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jimlingss · 4 years

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Maybe Baby Retreat

➜ Words: 12.7k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut

➜ Summary: In an attempt to conceive, Taehyung discovers a five day retreat dedicated to help with the impregnation process but you're fairly certain that the entire thing is a scam.

[Day One] Taehyung should be fucking you. It’s a bit crass to be grumbling that he’s not sticking his sperm in you, but your fertile window begins today and if he really wants a kid as much as he says he does, you wouldn’t be on a godforsaken bus. The yellow school bus jumps and jolts as it goes down the jagged, unpaved road. Every bump is felt in the back by ten folds as you’re rocked from side to side on the seat and not on your husband’s dick. Said man is too busy singing along with the guide that’s living it up with a mic in hand and his voice on the intercom. He’s trying to bring up the morale, but you’re not having it. Instead, you turn to the window and stare out at the empty countryside that stretches across the horizon. There’s not a car in sight and if you swear to god if you’re being shipped to a serial killer’s farmhouse, you’re dragging Taehyung down to hell with you. “You’re frowning, sweetheart,” he says while leaning over to you, flashing a blazing grin much to your chagrin. “You know stress isn’t good for the baby.” “It’s not like it matters. There is no baby.” “Not yet.” Taehyung throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you scoff. You’re aware being a Debbie Downer isn’t going to help anyone but it’s hard to loosen up when you’re so on guard and skeptical about this whole thing. When you’re surrounded by noisy strangers who are all too overfamiliar. You suppose it was your fault to begin with. All those nights of staying up to read about tricks and tips of conceiving led Taehyung to discover the Baby Retreat. A five day sanctuary that ensures people will be able to conceive. The moment you saw it, you were certain that the whole thing was a scam, but your sweet summer child husband was wholly convinced and no matter what you said, it wouldn’t change his mind. “Who knows, it might actually work, right?! And if it doesn’t, then it looks fun anyway! When was the last time we had a vacation together?” It’s also your fault for being so soft. You couldn’t shut Taehyung down when he was so enthusiastic, so here you are. You took off a week off work and on your fertile day, you’re shipped onto a school bus out into the middle of nowhere. “Oh! Looks like we’re here, folks!” The vehicle slows as it turns into the gravel parking lot and the guide smiles as he peers out the windshield. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope you leave with a few buns in the oven! And if not, then don’t worry, you can still eat for two here!” There’s a few snickers and once the bus parks, everyone gets up, slowly shuffling out and stretching their legs. The air is sweltering hot and the sun beams down onto the back of your neck, making it uncomfortable to breathe. You’re panting with sweat built on your hairline as you drag your luggage through the grass. But no one seems bothered by it. Maybe because they’re excited that they’re here, they have the energy to fill the field with their chatter. Even Taehyung is grinning and he’s a certified whiner when it comes to hot weather. The guy blasts the air conditioner during summer until it feels like it’s winter. Though you have an inkling it’s just a tactic so you can cuddle up to him for warmth before bed. “Come on, slowpoke!” Taehyung breaks through your train of thought and then abandons you by running ahead like a hyperactive five year old. “I’d be faster if you helped me!” Taehyung doesn’t hear you. You wonder if you married a child — but you suppose that’s why you called him the light of your life during your vows. Like Yoongi once said at the dinner reception, Taehyung’s excessive energy is indeed a double-edged sword. You follow the stream of people to the center building, a modern wooden structure in the middle of the fifteen yurts that form a circle. It surprisingly looks alike to the advertisements, each with a porch and steps up to the door. The grass is verdant and pliant beneath your feet, the numerous trimmed trees around providing some nice shade and the flower beds give bright splashes of colour to the place. If this retreat wasn’t oddly centered around impregnation, you would’ve been convinced that it was a fancy camping resort. “Welcome everyone! Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope the trip here wasn’t too bad!” You finally join Taehyung’s side and look towards the stage in front of the main building. There’s a man with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks in a loose tunic and taupe pants. He stands next to a woman in a baggy poncho holding a ukulele for reasons beyond you. “I see some familiar faces here! To all those already familiar with the Baby Retreat, welcome home. I’ll try to keep this short and simple, so you’re not too bored.” He claps his hands together with a bright smile. You look around at the crowd to see elated expressions. “My name is Park Jimin and this is my girlfriend, Song Hyunjin. A little about us, we’ve been together for over ten years and yes, we have an open relationship with each other, but that does not mean we aren’t in love with each other.” He draws her in, nuzzling into her without shame and she giggles. “To our new faces, trust me, you’ll find out soon enough.” Jimin pulls away with an enormous grin. “We haven’t had any children ourselves, but don’t worry. We’re reproductive endocrinologists with proper training and medical degrees. But we started this retreat four years ago to take a more unconventional approach to reproduction. And for the next five days, we have the honour of hopefully helping you ladies conceive and you males impregnate your partner!” There’s some exchanged smiles and Taehyung looks at you with hopeful eyes. It feels better to hear these people aren’t uneducated and talking out of their ass, but you’re still unsure how to feel. Hyunjin laughs. “Not only that, our goal is to help you relax and truly deepen your relationship with your partner. While we can’t promise a hundred percent success rate, hopefully you’ll leave this place feeling more refreshed than you did before. With that being said, please feel free to come up and ask us any questions. We’re very open people who are more than happy to help you in your process of expanding your wonderful families. There is nothing more beautiful than pregnancy and birth.” She jumps off the stage and grabs a wooden crate. With a smile, she begins passing out packs. Jimin continues, “For the next five days, we’ll be helping everyone improve their diets and exercise habits while getting plenty of vitamin D. What my lovely Hyunjin is handing out now are your survival kits!” “For men, fenugreek supplements are given to improve your sperm counts and for the ladies, there are prenatal vitamins and folic acid. There’s also a guide to the activities provided around here and a map, some sunscreen and other knick-knacks to remember your time here. Don’t worry, we won’t bombard you with any pregnancy pamphlets or information. I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about that.” It’s a bit refreshing to hear. You’ve been neck deep in research about conception that it’s been hard lately — another reason that you agreed to Taehyung’s whims. “Are you the Kim family?” Hyunjin asks and when you confirm it, she hands both you and Taehyung cute pouches. You reluctantly take it, but when you thank her, she happily smiles. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat.” The introduction drags on for a bit more before Hyunjin admits that it’s hot and that everyone’s probably tired, so the meeting ends and you open your pouch and find information on your yurt. “Not too bad, right?” Taehyung can tell by the look on your face as you gaze up at your white-tented yurt. “We’ll see,” you mumble and he takes the luggage, following behind you. “I thought we were going to spend five days in an orange tent, so I guess this is better by default.” “An orange tent?” He laughs. “But I showed you the commercial! Did you not pay attention?” “People lie on advertisements all the time, Tae.” But to your surprise, the interior of the yurt is even better than expected. It looks like a cozy cabin, wooden panel walls that separate the full kitchen from the full bathroom and provides some privacy to where the queen sized bed is. Light comes in from the top, filling the space with luminescence. There’s a mini-fridge filled with goods, plush towels set on the table with a personalized welcome card, down duvets that are soft to the touch. And it’s wrecked the moment Taehyung jumps on the bed with his arms and legs wide open like a starfish. He rolls over and props his head up with his hand — in the position where he often asks you in a breathy voice to paint him like one of your french girls. And he uses the same voice on you now while wiggling his brows, “Wanna ruin the sheets with me?” You burst out laughing, but it sounds all too tempting. He could probably dump a load in you within five minutes, though you’re not sure if anyone could hear you from the outside. “Didn’t they say there’s planned activities in an hour? What if we don’t show up.” “It’s fine. People come here for one reason anyway.” There’s a pause. “To fuck.” You roll your eyes, setting your suitcase next to the bed and you look at the nightstand to notice mineral oil lubricants. You’re mildly impressed at the details. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” “They won’t miss us.” Taehyung’s own attention is taken to a wooden basket on a shelf of the irregular shaped bookshelf and he comes over, only to grin when he sees what’s inside. “Honey. I think we should have some fun tonight.” You turn around, wondering what he’s up to now. But any snarky remarks die on your tongue when you find a leather whip in his left hand and a ten inch, neon pink dildo in his other hand. “Is that...even sanitary?!” You can’t imagine how many people have used it. “We can find out.” Taehyung fiddles around with it, pushes a button and the dildo begins to rotate, making the both of you laugh. “Honey, we gotta give them five stars on Yelp! They have a communal sex toy bin for us to use! We can’t get this anywhere else.” “Oh god. I’d rather not share my sex toys with anyone.” The two of you are interrupted by muffled folk music that begins to leak inside and it persuades you to go out. “C’mon, we should go check out what they have. If we have to spend five days here, we might as well meet some other people too and be social or whatever.” Taehyung grins, tossing the dildo back into the basket and joining your side. “You’re liking this place, aren’t you?” “No. I just think the yurt’s half-decent.” Taehyung can see right through you, but it’s a bit too early for the ‘told you so’ spiel so he holds back and the both of you step outside of the yurt. There’s a few people hanging around and the weather is more bearable as the sun slowly begins moving and setting over the horizon. You meet friendly newlyweds who are surprisingly having their honeymoon here. “We just can’t wait to have kids,” Rose, the young twenty three year old, says as she embraces her husband, Hoseok. They’re no strangers to publish displays of affection, openly kissing up on each other. It would make you a bit uncomfortable if not for how touchy Taehyung is as well. When you first got together all those years ago, your friends teased you about it but it’s been years since. No one’s a stranger to how you plop yourself down on Taehyung’s lap or how he might kiss you and then steal your food right off of your own plate. “When we saw that the retreat offered a honeymoon package, we just couldn’t resist,” Hoseok says, but you’re not sure if he’s talking to you and Taehyung or his wife with how much he gazes at her. It’s a sweet sight though. You remember that honeymoon period. “Remember when we were that young?” you ask as you leave to the other side, giving the couple some much needed privacy. It was obvious they weren’t up for more conversation with the way they’re shifting and staring at one another. “When you were still hot? Yeah. I do—” Taehyung bursts out laughing when you jab him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You’re still hot, okay? The hottest chick here and you’d make the hottest MILF too.” “Damn straight.” The pair of you also run into another couple that’s older and appears a lot more comfortable with the place. “Oh, this is actually our second time here! The first time gave us the four year old troublemaker running amok back at home.” You blink in surprise, suddenly more interested in the conversation. “This place...worked for you?” “It sure did.” The woman, Dahyun, smiles. “Some people didn’t have as much luck as we did, but we had so much fun last time that we knew we just had to come back. We were actually staying in your yurt last time.” She points and you swivel your head over, intrigued. “Huh.” Taehyung raises a brow, noticing how engaged you are and the corner of his mouth tugs. Her husband, Seokjin, chuckles heartily. “We thought it was time to give our son a younger brother, so here we are! Tonight’s the welcome party and just a word of advice, I really recommend getting some of that grilled salmon. It’s absolutely delicious.” “Just let them eat whatever they want, Jin,” his wife sighs in exasperation. “I’m just saying! I would’ve liked to know last time — I would’ve gotten two plates before they ran out.” “This is why the doctor told you to eat less of everything. You ate more than I did when I was pregnant with Youngjae.” “I can’t help that I’m eating for three! For your information, I’m carrying the entire family on these broad, broad shoulders of mine. Soon, I’ll have to start eating for four.” Dahyun turns to you and Taehyung who are amused at their bickering. “I’m sorry. Please ignore him.” It’s not a bad place, at least not so far. You weren’t sure what you were anticipating, but on the entire way here, you were worried that it was a scam your poor husband fell for. Luckily though, it seemed like the accommodation is good and the people around are friendly and welcoming, coming from different kinds of backgrounds and walks of life. It makes you feel better about not having internet connection or being murdered in the middle of the night. The welcoming party turns out to be fairly nice too, and like Seokjin said, the food is delicious. It’s a buffet style with tables set out, full of what Jimin declares is antioxidant-rich foods. He and Hyunjin go on a tangent about the benefits, how soy and estrogen foods have been limited, how there’s an emphasis on fruits, vegetables, carbohydrates, proteins and folic acid, and you’re sorely impressed at the attention to detail they provide. “Oh my god. The salmon is amazing and have you tried these beans, Tae?!” Taehyung laughs as he watches you eat, eyes lifted to look at you across the rounded table. “I thought you hated beans.” “I do. But try it.” You lift your fork and he happily leans over, taking a bite. He swallows it down and smiles at how you stuff your cheeks. After dinner, the pair of you gather with the rest to watch a few performances held on the main stage. Jimin introduces other staff members who sing, dance and Hyunjin even does a number with her ukulele, belting out some indie songs while standing bare feet. It’s bizarre and a bit surreal to be sitting back in a lawn chair and watching some chick with flowers in her hair jump around and try to entertain you, but it’s not completely unwelcome. If anything, you were sort of having fun. The sun had set, making the weather milder. The breeze was warm against your cheeks and the fairy lights strung above were twinkling. The whole atmosphere lulled you and with your head leaning on Taehyung’s shoulder, every blink became heavier and heavier. “This is nice,” you mutter and he catches it. Your husband turns his head with a tiny smile. “Yeah?” “Mhmh...” You feel a wet kiss being planted at the top of your head and you decide to indulge, closing your eyes for just a moment. But the next time they open, you realize that the crowd has thinned, they’ve put on music on the stereo and Taehyung’s windbreaker is draped on top of you as a makeshift blanket. “Hey there, sleepy head.” He grins at you when he notices your lashes fluttering. “Want me to carry you back to the yurt?” “I’m fine.” It takes a second to get up and you stretch your arms out before the both of you make your way back to the yurt. There were a few younger couples lingering around and still taking in the scenery, but the years were catching up to you quickly and all you wanted was to dive into the sheets and satiate the rest of your sleepiness. “How long was I out for?” “About half an hour?” Taehyung fishes for the key and opens the door. “I didn’t even realize I was so tired.” You manage to kick off your shoes and beeline to the bathroom to brush your teeth. “Of course, you were tired. You didn’t even sleep on the bus and for the past few days you’ve been up late doing research.” You mumble incoherently, not having enough energy to argue with Taehyung and he grins, nudging you aside so he can grab his own toothbrush. In the next ten minutes, it’s lights out. You’re rolled onto the bed, tucked into the warm sheets like a burrito, and Taehyung’s settled in as well. You hear his exhale and you allow your muscles to relax in the comfortable darkness. The exhaustion that’s been built from the entire day washes over you. But before you can drift off, in the quietness of the room, you remember. And you reach out, arm stretched, feeling for your husband. Taehyung hums when you tap his shoulder. You feel him shift and mumble, “What’s wrong?” “I’m fertile,” you mutter with your eyes closed. “You need to stick your dick in me.” He bursts out laughing and his arm slings over your abdomen. “It’s okay if we don’t have sex tonight, you know.” You sigh, too fatigued to get up and do the job yourself. “We’re gonna miss our opportunity, Tae.” A soft kiss is pressed to your temple, and you feel yourself losing the fight to keep your consciousness. “We’ll have other chances. Relax.” “Relaxing….isn't gonna give us a baby.” “No, but it will keep my current baby sane.” After being together for so many years, Taehyung knows how to make his words sound sweet and enticing. And before you can even damn him for always catering to you and babying you, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

