is! I cook a lot for the boys, and now that their caloric intake has practically doubled, I have a lot of food to make!

Jimin enjoys playing sous chef for me. He’s a great assistant, grabbing the spices I need and chopping up the more tedious ingredients. We chat about our days while we cook. Jimin likes knowing that people are interested in and listening to what he’s saying, it’s his way of feeling acknowledged and appreciated.

He’ll try to sneak bites of food while I’m not looking, and most of the time I’ll let him. He’s also my little taste tester! So by the time food is ready to be served he’ll already have a half-full tummy.

So far he seems fine getting around the kitchen, although, with the way that he’s growing, I may have to do a little rearranging! Minnie’s getting pretty bottom-heavy, so I worry that his larger hips might bump into something and knock it over. We’ll need to remodel in the future anyway, so I can take care of that then.

Taehyung likes to be babied. He’s not our youngest (that would be Jungkook), but he sure acts like it most of the time. He’s very interested in fashion and loves to sit down with me to explain the newest trends and upcoming designers. Now that he’s a little pudgier (and often very stuffed), he can’t fit into some of the clothes that he buys so he uses me as a model. I try to make him laugh with funny poses and exaggerated runway walks which makes him all whiney. I see him trying to keep a straight face though!

Although we get most of his wardrobe online, one activity we like to do is go out to the mall and shop there. I like to dress up all the boy’s before we leave the house to accentuate their new bodies, so I make Tae wear button ups that don’t button all the way anymore, and slacks that visibly cut into his hips.

He lives for the embarrassment of looking fat and sloppy in public.

We’ll go to a store and have him pick out things to try on that are too small for him. He’ll go to the dressing room and call out quietly for help. I act like I don’t know what’s wrong, so he has to explain it to me, and I scold him for growing too fat. Oh man, he absolutely loves that.

Jin stopped writing briefly to remember that moment. When he had walked into the dressing room, his eyes were greeted with a titillating sight. Taehyung was sweating and red from embarrassment, the store’s black skinny jeans only pulled up to the boy’s upper thighs before having gotten stuck. The white button-up dress-shirt was completely unbuttoned, sleeves tight around his upper arms.

Oh, Jin teased him so much that day. About how soon he’ll be spilling out of his largest pair of sweatpants, how everyone sees how much of a little fatty he’s become. Even the store’s cashier made a couple lighthearted comments that went straight to Taehyung’s libido.

Jin shook his head. There was no way he could write that down! Going into full detail of the erotic event would be so TMI!

He should probably move on...

Jungkook and I like to watch movies together. He’s a massive Marvel fan, but up until we all started dating, I’d never seen a single one of them. He was soooo upset with me, haha! He sat me down and we started getting caught up. Once a month about, we cuddle up and watch a Marvel movie together. I think we’re on Infinity War right now. I’ve… definitely heard spoilers at this point, but that doesn’t detract from the experience at all. Jungkook is so fun to snuggle. He’s a little taller than me, so I like to sit on his lap and lean into his front while we watch. Sometimes when there’s a really exciting part, I can feel his heart race.

Of course, we have snacks too. Lots of popcorn and soda, hot dogs and soft pretzels. We buy bulk movie theater candy online, so we’ve got all his favorites. Jungkook usually starts eating by himself, but once the movie really gets going he slows down. I take over then so that he doesn’t have to split his attention.

Eventually I can feel his belly pressing further into me, hear it gurgle as it grows tighter and tighter. His breathing gets really heavy near the climax of the movies, and every few bites lets out the smallest moan. Jungkook loves getting stuffed past his limit, so we go all out.

Jin wonders if he should leave that part in. Would people find it too personal? Whatever, it’s not too weird. He’ll leave it as is.

I like to give him belly rubs while we wait for the end credit scenes. He lets out a little built up gas from all the carbonation which I tease him about. Sometimes he’s too stuffed to move so we pull out the couch a bit so he can just lie down and sleep right there.

So… yeah! I guess that answers your question. Sorry for the essay, I just love talking about them.

#lavender//ask #lavender//jin

27 notes · View notes

oingo233 · 3 years

Text

Rapture is a Boy (2)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior? And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader

Warning: brief talk of weight (as someone who is overweight I would never write anything or imply that being overweight is a bad thing, I know society deems it as less beautiful but the truth is that we are so beautiful, every single one of us despite our weight/size or appearance, we just have a different journey to self-love than those who are conventionally pretty, a much harder path to confidence no doubt, but let me remind you that you are breath taking because most to all of beauty is the uniqueness that one has), some angst sprinkled into this one, get ready for loads of it later, bitches like em’ sad, it’s me, I’m bitches. Also, there are some cuss words, nothing too bad though. Self-doubt, cheating is mentioned.

Authors note: I try to keep my writing(self inserts) gender, body type, ethnicity and house neutral/not specified. If I ever slip up please let me know so that I can change it. Remus’s/3rd POV is italicized, it switches back and forth briefly to better show the relationship and luv. Shit will go down in the next chapter, enjoy the little amounts of fluff and joy in this one while it lasts mwhahaha!

Word Count: 2k

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

Part Two

**** Chocolate Pudding ****

I was distracted in class for the second time this month, all because of Remus Lupin. He plagued my mind, and now Lucy accompanies him even in my thoughts. I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions, and I almost never do. But Lily saying I should talk to him, and Lucy running off to comfort Remus when it should have been me, pushed me into a full spring leap. And the conclusion I leapt to was a heartbreaking one, but with all the confidence of the world I believed it. It’s the only thing that makes sense with what I know now. He’s cheating on me.

He told me earlier today, he will be studying in the library with the rest of the marauders before dinner. I will meet and talk to him there, I decided, wringing my fingers and then wiping the sweat off on my robes. Because although yes, I do think he could be cheating on me, I know Remus is a great person. Great people don’t cheat, right?

“Lily, you don’t think he’s cheating do you?” I blurted out, whispering it softly to her through her blockade of dark red hair. She turned to me flabbergasted, her mouth agape to me.

“No,” She says definitely. “Remus is not that person...” There is a silence as I nod blankly at her, I know she is being truthful but she wants to say more. I tug on her robe sleeves, I need to hear what she wants to say but can’t bring myself to ask aloud. What if I don’t like the answer?

“But I think, that ya should talk to him about it. He seems off, no? Maybe it isn’t Lucy at all. You’re jumping to conclusions.” She gives me a pointed look and I nod now in both acceptance and thanks.

“You’re right. I’m being a git.” We both laugh, my mind now eased slightly. We continue to talk amongst ourselves here n there throughout the class. I mentioned James once and she glares at me, but I smile and say,

“Gee Lily, your hair looks awfully bright with that complimentary blush of yours.” She nearly shoves me off my stool. Spending alone time with Lily (despite the large group of students around us) was refreshing, I felt a lot lighter. But the thought of this up coming confrontation with the love of my life once again settled above me like a dark cloud.

It was the last period and it ended minutes ago, I am now making my way up to the library. To Remus. The doors were heavy but glided over the floor as I opened them, the room smelt of old books and dusty pages. I inhaled deeply and smiled to myself, it smells slightly like Remus. Speaking of, his laughter rings out and without a second to waste, Peter, Remus, Sirius and James are shushed aggressively.

I turn around the corner to finally meet them and they’re huddled over some large piece of parchment. Giggling and whispering to themselves, heads nearly clinking together. I clear my throat as so not to intrude. Remus quickly turns to me, his eyes wide in surprise before he stands and hugs me, enclosing my head in his chest.

“(y/n), what a lovely surprise. How was class?” I muffled a hello into his sweater, and can hear shuffling around, from the boys and only when the sound ceased did Remus let go of me. He rubbed his hands down my arms, and smiled warmly down at me. Before I could answer James leans his head in his hand, breathing heavy, he turns to me.

“How’s Lils? Ya have that class with her, right?” I roll my eyes and sit down beside them, Remus stands behind me. The paper is gone but I pay it no mind.

“Yes,” I chuckle to myself, remembering her blush at just the mention of his name. “She’s doing quite well actually. And you boys? Any mischievous plans stuffed up your sleeves? 20, maybe?” They all look at one another and shrug, Peter shook his head yes. Sirius hit his arm and shook his head no, dramatically until Peter followed along. Then the two turn to me and I laugh, not pushing the obvious truth of a scheme from them. They’re sly when they want to be, so this was a definite bashful action. Cheeky.

“Hey love, we’ll meet you down at dinner yeah?” My heart sank for the 2nd, no 3rd time that day. When did Remus get so dismissive? The boys stared up at him a little, mouths agape before they turned to me with soft smiles.

“We’ll miss you dearly until then,” Sirius adds, once again in high spirits.

“Yes, and don’t eat all the pudding in spite.” Peter makes sure to add after last time I did such a thing. It was Peters favorite and he once said I looked bigger when I returned at the train station for the beginning of the year, after the summer of puberty, when really he was just awkwardly talking about how I grew taller and more into myself, good bigger, he thought. But, like anyone with ears I assumed he was calling me fat (fat and all shapes and sizes is beautiful and worthy of love and appreciation, but when someone, such as Peter, implies such a thing to another, in such a way, they could only mean it harmfully so of course I was not going to let that shite slide), so that night I shoveled in all the chocolate pudding before he could get even one bite.

Remus was laughing hysterically with the other boys, as I smirked a blob of pudding fell out between my lips, and Peter looked like he was going to cry. I remember Remus pulled me aside that night to clear up the misunderstanding. He awkwardly confessed it was about my surprising change in appearance, and that I actually look very beautiful. We snogged later that year and the rest is history. (Though the romantic build up was a lot more romantic than just snogging, Remus can be a romantic kind of guy, now was not once of those moments.)

I turn to him.

“Okay. See you then!” I fake the cheeriness in my voice and hope my breath isn’t too shaky as I go and kiss Remus’s cheek. He kisses the very edge of my lips distractedly as I pull away, far from our usual goodbye kisses. I make my way out of the library before stopping in my tracks to yell something over my shoulder.

“The pudding is yours Peter, though it’ll look more appetizing each time you bring that night up,” I expected laughter, or for Peter to say something, anything in response but instead there is silence. I turn around to see the large parchment out again, and the boys huddled over it animatedly.

Thoroughly aggravated, I huff my way down to the dorm and rant to Lily about it all. Then she suggests both the best and the worst idea we, as intellectual, well-put together (well we like to think so) people, have had all day.

“Well, maybe we could throw a little party? Lift your spirits a wee bit, huh love?” Lily suggest, after the fifth time I explain the library scene and how rejected it made me feel. Remus did not want my company, he sat behind my chair and waited until he could ‘politely’ tell me to go, after ignoring me half the day since the incident with Snape.

“And,” she continues, twiddling her thumbs anxiously. “it can be like an impromptu date for Remus and you, if he comes, because of course we’ll invite him-”

“And James,” I smirk, she glares at the way I rudely cut her off but I think she did it more so because of the blush that arose to her cheeks.

“er, sure. But as I was saying, it could be good for you too. I know he hasn’t been spending much time with you lately and everything.” She glances over at a giggling Lucy adorned in red and gold. I scoff bitterly.

“Yeah we haven’t. But ya know what, it’s nothing new innit. He always gets like this.” I stab my dinner with a fork and hear a chuckle coming up from behind me. Peter glances over my shoulder at the chocolate pudding bowl in front of me, seeing as it is still very much full he bows to me and kisses my cheek.

“Thank you, O’ so gracious one,” I can’t fight the laugh, though Remus may upset me, his friends are good blokes that always cheer me up, or at least try too.

The boys all pile in next to us, though it’s been a while since dinner started, they’re a bit late because of whatever they were doing in the library.

Remus saw you and his heart stopped you were, as always breath taking but tonight you looked off, you were stabbing your food with frustration, something must be wrong? You always happily eat your meals, and your laughter is always the first he hears when he walks into the great hall. He watches as Peter makes you laugh, he feels a little off seeing you act this way with Peter. You, lately haven’t been as light hearted around him.

He sits down next to you and is eager to apologize for his behavior earlier. He wanted to take the words back right after his comment. As if he wasn’t feeling bad enough James and the boys ripped into him.

“Bloody hell mate, you might as well demanded she left.” The room was silent as all 4 of them nodded in agreement, Remus included. He sat down and grumbled to himself as they pulled out the marauders map. The very reason he was eager for you to leave, he didn’t want you to see the latest secret of his. Another one of his reasons to be riddled with guilt, he felt so dishonest with you. And he’s been more and more moody with the full moon coming out tonight.

Tonight, as they made their way to the shrieking shack they were going to map it on the marauders map. They were so close to finishing and Remus was eager to, between the map and his soon to be shift he’s had less time to spend with you. Which means less time with your smile, and kisses, and hugs and laughter and bloody hell did he feel like we was going through withdrawal.

But he feels, though the boys disagree, that he should keep his distance from you before full moons. He gets too quite, and angry, and annoyed, he’d hate for you to see this side of him, and all his flaws, and leave him. He wouldn’t survive the pain, he wanted to marry you one day.

“ello’ darling,” Remus whispers into my ear, kissing my cheek. James stares at us before looking lovingly at Lily, who is looking back with raised brows As if to say ‘what now, potter’.

“ello’ darling,” James copies, leaning down to give Lily a kiss on her cheek but she pushes his shoulders back, nonetheless he pulls back with a smile.

“Worth a shot, you’ll miss it one day Evans, once my heart has had enough and I become a reclusive slug,” He says matter-of-factly as he begins to pile food onto his plate.

“I’d act quick Lily, he’s already beginning to look like one.” Sirius leans into to say, though his hair dangles in the pudding making Peter yelp. Remus removes the pudding and adds some to Peters plate.

“You should thank him, grease adds flavor to everything.” Sirius gasps and turns to Remus with slitted eyes. The whole rest of us are laughing, and trying desperately to keep the volume at a minimum as Sirius runs his hand through his hair and tries to rub “the grease” over Remus face.

“If only grease could erase that smirk off your face, mate. I’ll find a way,” Sirius grits as he wrestles Remus who is bumping slightly into me fighting him off. He turns his head during the battle of a lifetime, and apologizes to me for the rough housing, though the look in his eyes seemed like he was sorry for much more. I was taken aback slightly, so I shrug with a loving smile.