[Day Two] Breakfast is as incredible as dinner was. There’s a full fruit platter that’s apparently all organic and a number of carbohydrates to fill yourself all the way to lunch. But you begin to regret eating so much with the scheduled activity that follows. “Couples yoga is a way to build intimacy and trust with your partner.” Hyunjin and Jimin smile brilliantly and you wonder if they’re happy go lucky all the time. It must be fucking exhausting. “Taehyung.” You nudge the man beside you who’s intently listening and he turns his head. “You know I’m not flexible at all.” “Don’t worry.” He flashes a blazing grin. It’s way too early for this. “This is just for fun and I’ll catch you if anything.” “No. Last time I tried doing yoga, I pulled a muscle in my thigh—” “Oh look. They’re doing the first pose!” Your husband excitedly lugs you down and you’re forced to comply, crossing your legs and facing him. It’s simple at first. There are basic poses with him leaning against you. Although it is hard to find a good balance considering how tall Taehyung is and even for being lanky, he’s quite a bit stronger than you are. But when Hyunjin and Jimin begin to twist themselves around and Jimin holds her up by the feet with a single hand, you know it’s impossible. Unlike Taehyung, you never did cheerleading or any acrobatics. “You’re going to drop me or I’m going to snap your spine, Tae!” “Don’t you trust me?” You look at your half-monkey, half-clown of a husband. “Do you really want to know the truth?” The both of you collapse into a heaping mess before he can confirm or deny. He laughs and starts tickling you for not being able to listen until you’re begging him to stop before you look more like an idiot than you already do. There’s a few couples who do a good job and you giggle when Taehyung mutters passive aggressive comments on how they’re teacher’s pets or that their form is awful. But there’s the fair share of other pairs who do as bad as you, namely Seokjin and Dahyun, the old couple from last night, bickering at being unable to do any poses. You can’t say that couple’s yoga is particularly relaxing, but it’s silly and you find yourself having fun. Hyunjin leads the cool down exercise and Taehyung nearly whacks you in the head with how he stretches. Your glare gains his exaggerated pout then cheesy smile. “Now as the very last cool down exercise, we’re going to take our partners by the hand.” You mimic her and clasp Taehyung’s hands, awaiting further instructions. “And we’re going to gaze into their eyes.” What? “Focus into the colour of their irises, how brown or blue or green they might be, or even the pattern of them. Sometimes we don’t truly look at one another like we should.” “What are they even saying?” you mutter and the corner of Taehyung’s mouth twitches. In spite of how bizarre it is, you follow and stare into Taehyung’s rounded eyes. They’re brown. Like they’ve always been. But you must admit, when the morning sunlight catches his irises at particular angles, the colour is a lighter shade than usual. They’re quite bright too. “They say if we gaze into the eyes of someone we love, our heartbeat synchronizes together.” What? Your brows furrow skeptically and you’re about to turn away, but suddenly Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin. “Don’t look away,” he commands with an authoritative voice and you swallow hard. “Okay.” You focus your eyes to enlarge and focus. “I’m looking.” You wonder if this is a staring contest, but even with his wolfish smile and being married for so long, Taehyung’s intent stare starts to make you feel vulnerable. You wonder if he’s always looked at you so affectionately. More importantly, you realize that even with all his dumb antics — like deciding to paint the fence green and then stopping halfway or ripping out the cabinets in the kitchen and never replacing them like he intended — you still love this sweet and kind dummy. “Alright. Everyone can relax now,” Jimin announces softly as he claps and you finally blink a few times, eyes stinging from how you forced them open. “That’s the end of this session. Thank you for joining everyone.” Yet, Taehyung holds your gaze a moment longer. And before you can pipe up and tell him it’s over, the man leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. He smiles when he pulls away. “As much as sweat is a good look on you, I think it’s time to shower, Mrs. Kim.” You scoff and he holds your hand with an enormous grin, dragging you back to the yurt. The two of you hop into the shower together, a habit that Taehyung insists is to save water for the good of the environment, but you swear half the time, you end up wasting more than if either of you do it separately. You’re sure that right now is one of those times. “Hey.” You turn around as he’s lathering up his shampoo. “Hey, yourself.” He smiles and shifts towards the stream of water before screaming at how hot it is. Taehyung quickly adjusts it, dissipating the fog on the glass. “Why do you like bathing in molten lava, woman?” “You always make it too cold.” You scoff, but don’t dwell on the argument as you lean into his backside. “Listen, should we get a quickie in?” Taehyung frees himself of the soap and looks at you. “If we do, we’ll miss lunch and then the hike.” “We’re going on a hike?!” “Yep, so hurry up cause if we don’t get lunch, we’re not gonna make it!” He gets out of the shower, leaving you to be bludgeoned by the ice, cold water. You sigh in exasperation. The purpose of coming here is to conceive, not go on a hike. But with how enthused he is, you begrudgingly join. Afternoons are the worst out here. The sun is sweltering and there isn’t an ounce of a breeze or a wind. As a result, the heat stifles and lingers without dissipating, causing sweat to dampen your clothing and stick to the back of your neck. The weather exhausts you and you feel your creamy lunch pasta up your throat again as you lug your legs up the steep, rocky incline. No matter how much you try to keep up, you fall behind from the group. Taehyung twirls around with a big grin, mouth perfectly symmetrically. “Are you okay?” “W-What does it look like?” you pant. It’s unfair that Taehyung works out once a year and treats his body like a candy trashcan but is still more fit than you are. “I can carry you if you want.” “You’re going to snap in half carrying me.” You pass him as he laughs. You hear him catch up, feet skipping along like he’s playing hopscotch. Then suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted off the ground and you shriek, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck. You’re scooped up in his arms like he’s about to kick down the door into the bedroom, but instead, he starts sprinting up the path like a maniac. “Taehyung!” you squeal and he laughs again. “Isn’t this better?” “Aren’t you tired?” “If I say yes, you’re gonna think I’m trying to tell you to lose weight, but for the record, I like how soft you are.” You roll your eyes, embarrassed as you pass a few couples, but none of them seem to find it bizarre and they even smile warmly at you and Taehyung. Yet, he starts to slow down tremendously after a few minutes, panting and sweating profusely. You ask him if he’s going to put you down yet, but you underestimate just how stubborn your dear husband is. Taehyung refuses until you’re up at the top of the trail, making it to where Jimin and Hyunjin are by the waterfall. There, you’re finally on set on your feet again. You pass him your water bottle. “Drink it before I’m the one dragging you down.” He grins and downs it. Up here, it’s much more refreshing and easier to breathe. There’s a tiny waterfall coming from the higher mountains and there are trees around to provide shade. When you squint, you can see the campsite at a distance with all the yurts. “We should take some pictures!” Taehyung declares when he steadies his breath and pulls out his selfie stick from the hideous fanny pack that you still won’t admit is pretty convenient. “Your mom is gonna want a copy so don’t pull any ugly faces, Tae.” “My face is never ugly.” He tugs you beside him and snaps a few shots before reviewing them carefully. Taehyung always had an eye for these kinds of things. “We didn’t get a good angle of the water.” “I can take it for you.” “What’s the point if we’re not together?” His thick brows are furrowed, lips lopsided, sighing. A matronly and friendly voice pipes up next to you, “Do you need any help?” Dahyun is smiling with Seokjin beside her and Taehyung appears relieved. “Yes, please.” She takes his phone as he folds back his selfie stick and she stands off to the side, capturing you and Taehyung smiling with his arm around you. “One. Two. Three. I’ll take another one.” Dahyun changes the angle a bit and Taehyung leans over to pull on your cheek while you feign a glare at him. The second picture is taken while the woman and her husband laugh, endeared. “There we go. You can check them to see if they’re good.” The phone is handed back and by Taehyung’s expression, it seems acceptable. “You two are too cute. When did you get married?” “Oh, I think three years ago? Yeah. Three.” It’s much longer than it actually feels. It seemed like it was a week ago when you first met in class and thought he was annoying. Like yesterday, he was supposed to propose at a fancy restaurant but failed when you found the ring box the night before — how he screamed at you to stop, but it was too late and he ended up going with it. They’ve all become memories that you cherish. “We met back in school and dated a while before getting married.” Dahyun smiles. “Have you decided how many kids you want yet?” You hitch a thumb to Taehyung. “He wants four, but I’m fine with two.” “The bigger the family, the better, right?” he says, looking up from the screen of his phone. “Wait until you have kids, you’ll end up wanting more,” Seokjin chuckles, “That or you’ll want to give them all away, but personally, I could raise a whole football team if she’d let me.” His wife jabs him in the ribs. “Yeah, because you’re not the one who has to give birth to them.” “And that’s why you’re the boss of the house.” He pouts at her while the corners of his mouth tickle up into a smile, and she relents. “Let’s be honest, the real boss of the house is our little troublemaker. I swear he took after all your bad traits.” Seokjin gasps. “Excuse me, Youngjae is my most masterful creation...even if he painted all over our leather seats and popped our car tire with his batman toy.” She shakes her head with a light sigh, but it’s hard to hide her beaming expression. “I should’ve known he would give me trouble when he went past the due date for two weeks.” “T-two weeks?” you sputter. Dahyun nods, finally having the sympathy she was trying to fish out of her husband. “My stomach was as big as a watermelon and I was in labour for fourteen hours before I ended up getting an emergency c-section and he came out a whopping ten pounds.” Your head is swirling as you try to imagine a ten pound baby in this petite woman. It almost seems like a horror story that’s waiting to be picked up by Hollywood. “But honestly, the hardest part wasn’t the whole pregnancy or birthing process. It was afterwards.” Her exhale is long and fatigued. “Suddenly there’s another human being you’re responsible for and you have to take care of them while you’re still in recovery. I remember when Youngjae couldn’t stop crying in the middle of the night. I always had an idea that having kids was a lot of work, but you really don’t have time for yourself once they’re born, and not to mention my bladder was completely done for after the whole thing.” “Alright, alright.” Her husband pulls her close. “I already know you’re a woman warrior. I saw it with my own eyes.” Dahyun smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes and she turns to him, deadpanning, “No, you didn’t. You passed out half-way.” “I was there in spirit,” Seokjin insists humorously. Dahyun scoffs while Taehyung grins at their back and forth that’s reminiscent of his own dynamic with you. “But were they worth it?” “Oh, a thousand percent,” Dahyun responds without needing a second to consider, expression softening. “Enough that I would want to do it all over again.” She doesn’t get a chance to say much else when Jimin’s voice pierces through the chatter and everyone gathers together with the last stragglers who have finally made it up. “Thank you, everyone, for coming all the way up here. This is Serenity Falls that was actually…” But his voice drowns out. You linger on what Dahyun said, about child rearing and birthing, and there’s nothing that can be done to the uneasy emotion swelling inside of you. The walk back down is silent. Done without a single complaint from you about the hot weather or how your feet ache. Taehyung notices, glancing at you several times. He doesn’t say anything until you’re back at the yurt. “What’s wrong?” You look at him from across the room. “Nothing, why?” “You’ve just been quiet.” “I just….” You inhale and decide to divulge him. “I was just thinking about what Dahyun and Seokjin were saying. Do you think we’re cut out for this, Taehyung?” His head quirks to one side. “Why wouldn’t we be?” “You and I can barely take care of ourselves.” “That’s not true.” “We forget to buy food all the time.” “That makes midnight snack runs fun.” He grins. You exhale an unsteady breath and Taehyung approaches you. He doesn’t mind how sweaty you are and wraps his arms around your waist. “We’ll figure it out. You said it yourself, right? One step at a time.” “But what if it’s too much and you decide you don’t want to do it anymore? Or that...you don’t want to be with me?” He opens his mouth, but you keep going before he can jump in. It’s not just about you being self-conscious or needing reassurance. You’re simply trying to imagine the worst case scenario as realistically as you can. “Like when I’m still bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do.” “I’ll still love you no matter the changes,” Taehyung murmurs earnestly, searching your expression. “Even if you’re bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do. I’ll use google to figure it out and get the baby to calm down and I’ll get you some chocolate and I’ll rub your feet.” You scoff lightly. “You make it sound so easy.” “Maybe because it won’t be as hard as you think. I’m great with kids and we got killer teamwork, you know, plus this baby’ll be the best project we’ve ever done together.” “A project that’s gonna last us eighteen years.” You smile. Taehyung laughs, the sound mellifluous in the room. “Which isn’t that long considering how fast time moves.” You hum and encircle your arms around his neck. Taehyung gets the hint and leans in to seal your lips against his, slotting them together to kiss you the way he knows you like it. It’s slow, comforting, an opportunity to revel in the softness of his lips. Taehyung gives you courage — he always has and when you break apart, smiling against each other, you feel worlds better than before. “I’m gonna start a bubble bath. You can join me if you want.” It’s less of a suggestion and more of a demand, one Taehyung fully recognizes and makes him smile in amusement as you saunter away. Taking advantage of the tub in the bathroom, you lower the stopper of the drain and dump in the soap they offer. The water gets filled three quarters way with a layer of bubbles and you strip. You sigh as you get comfortable in the tub. “Is it warm?” Your husband leans against the doorway, arms crossed and the corner of his mouth curled. “Uh-huh.” You loll your head on the edge of the tub and lift up your foot, watching the way the water cascades off your skin. “Are you not going to get in?” “Maybe later,” Taehyung surprisingly replies. He rarely rejects any chance at jumping your bones when you’re being this forward about it. There’s no hike or lunch to catch that’s preventing him from having fun with you either. But as your husband walks out, you catch him unceremoniously stealing the clothes you have prepared and the stack of towels by the sink. “What are you doing?” “There’s no point in covering yourself up if I’m gonna strip you anyway.” He flashes a mischievous grin and you sigh, relenting in his antics. You simply lay back to enjoy the water, muscles relaxing and your brain that’s constantly in overdrive empties. After ten minutes, your skin begins to wrinkle, so you drain the water and get out. But the moment you stand up, the cool air conditioning slams into you and your body starts to shiver. “Taehyung!” you shout and hear silence. “At least give me a towel!” Fortunately for you, there’s a smaller one on the rack he missed so you swipe at it and wrap your shoulders to protect yourself. But you’re still dripping wet and in need of your clothes, so you stomp out to find your ridiculous partner who’s apparently five years old and— “HA!” Said man you’re searching for bursts out of the closet and you scream, startled half to death, nearly falling to the ground. Taehyung starts to laugh like a maniac. “Are you serious?!” You gawk at him. “How long did you even wait there for?” “Like five minutes ago.” The bastard wolfishly grins. “Worth it though.” You cock a brow at him, sighing. “So that’s why you didn’t join me in the bath?” “No. I didn’t join you, so I could do this.” He yanks the towel where your breasts meet, leaving you nude. Goosebumps rise all over your skin and your nipples harden in the frigid air. You screech, arms trying to cover yourself. “Taehyung, it’s cold!” “I can warm you up,” he says but then runs away when he reads the glare on your face, giggling boyishly. It’s completely childish. If anyone was watching, you’d be mortified, but it’s been a long time since there was any shame in your marriage, so you stomp after him while nude. You hunt the man down while he tries to evade by rounding the coffee table. It’s no longer about grabbing clothes or covering yourself up, it’s time for revenge. Luckily, the yurt isn’t big enough to have a game of tag. You manage to reach him and you steal the opportunity to yank his pants down. Taehyung, mid-laugh, trips on his feet and stumbles on the carpet. You burst out giggles, looking at his ass in the air and he giggles too from the infectious sound bubbling up your throat. “Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” He mutters in a low voice with half-lidded eyes and you scramble away with another shriek. “You started it!” You jump onto the bed and Taehyung kicks off his pants. You don’t ask why he’s skipped out on wearing boxers, but you notice he’s already half-hard and that only makes you laugh louder. He chases after you as you duck and steal his own tactic of rounding the coffee table. But unfortunately for you, Taehyung has always been destined to win with his longer legs. He catches you within two strides and snatches you as you scream. You’re thrown over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes and he smirks. “Caught you.” “Taehyung! People are gonna hear!” You laugh in spite of being the one who’s making most of the noise and he tosses you onto the bed. Usually, you hate to be manhandled, but your husband’s the only exception to the rule. “Let them hear.” He hovers over you and the laughter dies down. Taehyung stares earnestly into your eyes and your breathing becomes shallow. But you don’t like to lose and as his wife of three years, you know his one, true weakness. Your fingers lift to Taehyung’s armpits and he seizes when you start tickling him. You laugh when he does and once he doubles over, there’s an opening to the left, a perfect escape route. You steal the opportunity while you still have it and start to climb off the bed, but he regains his breath and grabs your ankle, tugging you back to him in one swift motion without even needing to try. Taehyung grins. “God, you’re such a brat sometimes.” “Yeah, and I know you like it.” He grabs your wrists before you can make another tickle attack and pins it above your head. You can tell that there’s no more time for jokes or any more playing around, not when you can feel his hard cock against your stomach. “You smell good,” he sighs into your neck, inhaling deeply. “Cherry blossom? Peony?” “Strawberries,” you answer. “You smell like sweat.” “You’re gonna end up like me anyway.” Taehyung smiles and leans in to kiss you. It isn’t shy or chaste. His tongue licks into your mouth and you exhale, a strangled moan muffled against his lips as you melt against him. He finally has you where he wants and you let him take control. The pair of you swap spit for a few minutes until he releases your hands, allowing you to curl your fingers into his shoulders as he caresses your waist. Taehyung eventually breaks away with a playful glint in his eyes. “You wanna try the toys?” You both look at the basket half across the room and he rolls off of you. You get to your feet to inspect it for yourself and discover an array of colourful gadgets, some that you’ve tried before and others that you’re sure needs to have an instruction manual with it. “I’m not putting any of these dildos in me, Tae. I don’t know where they’ve been.” “I know.” He lays with his head propped up by his hand and you eye something at the bottom of the basket. You pull out a leather whip and look at him. “Ooh, a classic pick there, sweetheart.” A whip seems more sanitary considering it doesn’t have to go in anyone’s orifices. “Is it?” You approach with a tiny smile, staring down the innocent man. “Roll over.” “What?” “I’ll whip you.” You grin and he blinks at you. More often than not, you’re the more submissive one in bed, but the idea of having Taehyung crying out and the idea of you cackling at his pain has him immediately rolling face down in intrigue and you stepping up on the bed. He turns his face to the side. “Do you know how to do it?” “How hard can it be?” There’s a pause. “But tell me if it hurts.” “The point is to make it hurt, Y/N.” “Yeah, but I don’t want to hurt you-hurt you.” “I can handle it.” Taehyung smirks and you scoff. Even in this position, he’s trying to maintain his dominance. You grip it tightly and don’t count. Simply, with a flick your wrist, you slam the whip across his backside. It makes a loud cracking sound and you hear Taehyung sharply inhale. His teeth grit and you freeze, watching his expression carefully. “How was it?” “Is my back split open?” he asks, trying to look over his shoulder. “No.” “I think I might have to go to the ER.” He sits up completely, overdramatic in the way he fumbles around and his tone filled with some mischief. “I think there’s internal bleeding. Or my spine is broken. I wouldn’t be surprised.” “It’s fine, Tae.” you laugh. So much for telling you to go for it. But you already had an inkling Taehyung wasn’t one for receiving pain. After all, he’s still your whiny baby who only eats vanilla yogurt. “Not your thing?” “Not my thing.” He takes the whip from your hand and tosses it across the room. “I have a better toy in mind.” You’re about to remind him you’re not gonna put any of those communal toys inside of you, but he instead walks over to his suitcase and starts tearing some clear packaging open with something pink inside. You read the label — it’s a remote control vibrating egg. Your brows furrow. “When did you get that?” “Two days before we left. Amazon prime, babe.” “So that’s what you were looking at when you told me you were doing some online shopping?” “Precisely.” Taehyung grins and you’re not sure if you should be pleasantly surprised or in dismay since the two of you have already made a pact not to buy anything else online. The treadmill bought on an impulse is still taking up half the space of the living room. Before you can think too much, Taehyung gets it open and comes over. He nudges your thighs to open and you lay back, leaning against the headboard. You’re not that wet yet, if at all, but it doesn’t stay that way when his long fingers rub against your clit in circles. With his other hand, he strokes against your slit and then sinks his index finger in knuckle deep. You throw back your head, moaning his name at the intrusion while he remains silent, intently watching your pink cunt squeeze. Taehyung curls his finger and swallows hard. The sloppy sounds of your cunt fill the room and he hums in satisfaction. “Okay. Ready?” “Uh-huh.” The head of the cold egg meets your folds and it slowly enters. While the toy might not be big or long, the girth stretches against your warm walls and you keen. Taehyung makes a low noise, encouraging you to take it. When it’s in, he smiles brilliantly. “Good job, sweetheart. You did it.” “Now what?” “This, of course.” Taehyung dangles the remote in front of you and then like a psycho, he ramps it up to the highest possible setting. Intense vibrations are felt through your body instantaneously and you cry, head knocked back against the headboard as your velvet walls squeeze and tremble. “T-Taehyung!” “Good?” “I-It’s too much!” You’re completely at his mercy and he takes advantage of it, drinking you in with a wolfish smile. You’re unable to muster a glare at him, reduced to a complete mess while your center leaks and drips onto the sheet. Still, you try to reach over to the remote. He dodges when you lunge at him. “Nu-uh.” Luckily, you get a hold of your husband and climb over to him. His arm is extended straight up, laughing as you try to snatch it from him. He waves it inches away to mock you while enjoying the sight of you quivering on top of him. “T-Tae!” “Okay, okay.” He laughs and transfers it into his other hand, about to turn the setting down a notch. But right at the moment you’re about to snag it for yourself, the remote flies out of his hand. It falls through the gap between the wall and the headboard. It clatters to the ground. “Oh shit.” “Taehyung!” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rolls off the mattress and looks underneath the bed before abruptly standing. “I’m going to need a long stick or something.” He starts to look around the room, searching for a tool to grab the remote that’s out of reach, and you don’t know if you should suffocate him with a pillow or facepalm yourself hard enough to get knocked out into a coma. You can pull out the egg yourself, but the violent vibrations were beginning to thrum pleasure through you, so as your useless husband goes fishing for the remote, you finish the job. Your fingers play with your clit, rubbing the bud as your slick drips down your thighs and you come hard on the toy. The same moment light flashes beneath your eyelids and your toes curl, Taehyung grabs the remote with the help of a rolled brochure and shuts it off. The both of you are winded for different reasons. “You know, I'd say that was pretty hot if not for how stressful that actually was.” “You’re an idiot.” You tug the toy out of you and bat him over lazily, feeling spent on how hard you came. “Now dump some sperm in me, idiot.” Taehyung has a cheesy grin and climbs over you. Despite the struggles of grabbing the toy’s remote, he’s fully hard from the noises you were making. “I’d tell you to ask more nicely, but I’ll let it go.” He aligns the head of his weeping cock to your swollen cunt and leans his weight into you. He starts to push in and you whine, gripping his forearms. As wet as you are, Taehyung is still well-endowed — less girthy than the toy, but there’s a considerable length to him. When he bottoms out, you can feel him all the way to your throat. He tucks sweaty strands of hair behind your ear and kisses you. “Sorry about earlier.” “’t’s okay. It was fun,” you admit and he smiles, starting to work up a good rhythm. You feel hot in your face with the pressure of his body on top of yours, hardened nipples brushing against his chest. Your cunt pulses and squeezes around his length. It draws Taehyung’s groans into your neck. “F-Fuck. You’re so tight.” It feels good and you know he’s reveling in the pleasure too. His eyes are shut tight, the scrunch made between his brows and it entices you to reach up and kiss him to which he sweetly indulges you. Your tongues twine as you pant against each other and Taehyung starts to lose his pacing. He bends your knee, hitting you at a deeper angle as his strokes become increasingly frantic and quick. You egg him on and he groans once more before he thrusts himself as deep as he can go and cums. Ropes of white paint your walls, the head of his cock against your cervix and filling your cunt and womb up. You can feel some of it dribbling out, seeping past your folds and when Taehyung’s about to withdraw, you quickly grab his forearm. “Wait. Just stay put for a second. I have to keep it in.” He nods and kisses your lips. “Okay.” Taehyung nestles into you, nuzzling into your neck and you hope this is the one.

[Day Three] There were lots of activities and amenities offered and advertised by Jimin during the introduction of the retreat, but you realize you might’ve missed over the most important one of all. “How does that feel?” the massage therapist asks as she works a knot out of your shoulders and smooths your skin with the oil. “Amazing,” you murmur from the corner of your mouth, melted against the table. Couples massages were something you always scoffed at, but holy shit, it’s absolutely paradise. With the breeze blowing through the pitched tent and the glowing humidifier releasing a fresh scent, you’ve never been more relaxed as all the stiffness is worked out of you. You open your eyes to see Taehyung enjoying it as well — though not as much as you are since he’s quite ticklish. Sometimes, he squirms a bit too much and his massage therapist is at a loss of what to do. But when it’s all done, you feel like you’re in a new body. “Oh my god. I think I’m more flexible than before. Look, Tae!” You stretch your leg and he giggles at how happy your mood is. “If I knew you liked it this much, I would’ve signed us up for one at the spy near the gym.” Your eyes are wide, catching the sunlight. “Do you think they’re as good as this place?” Taehyung grins. “Probably.” “We should go when we get back then. Oh, do you wanna check out the library?” “Sure.” You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together and he smiles to himself. It’s a free day without many planned activities, giving you both an opportunity to look around the retreat for yourselves and take it easy. And the pair of you take full advantage of the opportunity. Since morning, you were lazing around the yurt and after breakfast and the massages, you decide to lay in one of the hammocks by the trees while Taehyung naps with you. Said man hasn't seen you this stress free in a while, so he happily indulges you in all your wishes. Even when night falls and you step away from the stage where Hyunjin is performing again to stargaze. It’s an odd activity for you since mosquitoes love to especially swarm around you when given the chance and on numerous occasions, you’ve been a moth landing spot. But tonight, the breeze is soft and gentle, and you don't feel any tickles on your skin that isn’t Taehyung’s hand grazing against yours. The grass is pliant beneath your feet and the fairy lights twinkle far away enough that its luminescence doesn’t obstruct. You knock your heads back to view the horizon, allowing the darkness to engulf you and the stars to emerge. “Remember Bali?” “When you lost your passport?” “When we went stargazing with the tour group,” Taehyung corrects. “It still wasn’t as beautiful as this.” “You think everything in front of you is the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You said that about the Eiffel and then Tokyo Tower.” He laughs. “Hey, my mind doesn’t change that often. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.” You scoff, looking away from the sky towards him with a pout. He always knows how to lay on the sappiness without needing to blink. Your dear husband has always been shameless in that aspect and you adore him for it. “So I’m a thing to you now?” “You know that’s not what I mean.” He wraps his arms around your waist. The both of you stare up at the sky. “Is that the big dipper?” You look at where he’s pointing to the large clusters of stars. “I can’t see it. Maybe that’s scorpio.” “Nah, I don’t think so.” Taehyung tries guessing, “It might be taurus or gemini. Or libra.” “Aren’t you just naming astrological signs now?” “Maybe.” He grins. “I’m a capricorn.” “Yes, I know.” You two of you clearly don’t know anything about constellations or how to find them, but it doesn’t make the moment any less enjoyable. Yet when your necks start to ache, he takes your hand and strolls down the path through the trees. “Taehyung. What if we get lost?” None of you have your phones or any flashlights. There’s only the crescent moon giving off its light. “Don’t worry. I have a great sense of direction.” “You and I both know that’s not true.” “You have a great sense of direction, so we won’t get lost,” he says and you sigh without putting much of an argument up. Not when you knew he was headed to the lake you had peeked at earlier in the afternoon, and now it was shimmering with the moonlight, reflecting the starry horizon in its water. There’s a certain kind of peacefulness, a serenity that you would never get back in the city or even the suburbs. Certainly not without light pollution or the occasional car whizzing past. Here, there is none of those noises, none of those distractions, just you and Taehyung savouring the view⁠— “Hey.” But of course, your mischievous husband has to have ulterior motives for coming all the way here. And you know there are ulterior motives by that glint in his eye and the sly smile he has. “What?” “Wanna take a dip?” Your brows shoot to your hairline. “Are you crazy? It’s probably freezing! What if we get hypothermia and die?” “For the record, you’d make one beautiful angel. But I’ll warm you up before it gets to that point.” Taehyung grins and starts stripping, tugging his shirt right off his head. It’s always been like this — him proposing something out of your norm, you try to voice your concerns, and then you’re the one who’s diving head first into it without hesitation and end up having more fun than he does. “God, it’s so cold!” The moment the water touches your toes, you recoil. But you brace yourself and continue onward with your entire body shivering. It’s your first time skinny dipping ⁠— something normally reserved for rebellious teenagers and most certainly not for late twenty-some year olds. Yet neither of you have qualms, even if you’re shrieking and Taehyung is laughing and following behind you. “It’s freezing, Taehyung!” “Come here.” He pulls you to him so your backside is pressed to his front and you wonder how Taehyung can be so warm all the time. The pair of you get waist deep into it and you turn around to grip him. Your husband smiles and holds onto you, eventually going far enough that the water reaches your shoulders. “See? Isn’t this nice?” You hum, gazing up at the stars and the moon, the sight reflected on the water and how you’re pressed to Taehyung. “Seems like the beginning of a horror movie.” He laughs and your feet try to reach down to find stability, but you realize you can’t touch the ground anymore and your grip on him tightens. “Walk back a bit, Tae.” “Why?” “You know I can’t swim.” His mouth curls. “But I like how you’re holding onto me. I won’t let go,” he adds after a long pause, “if you beg me not to.” Your arms immediately come to loop around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist, latching onto him in a vice grip like a koala does to a branch. “Taehyung! I’m not kidding.” “Oh...oh!” The bastard pretends that he’s gonna let go of you and actually does for a split-second. He laughs at your panicked expression. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” You feign a pointed glare that turns out to be more of a pout. “You’re lucky I like you.” “You only like me?” “Yeah and if you keep going, I’m going to demote you from husband to friend.” Taehyung makes a pained, sharp sound. “Can’t let that happen then.” He suddenly hoists you up higher, grip secure on your thighs and smiles brilliantly while you scoff. You savour the view and the warmth of his body heat, but you’re slightly distracted. “Do you think anyone’s gonna steal our clothes, Tae?” You squint at the small pile near the shore. “Who would?” “I don’t know. What if a bear comes from the bushes and takes them? We’ll have to walk back naked.” “I’m pretty sure there aren’t bears here, Y/N. Stop overthinking it.” Taehyung suddenly grabs a hold of your chin and turns your head for you to look only at him. Then, he kisses you in a soft and gentle way before the tip of his tongue meets the seam of your lips. You happily oblige, parting them and allowing him access to your tongue and giving him a taste of you. The man hums in satisfaction as soft smacking noises fill the surroundings. You lean into his firm frame while Taehyung’s large hands slinks from your thigh to the curve of your ass. You feel his thumb probe against your folds. “T-Taehyung.” His hard length is beneath you and you grind down on him, feeling empty. It draws a groan from his throat. After a moment, you get his cock inside of you. The stretch soothes the itch you had, filling your cunt deliciously. But unlike the movies, it’s not enough for you. The water washes away the lubricant, each stroke rough and the glide slower than you’d like. So you beg him and the both of you are dragged up onto the shore again. You turn on all fours. The pebbles uncomfortably dig into your knees, but it’s a distraction that blurs into the background when Taehyung pounds into you. You feel all of him, his body heat against yours, each thrusting movement flicking off the droplets of water from your skin. And when Taehyung turns your head to kiss you while rubbing at your clit, you cum around his cock. He finishes as you beg for it and Taehyung’s sticky fluids leak down your thighs on the trek back.