Eventually we all finish our dinner and Lily invites the table to our party, all of Gryffindor table actually. Many cheered and said they’d come and bring friends, some even declared to bring butterbeer by the jugfull. But the Marauders just stared at us with a frown.

“We, uh, we can’t make it tonight. Haven’t done enough studying for the exam. I can’t fail this one (y/n), you know that...” Peter trails off and I almost feel bad, maybe the party was a bad idea. The boys all nod along and Lily and I swallow our pride and doubts before telling them it was fine.

Lily holds my arm as we walk back.

“They’re just studying, nothing else to it.” But we both saw the way Lucy stuck behind as well.

Taglist:

@crazylokonugget @beyondprincess

#young remus imagine #remus lupin #young remus lupin #young marauders #the marauders #harry potter imagines #harry potter #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #neutral reader #angst #remus angst #hogwarts #love #Teen Romance #werewolves #young remus x reader

91 notes · View notes

punkgrogg · 4 years

Text

Doorway Duo pt. 1

Pairing: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader, Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!BTS, Non idol AU, fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Summary: Y/n was abandoned by her long time boyfriend and moves back home to help prepare for the baby. She’s surprised to find two unfamiliar hybrids at her house.

Length: 3,902 words

Notes: This is my first Hybrid story. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. I have two more parts outlined and will update as soon as possible because this quarantine has done nothing but give me time to write.

Date Posted: 4/24/2020

My hands cradled the ever-growing bump I have for a stomach. I still can’t believe I’m pregnant. If you would have told me four months ago I was going to be pregnant and alone I would have never believed you. I was in a loving relationship with my high-school sweetheart and we were against the world.

Until I found him pressed in between the legs of some random girl from his accounting class. That was three months ago- exactly a week before I found out I was pregnant. I let him know immediately and he admonished me for thinking he was the father. Apparently, there was no way he could be the father- we had only had sex four times in the past year.

It only takes one time, I thought as I picked up the last of my bags. He had moved out of our apartment the week I found him cheating on me and I was more than capable of keeping the place myself but with a baby? No way. I knew nothing about being a mother and thankfully my parents insisted on me coming back home at the end of the semester so they could help me. I’d be finishing my degree online until I got more settled with the baby.

Until. This was only temporary until I got my life back on track.

This has been my mantra for the past few weeks. I’ve repeated it daily in hopes of quelling the anxiety of bringing in a new life. I repeat as I drive twenty minutes out of the city and back home. Parking in front of the house I grew up in, I can feel the dread knotting itself in my stomach. This made everything all the more real and I was scared. Scared to face my future. While I was battling my inner demons I never noticed Hoseok approaching the car until he pulled open my door.

“Y/n! You’re finally here!” he squealed as he awkwardly wrapped me up in a hug. My waist was pinned back against the seat with the seat-belt but he was pulling me out of the car. Hoseok was my adopted brother. He was a hybrid my parents saved when we were both young and he’s been my brother ever since but most people don’t agree with my family’s ideology.

“Hobi you’re hurting me.” I gasped and he instantly released me his fluffy black ears falling flat against his hair. I unbuckled before hopping out and wrapping him in the biggest hug possible. He welcomed the hug with a tightened grasp. I missed him.

“How’s the baby?” I hear my mother call from the porch and Hoseok releases me. He reached past me into the car to pop the trunk before going to unload. I turn towards my mother to see two men beside her as they all make their way down the driveway. Both of the men were taller than Hoseok and like Hoseok they were hybrids. They seemed to be total opposites as far as their fashion choices went. Monochromatic would be the only way to describe their appearance; one an entirely dark presence- his clothes were tight and black from top to bottom, the other was a soft entity- his clothes were light, ashy gray that matched his hair. They both walk past me and assist Hoseok without a glance towards me. My mother captures me in a warm hug.

“They’re doing fine and your baby is doing great too.” I finally answer, returning her hug. As we part, she lays her hand on my stomach with tears in her eyes.

“I swore Jinnie would give me my first grand-babies but here you are, breaking through every expectation once again.”

“I thought I would be an aunt before I was a mother too but I figured it’d be Joon. he was always the ladies’ man in high school.” I sighed exasperatedly. My other two older brothers were back in the city and have already started their careers. Seokjin was engaged and Namjoon was so focused on his career that I don’t think he’s been on a date since high school.

“Well, life has a funny way of making things happen. Have you found out the gender yet?”

“As I told you three days ago, they’re sitting weird and we can’t figure out what it is,” I said as we walked into the house. I could hear my dad in the kitchen, presumably cooking tacos from the smell of it. He was always the best cook in the house and insisted on cooking every meal. I followed the scent of cumin and sizzling beef as I could hear the pounding of feet up the stairs behind me.

“Baby girl, I’m making your favorite,” He says as he comes over for a quick side hug. As quick as he was here- he was gone. Back to tending to the tortillas and chopping the onions.

“I haven’t had tacos in forever, whenever I smelled any kind of beef I became nauseous,” I commented idly, my father’s face turning up in disgust and my mother’s showing sympathy.

“I couldn’t eat eggs for any of my pregnancies, especially during the first trimester.” she patted my shoulder gently and moved towards the fridge. I heard the stampeding feet once again and was quickly tugged into someone’s side.

“What’s my nephew’s name?” Hoseok asked loudly, his cheek pressed to the top of my head. I glanced quietly towards the doorway where the two men stood as still as a pair of statues while intently looking towards me.

“It might be a niece you’re getting.” I retorted while pulling myself away. I stepped towards the doorway duo with an outstretched hand. “Hi, I’m Y/n, sorry that no one else introduced us.”

The first one to shake my hand had broad shoulders and ashy gray hair. He had a long tail that reached the floor that was the same gray as his appearance but was accented by black spots. He held my hand gingerly and dipped his head towards me. “ I’m Taehyung, its nice to meet you.” His hand lingered as I turned to the next guy.

The second man had more muscles than I had ever seen on your average person. His face was jarring with the baby fat still clinging to his cheeks, he had short-cropped hair that accentuated his tall pointed ears. And unlike the first, he hesitated on taking my hand.

“Jungkook,” He said tersely before shaking my hand once and dropping it like it was hot coals.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” I said while stepping away once. Taehyung took a half step forward, his gaze still trapped on my face. Jungkook’s gaze was firmly focused on my stomach, an intense look that made my heart skip and subconsciously pull my hands forward to protect them.

“You’re not going to ask?” Taehyung asked, his face screwed up in confusion. I could feel Hoseok’s presence towering behind me- his hand reaching up to grasp my shoulder.

“Ask what?” My head cocked in confusion before realization dawned on me. “Oh, how rude of me. How was your day?” Hoseok chuckled from behind me before piping in.

“He meant asking what they were.” embarrassment made my face flush, how could I be so dense?

“Oh. Uh. Well, you can tell me if you want. I honestly don’t really care about that, I’m not too sure about what Hobi is.”

“Great Pyrenees. Goodness, you’d think after sixteen years you’d know that.”

“All I know is that you’re fluffy and a cuddle bug.”

“I’m a snow leopard hybrid.” Taehyung quickly interjected, his ears pointed up, they rose mere centimeters above his wild untamed curls. They were the same color as his ashy hair but had accents of black on the tips.