[Day Four] Taehyung blinks blearily, slowly coming to consciousness. He scratches his bed head and groans at how his muscles ache. But when he turns his head, the other side of the bed is cold and empty. His eyes widen in confusion and he feels more awake than before. He checks the time and realizes he slept in, a total of ten hours, which isn’t a surprise considering how last night’s rendezvous continued and was more intense than usual. What is unusually, however, is that you’re gone. But he soon finds you outside. Bathing in the sun. Laying in a hammock. Napping with a book next to you. Your eyes flutter open as his shadow covers your figure. The corner of his mouth pulls. “Morning.” You sheepishly grin. “Morning.” “What time did you get up?” “Like an hour ago. The breeze was nice so I thought I’d do some reading, but I guess I accidentally fell asleep.” “Looks like you’ve gotten comfortable.” Taehyung’s enormous smile aches his cheeks. You’ve fallen in love with this place more than he has, but he doesn’t mind whatsoever. He loves watching you have fun. The two of you have breakfast, inhaling in the food, and then head to a meditation class on the grass led by Hyunjin. Typically, Taehyung has to convince you to take part in such a session and you’d usually wave it off as a waste of time. But there are no qualms or an ounce of hesitation in your expression when you head over. “Now breathe in, and out, a steady stream of breath. Think about all that you are grateful for. Everything that has made your life amazing, and let that positive energy surround you as the negative energy releases.” But while you’re eager, Taehyung, on the other hand, finds out that meditation is not cut out for him. He’s bored out of his mind from the lack of stimulation. Time feels like it’s dragging on slower, each second a minute and a minute is an hour. Somehow, meditating makes him feel even more exhausted than before and his mind ends up wandering. Taehyung thinks about how he’s really craving some fatty burgers instead of the organic oatmeal and yogurt he had — how hot the weather is — how it’s hard to breathe — how sweat sticks to his skin. “Hold your breath for three seconds and release for three seconds.” He sighs and peels back an eye to see you with your hands pressed together, concentrated in following instructions. The corner of his mouth tickles into a smile. As bored as he is, it’s worth seeing you happy. // The more excited you are about something, the more you run around from place to place and Taehyung’s resorted to looking for you. Luckily, the resort is small, so he finds you in front of the main building, chatting to a certain brunette with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks. “—heard that doggy actually works for some people, but for me, it doesn’t feel right...like…” “The head of the cock isn’t right up against the cervix?” Jimin hums thoughtfully. “Have you tried angling your leg better? Sometimes you need to bend a bit and he needs to be leaning towards the side rather than just hovering straight on top.” What. Taehyung’s brows lift and he quickly approaches. Your face lights up when you see him. “Oh, hey.” “I was looking for you.” Taehyung throws his arm over your shoulder and subtly tugs you into his chest. He looks at the other man, eyes narrowed in on him which he doesn’t seem to notice. “Sorry, I was just caught up with Jimin.” “What were you talking about?” “What position is best for conception.” You blink innocently like it’s not a big deal you’re exploiting the details about your sex lives to another guy, and while he’s not embarrassed whatsoever, it was a bit too much information being shared for Taehyung’s liking. “Turns out elevating the hips might not help as much as we thought it does.” “Huh.” Taehyung deadpans, “That’s interesting.” “I know, right?” Your expression is bright, oblivious to his turmoil. At the same time, Hyunjin exits from the building in yet another flower crown and flowy skirt. She smiles at the both of you and joins Jimin’s side, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek and holding his hand. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.” You smile at her. “No, it’s okay.” The woman nods and looks to her partner while her voice drops into a more private tone. “Just wanted to let you know that Taehoon and I are done.” As if to validate her words, a timid yet tall man exits the building and they wave goodbye to one another before he walks off towards the parking lot. Jimin smiles. “Did you have fun?” “Yeah. It was nice.” Both you and Taehyung exchange expressions. He wonders if you’re thinking what he is or if he’s understanding the insinuations correctly. As if they catch the inquisitive looks on your faces, they smile in a relaxed way. There’s no need to explain anything to either of you when you’re strangers, but they’re open enough and Hyunjin says, “Taehoon’s my second partner.” “Second...partner?” “Hyunjin and I are in an open relationship,” Jimin clarifies in a friendly manner. “It’s not really traditional, but it works well for us.” “Oh.” Taehyung and you wordlessly bob your heads. He’s pretty sure they mentioned it during their introduction but it slipped his mind. They must get asked a lot of questions too since Hyunjin answers what he’s thinking, telling the both of you there’s not a lot of jealousy involved since they trust each other wholeheartedly and communicate a lot. And rather than finding it bizarre, you’re left intrigued. Taehyung notices as you walk away. “Do you want an open relationship too?” “You know it would never work for us.” You lean over, hugging his arm. “I’m too possessive for that.” He laughs. “Then what about talking to Jimin about our sex positions?” “He’s a professional.” You shrug. “I thought I could get helpful advice. Why?” “Nothing, it’s just kind of weird.” Jimin doesn’t look like a professional. He looks like just some dude in khaki shorts and a white shirt, obnoxiously bulging biceps, probably has rock hard abs, and he’s in an open relationship and clearly doesn’t mind chatting up you, aka Taehyung’s wife. “Are you jealous?” “What? No.” Taehyung scoffs, suddenly defensive and you give him that look like you know him better than that. “I just don’t think we don’t need to ask for help yet, and at least not about our positions. We’re gonna have a baby one way or another, Y/N. We just have to be patient.” “Tell that to my dying eggs.” You walk off and Taehyung grins. “My sperm’s strong enough that it’ll rescue your dying eggs.” // Evening eventually comes and you try to revel in the surrounding sights, the atmosphere of the entire place and the very cozy yurt you’ve grown to adore. It’s sad knowing that tomorrow you’ll have to depart from the resort. You regret not coming here with a more open mind. That way, you could’ve enjoyed and embraced this place much sooner. “Actually, I’m kind of glad. I’m getting sick of them serving the same food.” You’re shocked at your husband’s apathy. “But it’s antioxidant-rich—” “I just want some fried chicken or a burger.” You scoff. “That’s why the doctor told you to lower your blood sugar and you’re not even over forty yet.” But still, you’re taken aback that he’s not in love with the resort. “Out of everyone, I thought this would’ve been your haven. I was expecting you to beg me to build a cabin here or something to stay.” Taehyung hums, leaning back into the chair. “I’m not saying the resort is bad. As long as I get to spend time with you, I like it. And I like that you like it.” “Psh.” He always knows how to say the right thing, especially when he’s doing it absentmindedly and not trying to get something out of you. You lean over, hand lifting to squeeze his cheeks together and you turn his head to kiss him. Taehyung smiles at the soft and affectionate gesture. But you look at him with half-lidded eyes that mean more. “Wanna ditch?” It’s the final celebration that Jimin and Hyunjin are happily hosting, but you don’t mind leaving for some more quality time with Taehyung, and he happily agrees. The both of you sneak out of the crowd, stumbling back into the yurt, giggly and giddy like you’re still teenagers trying to be stealthy at midnight. Taehyung kisses you silly and soon, your back is hitting the mattress. He almost rips your dress with how hastily he tries to tear it off your head and you’re stuck for a moment until you manage to get it off. But in spite of how childish your antics are or how Taehyung blows raspberries on your tummy, each one of his touches is intimate and loving. He holds your hips down and eats you out until you cum twice. Then you’re flipped onto your stomach with him on top of you — his cock is dug into your pussy, every draw and thrust delicious. Your walls pulse along his length and you moan his name and clutch the sheets with tight fists. You relish in the pressure of his body pressed on top of yours as he pounds into you. It only takes a few minutes before he’s releasing into your womb, cumming hard enough that you feel it too. He rolls off of you, spent, but you gather your energy and hold him down for a second round. You’re a woman on a mission and you’re going to make sure you leave this resort with Kim Taehyung’s baby inside of you.

[Day Five] The final day of the resort has arrived much to your dismay, and you feel sad enough to cry. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done.” “It’s our pleasure.” Hyunjin grins, her arms wrapped around Jimin’s. “We just hope you had a great time at our resort.” “Yes, I really loved it.” “Our doors are always open,” Jimin affirms. “If nothing’s stuck, you can always come back or if you’re ever looking for more siblings for the little one, you can come again too. We’re happy to welcome anyone that’s family back.” You’re moved by their words and much to Taehyung’s dismay, you give a brief embrace to each of them. You also manage to see the newlywed couple, Hoseok and Rose, who are still smiling and somehow look even more in-love than when they arrived. Dahyun and Seokjin, as well, wish you luck on your adventures. “We might be coming back real soon.” The woman sighs, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. “That husband of mine is planning to book another trip next month.” “So soon?” Dahyun nods with a long exhale. “I think he’s hoping I’m not pregnant so we can come here again.” Your laugh spurs on her own and you’re able to resonate with the hopelessness of husbands. Everyone is boarding the same bus, but this is the last opportunity to gather when people are getting dropped off from different places. So you make sure to savour the moment, get your last goodbyes in, and Taehyung pulls out his phone to snap several pictures of you for keepsakes. Then, the two of you board the bus with your luggage and settle in your seats. “You know,” you pipe up and Taehyung turns to you. “Even if we didn’t conceive, it was still fun.” He smiles while taking his hand. “Yeah? I’m glad.” Taehyung laces his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder as he, too, leans his head on top of yours. The bus pulls out of the lot and onto the road. Jimin and Hyunjin wave with brilliant grins, and together, you and Taehyung watch the little resort become a particle in the distance.

[Epilogue] This is terrible. Unexpected and spontaneous. “I have bad news.” You’re leaning against the door frame of Taehyung’s office and at your tone of voice, your husband looks away from the computer screen with wide eyes. “Are you divorcing me?” “No.” “Did you lose your job?” “No.” His entire body deflates in a sigh of relief and he leans back, hands grasping the armrests of his swivel chair. “Thank god because I just bought those new shake weights that were shown on TV.” “Yea— wait. What?” Taehyung’s bubbling laughter comes from his chest. “What is it?” He doesn’t notice the stick in your hand, so you throw it at him. Luckily, Taehyung’s reflexes are still in good shape and he claps his hands together, catching the stick before it hits his head. But then his brows furrow in confusion. “You’re probably going to need to wash your hands after that. I peed on it.” He doesn’t answer. Your oblivious husband instead takes a long second to inspect the stick and his pupils dilate. He finally realizes what it is and looks carefully. In the meanwhile, you hitch your breath, feeling unsettled. But then the most enormous smile stretches into his cheeks. It almost looks like his smile is about to break his face. “You’re pregnant,” Taehyung murmurs. “I sure am.” He looks at you. And then the stick. Then he looks at you again. Taehyung searches your expression in alarm as your words echo back to him. “Why is this bad news? D-did you change your mind? Do you not want kids?” You shake your head. “No. This is fantastic news. I just wanted an excuse to go to the retreat again.” He laughs and exhales a long breath. Taehyung scoots his chair over using the heels of his feet and comes to you. He throws his arms around your torso in a secure embrace while his ear is pressed gently to the flat plane of your stomach that’ll soon swell in the coming months. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, woman.” Taehyung’s brown eyes are lit with mirth and you ease into his hug as your fingers comb through his dark locks. Finally, you’re going to be parents. After waiting and hoping for so long, it was now on the horizon. There’s a sense of fear in you both, but you’re overwhelmed with euphoria and excitement. “We can always go back for the next kid.” “I haven’t even had this one yet and you’re already thinking of another.” “I can’t help it.” Taehyung grins, looking up at you and you lean down to kiss his smile. You have a feeling this baby’s going to be loved beyond belief.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fluff #FINALLY i can use the smut tag again looooool #BTS TAEHYUNG AS A SWEET GUY WHO'S NOT AS SWEET IN THE SHEETS #AND OC AS A GRUMBLING SIMP FOR HER HUSBAND

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Oldstones

Prompt: I got a prompt for you! (but no pressure if you don't wanna): The knights discover that Merlin is incredibly musically gifted but shy about it, and they try to make him see how talented he really is - aeonthedimensionalgirl

*vibes in playlists*

Read on Ao3

Warnings: it's fluff all the way down bois

Pairings: merthur, morgwen, can be platonic or romantic I don't care

Word Count: 2604

Merlin is allowed to keep secrets, yes, but that doesn’t stop people from wanting to find them out.

Come on, the man is literally the most conspicuous person in the castle, one doesn’t rise to that title without sparking at least half a dozen gossip trains each day. Whether it’s where he was when the King was in his private chambers with the knights standing guard, whether it’s how the speech the King hadn’t written is finished by the next morning, whether it’s how often things mysteriously show up just where they need to be…

There are rumors that he sneaks away from the castle at night. No one knows where he goes. Because it definitely isn’t the tavern.

But one doesn’t get Merlin without the host of people that surround him. Arthur, the King, of course. Gaius, the Royal Physician. Morgana, the Queen Regent, at least until her proper coronation. Gwen, who holds the ear of the servants in the castle—the real power here.

And the knights. Brothers, ’til the end. And Merlin is one of them. They couldn’t care less about the rumors flying around unless they hurt Merlin. Then, well, all bets are off. But Merlin is theirs and if there’s nothing wrong, they won’t ask questions.

That is until, of course, there is something that he really should’ve told them.

There is a negotiation with a neighboring lord about whether or not the knights will be allowed passage through his land on patrols. Arthur sends the knights and Merlin to go a broker a brief agreement with representatives before he can join them. The negotiations are long and offset by the fact that the leader keeps shooting narrow-eyed glances at Merlin.

“You sure we haven’t met before,” they ask for the fifth time, “you seem…familiar.”

“I can assure you,” he says, for the fifth time, “I would remember.”

Gwaine and Percival exchange a look. They’re making no headway, the leader is unwilling to accept anything as trade. If they don’t find something soon, the fingers itching towards swords will find their marks sooner or later.

Then Merlin sneezes.

He apologizes for interrupting the negotiations, only for the leader’s right hand to slap their knee and point accusingly at him.

“I knew it,” they crow, triumphant, “you’re the songbird!”

Merlin blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The songbird,” they repeat, standing, “you’re the one who sings in the abandoned arena.”

Well, that certainly explains where Merlin’s been sneaking off to if the way the tips of his ears turn red is anything to go off of. It certainly doesn’t help his case that a few more people run into the room, some of them children, and gasp when they realize that someone’s found the songbird.

“My apologies,” Merlin manages after a moment, the embarrassment still blooming on his cheeks, “I didn’t realize that anyone would—that I—that you could hear me.”

“But your voice is so pretty,” one of the children cries, “will you sing something for us now?”

“Oh, do the one about being happier!”

“No, no, the one about being a bad liar.”

“Ooh! Ooh! Or the one about the bright lights!”

“I’m quite partial to the ‘stay with me’ one,” another lieutenant remarks.

The knights look on, half amused, half bemused, as the requests pile up. Only when Merlin’s mortification begins to seep past his facade do they have mercy.

“That’s enough,” Elyan says gently to the children, “we don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“Don’t we,” Gwaine mutters.

“Well,” Merlin says before Leon can respond, “I believe we’ve found something you want.”

The leader regards him for a moment. Their face twists as they think.

“…and how am I supposed to know that you are the pretty little songbird that’s been singing in there?” They look him up and down. “You could just be using that as a convenient excuse.”

The right-hand snorts. “No one else kriffing sneezes like that.”

Lancelot hides a snort behind a cough.

“You are correct that we cannot offer you anything material or legal in exchange for the deal,” Merlin says, still heroically fighting the blush on his cheeks, “but perhaps this will suffice instead?”

“Entertainment,” they muse, tilting their head back and forth, “a tempting offer.”

“A song for the deal?”

“Not just one song,” the leader huffs, “more.”

They glance back at the knights.

“What you’re asking of us, it’s a lot. That’s a lot of money we’re losing. Damages, labor, replanting.” They glance at the lieutenant. “How much?”

“Three thousand.”

The leader whistles. “That’s pretty steep.”

Their attention shifts back to Merlin.

“Three thousand, huh? Three hours.” They lean forward, their eyes on Merlin’s face. “That’s about how long you normally spend in that old arena. Three hours.”

Merlin nods. “When?”

The leader’s smile grows. “Tomorrow evening, little songbird, when the lord and your king can come to watch.”

They ride back to camp with the paperwork of the deal completed, Gwaine teasing poor Merlin about his habit of sneaking out to an old abandoned arena and singing. Leon watches on, not bothering to hide his smile, as Merlin’s embarrassment fills the air. At one point he shoots him a look that clearly says ‘are you not going to help me?’

The one he sends back makes it clear that this is more than enough entertainment for him.

“Alright,” Lancelot says eventually when he sees Merlin’s jaw start to wobble, the line of embarrassment to humiliation much shorter than he would like, “that’s enough, leave him be. After all, the songbird has to perform tonight, don’t make him lose his voice before he closes the deal.”

“I’ll take it,” Merlin mutters.

They do thank Merlin for agreeing to do this when they get to camp. Leon slaps him on the shoulder and congratulates him for being willing to do it.

“It’s fine,” Merlin says, shuffling a little next to the fire, “I just…wasn’t expecting it.”

“Well, no,” Gwaine sighs loudly, “I also wasn’t expecting to find out that one of my oldest friends is a songbird.”

“Merlin’s your oldest friend?” Elyan snorts. “How bad are you at making friends?”

“Oi!”

“No, wait, seriously, do you have no other friends?”

“I have friends!”

“Really? Who are they?”

Merlin grins as the topic of conversation steers away from him and more toward Gwaine’s apparent inability to make friends. Well, meaningful friends. People you down pints in the tavern with don’t really count—no they don’t, Gwaine.

Of course, just because the knights are getting distracted doesn’t mean Leon is getting distracted.

“How long have you been able to sing for, Merlin,” he asks softly, too unobtrusive for the others to notice, “did your mother teach you?”

The tips of Merlin’s ears redden again. “No.”

“It’s alright, Merlin,” he says softly, “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, it’s alright.”

“It’s—it’s—“ he shifts— “it’s nothing.”

“If the lord was ready to make a deal over the promise of your voice, that’s not nothing, Merlin.” Leon frowns when Merlin just keeps shifting uncomfortably. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“That’s alright.”

“You’ll laugh.”

“Never,” he promises gently, “not if it’s worrying you this much.”

Merlin shifts a little more. “…I’m not actually that good.”

“Lie.”

Merlin’s head jerks around as Leon glances over his shoulder to see Lancelot watching them. The knight nods toward the other three who are now arguing about the precise alcohol quantity of some tavern drink as he scoots closer.

“Lie,” he repeats softly, “I’ve heard you sing, Merlin, you’re incredible.”

“Did you—“ Merlin splutters— “did you follow me?”

“No,” Lancelot says, raising his hands, “but the patrols do go there from time to time.”

Merlin buries his face in his hands. How many people have heard him?

“Shh,” Lancelot says, bringing his hands away, “you’ll do great. And if you don’t, we’ll be the ones who suffer the consequences for agreeing to a ridiculous deal.”

Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

“Because it was the first thing they suggested that wasn’t entirely unreasonable.”

“You think this is reasonable?”

“Well, yes, compared to the thirteen caskets of gold, two barrels of opals, and six cartloads of mead.”

“It will be fine, Merlin,” Leon promises, “don’t worry so much.”

Merlin is plenty worried, thank you very much, especially when Arthur, Morgana, and Gwen show up the next day to look very very confused at what the deal has turned out to be. Arthur is fully intent on teasing Merlin mercilessly about his singing only for Leon and Lancelot to shoot him a death glare. He shrugs. He can do it perfectly well afterward.

The lord meets with them, they sit in their places of honor, and Gwaine cups Merlin’s elbow as he steps onto the stage.

“Ready, songbird?”

He sighs. “Are you going to keep calling me that?”

Gwaine just grins.

Merlin looks…small on the stage, they realize, despite the fact that he looks right.

Then he begins to sing.

Gods.

Three hours feel like an eternity, collapsed into an instant. His voice lifts and soars, pouring into the air like an endless well. The happy songs send them into the stratosphere, the sad ones drop them into the planet’s core. Arthur reaches blindly for Morgana’s hand at one point and they cling to each other, there in the upper corners of the theatre.

One song reaches deep into Morgana’s chest and tugs in too many places to be unfamiliar. Wrapped up in power, unable to use it properly, cultivated as a thing, a cog in a machine, trapped. A dangerous flare in her gut, reached only by the way Merlin’s aura hides reluctant darkness, one borne on necessity and resentment.

One song pushes back against Arthur’s shields, calls out to a child. A child, too soon knighted, too soon forced into the mold of the perfect King, still raw from years and years of being overlooked, not being chosen, not being wanted. It calls out in remorse, in mourning for someone lost long ago yet could not be grieved because they’re still here, just buried under layers and layers of armor. The person they used to be.

One song hurts them both.

They’re not sure how long it’s been when Merlin stops for a moment, smiling, before he takes a moment to talk about the next song.

He says that there is a tale, an old one, about a soldier. A legendary warrior, impervious to all harm, except for one spot on his body. His heel. When his mother held him as she bathed him in power, something that would keep him safe, keep him invulnerable. What she did not realize is that her son did not have just physical weaknesses, nor that her son’s supposed invulnerability would keep people from realizing that he was a person too.

He says that the story tells of someone very important to this warrior, someone who realized that he was human, first and foremost, and that someone was taken away. Murdered. And what good was that invulnerability if he could not protect the one he loved? The warrior was only human, after all, and humans make mistakes. And they need to be reminded that’s all they are, behind all the power, all the invulnerability, they’re human.

The name of the warrior?

Achilles.

His voice has a sense of urgency now, one that they’ve only heard once before. When a squire, suddenly happy after months of being lost in their own head, climbed to the highest balcony in the castle and stood there, wobbling in the wind.

The song climbs, higher, and higher, the urgency growing, his light shining brighter and brighter.

Then the trick.

Another voice, dark and distorted, a twisted version of him, ringing out in the theater despite the fact that his mouth is closed. Gasps and shock as the audience tries to figure out what the trick is, how this is happening, too caught up in the thrill of the performance to care that it might be magic. The dark voice whispers temptation, scorns the others, tells the warrior to jump.

Morgana does not let go of Arthur and Arthur will not let go of Morgana.

The dark voice sings alongside Merlin, the theater caught in the storm of his making. The dark voice vanishes into a whisper, Merlin all but pleading the warrior to come down.

As the last verse starts, he looks directly at them.

There is no more facade, no more roles for him to play. This is Merlin, singing to them. The concert may be for the deal, this song is theirs.

Throw yourself into the unknown

With pace and a fury defiant.

Clothe yourself in beauty untold

And see life as a means to a triumph.

Today of all days, see

How the most dangerous thing is to love

How you will heal and you'll rise above.

Crowned by an overture bold and beyond

Ah, it's more courageous to overcome.

When the song ends and the spell is broken, the whole theater has to take a moment to breathe.

There are more songs, more that touch different people in different ways.

“I will say this,” Morgana whispers, still blinking away tears, “I don’t see them backing out of the deal.”

Arthur can’t find the words to reply.

Too soon, Merlin announces that the next song is the last one. The theater crows in protest, Arthur and Morgana among them, despite themselves. A strange look crosses his face as he raises an eyebrow.

“No? You don’t want to leave?”

Another round of ‘no’ goes up.

“But we have to,” he says softly, his voice still ringing as if surrounded by old stone halls, “we can’t stay here, as much as we want to. We have to keep going. We can’t be the rock that the water beats away at, we’ll be worn to nothing.”

To their surprise, he sits.

“…or we’ll fade into ghosts.” He looks around. “But we’d like to stay here, for a moment longer, with the ghosts, yes?”

At the noises of agreement, he smiles. “Then let’s do a different song for the last one.”

And oh, what a song he chooses.

It’s not as vocally impressive as some of the other ones, nor does it tug on their heartstrings as painfully. But this one, more than any other song he’s sung tonight, sounds like Merlin.

A girl, dancing in the ruins of an old stone castle with the ghosts of her loved ones. Season after season, year after year, until she too became a ghost, dancing with them once again.

They can almost feel hands on their shoulders.

The song ends and the deal is complete. The leader approaches to have a quiet word with Merlin before he exits the theater and waits. The lord stumbles to Arthur and Morgana, almost in a trance, with the promise to ride behind them to Camelot to officially sign the deal the next morning. Arthur is only conscious enough to nod and murmur a reply. Morgana isn’t much better. The knights have already formed a protective huddle around Merlin as they return to camp, the little songbird all sung out.

When they get back to camp, Merlin barely has time to thank them for coming before Arthur pulls him into a hug.

“No,” he whispers, “thank you.”

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #fic #dragonbabbles #arthur pendragon #morgana pendragon #guinevere pendragon

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

Tired Love ~ Kim Junmyeon

Your eyes closed for a moment as you took in your reflection, studying the mirror closely. It was apparent to anyone how exhausted you were, your reddened cheeks and knotted hair were the biggest signs you could spot in yourself, as yet another yawn came, taking you by surprise yet again.

Your body was limp and fragile as you tugged at the material of your pyjamas, adjusting the waistband of your trousers so they sat properly before spinning on your heels to leave the room.

“I thought you were in there for the night,” Junmyeon teased as he laid out across the bed, opening his arms out wide. “Your day’s over now, there’s nothing else for you to worry about now.”

Your head was desperate to nod, but even that required too much effort from you at this point. “I was tempted to just curl up into a ball in there and sleep for the night,” you sighed, taking off your watch and placing it on your nightstand.

It was evidently clear to him how tired you were, your shoulders slumped as soon as you sat down on the edge of the bed, followed by a loud groan as you threw your phone to the side with your alarm set ready for the next morning.

“Do you feel better now?”

“I will in a minute?”

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

You turned yourself inwards, shuffling across the bed to rest your head into Junmyeon’s lap before he could shuffle down the bed and lay down too. His hand instinctively moved to the top of your head to start brushing through the locks of your hair as you made yourself comfortable.

“Now I feel a bit better,” you hummed, resting your arms across his legs, “I don’t know what it is about laying here, but it always just makes me feel so at ease.”

“I’m used to laying here now,” he laughed, grabbing the end of the duvet to tuck around your body, “I should have guessed you were going to make yourself comfortable here, you always do once you’ve had a long day,” he added, running his hand along the length of your back.

It was a habit you weren’t quite sure why you started but laying in Junmyeon’s lap had soon become the sign he needed to know that you were needy for his love and attention.

Most of his days off were spent with you tucked into his lap or on nights like tonight when you just want to hide yourself away from the rest of the world, you’d curl into his lap and shield yourself with the protection of his body around yours.

“I reckon we should play a game of how long you’re going to lay there tonight,” he teased, happy to distract you with his hands trailing around your body. “My bet is you end up falling asleep and I have to move you.”

It was common for you to often sleep in his lap too, sometimes for hours. Junmyeon hated to move you, but when his body started to cramp, which it so often did, he’d be left with no choice but to carefully move you to the side.

“I don’t think it will be long before I sleep tonight,” you warned him, covering your mouth yet again as another muffled yawn escaped. “I can move now though if I’m going to annoy you.”

His hands quickly moved to tightly keep you in position and stop you from moving. These were the moments when you were vulnerable and needed him, if he could help it, he wouldn’t disturb you, even if it meant an uncomfortable night for him.

His hands continued to twirl through your hair, tugging lightly at all the knots you’d carelessly forgotten to brush as part of your routine. “How does this feel?” He asked as you fell silent.

“It feels nice, exactly what I needed,” you responded, feeling your eyes beginning to dose. You felt slightly bad for him that he had to do all of this when you knew he was probably desperate to sleep too.

Each time you’d protest about him looking after you, he’d always silence you. He was a leader, and that meant looking after people, not just his members, but you as well.

He’d spent far too many years caring for people to forget about you, he knew how much the simplest gesture at times could go a long way to cheering someone up.

With each movement of Junmyeon’s hand moving across your body, sleep threatened more and more. Your body was desperate to relax and forget about the day, and the only way you could do that was by being around Junmyeon.

“Don’t fight it,” he muttered to you as he glanced down at your flickering eyes. “If you want to fall asleep, I don’t mind, don’t feel like you need to stay awake for me,” he assured you, poking gently against your cheek.

“I’m alright,” you tried to argue, but yet another yawn proved you otherwise.

His hands held you tightly as he laughed, trying not to shake your figure too much. “You forget how well I know you sometimes. You always lay in my lap, stay awake for half an hour, and the next thing I know you’ll be fast asleep.”

“Not this time,” you tried yet again to argue, but not even you could believe yourself this time around. “Alright, I might fall asleep, but just push me off your lap so you can rest too.”

His head shook, “I already told you, I’ll lay here as long as I have to with you in my lap. You’re the one who needs looking after right now, so that’s what I’ll do.”

“You have to look after yourself too,” you scolded, “I’m not the only one that matters.”

“You are in my eyes.”

“Stop being cheesy to try and prove a point,” you laughed, hitting the tops of his thighs, “it’s not going to work.”

He quickly placed his hands back in your hair to lull you back into a silence, this time not stopping until he watched your eyes flutter shut, with no hint of opening.

A few light murmurs came from you as you tried to fight sleep, but Junmyeon was finally watching you relax, he couldn’t quit looking after you just yet.

“You’re stubborn, but secretly I love when you do this,” he whispered down to you, “there’s nothing more valuable to me then knowing that you need me and want to be close to me, that’s all I’ve ever wanted from being your boyfriend.”

Your body slowly stirred at the sound of his voice, “how am I supposed to sleep when you won’t stop talking to me?”

“Sorry,” he laughed, “I promise I’ll be quiet from now so you can sleep.”

“You sleep too,” you muttered, unaware of exactly what you were saying, “I don’t want everyone being annoyed with me for keeping you up all night.”

“I’ll sleep too,” he smiled, “but only when you do. How about on the count of three we both close our eyes and try not to wake up until the morning?”

Your voice hummed back at him, unaware that your eyes were already closed once again.

“Three…two…one,” he whispered, “goodnight jagi.”

“Goodnight Junmyeon.”

---

Masterlist

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e-milieeee · 4 years

Text

tongue-tied (hearts entwined)—Marichat

Summary: Chat Noir has the annoying habit of sticking his tongue out whenever he's concentrating. Marinette hates that she finds it (and him) ridiculously cute.

Now all she has to do is get through the denial.

Notes: For @emsylcatac! Happy birthday, even if I’m a bit late. I know you’re a Ladynoir stan but... it’s Marichat May+Chat blepping :D

(The last scene is also inspired by this gorgeous piece of art by @australet789! I couldn’t resist sneaking it in lol)

Or click here to read on AO3!

tongue-tied (hearts entwined)

The first time Marinette notices the habit, she brushes it off.

Chat Noir sits on the balcony with her as he attempts to disentangle a ball of yarn from his body. He had claimed that no, he hadn’t in fact been chasing it and it was most definitely not his fault (meaning that it most likely was).

Now, he is wrapped like a Christmas present in neon yellow string. Marinette refuses to help him, so Chat yanks and pulls and stretches the yarn with utmost focus—all with his tongue poking out of his mouth.

Marinette watches him. He doesn’t even seem to notice her presence and only continues in his concentration. His tongue does not return to its rightful place (out of sight, out of mind)—it continues to stick out in the most obnoxiously adorable way ever and Marinette is almost tempted to tell him to shove it back in so she can stop finding him cute.

Before she can do so, Chat Noir lets out a groan. His tongue swipes over his lips and disappears, to Marinette’s relief (and disappointment). “Cataclysm,” he grumbles under his breath.

With that, he cataclysms the yarn to free himself. It falls to black dust all around him like ashes.

“What?” Chat asks when he sees her staring. “It was efficient. Don’t look at me like that.”

Marinette blinks and shakes her head. Had she found him cute just a moment ago? No, she decides. Obnoxious, maybe, but definitely not cute.

(No way.)

***

It happens a couple more times before Marinette realizes that it’s become a problem.

They’re playing video games in her room, an odd little routine they’ve developed. Chat Noir is surprisingly enthusiastic about beating her in Ultimate Mecha Strike III, which, so far, he has not been able to do.

Marinette makes the mistake of sneaking a glance at him in the middle of a match. He’s holding the controller, staring at the screen with the same intensity he often directs at akumas, and, best—no, worst of all, his tongue is sticking out of his mouth again.

She stares at him for a little too long. A little too long turns to really, really too long, because Marinette is only snapped out of her thoughts when Chat Noir throws his hands up with a triumphant whoop. “I won!” he crows at her, and Marinette turns to look at the screen in dismay.

Sure enough, he had finally bested her. The stats flash across the screen—he’d only won by a margin, but he had won nonetheless, breaking her streak of eighteen wins and zero defeats. Now, a red 1 flashes across the screen under her losses, and Marinette groans.

“No fair,” she complains. “I was distracted for a second. You wouldn’t have won if I weren’t.”

“Distracted?” Chat frowns at her. “Distracted by what?”

Your tongue does not suffice as an answer. Not unless she wants to die of embarrassment and shame. As Marinette fumbles for an acceptable reply, Chat sets down his controller and leans forward. “Admit it,” he grins, infuriously smug. “I won fair and square.”

Marinette pushes his nose away from her. Her face is burning. “I’m going to kick your ass harder next time, and you’re going to regret this.”

His grin widens. “I’d like to see you try.”

(He’s not cute. Just annoying.)

***

Chat comes by to bake when Marinette’s parents are out of town one day. He asks her to teach him how to make macarons, but it’s a far too advanced skill for his limited scope. So instead, they come to an agreement to make Chinese pineapple buns. Now, standing shoulder to shoulder, Marinette teaches him to knead dough.

He’s all wide eyes and concentration, tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he follows her movements. Marinette forgets about rolling her own dough in favor of watching him. His ears are sticking up straight on top of his head.

He’s so annoyingly cute.

“Okay!” Chat suddenly announces. “Is this good enough—Marinette? Is there something on my face?”

“Huh?” she looks at him, looks at the dough, looks at her own unfinished one, and promptly feels her face flush. Then, against all better judgement, Marinette blurts, “Why do you always stick your tongue out like that?”

“Like what?” Chat tilts his head slightly then sticks his tongue straight out. “Likthe thith?”

“No!” Marinette practically yelps, then throws her hands up. “Your dough isn’t ready! Stop slacking!”

He purposefully keeps his tongue out the whole time until Marinette is shaking from laughter.

(Maybe he’s cute. Slightly.)

***

“It’s called blepping,” Chat Noir tells her.

“What?” Marinette looks up from her project. “What’s called what?”

“Apparently cats do it too,” he continues. “Stick their tongue out, that is.”

“Well,” Marinette tells him, nearly tripping over her words. “You’re not actually a cat.”

“I don’t appreciate you telling me what I can be and what I can’t be,” Chat sniffs back. “Besides, it’s not a problem for anyone, so I don’t see why I can’t embrace my cat instincts.”

“Cat instincts,” she parrots under her breath. “Yeah, right.”

“Wait. You’re not bothered by it, right, Mari?”

Marinette snorts. “Who, me? Why would I be bothered?”

Chat shrugs. “See? Then it’s whatever.”

It’s not whatever, but Marinette isn’t going to let him know that. A moment later, when he’s focusing again, she catches another glimpse of the pink tip of his tongue.

Why does he have to be so cute?

(She is in deep, deep trouble.)

***

Chat’s terrible at tying his laces.

It would’ve been funny—from the way his eyebrows are scrunched, ears twitching as he fumbles uselessly with the string—if it weren’t for the fact that all of that was accompanied by the tongue poking out over his top lip. Marinette knows she should stop staring, because then she can stop finding him cute. But she keeps staring, like a whole idiot.

To her mortification, Chat looks up at her and grins when she catches her turning away hurriedly. “Is my face that great to stare at?” he asks.

“What?” Marinette shrieks. “No! I’m looking at you tie your laces. Do you seriously not know how to do them up?”

Chat pouts. “It’s hard to do with claws,” he grumbles, wiggling his fingers. Then he sticks his leg out. “You can do it for me.”

Marinette does it, only to have an excuse to duck her face so he can’t see how red her cheeks are.

It’s one of their monthly outings that Chat Noir claims essential to their friendship. He had launched into an indignant tirade when Marinette suggested they could skate at a rink, insisting that they skate in nature.

Now, at the small pond with hints of snow beginning to fall, Marinette has to admit that he made the right call. The wind nips at her nose with the slightest hints of cold, but not too cold that it’s uncomfortably so. Bundled in her own handcrafted scarf, mittens and toque, the worst of the chill is kept out. Even Chat is wearing an overcoat over his suit.

They’re far from the city; in fact, they’re far from Paris itself. The horse Miraculous is tucked safely away in one of Chat’s pockets (which, ironically, he had borrowed from Ladybug). Here, away from the buzzing and business of the city, her thoughts feel clearer than they have been in a long, long time. The snow, fresh and still falling, offers a muted sort of quiet that leaves her room to think and ponder without interruptions.

(Too bad all her thoughts just linger on Chat.)

((Or maybe that’s a good thing.))

Marinette double knots Chat’s laces. “There,” she announces, then adds, “you big baby.”

“It’s the claws’ fault!” he exclaims again. “Race you to the pond?”

Before Marinette can react, Chat grabs the hem of her toque and pulls it down over her eyes. Then, with a boyish laugh, she hears him run off, crunch, crunch, crunching over fresh snow.

Marinette scrambles to her feet, cursing him under her breath as she snatches her mittens and brushes the wool out of her face. Chat is already halfway to the pond, and with one last desperate attempt to win, she chucks her mittens at him.

They miss by a margin, landing in the snow and inciting more laughter.

“You’re a cheat!” she shrieks when Chat reaches the ice. “I hope you know that!”

“Sore loser!” he yells from the ice, already twirling easily on his skates. “You don’t see me complaining every time you win in Ultimate Mecha Strike!”

Marinette retrieves her mittens from the ground and brushes the snow from them. “You complain every single time,” she grinds out, joining him on the ice. The moment her skates touch the pond, Chat’s already darting away from her with easy grace. He glides, spins, then starts skating backwards so the smug grin is fully displayed.

“Come get me!” Chat Noir calls, sticking his tongue out. His hands are tucked behind his back, and he loops each glide, one foot behind the other with ridiculous ease. Show off.

“If you’re going to keep sticking your tongue out, then I dare you to lick that,” Marinette yells at him, pointing at the lamp pole that stands a couple of paces from them. “Bet you won’t.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, he raises an eyebrow. “What do I get if I do?”

“I’ll bake you a batch of whatever you want.”

“Oh, you’re on. Also, if a batch of cookies is usually twelve cookies, do you think I could get a batch of twelve cakes—”

“I’m taking back the bet,” Marinette mock-threatens.

“Okay, okay! I want those mooncakes we had two weeks ago! Three of them.”

She skates up to Chat as he makes his way to the pole. He tromps off the ice, skates sinking into the fresh snow and leaving deep imprints, before sidling up to the pole.

Frost spirals in small flowery patterns over the metal. Marinette grins when she sees Chat hesitate.

“Well?” she asks. “Chickening out now?”

“Never,” he grins. Then, with one swift movement, he licks the metal pole and pulls back.

Or tries to.

Chat lets out a muffled cry of distress and pain when the tip of his tongue sticks to the metal. Immediately, his hands go to wrap around the pole, pulling himself close enough until the hurt smooths off his face, soon replaced by panic. “Marinethe!” he yelps.

Marinette stares at him, her body frozen in a mixture of shock and amusement. Then the shock gives way to pure delight, and she bursts out laughing.

Chat takes it in stride. “Ha, ha,” he grumbles as she doubles over. He looks so stupid, with his tongue sticking out, gloved hands gripping the pole as his eyebrows scrunch. “Vthery thunny, Marinethe. Can you helpth?”

“You should see yourself,” Marinette manages throughout her giggles. “Oh my God, Chat, you really deserve this for not having better judgement.”

He lets out a long suffering groan. “Geth thith offth!”

“This is what people sounded like in Shakespearan times,” she continues.

Chat side-eyes her, unable to move his head any more than a bare centimeter. “Justh helpth!”

“Ooh, I got a good one. Cat got your tongue?”

He groans. “Is thith whath ith thakes for you tho maketh a joke?”