“Really? That’s so cool, I’ve never met a snow leopard hybrid before.” He mirrored my smile, his eyes crinkling into feline-esque slits. Faint patches of freckles were mapped across his cheekbones, curling up around his eyes.

“We’re as rare as our animal counterpart.” His eyes glanced quickly towards Jungkook meaningfully then flickered away just as fast. “Jungkook here is a German Shepherd hybrid.”

“Wow, that’s really cool.” Jungkook couldn’t meet my stare and quietly excused himself, high tailing his way back up the stairs. Taehyung ignored his retreating form and instead stepped into the kitchen, sitting at the counter. Hoseok followed after him relaxing into the second to last stool

“Sorry, he’s a bit apprehensive, Hoseok warned us about your pregnancy and that you might have crazy mood swings.” The gray man added conversationally, his eyes scanning over my face approvingly. He cracked a grin at the disbelief that spread across my face.

“Crazy what?” my father chuckled at my incredulous tone, “Hobi I will kill you.” I stepped towards him menacingly and he shot up off his perch.

“See Tae? It’s already happening. Mom, get your daughter.” he cried out as he circled around the counter towards mom.

He tried to duck behind her smirking form as I neared but he underestimated the drama mom lived for. “You only brought this on yourself, honey.” She flitted over to dad’s side and taste-tested the corn salsa.

“Who’s gonna save you now?” I smirked at him as I crept closer, my hands poised to pinch the ever-loving shit out of his cheeks.

“This isn’t fair, I can’t fight a pregnant woman,” Hobi whined as he resisted my efforts- his entire upper body leaning away from me.

“If either of you scoundrels hurt my grand-baby I will ground you both.” my dad intoned, halting both our figures. My hands cupping his face and his pushing against my shoulders lightly. Taehyung was laughing at us- he had melodic giggles.

“Taehyung dear, will you go tell Jungkook it’s time for dinner? Y/n and Hoseok go set the table.” Mom ordered and all three of us obeyed instantly. Hobi pulled a stack of plates out the cabinet and I rounded up the silverware. Taehyung was up the stairs by the time Hobi and left the kitchen and headed over to the dining room. I straightened out the red table mats and laid out a set of silverware while Hobi was a step behind me laying out his stack of plates.

“So, all jokes aside, how has it been?” he asked as we finished up, I leaned heavily against the chair in front of me. It sucks. I’m about to be responsible for a whole person. I’m scared and alone. Is what I thought but there was no way I could actually tell him that.

“Well, it’s not what I had planned but I’ll get through it. It’s weird being back here when I’ve been living in the city for the past three years.” A wry smile managed to take residence on my face.

“You’ll get used to it, and like you said you’ll get through it. Have you heard from him?” Hobi settled into the chair directly across from me. He started to fiddle with his spoon as I sunk down into my seat.

“No, and I don’t want to. He said he wasn’t the father and that he didn’t want to be.”

“Jin and I will still kick his ass if you want us to.” He was focused on the spoon in his hand, but I could tell that emotionally he was struggling. He was always the more empathetic of my brothers and showed to be more protective of our family at every turn. He was the first one I told when I found Henry was unfaithful and he was the first to know I was pregnant.

“No, it’s fine. We don’t need that loser anyway.” I smile at him, hoping to convey my appreciation to how he’s been so strong in supporting me. My eyes strayed up to the stairs, the question finally breaking through. “Uh, what’s with our two guests? Friends of yours from work?”

“No, the shelter caught on fire last week, and since mom and dad are certified for fostering they brought them in. Mom didn’t tell you?” Hoseok cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowed.

“She didn’t but that sucks about the shelter. When will it be fixed?” The shelter was where hybrids could stay and be safe. And, as unfair as it is, where they could find their next home. Hybrids had a terrible history and humans were horrible when it came to them. Many held no regard for their hybrids- considering them no better than an animal. Thankfully by adolescence hybrids usually find their place in life and the shelter typically only houses kids being adopted out. There were cases where a family who could no longer provide the care for their hybrid had to surrender them to the shelter. Cases presumably like Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Boss said a couple of months until the renovations are all finished.” Hoseok was a volunteer at the shelter, he has been since high school. Hybrids weren’t allowed to work without the permission of their family (something that outrages our family to no end) and most could only work in volunteer positions.

“Maybe they’ll finally fix the break room's window.” I teased, for as long as I can remember the window has been duct-taped together. No matter what- renovations or accidents being repaired- the window has remained duct-taped together.

“That window has been broken since Hoseok came into the family,” Dad chimed in as he swept into the room. He was carrying the frying pan full of steak in one hand and a table protector in the other. He laid it in the center of the table as Mom, Taehyung, and Jungkook followed behind with their arms full of the side dishes.

“There’s always hope.” Retorted Hobi, ever the optimist.

“I highly doubt it- it’ll probably be the only thing missed by the renovations.” Dad shook his head, having lost hope on that window years ago.

“What’s being missed?” Mom asks, situating the chopped tomatoes and the tower of tortillas.

“The shelter’s break room window.” I supplied, helping pull out the chair to my right for her to sit. Jungkook settled in the seat in between Hoseok and my dad; Taehyung claimed the seat on the right of my mother.

“Oh that thing has always been broken, I figured they’d fix it years ago. Anyway, Hoseok dear pass me the sour cream.” at that, we all settled into making our plates.

“Dad, this is sublime, I’ve been living off of pizza and ramen for the past few months.” The taco was by far the best thing I’ve eaten in months. The seasonings and fresh ingredients almost overwhelming my poor college student tastebuds. Dad smiled down the table at me.

“Is that healthy for the baby?” Hoseok asked making a face of concern directed to my stomach.

“You can worry about yourself- I already got an earful of complaints from mom about prenatal vitamins.” Jungkook snorted at the retort and smiled at me for the first time.

“Honestly what's the difference between prenatal vitamins and regular vitamins?” Taehyung asked, turning towards my mother and I. I shrugged and shoved another taco in my mouth. Mom said they were important and I believed her- plus my doctors said it was great when I had told him I was already taking the vitamins.

“They have more iron and other nutrients that pregnant women don’t get enough of.” Mom explained and Taehyung nodded thoughtfully.

“Pregnancy is so much work, I don't know how you did it three times mom.” Mom laughed at that- covering her face with a napkin.

“Raising you four was way more work, pregnancy was a breeze compare to four teenagers.” She looked at me with pointed eyes. Ah, yes, the dreaded teenage years I would soon face. I grimaced at the thought of hormone-fueled years. Hopefully, I’ll have a daughter, I knew how girls worked throughout puberty.

“Hey, Namjoon wasn’t nearly as bad as the other three.” Dad defended, he was always on the defense of his supposed angel child.

“Joonie almost slept with the entire highschool our junior year and I’m surprised he even got through college without a baby,” Hobi interjected loudly causing Taehyung to laugh.

“No really, Jin, and I thought he was going to catch something.” He continued, turning towards the gray hybrid. His eyebrows were raised and his eyes expressed the utmost of sincerity.

“Your brother did not.” Mom joined the defense, her and dad believing the facade Joon had put up throughout our childhood.

“That’s what you think, he was a sneaky little bastard.” I chimed in joining Hobi’s side. Jungkook and Taehyung were giggling to themselves watching us all bicker.