Marinette snaps a quick picture before taking pity on him. “Wait here,” she tells him. “I packed us hot tea. A little bit will be enough to unstick your tongue, probably.”

She skates back to where their bags lay on the bench and retrieves the thermos. Half a minute late, Marinette is pouring the steaming liquid into the cap, cooling it just enough, before raising it over Chat’s tongue. “Okay,” she tells him. “Get ready.”

For all his superhero experience and near-death scrapes, he actually looks scared of the tea. “Ith won’th burn me?”

“No,” Marinette reassures and raises the cup to her lips to take a sip. “See? Warm, not hot.”

Chat closes his eyes. Very carefully, Marinette pours a small stream steadily onto where Chat’s tongue has stuck to the metal pull. “Try to move away?” she suggests.

He wiggles his shoulders.

“I mean your face,” Marinette tells him drily. “Don’t be a scaredy cat.”

He scrunches his nose, then very slowly, moves his head back.

The tea does its job, because Chat unsticks himself from the metal easily. His eyes widen as if he can’t believe his luck, then lifts a cautious hand to his mouth and touches the tip of his tongue. “Ow,” he hisses. “It feels like I’ve burned my taste buds off.”

“You froze your taste buds off, but yes.” Marinette screws the lid back onto the thermos. “Lesson learned?”

“You dared me. You wanted this to happen, huh?”

She shrugs. “Can’t say I wasn’t expecting it.”

A look of playful betrayal sweeps over Chat’s face, and he lunges for her. Marinette, expecting it, scrambles out of the way just in time for him to go barrelling into a pile of snow.

By the time Chat Noir has sat up, snow tucked between his ears and all over his hair like cotton, she is already darting across the ice far, far away from him. Chat shakes the flakes from his head and slips onto the ice in one fluent movement as well.

Marinette grins as he comes skating after her. She’s not quite as confident on her skates without her transformation, but lessons and practice have done it’s good because she’s nearly as good as Chat is on the ice. For a good fifteen seconds she evades his messy attempts to catch her, but her disadvantage without her suit comes creeping up little by little until Chat finally manages to wrap a hand around her wrist.

“Gotcha,” he grins.

Then, with a little shove, Marinette crashes into the bank.

It doesn’t hurt, per say, because it’s a snowdrift he’s sent her into, but the cold is still a shock. For a moment, she stares at Chat, who’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world, before Marinette comes back to her senses and kicks a her leg at the blade of his skates.

Even his enhanced senses don’t help him from tumbling right into the pile of snow next to her.

One look at each other later, they’re both laughing.

(It’s nice; the time together, the easiness and lack of…everything else. It’s nice, his smile. His eyes.)

((And it’s then that Marinette realizes that she’s in deep, deep waters with no sight of the shore.))

***

They sit together on the bench, steaming tea between them, as Marinette shakes the last of the snow from her scarf and toque.

The sun is beginning to set, and the coldness has begun to creep into her bones, leaking through her overcoat. Every exhale sends little ghosts into the air, and even with the warm tea, Marinette is beginning to shiver.

Still, they’d arranged to watch the sunset, which means that she’s going to stay even if it means freezing to death.

“Let’s skate more,” Chat says. “You’ll be less cold if you’re moving.”

“I’d be less cold if you didn’t throw me into a pile of snow,” Marinette says between chattering teeth.

He gives her a sheepish look. “You got payback, at least? Come on.”

She looks at the hand extended to her. For a moment, Marinette hesitates, even if the butterflies in her stomach are doing a whole gymnastics routine and her heart’s thump thump thump must’ve quickened to at least twice as fast.

Then she takes Chat’s hand and lets him pull her to her feet.

This time, when she steps onto the ice, he doesn’t let go. Chat Noir’s hands are comfortably warm, tight around hers, and Marinette lets him lead her around the lake in a simple but graceful glide.

They skate until the sky turns from blue to gold, until the clouds dye orange and the world changes color altogether. It’s only then that Chat stops, lifting his head to the sunset. Marinette follows his gaze.

“It’s still cold,” she tells him pointedly, after a minute.

Before she knows it, Marinette is standing against his back, Chat’s arms draped lazily over her shoulders and his chin resting on top of her head. She can’t see him from where she’s standing, but she wonders if he can see her; if he can hear how her heart has jumped right to her throat and notice how the redness in her cheeks can’t be fully credited to the cold.

“Better?” he asks.

Marinette turns back to the sky, where now a brushstroke of red smears across the horizon. “Only slightly,” she replies as nonchalantly as possible.

His body shakes in a silent laugh. And so they stand on the ice, against the cold, until it all melts away to warmth.

(And Marinette thinks that even if she’s in deep waters, this sort of drowning is the best way to go.)

Notes: Fics masterlist here!

#marichat #miraculous ladybug #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #marichat may #fluff #a dash of romance hehe #mlb fic #my writing #HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMSY! I LOVE YOU #KEEP BEING AMAZING AND GORGEOUS AND TALENTED MWAH

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falling-heights · 4 years

Note

I know that this one is a classic but how about a rivalry between goku and vegeta?

Now, what divides Goku and Vegeta the most in this rivalry, and what most often leads to conflict is the motive behind their actions and decisions.

Goku, though not always morally or mentally sound, is still his golden-hearted self, and will somewhat remain that way no matter the outcome. He won’t cause harm to you in any physical way, and he’ll do his best to heal what mental damage may surface.

Vegeta on the other hand, doesn’t have a limit. He’s calloused and cruel. What happens to you or anyone else is thrown out the window so long as he gets the results he wants.

So to speak: Goku is the light and gentle side, Vegeta is the dark and passionate side.

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though, dear. There is much to be discussed before I can satisfy you with the most tempting bits. What’s most important in this moment, is their nature and how this will all start.

Vegeta is very boxed up about himself and how he feels. Though you won’t know half the crazy and grotesque thoughts that float around his head, it’s also likely that he won’t keep these feelings in check until he’s right at his breaking point.

Goku, quite dissimilarly, is openly vocal about his thoughts, and such thoughts will remain mild until he’s threatened. He’s overall friendly and welcoming which results in you being somewhat closer to him from the start. Though romance is equally open to them both.

Goku will be the first to take notice of the other. He’ll recognize Vegeta’s lingering glances quite early on.

From this, Goku will build up a subconscious hostility to the short saiyan whenever you’re around.

This will likewise cause Vegeta to grow an annoyance at Kakarot’s clingy traits. Goku may attempt to herd you around early on. Vegeta will sense paranoia for what Kakarot may be saying when he wasn’t around.

To secure himself safely into your life, and to ensure that his rival isn’t spewing ridiculous rumors, he will make sure to be around you more often.

Though still mild, this is only the start of their true rivalry, it only gets worse from here. They will compete with each other like this for awhile, in a feeble and petty effort to gain your respect before the other.

It is at this point that you will begin to notice the contrasts in their behavior and personalities.

Goku, though being far more open, is careless and aloof. He is outwardly friendly, but it almost never comes across as romantic when he’s trying to be genuine about it. Centered around this issue is his constant physical affection. Goku does it so often and frequently that it only ever comes off in a friendly way. Even something like a kiss may be mistaken as a joke. Goku will be closer to you in a friendly aspect, which Vegeta would struggle with most of the time.

But you can’t possibly think the Prince of all Saiyans does’t have some tricks up his sleeve as well, right?

What Goku lacks on a romantically and physically involved level, Vegeta sets new records.

He’s far more calm and calculating. His humorless and mannered personality will come off as honest and serious. You can’t help but feel drawn to his soft-spoken charm and quiet nature.

Not only that, but a physical gesture, something simple as holding your hand, or him being closer than usual is enough to make you blush. These kinds of moments will always be rare and fleeting, but they mean everything because he’s beginning to break away from his boxed up mentality.

It’s strange how something so elementary can feel so much more intense when it comes from another person. But don’t you worry honey, he has many more things in store for you.

I wouldn’t suggest you try to hide your reactions, though. He’s more than aware of how his body language is affecting you, and with each time he takes it to a new level, it’s a small victory against Kakarot. He’s confident that you’ll be his alone very soon, so long as he remains patient.

Unfortunately, whether or not his words and actions are truly genuine is hard to determine. His desire for you spreads like poison. Your touch, your voice, your scent is like a drug. One that he draws evermore addicted to with each interaction.

Now Goku is no fool in Vegeta’s cunning nature. He’ll know immediately once Vegeta starts his antics, and something will switch in his mind like a light.

He can tell when your gaze lingers on the other saiyan when he’s in sight. He won’t fail to miss the danger and chaos within Vegeta’s eyes either. Without fear without guilt or regret, almost as if it were a silent challenge of authority.

His paranoid behavior will only worsen the minute you ask him about Vegeta.

Why were you so curious about him now? What had Vegeta done to get your attention, even when not around? Why weren’t you as involved when you spent time with Goku?

He will try to convince, or rather plead with you to open your eyes and see the red herring. Goku may be a fool, but he doesn’t joke about the safety of his loved ones, this much you knew. The fear in his eyes is more than enough to make you wary. But, you shouldn’t focus your anxieties just on Vegeta. Because Goku is hardly any better.

He’ll try to isolate you, both from vegeta and the other Z-fighters. He knows what Vegeta is capable of, which will cause his delusions to escalate. A predominant disposition will take ahold of him. He’ll grow over-protective, hardly wanting you to go anywhere without his knowing. This is, likewise to Vegeta, add a factor into your growing discomfort around both men, though at this point, you’re position with Vegeta is much worse than Goku’s.

Now, it would be Vegeta’s turn to notice a shift in your behavior. You’re far more withdrawn, more shy to his touch. You don’t talk as much, and when you do, it’s always unsure and nervous. And worst of all, when Kakarot was around, you’d recently developed a subconscious habit to shift towards that clown if Vegeta entered the room.

This is both infuriating and teasing to the Prince of Saiyans. At one point, you had so carelessly flaunted everything at him, and now you could barely meet his eyes. This is his first tipping point. It’s a surprisingly mild reason, but out of anyone, he’s the most eager to lay claim to you. In his eyes, the sooner he can ward off Kakarot and assert himself as your lover, the better.

He may be unstable, but Vegeta is always calculating, always thinking about the next best strategy. Which is why he’ll be the first to confront you. He will wait for a perfect moment. A moment where no one will be around to hear or stop him. And a moment is all he’ll need.

Vegeta will corner you, most definitely in a physical manner. He enjoys when you get squeamish because of his touch. He’ll want answers. Why had you shut down so abruptly? Why had she been so eager to get away when he got close?

In the same breath, his controlling attitude will take over. He’ll say Kakarot is no more than a bad influence on you, especially when Vegeta would give you so much more.

“What good is a Clown before a King?”

You aren’t off the hook yet my dear. Oh no, Vegeta has much in store. He’ll want some significant sign of compliance. He won’t go all the way just yet, but still, something must be done. A kiss perhaps. He’s not one for constant physical affection, but you’re just asking for it with those large, watering eyes and quivering lips.

Though, perhaps you should count yourself lucky for the ever-watchful Goku. He may not be around every second of the day, but he’s honed his senses well enough to sense your aura from any location. He’ll immediately know when you begin to panic during Vegeta’s intrusion. It’s simply a matter of finding you in time, though vegeta’s presence with your own will give him more than enough motivation.

It won’t take him long. Goku will find you, uncomfortable by Vegeta’s advances, and in a state of minor hysteria. This will be his tipping point. He’d failed to protect you. And it wasn’t even innately your fault. Vegeta had been far more aggressive than he could have imagined, and it was his fault for not being there to protect you.

This sense of failure, this blow to his pride and sense of duty will fill him with a furor that could make the devil cower and weep. It won’t take more than a second for Goku to lost himself, turning super saiyan and ripping vegeta away from you. At this point he can’t even hear or see anything else other than Vegeta, and he was out to kill.

In these few seconds of freedom, you will be given a chance to run. The others, though most likely unaware of what stemmed this fight, will try their best to usher you away from the two saiyans. They can get you away, but they’re helpless to do anything except observe.

A battle between the 12 gods would be nothing compared to the brawl taking place between these two. This wasn’t a simple spar like olden times. No, this was a fight to the death. One that neither party intended to lose, especially when there was such a prize so valuable on the line.

There are only two ways this conflict can end. Compromise, or Death. [For your sake, I split these into two endings]

Death

Both men depraved.

Both men ravenous.

Both men seeking your favor and receiving none.

Nothing good can come of it.

I’d love to give Goku where his credit is due, and he’ll try his best, but he won’t be the one to rise victoriously in this.

You have no idea how capable Vegeta can be when he’s determined enough. And he’s never wanted anything more than he’s wanted you.

This will be a close battle.

He’ll barely have enough strength to survive, but all that matters is Kakarot’s demise. It doesn’t matter what he has to lose in the process.

It won’t take him long to find you.

Whether you’re running or hiding, he’ll find you with ease, and put a stop to your hope of freedom for good.

There won’t be anyone to stop him. They’d all died long ago during the fight, caught in the cross-fire.

Everything was perfect now. He had you, no one to stop him, and the power to do anything he wanted.

Submit before he forces you, it would only make things so much easier in this new way of survival.

You can only hope for another route of escape, or some way for Goku to come back and save you.

But this is unlikely.

Compromise

Yes, how exciting...

But compromise how, you might ask?

Fusion

And the only permanent fusion for these two could be the potara.

Now, we all know that if they fought to the death, only one will come out alive, and even that is a gamble far too risky for you dear.

Vegeta would be unwilling to admit defeat, and Goku is too worried to lose you.

For your sake, Vegeta may be willing to bite down his pride if it meant he could still somewhat have you as his.

Goku wouldn’t like it any more than his counterpart, but for you, he’d give up that freedom. Goku would be the one to propose the idea.

Only at the absolute minute, when he knew neither he nor Vegeta would be able to carry themselves much longer. He’d brought the pair of earrings as a precaution, knowing it may have been his only option.

You won’t have made it far when their forms fused. The pillar of light, that could have been seen hundreds of miles away, blinded you.

But the figure that emerged from this light was familiar. Two side-swept bangs, gloves, earrings, and that bastard smile. His eyes shone with a dark sense of possession. They immediately located your form in the small distance that you had made, his sneer seeming to grow evermore taunting.

The others that stayed behind to help you flee won’t last more than a few seconds against this beast.

You can’t imagine the monster that Vegito really is.

He’s worse than Goku and Vegeta could have ever been. His amplified traits don’t just lie in raw power. His emotions would also be stronger several dozen times over than either of his predecessors.

He may like to play with his food, but he can get serious in the blink of an eye. And keep in mind, he’s far more unstable and dangerous as well.

Vegito probably won’t kill you, but you can’t expect a normal life after he catches you. You’ll be safe, without a doubt. But no one will ever be as much as a threat as him.

Check out my other stuff!

#yandere dbz #yandere goku #yandere vegeta #yandere goku vs vegeta #yandere dragon ball #yandere dragon ball z #yandere #yandere headcanons #DBZ #yandere dbs #Dragon Ball Z #dragon ball #vegeta #goku #goku vs vegeta

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joel-millerr · 3 years

Text

Kijimi

Chapter One of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.5K

Warnings: Reader cauterizes a wound, so read with caution if that makes you uncomfortable

Summary: You've become quite a good spice smuggler. You always managed to evade capture, and now the New Republic is getting desperate. After meeting a friend on Kijimi, you planned to get the hell off that planet quietly, but you've never had to deal with someone like The Mandalorian. // This chapter establishes the reader and is more of an introduction than plot driven tbh

A/N: I’ve never written a second person POV before so pls be gentle. Also, this story takes place after Chapter 12.

You're sitting in a booth at the back of the cantina. Periodically, you take the time to scan your surroundings. There’s a steady flow of individuals coming in and out, therefore it’s hard to keep track of everyone, but you try to monitor their movements anyway. Being in such a crowded area is risky right now, but when Tye asked you to meet him on Kijimi, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to catch up. Besides, you’re currently on a work hiatus, and now seemed like the perfect time to get back into the spice smuggling game.

It’s not that you wouldn’t have been able to do anything else. You’re quite skillful with your hands because you used to help your father fix ships back on Tatooine. Theoretically, you could have kept doing that for the rest of your days, but there was always a part of you deep down that made you believe you were meant for more important things. Granted, this isn’t exactly what you had in mind, but it is considerably more exhilarating than just cleaning and fixing ships.

It was Tye who first mentioned this “job”. You were busy fixing a T-14 hyperdrive generator that had been destroyed during a dumb gambling game of chicken. Why people would purposely charge at each other in space, you’ll never understand.

Anyway, he knew you were starting to get tired of the same routine every day. He could see it in the way your shoulders slumped while you were working, and how your voice grew tired of talking about re-wiring, and the maintenance of spaceships.

Ever since you were a child, your father had taken you with him to work and you loved it. You loved being able to spend time with your father and also learn the ins and outs of any spaceship. You could probably take a whole ship apart and put it back together in less than a week, but ever since your parents died, the work became mundane and repetitive. You no longer enjoyed doing the work. You did it just to get by.

“It’s a fairly easy job,” He started to say. You were sitting with your legs crossed, hyperdrive in your lap, rewiring the chunk of metal. “We meet the manufacturer on Kijmi and then come back to Tatooine and bring it to the client.”

“I don’t know, Tye,” You craved adventure, but your friend had a bad habit of getting into trouble. Unlike you, he didn’t have a steady job. Instead, he took whatever was offered to him, no matter how legit it was. You were usually the voice of reason and tried your best to get him on a straight path, but his spirit always craved danger, and while you fantasized about going on epic adventures, you tried to keep it on the legal sides of things.

Tye laid a hand on your shoulder, and in turn you looked up at him. His eyes were gentle, inviting and trusting. More often than not, you attempted your best to avoid his gaze whenever he tried to reel you into something because you knew as soon as you’d look at him, your walls would come crumbling down and whatever he asked you to do would get done. You crossed your left arm over your torso, placed your hand over his, and let a deep breath escape your lips.

“What are we transporting?” You asked, rising to your feet to look at him properly.

He hesitated to answer. Biting down on his bottom lip, his eyes broke contact and shifted down to his feet.

“Tye?” You inquired, leaning down to try to catch his eyes again.

“Uh…” His hand began rubbing the nape of his neck. You came to the conclusion by his behavior that this job wasn’t going to be something along the lines of transporting pieces of scrap metal and he knew you very rarely took on an illegal job. You had done maybe one or two over the years but if you could avoid it, you tried to keep your employment on the side that wouldn’t get your ass thrown in a cell.

“What’s the transport, Tye?” Your voice was more stern this time. This seemed to snap his mind back into reality and he finally met your eyes.

“Spice,” His voice was barely above a whisper and if you weren’t entirely focusing on his tone, you wouldn’t have heard him at all. Your muscles went rigid and you swallowed the lump in your throat you didn’t know was there. Once the empire fell, the New Republic had the impossible task of trying to keep the peace as well as police the entire galaxy, and wherever they were unable to properly govern, spice runners thrived. You had heard stories about spice runners. How every single one was a highly wanted criminal but were almost impossible to find. They worked quietly and discreetly and were able to smuggle spice on pretty much every corner of the galaxy.

“It’s foolproof. They supply the ship and give the location. All we have to do is meet the supplier on Kijimi and then bring the product back here. It’s simple enough,”

You began shaking your head immediately. The risk of getting caught was too high, and spice running was a hard limit for you.

“No, I can’t. What you’re asking is insane, Tye. Spice running?” You emphasized the last two words to make sure you heard him clearly.

“I wouldn’t have offered it to you unless I was absolutely sure nothing bad would happen.” Tye reached out and gently pressed his palm to your elbow, begging you to hear him out. “I can see you don’t love doing this anymore. Ever since your parents passed, I could see the passion disappear. It’s completely drained out of you. We do this one job and then you can go back to fixing hyperdrives in this kriffing hangar.” He waved his arms around the store. “Don’t you want to see what else is out there?”

You opened your mouth to protest but the words never came. He was right. Since you were a child, you dreamed of leaving Tatooine. You were tired of the sand, of the heat, of the kriffing dryness that was always eating at your skin. You dreamed of worlds where lush green ran rampant. Trees that grew so high you couldn’t make out the top. Grass that would tickle your hips as you travelled through it. Clean, fresh oxygen instead of the dry, dirty air you had grown accustomed to here. You had heard stories from travelers whose ships you’d fix about waterfalls, lakes, beaches. A large body of water? All these things you couldn’t even fathom. How beautiful must it be to live on a planet where water wasn’t fucking scarce. What did an actual shower feel like? Not some sonic shower that merely got you sterile enough to do about your daily business, but an actual shower, with water.

So yeah, you wanted to get the fuck off of Tatooine, but was this really the only option you had?

Tye could sense your apprehensiveness, but he knew the idea was tempting. Closing the gap between you, he wrapped his arms around your body. He was much larger than you, and you almost disappeared in his embrace. Taking a deep breath in his chest, you let yourself imagine a better life.

A life where you got to visit new worlds, encounter people from different walks of life, an existence where you truly got to experience the greatest things the galaxy had to offer. As a child, you’d lie in your cot and wish for an extraordinary life. One you could recount to your kids with awe, not wasting your years away on a desert planet that no longer had anything to give you. When your family passed away, you worked yourself to the bone, trying to lose yourself in repairing ships. You wished someone; anyone, would help you escape off this godforsaken wasteland one day.

You’d regret not taking the risk, you thought to yourself.

Before you knew the words had slipped from your lips, you were agreeing to the job.

You’ve been a spice runner ever since, and you were pretty damn good at your job too. Since your frame was relatively small, it was easy for you to slip in and out of towns without ever being seen, and because you had been working on crafts your whole life, you had become pretty good at flying them too. You had made an impressive name for yourself. Even if you had someone on your tail, you were always able to lose them once you left the port. Your movements were sharp as a tack and was always thinking one step ahead. It enabled you to outrun any hunter or whatever sad, inexperienced New Republic officer that tried to snag you. When you first joined, all your runs were with Tye, but soon after getting accustomed to how runs operated, you were able to go solo. After realizing how much quicker the job went by without having to rely on another person, you became a strict lone wolf. On your own, you could take higher risks, and that made the thrill of the job even more exhilarating. You had become quite the adrenaline junkie, taking some chances even your fellow smugglers would find questionable.

On one job, you were purposely sloppy and let some officers tail you right up to the moment you fought them off in your ship just because of the way the blood in your veins fired through your body. The threat of being caught ignited every nerve-ending in your body, and you constantly chased that feeling.

You were staying on a quiet, uneventful planet when you had gotten a hologram from Tye asking to meet you on Kijimi. “For old time’s sake” he said. Since you had no other run lined up, you figured it was a good time to meet him. It had been a couple months since you last saw him, and now seemed like the perfect time to catch up. Maybe he had a job in mind, too.

The life of a spice runner typically wasn’t very long. It was a physically exhausting profession, and often times a spice runner would get captured by either a bounty hunter or an officer of the New Republic, or die at the hands of a rival smuggler. You knew your days as a runner was limited, so you made sure to have the time of your life while you had the opportunity.

Lately though, a lot of your peers were getting caught by some highly skilled hunter. Whoever it was had managed to trap four of your closest counterparts and you were on high alert. No one had ever been able to snatch that many smugglers in such a short period of time, and your particular crew was starting to get anxious. The runs were beginning to get more sporadic, and spending more time underground, only going out when absolutely necessary, hence the reason you were camping out on lightly populated planet. Technically, you shouldn’t even be in this cantina right now. You should be laying low, waiting for the right moment to jump back into action, but because you now have a taste for the wilder things in life, you take the chance anyway. Plus, if Tye is still walking around then it couldn’t be that bad. He had become a lot more cautious than you, so you’re not all that worried.

You continue to keep your head down, only peering up whenever you hear the door opening. From the corner of your eye, you catch the glimpse of a dark maroon shape coming through the door. Tye. He preferred to wear dark colors, as not to draw any attention to himself. Tonight, he’s wearing a dark maroon jumpsuit, a long-ranged rifle strapped around his back. You—on the other hand, believed hiding in plain sight. You tended to wear neutral, earthy colors. It permitted you to blend in with your surroundings. Every run, you’d switch your uniform according to the conditions of the planet. White for cold environments, dark clothes for desolate, bleak planets, and so on.

He stands in the doorway of the cantina, taking a scan of the bar. He knows you usually like to sit in the back so that you have eyes on everyone that comes and goes, and it doesn’t take long for him to spot you. He walks over to your booth with a kind of swagger you’ve grown to love about him. He’s a pretty confident man, without being cocky. The way he carries himself has always fascinated you. His shoulders are always back, arms swaying at his sides, never looking down. He takes long strides as he saunters over to where you’re sitting. As you both have grown, he also has become a pretty well-respected member of your crew and he exudes that in his every step.

You scoot out of your booth to meet him as he gets closer to your table. Big toothy smiles are exchanged between the two of you and he just about runs to close the space between you. His large arms quickly pull you to his chest and all the air nearly punches right out of your lungs. He actually lifts you a couple inches off the ground in your embrace.

“Tye! I have a reputation over here. You can’t just pick me up like that,” However, you’re unable to hide the joy in your tone. You’ve missed him more than you realized. Yeah, you prefer doing jobs alone, but sometimes the solitude can get the best of you. Having someone to banter with, play sabacc with—you miss it, but you both have very different ways of transporting the product, so you know the days of you working together are long gone.

Tye finally lets you down and you both slide into the booth, sitting opposite of each other. You still have a clear view of the door.

“You couldn’t have picked a better shithole to meet?” You remark.

It’s not that Kijimi was a total shithole, it’s just that it was the biggest shithole of a planet you could ever set foot on. The weather was brutal, the people even more so. The New Republic wasn’t able to control the crime here, so criminal activity ran rampant here. Luckily, the main interest in the city was spice smuggling so you had the respect of most of the local spice lords, but there was always the threat of some travelers who couldn’t care less who you were or how important you were to come after you; to kill without mercy and take your corpse to the New Republic. Therefore, you tried to limit your visits unless they were absolutely necessary.

“I figured since we haven’t been together on Kijimi in a while, it might be worth the visit,” Tye answers honestly. Lifting a hand to the bartender behind the bar, they rushed over holding an empty cup in one hand a jug of bright blue liquid in the other. They place the jug between the both of you. Tye reaches into his pockets and places come credits on the table, giving the tender a small nod before they excuse themselves, grabbing the credits and stuffing them in a small bag that was tied to their waist.

“How nostalgic of you,” You mock, lighthearted enough for it to make him chuckle.

Despite trying to keep your mind focused on Tye, part of you is still observing the door behind him. In the short time you’ve been smuggling, not only had your reputation amongst other smugglers grown, but so had the price on your head. The last few jobs had been particularly difficult. Not only were you trying to fight off New Republic officers, but several bounty hunters had been tracking you. Apparently, you had become a huge pain in the ass. Unfortunately for them, that just made the game way more interesting, and honestly it really fueled your ego.

“Any news on the next run?” You inquire. It had been a few weeks since you last had a contract, and the itch for adventure was starting to get under your skin.

Tye’s eyebrows furrow. He looks at you quizzically. “I didn’t ask you to meet you to tell you about another run. I just wanted to see my best friend.”

“Oh come on. There’s always another job. Always someone who needs spice and someone who wants to get rid of it.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t know you. Leaning back in his seat, he begins shaking his head in disbelief.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You can feel beads of anger building deep inside you. He was the one that got you into this, and now he has the audacity to look at you like he doesn’t know you?

“You’ve changed.”

You scoff and let out a laugh, a laugh that drips with irritation. “Of course I’ve changed, Tye. Did you really think I was going to stay the doe-eyed girl you met on Tatooine?”

Tye reaches over and pours spotchka in both cups before taking his and throwing his head back to swallow every bit of it. “No,” He begins to say, using the back of his tunic to wipe his mouth clean. “I think those two young kids who grew up on Tatooine are long gone.”

Your lips form into a firm line, not entirely sure how to respond without sounding too cynical.

“I’ve heard stories, you know.”

“Oh have you, now?” Your eyebrow raises, and elbows firmly plant on the tabletop. The joy seems to drain from his face. Smile disappearing, and his eyes begin wandering, looking everywhere but into yours. Curiosity is starting to get the best of you, your eyes squinting and burning into him. Testing to see how he reacts; you push him again. “And what have you heard, Tye?”

Green eyes still refusing to meet yours, he’s busy eyeing his fingers that are fidgeting on the piece of wood that separates you. “That you’re becoming too reckless,” His voice is steady, but much lower than his usual tone. “You’re taking too many risks and causing problems where there doesn’t have to be.”

Your hard expression scorches into him. He starts squirming in his seat. Back on Tatooine, it would have been the other way around: you succumbing to his will, but now you’re the one with authority.

“Look,” He says, leaning in towards you. “I’m not gonna sit here and tell you how to do the job. I know you’re good at it.” There’s regret in his voice. It hasn’t gone unnoticed how he looks at you occasionally, almost like he’s ashamed of what he’s done to you. If it wasn’t for that day, you wouldn’t have turned out the way you have. You think he wants to take it all back. Wishing that you stayed some nobody who lived their life fixing and repairing shit.

“But I’m told you have a high bounty on your head. Maybe it’s best if you continue to lay low for a while. Just until the heat cools down.”

You chew on your bottom lip, and your body relaxes into the booth behind you. Deep down you know he’s right. He just wants for you to be safe and admittedly, the way you’ve been acting lately is as if you think you’re invincible. You chase the thrill and the danger but it’s just making everyday life so much harder. Some merchants are too scared to sell to you, locals steer clear of you, and those who aren’t scared get too confident and try to pick fights with you. Despite your size, you’re able to carry your own surprisingly well during a fight. You don’t quite understand it yourself. Each time you’ve had to defend yourself, there was an energy you conjured that came from deep inside you that helped you manipulate your opponent. This energy allowed you to levitate objects or people in mid-air, assisted you to kill them without ever touching them, or even influence them to say and do what you wanted them to.

It was after a late night of sabacc. You were on your way back to your ship when three male figures blocked your path in a nearby alley. Three blasters pointed directly at you.

“Can’t let you pass, sweetheart.” One of them sneered.

Bounty hunters.

One hand slowly glided to the blaster strapped to your upper thigh, the other extending in front of you. “Okay, fellas. I’m sure we can make a deal here.”

“Don’t try that shit with us. You couldn’t possibly come close to the price the Republic is offering.” The man in the middle—a Twi’ you realize, warned.

“The bounty asks to bring you in alive, so let’s not compromise that, okay sweetheart?”

Adrenaline and wrath were starting to seep into your muscles. If there’s one thing you hated, it was chauvinistic men calling you ‘sweetheart’.

“Call me sweetheart again, and it’ll be the last thing you ever say.”

All three men’s cackle echoed through the stone walls.

“I’d hate to ruin a pretty hair on that head, but if you’re going to act like a little bitch then maybe—”

Cutting him off, one of their blasters wiggled out of their reach and smacked the first hunter right in the face before he could finish his threat, blood spraying from his mouth. Your blaster found its way into your hand, raising it to strike him straight in the chest. Simultaneously, your left hand targeted the second assailant’s throat, your hands violently gripping around the pressure of his neck. The hunter attempted to scream, his hands wrapping around his throat as your grip tightened. Fire consumed you, and as your grip on the man’s throat intensified, his body started to lift off the ground. The Twi’ eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets; horror plastered on his face.

“What the fuck are you?!” The Twi’s voice bellowed, spitting as he charged at you, a vibroblade in each hand. Your eyes shifted to him coming right at you with pure fury in his eyes.

“Come here, you little bitch!” He roared.

You let your hold of his partner relax slightly, then your arm swung to the right, forcing the hunter to lift completely off the ground. Once he became jelly in your grasp, you launch him towards the Twi. Both men slammed into the concrete wall next to them. You heard the sound of skull making contact with the cement, then watched them fall to the ground hard. The Twi cried out, “Please don’t!” but you blasted him right between the eyes before he could say anything else.

You stood there, chest heaving. Your eyes examined the men in front of you, not fully understanding how you were able to fight them off. You were outnumbered and they were much larger than you were. Holding out your hands, you stared down at your palms. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to focus on the power that expelled from your fingertips. Where did it come from? How do you control it? What was happening to you?

You had never felt such power before. For a moment, you were no longer in control of your movements. In that split second where you gave into that rage, it bended you to its will, driving you to do cause more harm than necessary. This voice inside of you wanted them to hurt, for them to suffer, and you couldn’t resist it.

Tye repeatedly calling you brings you back to the present. “You okay?”

Shaking your head, the corner of your mouth curls into a smile. “Fine.”

The rest of the evening is much more lighthearted. After the initial awkward tension between the two of you, you’re able to enjoy a couple drinks of spotchka and reminisce about old times. You’ve definitely missed his company. Tye is the closest thing you have to family and you cherish him deeply. Your energies mesh together so well, and you have to admit, sometimes you daydream about settling down together, living on a quiet planet and drinking spotchka for the rest of your days until you’re finally arrested. Those are quickly replaced by reality, because the reality is, it’s just not attainable anymore.

The cantina never empties, no matter what time of day it is, and given that there aren’t any windows, you have no clue as to what time it is anymore. You came in just as the sun was setting—what little sun is even offered on Kijimi. It’s easily been a couple hours since then, and you begin to feel the fatigue creeping up on you.

“Where are you staying?” You ask, stretching your arms and your back as much as you can in the booth.

“I have a place not too far from here. It’s tiny, but it’s not like I spend enough time on this planet to need anything bigger. You can stay with me for the night, if you want?”

“That’s okay,” You start to say, shaking your head. “I’m probably going to leave first thing in the morning anyway. I don’t like to linger.”

Tye’s head bobs a few times. “Sure. I have a couple things I need to take care of here before I can leave.”

You cock your head to the left. What could he possibly have to do? You don’t ask though. It’s a common thing for smugglers not to ask questions. Staying in the dark about your crew’s whereabouts and jobs make it easy not to catch too many folks in the same squad. It’s how smugglers have been able to evade capture. If one person is snatched in a team, it’s almost impossible to catch another because chances are, they have no idea what anyone else is up to.

“I should probably head back to my ship then,”

After announcing your leave, you both shimmy out of the booth and rise to your feet. Tye is the first to move into your body and wrap his biceps around your entire torso. Quickly, your arms find their way around his back and you allow yourself to sink into his body. You’ve missed the warmth of another person. For a second, you allow yourself to be vulnerable and really appreciate the physical intimacy. Tye’s the one who finally breaks the embrace, but he keeps you at arm’s length, both hands squeezing your shoulders. Yours drop at your sides and you can’t stop the grin that forms on your lips.

“Sometimes I can hardly believe we used to be a bunch of nobodies on Tatooine,” He says. Before you can come up with a snarky remark, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Bye, kiddo.” Slapping some credits on the table, he turns on his heel and heads to the door. “You’re not even a year older!” You shout, and you’re not entirely sure he hears you given the amount of noise in the cantina, but you see his shoulders bounce, so you assume he heard you. You linger for a couple minutes, finishing off the remaining spotchka on the table. Once you’ve downed the final drop, you thank the bartender for their kind service, toss them some coins and head out the door.

It’s in the late hours when the cold Kijimi winds hit your face. The freezing air is a drastic change from the heat of the cantina and the cold immediately sends chills down your spine. Pulling your hood over your head, you cross your arms across your chest, trying to conserve a little bit of heat. The streets are dimly lit and dirty with mud and snow. It’s a long, dangerous trek back to your ship, so you keep your head down but still keeping an eye out for any potential mercenary or hunter who might want that pretty bounty on your head. Keeping your hand close to the blaster strapped to your thigh, you dart through stone made arches, and small huts. Instead of taking the straight route, you opt to zig-zag through the city, knowing it would be more difficult to track your footsteps this way. It takes more time, but you know this is the safer way to go.

The cold is starting to really get to you, now. Despite wearing gloves, the tips of your fingers are starting to go numb and you thank the Maker once you catch a glimpse of your ship not too far into the distance. You fight the urge to walk straight towards it, instead listening to your gut. You come to an alley, lit only by a small streetlight that’s flickering slowly.

“I can’t wait to get off this shithole of a planet,” You whisper to yourself.

Just as you turn the corner of the alley, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. The adrenaline pumps through your veins, causing your heart to pulse quicker than you’ve felt in a long time. Any sound person would be afraid, knowing they were in for a bout, but not you. No, you chase this feeling on your runs. This is when you thrive.

You stand tall, straightening your shoulders and slowly turn to where you assume the figure is behind you. At the end of the alley, you see the shape of a man—what you think is a man, anyway. The light bounces off the blob in front of you, and realize they’re covered almost head-to-toe in shiny armor. A droid?

“Can I help you?” You question. Your hand rests directly over your blaster, slowly flicking the safety off.

The mystery man/droid doesn’t say anything. He stands completely still, and for the first time in a long time, panic prods at you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you take a deep breath, hoping it’ll calm the nerves in your stomach.

“Can I help you?” You say through gritted teeth.

Again, you hear nothing.

You stand your ground, refusing to run from the figure. You’ve never been one to run from a fight, and you’re not about to start now. “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me who the hell you are before I blast you on your ass.” Your voice is stern, now becoming more annoyed with the fact that they haven’t said anything. What the hell is this thing’s problem?

The figured dressed in armor takes a small step forward and finally speaks. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” His voice comes out low, but is nothing short of terrifying.

You suddenly realize who stands fifteen feet in front of you. It’s him. The hunter who’s created quite the name for himself. The bounty hunter who almost every smuggler has grown to fear. The one who never lets a bounty get away.

The Mandalorian.

As much as you are terrified right now, you can’t help but let a little bit of pride consume you. For the New Republic to have him come after you, it means they’ve gotten desperate. It also means they see you as a threat, and that makes you feel good. So good in fact, that you accidentally let a chuckle escape you.

“How much are they paying you?”

No answer.

You know he’s going to blast you any moment, and you’re trying to buy yourself some time.

“Oh come on. If I’m gonna go down, I should at least know how much I’m worth, don’t you think?”

Your ship is a quick sprint away (if you go straight ahead) but you’re not stupid enough to do that. He’s probably none the wiser and thinks you would, so you have that advantage. Instead, you know running to your left is the safer option. Even though there’s no actual street to your left, you did notice a split in the foundation just big enough for your body to slide through and make it to the next adjacent path, but you’ll need to do it quick. You gauge your assailant’s body language. He’s standing with his legs shoulder-width apart and you think you see his hand resting on his blaster, but you can’t be sure. You do catch the shadow of a rifle strapped to his back, and you know that that armor looks expensive which means it’s probably beskar, which unfortunately for you is basically indestructible. No amount of blasts will penetrate that armor.

Thinking impulsively, you grab the blaster out of your holster and shoot the light, hoping he’ll struggle to find your shape in the dark and praying to the Maker that it’ll give you enough time to wiggle through the stone walls. You sprint for the wall and see blaster fire shoot passed your head. Fuck, he must have night-vision with that helmet.

You manage to squeeze through the crack and end up on the other side. Most likely he’d come by the right, so you avoid that side entirely. Breaking into a sprint, you run down the cobblestoned road. It’s horribly uneven and you trip a few times, but always manage to recover without actually falling. The air cuts at your face and makes it harder to breathe but you persevere. If you were to stop, even for a moment, you risk getting caught. Your mind is running a million miles a minute, trying not to look back but also trying to imagine the more tactical way to capture you. Before you can think of your next move, the door to a hut opens and someone seizes your left arm and pulls you into the house with such force, it almost feels like your arm was ripped right out of its socket. The door shuts behind you immediately but before you can make a sound, Tye’s hand comes to cover your mind.

“Shh,” he warns, pressing a finger from his free hand to his lips.

You nod and he releases the grip he had over your mouth.

Tye crouches near the window by the door, checking to see if the hunter is out there.

“I can’t see him,” He says, turning his gaze towards you. You move from the doorway and crouch next to him by the window. Both of you continue to scan the street, looking for any sign of the attacker.

After a few minutes of looking with no luck, you conclude that he’s lost you. You retreat from the window to examine the room. It’s tiny, the bed almost immediately to your left and you wonder how anyone could possibly sleep there. The door is just a few feet away and you can assume the cold penetrates the door easily enough. Sleeping there must be miserable. The only source of light emanates from a few candles scattered throughout the room.

“This is my place,” Tye explains before you can ask. “It’s not much but it’s better than sleeping in one of the taverns.” He passes you and lowers himself in an armchair, rubbing the palms of his hands against his face.

“How did you know?”

“Call it intuition.”

The adrenaline is slowly wearing off and now you feel an ache in your bicep. You look down and notice a section of your coat has been ripped right off. Then you notice blood, a lot of it.

“Maker!” Tye all but jumps right out of his seat and rushes to your side. Gently grabbing your elbow, he inspects your wound. It’s pretty deep and will need to be cauterized.

Realizing it at the same time, your eyes meet. “Just do it.” You whisper to break the silence.

“I can use bacta spray instead. It’ll hurt less,” He says, before turning towards the cupboards, rummaging through the shelves and tossing whatever he can find, on the ground. You carefully remove your coat without touching the gash on your arm.

“Bacta spray will hard to find at this hour,” Your voice is barely above a whisper. The pain is starting to disorient you, and you manage to sit down on the bed before collapsing. “Just do it, Tye.”

Your friend stops searching for the spray, and he’s quickly by your side again with a clean cloth. He begins wiping the blood away. It stings and you swear under your breath.

“If you think this hurts…” His voice trails off. Yeah, you both know cauterizing it will hurt even more.

Trying to lighten the tension, you force a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

It’s true. You’ve broken bones and you’ve been hit a lot worse. If you ever manage to successfully make a run without injuring yourself, it’s a miracle. This is nothing new.

Tye leaves your side to warm up his vibroblade on one of the candles nearby. Once the blade is steaming, he returns to you. He holds out the blade, and you take it from his hand. Releasing a deep breath, you hold the blade to your arm and press it into your flesh. It sizzles and smells awful. Tye squeezes his eyes shut, like he thinks it’ll stop the whole ordeal. You stifle down the scream that desperately tries to come to the surface, and groan instead. Pressing the blade to your skin in short bursts, the blood slowly stops spewing and the pain from the actual blast begins to subside. Once the sting begins to slow, you drop the blade on the ground. Tye’s eyebrows relax as he inspects your skin.

“You should still put some bacta spray on that, to avoid getting it infected.”

Nodding slowly, you let out another deep breath through your lips. “I have some on my ship. I’ll head out in the morning and hopefully get to it before metal man out there can get me.” You try to be lighthearted with a joke. Tye either doesn’t catch it or think it’s funny because he’s shaking his head at you. He meets your eyes and whispers your name. “Having a Mandalorian after you is serious business. Those guys don’t fuck around.”

You sit up straight and look at his defensively. “Yeah, I know Tye.”

“Do you? Because you’re still making jokes. Do you know that Mandalorians are like the best killers in the galaxy?”

That sends daggers through your entire body. You rise to your feet, slowly until you’re almost towering over him. “I’m well aware of their abilities, Tye.”

“Why do I get the feeling that this is just a giant ego boost for you?”

That you actually scoff at. “Kriff…” Taking a step away from him, your hands rest on your hips. “Am I a little proud that they had to get a Mandalorian to arrest me? Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to act reckless and change my tacti-“

“But you are reckless!” Tye pushes against his knees to stand eye level with you. “You always do this. This is why no one wants to work with you!”

Your eyes widen, mouth dropping. “I don’t want to work with anyone because they slow me down!”