“Middle children always are,” Jungkook said joining the offensive.

“They’re nowhere near as spoiled as the youngest.” Hobi suddenly turned on me, the shock of betrayal apparent in my scoff.

“She’s the only girl, you guys never stood a chance.” The unexpected support form Taehyung had me smirking at my new enemy.

“It’s not my fault I’m the favorite,” I flipped my hair over my shoulder and leveled Hobi with a teasing glare.

“Seokjin might beat you there.” Mom rebuked, completely sideswiping me.

“Hey! Does your grandchild mean nothing to you?” I cried out in mock surprise, Jin was mom’s angel child.

“Honey, we promised not to tell them.”

“Honestly, high key offended but not surprised.” Hoseok shook his head as he continued on with his taco. The room dissolved into chatter as we finished dinner; I excused myself from the table to unpack.

I slowly made my way up the stairs while taking the time to look at all the photos of my brothers and me throughout the years. My room was the first room at the top of the stairs- Hoseok’s was directly across. Namjoon and Seokjin’s rooms were the other two rooms but both have now turned into guest bedrooms ever since they graduated college. My room used to be our parents’ when we were really young but soon after bringing Hobi into the family, they renovated the garage into the master bedroom of their dreams.

My room was still the ugly lime green color that I begged my dad into painting it when I was in middle school. The furniture was a yellowing white and had layers of neon colors splattered on it. Coming home really incited the cringe-worthy memories of my early teen years- swore it was cool at some point. My suitcases and duffel bags were resting on my bed. I decided to shuffle my music while unpacking the impossible amounts of clothes I managed to pack.

~~~~~~~~

“Now all your love is wasted, then who the hell was I?” I sang along, lost in the moment of hanging up all of my shirts. One bag remained after I finished my shirts- my underwear and socks. I was startled out of my peaceful reverie at the abrupt knock at my door. I whipped around to see Jungkook hesitating at my doorway with a shy smile.

“Your mom asked me to bring this up to you,” he answered my unasked question and held out a plate with chocolate cake. My mouth watered just looking at it.

“Thank you Jungkook, just set it down on that dresser and I’ll get it when I finish this up “I waved towards the surface closest to him with the hanger in hand while hooking on a sweater. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he slowly stepped into the room and laid the cake on the dresser.

He stood in place while looking around at my room his gaze finally settling on the pile of luggage on the floor at the foot of my bed. “Do you need any help?”

“No,” My answer was quick and he seemed to flinch at it. To soften the unintended blow I smiled awkwardly, “but you’re more than welcome to hang out in here.”He meandered over to edge of the bed as I hung up the last shirt from my bag. It was silent as I shoved the bag off the bed and onto the pile of other emptied ones and made my way over to my cake. I hopped up onto the dresser to sit so I could face Jungkook while I ate. He avoided looking at my face and instead looked at the posters hung on my wall that were of artists that never really charted on any kind of chart.

“What kind of music are you into?”He looked at me quizzically as I finally broke the awkward silence between us.

“Well, that’s a tough question. A little bit of everything I guess, mainly pop if I had to settle on a genre.” I finished my cake and set it to the side as I smiled at him wildly.

“Me too, I kind of go in phases though, like it’ll be pop and then I’ll really get into 70s indie rock for a couple of weeks.” He softly grinned at my enthusiasm before snickering.

“You sound like Tae when he gets into his movies, it’ll be a week-long showing of all marvel films and then two months of obscure Buster Keaton films.” His tone sounded as if he’s experienced this far too many times to count.

“Buster Keaton was the shit though,” my proclamation was met with the horror of a man too well versed in debating Buster Keaton.

“Oh god, not another one.” he groaned, flopping back onto my bed. I laughed a little until he sat up again, his smile sobering me up.

“So how long have you and Taehyung known each other?” Were they from the same home before being placed in the shelter? It wasn’t that often that people were able to bond so well when in the shelter with how short their stays typically were.

“We have been roommates at the shelter for, I guess, about a year now. He’s my best friend.” Jungkook’s smile was the complete opposite of what should accompany that sentence. A month was the maximum I had ever heard of someone staying in the shelter. I schooled my features to not show the shock I felt.

“Who me? It better be me or else I’m chopping heads off.” Taehyung entered the room in the most dramatic way possible. Unlike Jungkook he hadn’t waited for an invitation and instead strutted into the room while Jungkook rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

“I hear you’re a fellow Keaton aficionado.” My statement caused him to falter in his stride, he quickly recovered with a beaming smile directed towards me.

“On occasion, noir is where my heart is truly.” His hand clutched at the thick gray cardigan right above his heart.

“Your heart changes every other day.” Jungkook rebutted, his eyes rolling so far back he might lose them back there.

“She’s noncommittal okay, we don’t judge here.” Taehyung glared at his best friend and it made my heart swell at how cute they both were.

“I’m most definitely judging,” Jungkook muttered falling back on his elbows and staring up at the ceiling, feigning annoyance.

“Can you believe him Y/n?” The deep timbre of his voice negated any nasal squeak he might otherwise have from his whiny tone.

“He’s a real scoundrel, the worst of them all.”

583 notes · View notes

busterkeatonfanfic · 3 years

Photo

Chapter 32

When Buster walked into Nelly’s apartment building, she was on the phone in the hallway. She turned her head at the sound of the door and said, “Oh!” He walked to her and tapped the thin brown paper box in his hands, drawing her attention to it. Inside was a big fat chocolate cake.

“No, it’s just Joseph,” she said to the person on the other line. He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I ought to get going now … Yes I’ll write soon … No, I haven’t yet. Yes, I will. I love you too. Goodbye.” She hung up the phone and turned to him with perplexity written across her face.

“Happy birthday,” he said. “Who’s Joseph?”

“Hush. Get inside before someone catches you standing there.”

Beneath the box was the Paul Whiteman Orchestra’s most recent record, “You Took Advantage of Me,” the one they’d performed during his first dance with Nelly last night, and inside the sleeve a photograph he almost hadn’t developed. He set both box and record on Nelly’s broken dining table, making a mental note to get her a new one one of these days. “How’s the birthday girl?” He turned back to her.

“Oh, just fine,” she said with a smile, although it looked a little strained to him. Her eyes were tired, a milder echo of the hangover he knew was also written across his face.

“Not very convincing,” he said, putting two fingers under her chin and tilting it. Her soft lips pulled his thoughts in a different direction, and her bedroom was west on the route. “Shouldn’t have kept you out so late or letcha drink so much.” He stroked her cheek and looked into her eyes.

She smiled again. This time, there was no question it was forced. His stomach did a mild flip as he recalled their liaison at the Villa a week ago in which he hadn’t used a thin. Maybe she was feeling sick because— He dismissed the thought. It was too early for that. While he wasn’t an expert on the finer points of the birds and the bees always, he was sure things didn’t go that fast. He cupped his hands over her shoulders and gave a little squeeze. “Say, what’s the matter? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were sad it’s your birthday.”

She shook her head and shrugged. “I’m always sad on my birthday. When I was a girl, it was because I thought it never lasted long enough. I wanted a whole week of birthday. Now that I’m grown up, time goes too fast. I always wonder what I’ve got to show for all those years. Not much.”

“Aw, c’mon. You got plenty. Steamboat opens tonight and you’ve got that Barrymore picture too. And your play,” he said.

She smiled weakly again. “I suppose. Lately I have this feeling that everything I ever try just sort of drains out of my fingers, like water. Maybe it’s just middle age talking.”

“Oh, that’s all bull and you know it.” He kissed her forehead. He didn’t tell her he knew exactly how she felt, his marriage and career in pictures like water through his fingers. Instead, he just said, “You ain’t middle-aged, either.”

“Look where you were when you were twenty-seven, though. You were on top of the world. You were—” She stopped and thought, brow furrowed. “Help me out,” she said with a laugh, when nothing apparently came to her.

He did some quick math. His twenty-seventh year would have spanned 1922 and 1923. Day Dreams, The Balloonatic, and The Love Nest all came out around then. It had all been films in those glorious years, barely a moment’s rest between shooting and cutting. They did The Three Ages in ‘23 he was pretty sure, and they’d definitely done Our Hospitality. Jimmy was still very much a baby and Bobby went from a twinkle in his parents’ eyes to a person whose kicks could be felt through Natalie’s stomach by the time his papa’s twenty-eighth birthday came around in October. There’d been a house in there too, but he struggled to remember which one.

“Doing my first full-length features,” he said, wandering over to the sofa and sitting on the arm. “That was the year we did Three Ages and Our Hospitality. Went to Oregon for parts of Hospitality. We built a real Stephenson’s rocket for it—that was the train. Back then they’d just hook a few coaches to an engine. Stagecoaches I mean.”

“Was that the one with your wife? And it was a little like The General?” said Nelly, sitting on the opposite arm of the sofa.

“Well, not too much like The General,” he objected. “The story’s different. Much different. But yeah, Nate was the leading lady in that one and I grew my hair out for that one too.”

“You must love her very much,” she said politely, giving that same small sad smile.

Understanding hit. He could guess why she’d seemed so sad when she left last night and why she was sad now. They were at a crossroads. Ambling along the path of their affair, he hadn’t seen it coming up this soon. He wasn’t sure he was ready for it. It meant deciding whether to change direction or keep walking along in the same one. Feeling his heart in his throat, he stood back up and went back to the table. He wanted a cigarette. “Aren’t you wondering what’s in the box?”

“Is it cake?” she said.

“Palazzo Bakery. You only get a piece if you guess the flavor though,” he said. He went to fetch a long knife and some plates from the kitchen as Nelly called, “Chocolate!”

He laughed. “Lucky guess.”

At the table, he cut a big slice for each of them. “You forgot the forks,” she said, as he handed her a plate. He set his own plate on the side table and lifted her slice of cake between his fingers and held it to her lips. She giggled and took a bite, getting chocolate icing all over her mouth.

“Guess I'll go get those forks,” he said, planting a big kiss on her chocolatey lips and licking the sweetness from his own as he went back to the kitchen for forks.

Nelly gave a sigh of contentment when she set aside her empty plate. “I could almost go for another.”

“You oughta since it’s your birthday,” he said, taking his last bite.

“Twenty pounds, remember?” she said. She had a straight face, but he could tell she was teasing.

He set aside his plate and jumped on top of her, bouncing her back against the sofa cushions. “Okay, if you wanna bring that up again I’ll make you laugh the weight off.” He tickled her ribs as she squirmed and shrieked and tried to fight him off. He pinned her wrists by her hip with one hand and used the other to assault her underarms and waist.

“Stop!” she said, laughing. “Uncle!”

As soon as he made the amateur mistake of letting go of her wrists, she turned on him, dancing her fingers over his stomach so fast he was caught off guard. He was laughing too hard to grab her hands. Then, as quick as the assault had happened, it was over and Nelly was pulling him on top of her in a heap.

“Mmmmm,” she said, chuckling and rubbing her nose into his throat.

“Mmm?” he said. He tugged on a strand of hair that had come free of her chignon.

“Mmm,” she said. She ran her hand through his hair and upset his hat, which she flung to the floor.

The image of a crossroads floated through his mind again, unbidden. To drive it out, he put his hand under her dress and fiddled with the strap of her garter. She sighed as he unhooked the forward part of her stocking and slipped his hand around to the back of her thigh to undo the other. He did the next two clasps using two hands, and drew off the stockings slowly, appreciating the shape of her legs. She seldom shaved her legs and he liked the hair there, faint brown and baby-fine. For his next trick, he reached back under her skirt and slid a hand inside the leg of her knickers until he found her bare hip. She murmured. He wanted to take her mind off the crossroads too. He stroked her hip with his fingertips, teasing. Slowly, slowly, he slid his fingers into her pubic hair. The hangover that had been beating inside his head was forgotten as all his concentration went to one of his favorite pastimes. He trailed his fingers first over her mound, then down each of her outer lips. Nelly gave a quavering moan. He wouldn’t touch her where she wanted to be touched, though. He circled back to her mound and she pressed her hips forward to receive more of his touch.

“It’s your birthday, you get to call the shots. What do you want?” he said. He drew two fingers down both her lips simultaneously and looked at her face, watched her mouth part. Her only answer was a soft, feminine moan that ratcheted up his own arousal. He withdrew his hand from her knickers and stretched his body on top of hers, making sure that she could feel his erection.

“What do you want?” he asked again, pressing against her.

“You,” she said, opening her eyes a slit.

“Specifics?” he said. He wanted to do what would make her happiest.

“Oh Bus, just fuck me. Please.”

She’d never, ever used that word before. It reduced him to a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse. He stood up to get rid of his pants and drawers, while Nelly pulled up the skirt of her dress and peeled down her white cotton knickers. He’d never put on a prophylactic so fast.

“Don’t hold back,” she said, seeking out his eyes as he put a knee onto the sofa. “I want to be ravished.”

He took his prick in hand and guided the tip into her. He had to think of something else for the first few breaths. Eddie Sedgwick’s face came to mind and that worked. He slid all the way inside her, now not in immediate danger of coming but still not far out of peril. “Give me a minute,” he said, hands gripping her bare knees. He thought of unsexy, ordinary things: the side of bacon he’d had with breakfast, changing the tire of Jingles’ car with him, a new pair of rubber waders he’d bought for fishing. After a minute, he was able to get back down to business. He slid his hands over her thighs and began to make love to her in steady strokes, watching the way her brow creased and her nostrils flared. “This good?”

“Will you go faster?” she said, her hands encircling his wrists. She pulled him flush on top of her.

He laid as flat as he could get, elbows on the sofa cushion and hands over the crown of Nelly’s head, and gave her all he was worth.

“Oh yes. Yes, yes,” she said, the pitch of her voice rising. She sounded desperate. “Harder.”

No amount of contemplating Jingles’ tire could have held him back now. He bore down on her as fast and hard as he could go, and his orgasm came just as quick and hard, one of the best he could remember having. He was aware they were both shouting loud enough to alert every damned neighbor in the building, but he couldn’t help it. He stayed inside her until every residual pulse of pleasure was gone before he pulled out. His muscles went slack and he was surely crushing her, lying on her like he was, but she didn’t complain. He wasn’t aware of falling asleep. The slamming of another door in the apartment building woke him and he startled. He pulled himself to his elbows. “Shit. Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Nelly, though, was also blinking awake. “What’s the time? You’ve got to get to the premiere,” she said.