Immediately, your friend’s shaking his head. “No, that’s not why. Everyone’s deemed you too dangerous to actually work with. It’s a miracle you haven’t been caught yet.”

You try to interject but Tye holds a hand up to stop you. “I’m not done. Yeah, you’re good at smuggling, probably one of the best, but at what cost? Where’s the girl that was gentle, kind? Where’s that girl who would fix ships with her dad and play in the sand dunes with me? That girl who nursed an injured womp rat back to health because you saw some stupid kids shoot at it? Where did my best friend go?”

The laugh that erupts in the room is anything but joyful. It’s resentful, it’s anger. Your best friend stands inches away from your face, insulting who you are. Who he essentially created.

“She grew up, Tye! My parents died and left me all alone on a planet that shouldn’t even exist. I had no choice. You think a ‘gentle, kind’ girl can survive in this galaxy?”

Tye’s fists ball up at his sides. “I miss that girl. Who you are now, it’s not who I remember. This job has tainted you.”

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you dragged me into this world five years ago!”

“Don’t do that…” His shoulders drop, his head hanging in defeat.

“I love you Tye, but I can take care of myself. I’m not scared of some Mandalorian. I’m not afraid of anything.” A lie, but you refuse to look weak.

“I know…” He admits, his head still looking at the ground. “That’s the problem.”

A few moments pass in silence. Neither of you try to break the apprehension in the air. You can sense that Tye’s been waiting a long time to admit that. That he doesn’t like what you’ve become, and maybe he’s right. Maybe you do act impulsively, maybe you do put yourself at risk unnecessarily just to fill this void inside of you. A void that’s been eating at you since you were a child, but it’s not something you want to hear right now, or maybe ever.

“I’m heading to my ship.” Grabbing your coat off the cot, you slip into it, groaning as the material slides against your sensitive flesh.

That appears to snap Tye out of his thoughts because he looks right into your eyes.

“Please don’t. He’s probably still out there.”

“Well it’s like you said,” Usually, your voice is soft. You’ve never spoken to Tye with such anger before, but something inside of you now sees him in a different light. You resent him. “I’m too reckless.” You growl.

Tye mouth is agape and it almost looks like tears are forming in the corners of his eyes. He takes a step back like he’s been stabbed, which I guess is true. Your tone said it all.

You both realize at the same time that this is probably the last time you’ll see each other.

Turning on your heel, you head towards the door. “Take care, Tye.” You say over your shoulder before pressing the button to open the entrance. It lifts off the ground and you step out, not even looking at your surroundings before throwing the hood back over your head and heading straight for your ship.

If you want me, come get me, Mandalorian.

You’re not careful about the walk to the ship. You’re not careful passing corners or getting to the port. You’re behaving stupidly on purpose. You want to fight him; you want to prove to everyone and yourself that not even a Mandalorian can catch you. It’s extremely naïve but your blood’s boiling and its currently clouding your judgement. You spot your ship and march towards it, without a damn care in the world. Clicking the button on your bracelet, the ramp opens, and you begin to walk towards the slope. Once your foot touches the metal, you catch a glimpse of something shiny at the very top of the ramp. A sly smile creeps on your lips.

“You know, it’s rude to hijack someone’s ship.” You peer up at him.

The Mandalorian’s tense, with his hand hovering over the blaster strapped to his right thigh. Legs once again spread shoulder width apart, he oozes authority. The metal—beskar, glistening against the moonlight. You fight the submissiveness that begins to creep up on you. You refuse to show him weakness. If you’re gonna get caught, you’re gonna make sure you put up a fight.

Your strides up the ramp get smaller and smaller. Adrenaline fully pumping now through your entire body. You wonder how close he’ll let you get to him before blasting you right off your feet.

“I do have to admit, getting caught by a mandalorian is pretty admirable.” You taunt.

His hand gets closer to the blaster and you think this is your moment. Just as he rips the blaster from its holster and fires at you, your right hand comes up, catching the blast mid-air and deflecting it. It hits one of the cargo boxes and explodes. Before he can fire another shot, the blaster is ripped right out of his hand and goes flying into your palm. As soon as you get both blasters in your hands, a grappling line exits his vambrace and wraps tightly around your ankles, causing you to slightly lose your balance. He pulls hard on the rope and it sends you flying backwards. Your head hits the metal hard, and for a second your vision begins to fog. You blink repeatedly, trying to get your damn vision to clear, but before you can even begin to push yourself to the ground, the Mandalorian is hovering over your body. One leg on each side of your thighs, he leans down and grasps both your wrists with one hand and straps some binds around them. You give it one last ditch effort and try to kick up at him, but his reflexes are surprisingly quick and catches your calf with his free hand.

“Maybe if you stayed with your friend, you might’ve gotten away without me catching you.” He says through the helmet. The baritone of his voice immediately causes your breathing to hitch. Your heart is pounding in your chest and heat begins to form in your stomach.

“Then again,” He begins to say, pulling you to your feet. “because you’re so careless, I’d find you again.”

In any other circumstance, you’d have a sly comment, but right now you can’t even remember how to speak. Once on your feet, you notice just how big he actually is. Sure, the armor might add to his demeanor, but you can’t help but be intimidated now. He towers over you, and you have to strain your neck just to look at him. You try to see his eyes through the ‘T’ of his visor, but it’s too tinted. He loops his forearm around your bound arms and guides you down the ramp.

“I can walk on my own, you know?”

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. He simply continues to drag you whichever way he wants. As you make your way to his ship, your heart is still hammering in your chest. The way he carries himself, you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s definitely intense, but nothing short of fucking mesmerizing. Most of the hunters you’ve encountered were cruel and mouthy. But the Mandalorian? He barely spoke to you; he didn’t let his any emotion come through. You can outtalk any hunter, but you couldn’t do that with him. He was one step ahead of you, which you have to admit has never happened before.

Once you reach what you assume is his ship, you can’t help but be taken aback by it.

“Whoa, is that a pre-Empire ship? I didn’t think those things still existed.”

He says nothing, as per usual. In the very short time you’ve known the Mandalorian, you noticed he’s a man of few words.

You’ve spent your whole life around ships, but you’ve never seen one quite like this. It’s pretty dated and looks in pretty shit condition, honestly. Several panels are completely dented, and whatever isn’t dented is scratched up badly. You can tell it’s been in a good number of shootouts. It’s a miracle this ship is still operational.

He presses a button on his vambrace, and the ramp opens up, creaking as it lowers to the ground. The Mandalorian lets go of the grip he had on you, and gently pushes you in front of him, instructing you to walk ahead of him. You head up the ship, turning back to look over your shoulder one more time. In that moment, reality hits you. You’ve been caught. You’re going to live the rest of your days in a cell. Actually, with your reputation, you’d be lucky if you get a cell. The New Republic will probably have you sentenced to death. While you didn’t expect to live to an old age, you didn’t think you’d die this young, but it comes with the job description. Everyone’s gonna get it sooner or later, and unfortunately for you, it seems like the former.

You take notice of the three other quarries in carbonite to your right. Heating beating so fast, you’re sure it’ll burst out of your chest, you start babbling.

“Please don’t put me in carbonite,” You plead, turning around to face your captor. He’s already closed the ramp and is busy removing the rifle off his back, placing it back on the wall of the ship. “You already have me in binds, I can’t go anywhere. I won’t cause any more trouble. Just please, no carbonite.”

At first, he doesn’t bother to look at you. He lingers there for a few seconds, probably arguing with himself on the best way to handle you. Your eyes burn into his helmet, praying to the Maker that he’ll give into you. You’re chewing down on your bottom lip so hard, you’re sure you’ll break skin. Eventually, he turns to face you and begins a slow, tantalizing walk towards you. Panic overwhelms you, and you begin to shake your head frantically. Since when did you become such a submissive? Under any other circumstance, you’d be throwing insults, trying to get under his skin, manipulating words in an effort to aggravate them. You might even try to manipulate him into doing what you ask but your brain is shut off. You can barely form a coherent thought. Therefore, you resort to begging and pleading with the Mandalorian.

You can’t stop your body from trembling, and as he reaches to grab your wrist, you shudder at his touch. You swear his glove is on fire because how the hell is it possible that his touch burns into your skin? You keep your head down, not having the strength to meet his visor. You’re crumbling under him, letting him take absolute control of you.

“Up,” is all he says, as he gestures you to the ladder that goes up to the cockpit. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nod and let him guide you to the ladder. It’s hard to climb with your hands bound but you do your best.

Once you reach the top, you wait for him to catch up. Putting a hand on your lower back, your breathing hitches when he touches you. His hand nearly cover your entire waist and you can’t help but imagine that thick hand wrapped around your throat.

Maker this shouldn’t be turning you on. He captured you.

He guides you into the seat that’s to the right of the pilot, and then sits himself in the pilot’s seat. He begins the take-off sequence, and the ship’s thrusters roar to life. As the ship lifts off the ground, it creaks and makes you shift in your seat. You take one last look at Kijimi as his ship climbs higher and higher into the air, realizing that for the first time ever, you lost.

#the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #Star Wars #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #we are one when together #fics

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nekowriteshaikyuu · 4 years

Text

Temptation

it’s contagious to touch you, but it’s also tempting to do so.

pairing: Sakusa x reader

warnings: fluff (?)

summary: you love affection, but Sakusa doesn’t. For your sake, will he come out of his comfort zone?

a/n: so,,heard haikyuu is ending TT. i’m so sed i haven’t even finish reading the recent chapters so i’m slowly catching up. But anyways after like a 2 week hiatus, i’m back so weee. hope this one will make up for being gone for the past 2 weeks. enjoy !!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ sakusa kiyoomi ♥

you and Sakusa have been dating for about 3 months now. Surprising, huh? considering he’s a clean freak. Despite that, you see through his habit as a really loving and understanding person. And you’ve always love him for that. But there is still one thing that has never change for these few months.

his fear of affection with you. You’re the captain of the soccer team, and every practice, there is never a time you’re covered in mud. You’re constantly running in the field, under the scotching hot sun or lightly drizzling rain. Both of your practices ends at the same time but Sakusa always finishes earlier to clean up and do his daily cleansing routine. By the time you’d change into some thin dri-fit shirt, he’s already squeaky clean from head to toe. Don’t get me wrong, Sakusa adore you, he loves you. He really do. But just by looking at you all sweaty, mud on your shirt and some on your legs, as well as your really chapped hands, he feels really uncomfortable. He basically gags and cringe over the sight of you all dirty and contaminated with germs.

This actually was an issue you both face. You’ve always love affection, and he knows that from the very start of your relationship . Forehead kisses, back hugs, cuddles when watching a movie, just thinking about it puts you on cloud nine. But Sakusa is never one to give you affection. Maybe some light hand caresses, but even that makes Sakusa pull out his hand sanitiser and spread it all over his hand. It does upset you on how cautious he is with his hygiene but it’s wrong for you to force him out of his comfort zone to satisfy your needs. So you just live with it. As time goes by, your constant yearning for affection slowly dies down. You just felt impatient waiting for the day to arrive. Sakusa noticed it as well. You began to be cautious with your hygiene around him. You’re at least arms length away from him everytime he waits for you during practice so he won’t feel grossed out, you’d scrub your body hard, making sure you felt like every bacteria just dies from the shampoo you applied, you’re always never touching shoulders when walking home together.

Sakusa felt a slight guilt that you’d do all these small gestures so he’d feel comfortable around you. He felt like he’s not doing enough to make you happy. He did tried to hold your hand once, but soon pulled his back to his side after the thought that he’d be at risk if taking that step forward.

As time flies, you’ve already picked up the habit. Arms length away, keep clean at all times, shoulder width apart. You don’t feel like the relationship is as lively as it used to be. It felt as if there’s a wall, blocking you away from Sakusa, forbidding you to touch him.

You sighed silently as you stare at the black board, chalk scribbles of math formulas across the board. You turned to your left and looked out the window, admiring the green grass growing in the soccer field. It’s been a week since you’ve been in the field. Your team finally graduated and it wasn’t compulsory to attend daily practices. You took this opportunity to rest and work on your studies, and just have moments with yourself to recollect your thoughts. As for Sakusa, he still attends training so you’d often wait for him in your class until he’s done to go home together.

It was after school and Sakusa left for training. You sat in your seat, watching the trees swayed from the wind. You yawned after staring back at your paper filled with black ink. You’ve been rewriting your english essay for a while now and you felt your hand ache. You decided to take a small nap, which turned into sleeping for a whole hour.

Sakusa ended his practice and was obnoxiously exhausted. He was constantly passing the ball without break. He slowly got up from the bench and went to wash up. As he continue to do his daily cleansing, he noticed how you’re not replying his messages. Normally it’d take only seconds before you’d see his messages and reply. He even gave you a call but it wasn’t answered. He knew where you were waiting and immediately went to your class after cleaning up.

As he open the door, he was welcomed with you resting on your hand on the table, pen in your other hand. He slowly walks up to you and sat on the corner of the table beside yours. He envyed how you were able to rest peacefully while he was having difficulty keeping the ball constantly off the ground. He slowly admire your features. Your hair falling on your face, your eyes twitching and your light snores, He couldn’t help but smile under his mask. Unconsciously, his arm stretched out to tuck your hair that was covering your face behind your ears. He basically lost his breathe just watching you sound asleep. That small moment, he realised, how much he yearned for your touch. your hands weren’t chapped, but instead it was so smooth. Your shirt wasn’t covered in mud, but scented with your strong floral perfume, For once, he just had the temptation to pull you closer to him, and rest at the crook of your neck and take the moment to ease down after a tiring practice

You slowly woke up when you felt someone beside you. You slowly got up before making eye contact with your boyfriend who was silent for a while.

“how long have you been here?” you asked with a groggy voice. He took a deep breathe, exhaled hard, and looked back at you before speaking.

“shouldn’t you have gone home if you’re tired? it’s not necessary for you to wait.” you slowly stood up , your hands up your head as you stretch from your nap.

“it’s okay, i had some work to do anyways” you struggled to reply as you continue to stretch. To you, it was nothing. But to Sakusa, it was like an opening.

Your waist wasn’t blocked by your hands, and it was just nice for Sakusa to pull you in his arms. The thought of it made Sakusa at ease. But he wants to experience as well aside from just imagining it. As you mindlessly stretch, twisting and looking out the window, you flinched as you felt a bold, firmed hand grabbed your waist, pulling you closer. Before you knew it, your boyfriend was settling into the crook of your neck. Just like how he wanted to for the longest time.

“o-omi?!” you’re practically panicking. The action was so sudden for you to process properly. You thought he did it out of force so you won’t feel sorry for him not giving you enough love. You tried pushing him away, but his grip tightened around your waist, giving you no way of escape. Sakusa slowly sinks in your touch, sighing under his mask. He could practically hear your heart beating faster than usual. So this was how it feels like to be touched, to be loved, with affection. For a moment, the thought of being contaminated and germs was washed out of his mind. All he was thinking about was how amazing it felt to hug you after so long of distancing from each other. (social distancing kidz)

You watch him as he rests onto you. You couldn’t help but smile, before placing a peck on the top of his head. You began to slowly play with his curls, feeling how soft and silky it is for the first time. You stood there silently as Sakusa takes the moment to wine down and ease up after an exhausting day.

“omi, we have to go home.” You said but he pulled you closer, sighing once more.

“just,,a few more minutes” He didn’t want this to end. He wants to hug you for as long as he can take it. But at last he soon let go after you lightly tapped his back. On the way home, he took the courage to hold your hand. You’ve never felt this happy. For a while, you’ve always been waiting for this moment to come, and it finally did.

You could see the invisible wall fade. Your shoulders were finally touching, hands intertwined with one another. You were so close to Sakusa you could rest your head on his shoulder.

“you’re gonna have to get used to this new habit of mine” Sakusa broke the silence. You looked up at him and noticed a hint of redness on his cheek, even with the mask on.

“hmm? what habit?” He turned away from you as he mumbled under his breathe, but you could hear clearly.

“...hugging you..” you just smiled before wrapping your arm around his.

“of course, omi~”

Well, let’s say that Sakusa is no longer fearing your touch no more. In fact, he yearns for it everytime now.

------ 𝕤𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕤𝕒 𝕜𝕚𝕪𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕚 ------

a/n: yeaa i kinda changed my layout and style so i hope it’s slightly better !! i’ll try to improve it as time goes by but this is not bad for now teehee. also feel free to send in requests, i’ll try to write them :) but yeaa hope you enjoyed it <3

#sakusa x reader #hq sakusa #sakusa imagines #sakusa scenarios #sakusa x you #sakusa fluff #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you

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flightfoot · 3 years

Text

Divergent Points: Miraculer

AO3

Alya tossed and turned, groaning.

After some time (it felt like it must’ve been HOURS, but the clock said that only twenty minutes had passed. At this point she wondered whether Bunnix was messing with her), she sat up.

Fumbling around for her light switch, she finally found it and flicked it, flooding the room with light.

TOO. MUCH. LIGHT.

Instantly she buried her face underneath the covers again, squeezing her eyes shut until they’d adjusted to that small amount of light.

After a moment she removed the blanket from her face, a little at the time to allow for her eyes to adjust, wincing as the brightness assaulted her eyelids.

See, THIS was why she either stayed up super late or slept through until morning, when light was already creeping in and her eyes were adjusted to at least a little of it.

Unfortunately, her brain had refused to cooperate.

“Kit?” A sleepy voice asked.

Alya looked up to the space she’d cleared out on her bookshelf for the little kwami. “...you remember that salt universe I and the others got dragged into a few months ago?”

Trixx nodded. “Tikki was worried, but I knew you would break out of it. Any Holder of mine learns how to tell when illusions and trickery are afoot.”

Alya smiled, reaching out to scratch behind Trixx’s ears. The little fox gave a small giggle, wagging his tail.

“I was just remembering some stuff that happened there,” she said, curling her knees up against her chest.

Trixx cuddled up against her, rubbing against her cheek. “You’re safe now. Everyone is. That entity has gone elsewhere, and I can’t see her returning - not after Marinette sent her packing!”

Alya shook her head. “That’s not it. I mean… I feared that for a while and I kept on having flashbacks, but they’ve gone way down - especially with Lila gone.”

She may not have been responsible for what went on in that world, but Alya’s subconscious had still decided to latch onto her as a trigger, causing her extreme anxiety whenever she focused on Lila for too long. So she was pretty glad when Lila’s mother moved embassies again, taking her daughter with her. Part of her felt a little sorry for Lila for being forced to move such a short time after she’d gotten therapy, opened up and started presenting herself a little more honestly to people.

Most of her was just relieved.

Some of her classmates would stay in touch with her. Others never forgave her for deceiving them.

But at this point, it wasn’t something she needed to concern herself with. Lila could form her own future.

While Alya felt like the dark cloud that had been hanging over hers had evaporated.

“That’s not the problem,” she told Trixx. “Not this time.”

Trixx frowned. “Then what?”

Alya drummed her fingers against her bedframe. “One of the things that world showed me, one of the scenarios, was that weird flip between me and Chloe, with me becoming a bully and her turning into Marinette’s best friend and staunchest ally. One of the ways I - or Rena, I guess? that part of myself - pointed out the flaws in that scenario was by calling attention to how that scenario ignored how Chloe treated her ‘best friend’ in reality, that a lot of how that universe twisted me, tried to control me, what it tried to make me into, more closely resembled Chloe than it did myself. Especially with how it made me treat Marinette the way Chloe treated Sabrina - at least before the universe claimed that I ‘turned’ on Marinette.

“Pulling at that thread worked. It created a chink in the universe’s armor that I could use to unravel it the rest of the way. But it didn’t help the real Sabrina at all.”

Trixx’s eyes widened in understanding. “And with what happened today…”

Alya nodded. “Seeing Sabrina akumatized over Chloe again reminded me of their relationship. I generally see Chloe disparaging Sabrina less nowadays - actually, come to think of it, Chloe’s not going out of her way to be mean in general - ever since she became Queen Bee formally and had other things to focus on. But that doesn’t mean their relationship is anywhere near healthy.”

“Do you have a plan?”

Alya bit her lip. “...Maybe. I remember Marinette mentioning that she tried to get Sabrina to stand up for herself at some point. Obviously it didn’t work, but maybe she has some insight…”

-------

Marinette made a face. “Good luck.”

Alya tilted her head. “It went down that badly with Sabrina?”

“Not at first. Actually, it went a little TOO well,” Marinette said. “I pointed out that Chloe was taking advantage of Sabrina, making her do all the work, and that I’d rather have NO friends than be friends with Chloe.”

Her face fell slightly. “That last part I’d take back now. I’d always just slotted her in as a bully who existed to make my life miserable. Chloe can be awful sometimes - okay, a lot of the time - but… well, she has some reason for being the way she is. And as Ladybug, I’ve gotten to see a side of her I never knew existed. She really wants to prove herself to be valuable and useful, for other people to see her that way. I think she has some pretty bad abandonment issues from her mother leaving. Her mom disparaging her constantly and treating her like dirt didn’t help.”

“Do you think we could talk to Chloe about treating Sabrina better?” Alya asked. “Or at least, that you could. She listens to you, at least when you’re Ladybug.”

Marinette looked uncomfortable. “I dunno… I want her to be a better person, but I’m not sure that Ladybug coming in and just telling her that she needs to be nicer is gonna work. She didn’t seem that happy with me last night, and anyway, it takes more than that to get someone to change their personality and habits, the way they’ve interacted with the world for most of their life.”

“Oh yeah, Adrien tried that before, didn’t he?” Alya recalled.

Marinette nodded. “It made her give an effort for awhile, but if the only reason someone’s being nicer is to avoid punishment… it’s not likely to last. And I don’t think Adrien wants to dangle his friendship with her over her head.”

Alya grimaced. She’d been through that situation before when she was younger, before she’d even hit the double digits. Some of the neighborhood kids she was friends with liked to use the line “if you don’t do [X], I won’t be friends with you anymore!”