He looked at his wristwatch. They’d only been out ten minutes. “Oh, that’s still a few hours away.” It was only half past four, and the premiere wasn’t until nine.

“How do you think it will go?” she said.

He climbed off of her and went into the kitchen area to dispose of the prophylactic. “Keep thinking it’ll have to be a smash. I said it before, that ending’s second only to The General.”

Nelly disappeared into the bathroom, but didn’t close the door. “Hmm,” she said. He picked up his pants, pulled the handkerchief out of the pocket, and wiped himself off. He was dressed when she returned and smoking a cigarette on the sofa.

“Hmm?” he prompted.

She shrugged. “I think so too, but I don’t have the least bit of experience with audiences. Or critics.”

“Sure you do. Don’t your plays get reviewed?”

“Oh,” she said. “I never thought of comparing them to pictures. They’re so different, aren’t they? The critics were usually on the same page as us and the audience for the most part. The only one that got us panned was Processional.” She stopped to pick up her knickers and began to put them on. “The director was in love with it. Mr. Zweigle. We knew from the get-go the audiences would hate it. It was very—what’s the word. Avant-garde? Abstract? Went whooshing straight over their heads and we ended the run early. It really didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me either. Maybe it would have played better in New York City. I don’t see what’s not to like about Steamboat, though.”

“My production man tried telling me the people whose folks had died in floods would cause trouble for me, that’s why we switched to the cyclone idea,” said Buster. “What I don’t understand is that more lives are lost each year to cyclones. I guess we might get panned there.”

“It will go fine. Everyone will love it,” Nelly said, sitting next to him.

He put an arm around her shoulder, feeling comforted. “Why don’t you go put on the new record I got you?” he said. He’d remembered the extra birthday gift.

She frowned. “You shouldn’t have gotten me another record. You got me a whole band last night.”

“Blah blah blah,” he said, waving her off.

She glared at him in mock anger, but went to put the record on the phonograph that sat on top of her desk. She changed the needle and slid the record from its sleeve. The photograph slipped to the floor as he’d expected it would. He wanted to warn her about it before he left. “What’s this?” She picked it up and turned it over, and her face reddened. “I didn’t think you’d really develop that,” she said, laying it on the desk.

“Just see you don’t leave it lying around for Bradmont or Mr. Hernandez or whoever to see,” he said. He’d never given a girl a naked photo of himself before and wasn’t in love with the notion, but he had so many wicked photos of her now it had seemed only fair to trade her one of him.

“Bradford,” Nelly corrected. “I owe the night to him. He was very good to me.”

Buster still thought she’d been over-cautious bringing Bradford along but didn’t see the point in arguing it. “Who’s Joseph?” he said, since they were on the subject of names.

She blushed as she placed the record into the phonograph. “You. I was trying to get Mother off the phone one day and told her I had a date, but it was the wrong thing to say because then she asked what his name was and said Joseph. It just came out. Now she thinks I’ve got a beau named Joseph.”

“Well you do. Strictly speaking, my name is Joseph.”

Nelly bit her lip, her back to him as she pulled out the arm of the record. The phonograph scratched and hissed to life. Horns and strings rang out. Next to the real Paul Whiteman Orchestra, the recording sounded subdued.

“Charlie Chaplin said he’d see me this week,” Nelly said. “I told him I worked in the prop department at United Artists and he said he’d have to change that.”

He wondered why the change of subject. “That’s good. Ain’t it?” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the music. Charlie had the habit of promising things he had no intention of giving, but he wasn’t going to set her straight.

“I suppose. Shouldn’t I feel more thrilled?” She came and sat on the sofa next to him.

He stubbed his cigarette into the cracked saucer she kept on the side table for him. “Should you?”

“My heart isn’t in Twelfth Night either,” she said fretfully. “At first I thought it was because I didn’t get Viola. You know, because I’ve done Maria before and I don’t have to work so hard to learn the lines. It’s not much of a challenge. Then I thought, I work so much maybe I’m just too tired to do a play right now.”

He noticed her picking the skin around one of her fingers. “What are you saying?”

“Let’s just dance,” she said, grasping his hand.

He stood up and put both hands on her waist. From the phonograph, the singer with the funny name crooned, I’m a sentimental sap that’s all, what’s the use in trying not to fall?

His hangover was placated that evening by two glasses of whiskey before the premiere, which reunited three-fourths of the guest list from his party the night before, Chaplin, Lloyd, Fairbanks, Pickford, and so forth. From their faces, Buster could tell they felt about as wrung-out as he did. Only Natalie didn’t seem hungover, although it hardly mattered. She was so sulky he began to wonder if Nelly’s mood was catching.

With the theater favorably packed with his friends and fellow actors, Steamboat was guaranteed to be a smash hit. That said, Buster could tell fake laughter from real belly laughs. Steamboat’s reception was real. The men in particular found the cycle sequence howlingly funny. The scene with the house drew a collective gasp that satisfied him to his core. Natalie laughed little. He couldn’t figure it out, but was determined not to let her sulkiness get under his skin and basked in everyone’s praise afterwards. There were shoulder claps and back pats galore. Finally he was back to delivering hits again and could go to Irv and tell him to sack the army of writers. It was that thought he slept on that evening.

When he woke up the next morning, the hangover had disappeared and he felt more cheerful than he had in days. He whistled “Daisy Bell” as he dressed. It wasn’t until he’d gotten downstairs that he sensed danger. Natalie was waiting for him in the breakfast room but there was no breakfast on the table. She’d been crying. Her eyes were puffy and she wasn’t wearing any makeup.

“What’s this about?” he said.

Her voice trembled. “We need to talk.”

The four worst words a woman could say to a man. “Okay,” he said, putting his hand on the back of a chair and preparing to sit down.

“I don’t want the help hearing.” She stood up.

He caught her elbow as she came around the table. The crook of her small arm was hot and moist. Dread had replaced hunger in his stomach. They headed for the living room. When he stepped into it and saw Constance and Norma sitting on the sofa with tight, cold expressions, he knew right away what it was about. Constance stood and took Nate from him. Natalie was tucked between her sisters like a chick between mother hens. Buster sat in the armchair diagonal to them, feeling out of his body.

“How’d you find out?” he said. Outwardly, he was calm. Inwardly, his pulse was hammering.

Constance curled a protective arm around Natalie as Natalie dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

“It’s been going around a couple weeks, that you’ve had a girl at your bungalow,” said Norma. She twisted a handkerchief between her fingers, but was not crying and did not look as though she planned to.

He tried to remember who knew. Caruthers didn’t count; he’d been entrusted with more sordid details than the affair with Nelly. Louise Brooks and George Marshall knew. From what Nelly had said, Eddie Sedgwick. It must have gotten out through Eddie. He pulled his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and extracted one, concentrating on every detail. It gave him the excuse not to look the Talmadges in the faces for a few moments.

“Norma said you wouldn’t be stupid enough to bring her to the party,” Constance said, voice full of scorn. “I said you would.” Her eyes blazed. “I was right.”

Nestled between her sisters, Natalie sniffled. Even if there had been rumors, he didn’t know how they’d connected him to Nelly specifically. As if anticipating this question, Norma said, “Dutch followed you when you left the party last night.”

“That girl?” Buster said. “No. She’s got a boyfriend.” He didn’t think the lie would get him anywhere, it just came out before he could stop it.

Constance laughed. “That preposterous boy she was with? You could tell from a mile away he doesn’t favor girls.”

He lit the cigarette. He’d forgotten he was holding it. As he took the first drag, he started to formulate a strategy. He would willingly accept whatever punishment they meted out and from now on be more careful with Nelly: no parties, no more overnights at the bungalow, no more being gone for stretches longer than two hours. He avoided looking at Natalie. That chewing guilt was working at him again and he didn’t want to fall into that endless circle of trying to figure out where their marriage had gone wrong. It was her fault things were this way. No, his. No, hers. No, his.

He looked at his sisters-in-law. “So?”

“You know the rules, Bus,” Norma said gently. She looked sad.

He hated the feeling that he was letting her and Dutch down as much as Natalie. He tried not to show it. Blowing out a cloud of smoke, he said, “So I got a little careless. I’ll keep it under wraps from now on.”

Norma shook her head. “You got attached.” When Nate had decided on separate bedrooms and he’d gone to Peg to declare to her that he intended to have his needs satisfied come hell or high water, she had agreed—with the smallest of conditions: keep it discreet, don’t get attached, don’t spend any money.

“Even if I do care for her a little, so what?” he said. “I’ve hardly spent a dime on her. She don’t want that. Told me from the beginning no satin and pearls.” It felt strange to bring Nelly out in open conversation after hiding her for so long.

“You don’t understand,” said Constance. Her eyes sparked.

He looked at Natalie, wedged under Norma and Dutch’s shoulders. He wanted to see how she felt about all of this. She refused to meet his eyes, though, only looked down and wiped at her eyes with her handkerchief.

He scoffed. “Understand what? I get it, it’s an interrogation. I’ve done a lowdown, mean thing to my wife. You want me to apologize and make amends. Well I’m sorry.” As soon as he said it, he was sure he wasn’t. He was only sorry he was careless and they’d caught him. “I have needs. You can’t expect me to go without. Don’t know why we keep going in circles about this.”

Constance reached behind her and flung several pieces of paper at him. Some landed on the coffee table and others on the floor. His brain took a moment to catch up with his eyes. Nelly was staring at them all from the photographs, breasts fully bared, clearly sitting in the Keaton bathtub. In a solitary photo, there he was holding a towel in front of his prick, gazing at the girl behind the camera lens. His heartbeat trilled like a military drum. The last he’d seen those photos, they’d been in his bedside table drawer. He hadn’t bothered hiding them. He hated that his private, intimate moment with Nelly was now seared into the Talmadge girls’ minds. He felt like a scolded, whipped little boy. As with his parents when he was a tot, he knew that nothing he could say to them would convince them that he had a side too. So he didn’t say anything. He looked down at the photos, then up at them. He was grateful for the blank pan that came so easily.

Now Norma stood up and did a funny thing. She gathered all the photos, squared them like a stack of cards, and put them in the little leather handbag at her feet. “I’m sorry,” she said. She did really look sorry as her eyes searched his. “You know the rules. I made some calls this morning. She’s no longer working for United Artists.”

“Huh?”

“We had her fired,” said Constance. She looked smug and triumphant.

Buster sat upright. “You did what?”

“She simply cannot work in pictures any longer. I’m sorry,” said Norma.

“You’ve got no right to do that,” he said, voice rising. “She didn’t do none of this. It was all me. Why’s she getting all the blame?”

“That slut knew you were married,” Constance said. “She oughta have seen it coming.”

He stood up. The cigarette seared his fingers and he dropped it, shaking his hand. It had burnt down without him noticing. “Don’t you call her that word,” he said. “She ain’t like that.”

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” said Constance. The expression on her face dared him.

“Buster, the cigarette,” said Norma.

He dared. “You’re the one who’s the slut,” he shot at Constance. “Buster, Jack, Michael, Ricky—want me to go on?”

Constance just smiled. “I’m not fooling around with married men. Nor am I married.”

“Pick up the cigarette, c’mon,” Norma said. “The carpet, you’re ruining the carpet.”

“Yeah? What about Norma? She’s married. She’s going outside her marriage.” He knew even before the protests were out of his mouth that they’d make no difference. The only thing that mattered to them was Natalie. As long as Natalie had been wronged, he could object until the cows came home. He picked up the smoldering butt and ground it out on the coffee table, daring them again.

“Sit down,” said Norma. Again, her voice was gentle. “I’m sorry, but Natalie comes first. You must tell this girl that it’s over.” “Nelly. Her name’s Nelly.” They must have known her name if they were able to find out where she worked, but it still felt fitting to say it out loud. This was a person they were talking about, not a chess piece to be moved off the board.

“Please tell Nelly it’s over,” Norma said. She looked apologetic.

Buster looked at Natalie. Her head was still down. He wanted to barter with her. Let me keep seeing her. What do you care anyway as long as you have your furs and your fancy parties? He looked at Constance who had a half-smirk on her face, like she knew something he didn’t.

“If I don’t?” He could already tell by the look on Constance’s face that they had him checkmated. He just didn’t know how yet.

“We’ll go to Mr. Mayer with the pictures. It’s as simple as that,” Norma said. She twisted the handkerchief.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re kidding. You’d ruin my career over something like this?”

“It’s you who’s ruining it, not us,” said Constance.

“What would happen to Nate then, huh? What’d happen to this house? All the parties?” He refused to accept that they’d pull the pin over something so trivial. If there was one thing he was sure Natalie did like about him, it was his handsome paychecks.

Between her sisters, Natalie began to cry audibly.

“We’ll take care of Natalie and the boys,” Constance said, with a dismissive wave.

He considered it. They were both still successful in pictures. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

“Just tell her it’s over,” Norma encouraged. “We don’t want to go that far.”

He knew too, sure as he knew anything, that they’d make sure Nate got more than her fair share in a divorce. She’d get the house, the kids, and whatever alimony could be squeezed out of him after he was ruined. He felt frozen. Nelly would take him even down-and-out; her line about diamonds and satin wasn’t a bluff. He just didn’t know if he could live with himself knowing he had messed up her career and he couldn’t offer her a darned thing with his gone too. It was selfish, but he didn’t want to give up everything he’d worked so hard for either, the plum gig at M-G-M, the Villa, and most of all his boys.

“Alright. I’ll tell her.”

Checkmate. King vanquished. Three queens crowned. Note: Well, you saw this coming, didn’t you? I feel I’ve been rather harsh to Natalie in this chapter, but remember, we’re only getting Buster’s perspective here since none of the story is written from Natalie’s POV. Who knows if Buster really felt so cynically toward Natalie either. I suspect not. He seems to have had a soft spot for her even after their divorce. She did like her material comforts, but as he says in his autobiography, so did he. I’ll probably go back to a biweekly posting schedule again, so look for Chapter 33 the weekend of the 18th.

#Buster Keaton #Fan fiction #RPF #Actor RPF #Golden Age Hollywood #Silent film

5 notes · View notes