Being so young, she believed they were serious, until her mom convinced her that it wasn’t worth following their commands if they were going to make it an ultimatum like that.

Sure enough, an hour later her friend was at the door apologizing and they became friends again.

She’d tried using that line on Alya a couple more times, but at that point Alya knew she wasn’t serious and that she wouldn’t want to be friends with her if she was, and she gradually stopped using it.

Adrien may have had a far better reason for his ultimatum, but it still felt icky to her. She wouldn’t want to use that ultimatum on Chloe constantly either - on anyone really.

“That’s fair,” Alya said. “I wouldn’t want him to, either.”

“I’m hoping that with her mom back she doesn’t feel so abandoned,” Marinette continued. “And I’ve tried to reinforce when she does something good, like after Malediktator with celebrating Queen Bee. But, well… she just doesn’t do that very often.” She looked down. “I want to help her be better, I KNOW she can be better, especially with some of the stories Adrien’s told me of when the two of them were younger. But I can’t just- just MAKE her treat people better, to be someone who people WANT to spend time around.”

“That’s not your responsibility, you know that, right?” Alya pointed out. “She’s her own person. Whatever she does, it’s not on you.”

Marinette sighed. “I know, I know. Same goes for you too, though.”

Alya laughed. “We’re quite the pair huh? Both of us have a habit of sticking our noses in other people’s business.”

“Like a certain girl who, in her first few minutes at a new school, stood up to the resident bully for a girl she didn’t even know?” Marinette teased.

“I don’t like seeing people be picked on.” Alya said, putting her arm around Marinette. “Especially since, well… I’d just moved here. I was trying to decide who I wanted to be. Seeing Chloe putting you down like that? I decided that the person I wanted to be was someone brave. Someone who fought for the innocent. Who stood up when they saw an injustice, if they thought they could help. Whose primary concern was helping those in trouble.”

She winced. “I won’t pretend I’ve always been perfect about it, but… it’s an ideal I strive towards.”

“Not like you’re the only one,” Marinette told her. “Remember at Adrien’s party?”

Alya blinked. “What about it?”

Marinette rubbed the back of her neck. “Remember how, uh, conveniently the record the Bubbler was playing changed?”

“Wait, that was you?!”

Marinette laughed, chagrinned. “I didn’t like Chloe and Adrien dancing together.”

“To be fair, I don’t think he liked it either,” Alya said.

“Probably not,” Marinette agreed. “But… well, I’d be lying if I said that was my main motivation for changing the song.”

Alya snorted. “I’ve helped with your plans, girl. I KNOW.”

Marinette’s smile faded. “Unfortunately I don’t know what else can be done about Chloe, or even Chloe and Sabrina’s relationship.”

“What DID end up happening with Sabrina?” Alya asked. “You never finished telling that story. Obviously their fallout didn’t last.”

“Chloe tried to tempt her with a beret she’d bought, which she actually seemed to be considering until Evillustrator attacked. Kiiiinda had higher priorities at that point.”

“Yeah, being chased with a giant hair dryer tends to do that.”

Marinette laughed. “That it does. Sabrina caught up with me later at my house to work on the project. She actually did my geography homework for me. Unfortunately I didn’t have time to work on it right then, what with the fake date I set up with Evillustrator.”

“Still can’t believe you did that,” Alya said.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “This from the girl whose immediate thought when seeing a supervillain was, ‘Ooh, I should bike after them so I can film whatever superhero shows up’?”

“Touché.”

“Sabrina immediately took offense when I told her I was busy,” Marinette continued. “Saying that Chloe used that excuse all the time and that the two of us are really similar, that I probably expected her to do all the work, too. I tried to protest, but she’d already made up her mind, grabbing the homework she’d done for me and stalking off. Next time I saw her she was with Chloe again, wearing the beret Chloe’d tempted her with earlier and delivering Chloe’s completed homework to her, calling her her BFF again. Basically, everything was back to normal.”

“I don’t get it,” Alya said, squinting as if that could help make things clearer. “If she thought that you were acting like Chloe - and I’ve seen Chloe, she’s WAY ruder about it - why would that make her think Chloe’s great? And why was that enough to drive her away so quickly? You’d only brushed her off once. Chloe does it regularly.”

Marinette shrugged. “I couldn’t figure that out myself. Maybe because she knew Chloe would take her back? I’d never really paid much attention to Sabrina and Chloe’s relationship before, I was more concerned with just trying to stay away from them so I didn’t fall into Chloe’s cross-hairs.”

“Hmmm…”

That sort of made sense, but… she really didn’t know whether Sabrina thought like that. What her mindset was in general. How she could be okay with just following after Chloe and doing whatever she was told to, with having THAT unequal of a “friendship”.

Maybe a little more reconnaissance was needed…

But who else could she ask?

Chloe?

Maybe, but she wasn’t exactly eager to talk to her. Probably wouldn’t get anything useful, either.

But there was one other person she knew who Sabrina was close to...

“Thanks, Marinette, you’ve been a big help.”

“You know of some way to help their relationship?” Marinette asked.

Alya shook her head. “Not yet. But I have an idea for who to ask next.”

------

Alya scanned the park.

Hm, where were they…

A shadow from above flew over the park.

Ah!

Craning her neck, she took a closer look.

Small? Check.

Grey? Check.

Followed by swarms of other birds heading the same direction? Check.

All converging on…

She looked down at a figure sitting on a park bench, feeding the pigeons.

A lot of people were at least somewhat familiar with Mr. Ramier by now. Kinda had to be, considering that Hawkmoth wouldn’t leave the poor guy alone.

“You know you’re banned from this park,” a stern voice called out.

Alya grimaced. Hawkmoth wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t leave Mr. Ramier alone. Granted, he WAS breaking the rules, but Roger could still give him some slack.

Well she was aiming to talk to Roger anyway, maybe she could spare Ladybug and Chat Noir having to fight Mr Pigeon yet AGAIN.

(Seriously she was beginning to think Hawkmoth had a crush on Mr. Ramier with how much he liked akumatizing the guy, even though he’d become less and less of a threat every time).

Waving her hands, she sprinted over to Roger and Mr. Ramier, just as Roger was starting in on his usual spiel. “Monsieur Roger?” she asked. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

He waved her off. “After I’m done telling this criminal AGAIN that he’s not allowed in the park.”

“It’s about your daughter.”

Roger’s head shot up. “Sabrina? What’s wrong? Is she hurt?”

Alya shook her head. “No… well, not physically anyway. That’s what I want to talk to you about. Because I DO think she’s hurt, just… emotionally.”

Roger looked back at Mr. Ramier. He sighed, adjusting his cap before looking at Alya again. “Alright, miss. What’s going on with my daughter?”

“You know how she’s friends with Chloe, right?”

Roger grinned. “Of course! I’m so proud of her. Sabrina really follows the family motto. ‘Protect and serve,’ that’s what I always say! She’s always looking after anything Chloe needs, whether it’s homework help, tea, or anything else! They’re such close friends.”

Oooookay, she was beginning to see why Sabrina didn’t see anything wrong with her relationship with Chloe.

“Uh… Roger… you know that relationship’s really one-sided, right?” Alya asked awkwardly. “…have you paid attention to how Chloe treats Sabrina?”

Roger shrugged. “I know Chloe depends on Sabrina a lot. Sure she can be a little rough around the edges, but she still cares about her. She just shows she cares through presents, while Sabrina shows how she cares by helping her.”

Well… okay, that made SOME sense. Different people had different ways of showing they cared. But Roger was missing a really important piece of the picture.

“She might care about Sabrina on some level,” Alya admitted begrudgingly. “But she still treats her really badly. And I don’t just mean in a ‘she’s bad at expressing herself’ sort of way. Sure, helping friends is common, that’s fine. But Chloe just… she harangues Sabrina all the time, and even coerced her into breaking the law.”

It wasn’t terribly common, but Chloe HAD done it, and would likely be willing to do it again if it helped her achieve her goals.

Roger’s eyes hardened. “WHAT?! My Sabrina would never-!”

“You should try asking her about the time Chloe ran for Class representative,” Alya interrupted. “Chloe told Sabrina to steal Marinette’s diary so she could blackmail Marinette into dropping out.”

Roger growled. “That’s ridiculous. Chloe’s the mayor’s daughter, she wouldn’t try to get someone, especially my DAUGHTER, to break the law for her!”

“...Like that time Chloe pressured her dad into trying to force you to illegally search one of her classmate’s possessions?”

Roger froze. “I…”

“Just ask her, alright?” Alya said. “Just… just talk about it. And really look at Sabrina’s and Chloe’s relationship. Doing things for a friend is fine. Helping a friend in need is generally expected. But berating a friend for not doing a favor, or not doing it fast enough or well enough for their liking… that’s something to keep an eye on. Especially when that ‘friend’ is contemptuous of you, saying that you’re lucky to have them, that you’d have no other friends otherwise, that you’re a nobody.”

“...I’ll talk to her about it,” Roger said. “And she’ll prove all of this wrong, that she and Chloe have a great relationship!”

Well Sabrina may THINK they have a good relationship, but-

“Sabrina probably thinks so,” Alya said. “That doesn’t mean it’s true. I’m not sure Sabrina knows what SHE should expect out of a friendship, beyond just not being alone.”

“Isn’t that the most important thing?” Roger argued.

Alya grimaced. “Being lonely sucks. But some friendships are worse than being alone, especially if that friendship is cutting that person off from forming any other bonds. I’m not saying that Sabrina should cut all ties with Chloe, or that there’s no genuine affection between them. But I AM saying that their relationship may need a reorganization. At the very least, that she needs a chance to have a friendship network that extends beyond just Chloe.”

Sighing, Roger looked down, his cap covering his eyes. “I have noticed that she doesn’t really talk about or hang out with anyone else” he said begrudgingly. “I thought the two of them were just such great friends there was no need to.”

“Everyone needs more friends in their lives,” Alya said. “One person might be a best friend, but to only have one friend, period? Can be a problem. Even if it’s with the best person in the world. It makes that person entirely dependent on that one friend. So if an issue arises there are no other options, no one else to turn to. And everyone needs someone to turn to.”

------

Hm… which shade of red was best?

Comparing the picture on her phone to the different paint colors, she selected one of the brighter shades. It might not be entirely accurate, but next to the black of Chat Noir’s suit it would really pop.

*creak*

Alya looked up.

Chloe strutted through the door, Sabrina following behind her.

Something seemed different about Sabrina though. She looked uncomfortable and conflicted whenever she looked at Chloe, like she wasn’t sure how she should feel about her.

“Oh, Sabrina, look at this!” Chloe said, walking over to Alix’s latest street art masterpiece. “The little punk thinks vandalism is art!”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” Alix asked.

“Well of course, I always have something better to do. I just thought I’d grace you with my presence. No need to thank me. No, actually. DO thank me. It’s the least you can do.”

Alix rolled her eyes, getting back to her spray painting.

“Chloe, over here!”

Alya blinked, watching Adrien wave Chloe over.

Huh. That was unusual. Usually Adrien preferred to spend time with Marinette (granted she was at her own workstation sewing this time, while Adrien was working at a separate station). Chloe and Adrien may still be friends, but…

Adrien caught her eye.

And winked.

OOOOH.

“ADRIKINS!” Chloe squealed, running over to him and latching onto his arm.

As the two of them began talking earnestly, Alya noticed Marinette waving Sabrina over.

For the first time since she’d entered the classroom, a small smile graced Sabrina’s face.

Seeing Sabrina sitting next to Marinette, having a good time, Alya couldn’t help but smile as well.

-----

(A/N)

Just to make it clear, I don't think Lila's better than Chloe. But any sort of comeuppance or retribution that could be inflicted on Lila already HAS been in fics a hundredfold. At this point I just want her gone so I can pretend she doesn't exist.

Chloe's far more interesting. With her characterization she can be pulled in multiple different directions, can be developed in different ways without needing to break her character. Just having her be a stuck-up bully? There's plenty of canon to back that up. Want her to build herself up, to try to be... if not nice exactly, to at least be helpful, to protect the people she cares about? There's plenty to draw on there as well. She's easily the most versatile character in ML.

Still very annoyed at how often she gets the Draco in Leather Pants treatment while Alya and Adrien get Ron the Death Eater'd to make room for her, though. When it's just a Chloedemption I'm fine with that, but not when other, canonically kinder, more understanding characters have their characterization completely broken in order to make her look better by comparison.

Also her treatment of Sabrina really needs to be addressed. I do believe she's genuinely fond of Sabrina, but she still treats her very poorly. I hope season 4 develops Sabrina more so I can better understand her mindset, that was one of the most difficult parts of writing this. Just trying to understand why she sticks with Chloe, why she keeps going back to her.

I liked how the NY Special let Sabrina separate from Chloe to talk to that boy, to allow Sabrina to have some sort of relationship outside of Chloe. That's what I wanted for her here, for her to have a chance to form some new bonds and be less dependent on Chloe. I can't see her leaving Chloe entirely, but maybe Chloe will treat Sabrina better if Sabrina's more willing to distance herself when Chloe starts treating her badly, along with decreasing Sabrina's likelihood of being akumatized whenever that happens. So far both times Sabrina got akumatized (outside of Heroes Day) Chloe lashing out at her has facilitated it.

As for a Chloedemption, with what we've seen in the show, I just don't think we're there yet. We've had a few people try to intervene, pushing Chloe to be a better person.

Evillustrator: Marinette pointed out the issues in Chloe's and Sabrina's relaitonship, and Sabrina HERSELF called Chloe out for treating her like a slave.

Despair Bear: Adrien tried to push Chloe into being nicer, into making an effort.

Style Queen & Malediktator: Marinette got Chloe's mom to stick around and connect with her a little (albeit in a very unorthodox way), even having a heartfelt moment connecting with Chloe the next episode, getting a better glimpse of her insecurities and trying to help her with them by giving her a chance to show that she's definitely NOT useless, and to get appreciation that she genuinely earned.

I don't really have much more I can add to that to push Chloe over the redemption line. She's already had a lot of people working with her. So I wanted to give Sabrina a push instead. I dunno whether Roger gaining a better understanding of how skewed Chloe's and Sabrina's relationship is and talking to Sabrina about it, letting her know that "protect and serve" has limits, would actually happen or whether that would get Sabrina to reconsider what she should put up with, but I figure it's more likely than Chloe's parents shaping up, especially with how awful Audrey is. At least Roger showed some integrity in Rogercop.

#divergent points #ml fanfic #alya cesaire #marinette dupain cheng #sabrina raincomprix #Miraculous ladybug

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owlheartt · 3 years

Text

HAHA Hey suckers I lied Star Sanses Extended chapter 1 done NOW (link to it on AO3)

It was quite the normal day.

Unfortunately. The Great Papyrus was bored. He had already recalibrated his puzzles twice, made pasta 3 times, scolded his brother 4 times, and was trying to figure out what to do 5 and 6 times (because threes are overused) when something happened. Well, not really. Sans took one of his shortcuts to appear right behind Papyrus, something he did often to try and surprise him. Have no fear, Papyrus can’t be surprised, so his brother never succeeded.

Papyrus turned around, ready to scold his brother for not simply walking. Really, his sentry station wasn’t that far from Papyrus’s. Except… that wasn’t Sans. It was! But, well, he looked different.

“SANS? BROTHER, YOU DON’T HAVE TO DRESS UP AS ME TO FEEL AS GREAT. I KNOW YOU’RE TRYING YOUR BEST.” Sans was wearing a chest plate with a light gray t-shirt peeking out. There was a bright blue scarf wrapped around his neck, tied back rather effectively into a bow. It fit him, but Papyrus felt that scarves look better when they can flow dramatically in the wind. He had on gloves that looked identical to Papyrus’s but in the same blue as his scarf. And, interestingly enough, his eyes were not his regular white but light blue. “THAT IS BETTER THAN YOUR USUAL ATTIRE THOUGH, SO I THANK YOU FOR TRYING.”

“AH,” the smaller skeleton said. He looked a bit uncomfortable. Sans was never uncomfortable around Papyrus unless he was hiding something.

“SANS? IS THERE SOMETHING YOU NEED TO TELL ME? IF YOU WANT INTO THE ROYAL GUARD, I WOULD BE HAPPY TO TELL UNDYNE!!” Papyrus gave his brother a toothy grin (what else can he give him? Skeletons can’t hide their teeth, silly) in the hopes of comforting him. But still, Sans shook his head. Ah well, if his brother wanted to keep another secret-

“I’M ACTUALLY NOT YOUR BROTHER,” Sans (not Sans? Stary Sans? Blue Sans?) looked down before straightening himself. Now that this skeleton mentioned that he wasn’t Papyrus’s brother, the bigger skeleton noticed how much different he sounded. For one, those definitely sounded like all caps. Sans hated speaking in all caps, though he’d told Papyrus that it made him sound much more commanding. Next, his posture was much better. Sans had a terrible habit of slouching. His eyelights were also a cyan color, like a lighter shade of Sans’s magic.

“IF YOU’RE NOT MY BROTHER…” Papyrus scrunched up his face. This, was a puzzle. A puzzle he intended to solve all on his own. He stared down at the skeleton, who appeared to be bracing himself.

“WOWZERS, IT’S A LOT HARDER THAN I THOUGHT TO TALK TO AN ALTERNATE VERSION OF MY BROTHER,” Not Sans smiled awkwardly and looked away before quickly forcing himself to look back at Papyrus. Papyrus paused, trying to fit in what Blue Sans just called him.

“AN… ALTERNATE VERSION OF YOUR BROTHER?” Papyrus felt ridiculous repeating back what not Sans said, but he couldn’t help it. What did he mean by alternate version? Papyrus vaguely recalled a training session with Undyne. They liked to chat while they were sparring, and this particular time Undyne mentioned something Alphys was studying in her free time. “AUs.” She said. After a bit of questioning, Undyne revealed that AU was an abbreviation of Alternate Universe, but she hadn’t really been listening beyond that. Papyrus despised abbreviations, and found it so frustrating that Undyne and Sans were so intent on using them, that the words had stuck with him despite their vagueness. “ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ALTERNATE UNIVERSES?”

Not Sans perked up, his eye lights popping into stars. His smile went from awkward to excited as he began to talk.

“YES, I AM! HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THEM? USUALLY PAPYRUSES AREN’T AWARE OF THEM, BUT IF YOU ALREADY KNOW OF THEM THAT WILL MAKE THIS MUCH EASIER!”

“I’M AFRAID MY KNOWLEDGE IS LACKING. IT WAS MENTIONED BRIEFLY BY MY FANTASTIC FRIEND UNDYNE, BUT SHE DIDN’T KNOW MUCH EITHER.” Papyrus announced, slightly embarrassed. The blue Sans faltered, but quickly regained his energy.

“ALTERNATE UNIVERSES ARE EXACTLY WHAT THEY SOUND LIKE! THEY ARE ALTERNATE VERSIONS OF THIS WORLD. MINE IS CALLED ‘UNDERSWAP,’ YOU AND I HAVE SWITCHED PERSONALITIES THERE, SO REALLY, WE’RE THE SAME.” Not Sans concluded, looking adequately proud of himself for such a well worded explanation.

“…I SEE. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE THEN, NOT SANS?” Papyrus inquired. There was also the question of how Not Sans got here, but Papyrus was certain he would learn in due time.

“BLUEBERRY IS FINE! I’M A PART OF A GROUP OF SANSES CALLED THE ‘STAR SANSES’ SO MY FRIENDS AND I ALL HAVE NICKNAMES.” Nicknames, Papyrus’s worst enemy. Blueberry didn’t seem to mind though, despite him supposedly being an alternate version of Papyrus. “BUT TO GET TO THE POINT- I AM HERE BECAUSE I NEED TO ASK A FAVOR OF YOU, CLASSIC PAPYRUS.”

“IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO ADD A TITLE TO MY NAME, THE GREAT WOULD BE BETTER, THANK YOU.” Papyrus announced, not sure what Blueberry meant by “classic.”

“NO, NO. CLASSIC IS A REFERENCE TO YOUR TIMELINE. YOUR TIMELINE IS THE ORIGINAL, SO IT’S LABELED ‘CLASSIC.’ I’M AFRAID MULTIPLE PAPYRUS USE ‘THE GREAT’ SO IT’S NOT AS DEFINING. IF YOU HAVE A DIFFERENT SUGGESTION, I’D BE OPEN FOR HEARING IT?” Blueberry sounded apologetic. Papyrus, meanwhile, was thinking hard. What other title would he like? Classic just didn’t suit him. He had to admit, Blueberry’s reasoning was sound. It might be better than coming up with his own. Still, if he could figure out a better one…

“THEN YOU CAN CALL ME COOL GUY INSTEAD!” Papyrus announced proudly. Blueberry hesitated then smiled.

“A NAME TO MATCH YOUR PERSONALITY? FANTASTIC! IGNORING THE FACT THAT I’M COOLER THAN YOU, IT’S PERFECT!” Blueberry concluded. Papyrus was tempted to correct him, but he could guess that it wouldn’t go so well. They were alternate versions of each other after all, so it would be difficult to discover who was cooler (it was obviously Papyrus though).

“ANYWAYS,” Papyrus said. “YOU MENTIONED A FAVOR? I’M FANTASTIC AT DOING FAVORS, AND I’D LOVE TO HELP YOU. WHAT DO YOU NEED?”

“MY FRIENDS AND I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT JOB. WE PROTECT THE MULTIVERSE FROM AN EVIL GROUP CALLED THE ‘BAD SANSES.’ THEY’VE BEEN SUPER ACTIVE LATELY, AND DREAM THINKS THEY’LL ATTACK TODAY. UNFORTUNATELY, I’M BUSY ALL OF TODAY. I’M WORRIED ALPHYS WON’T THINK I’M FIT FOR THE GAUD OF I MISS A TRAINING SESSION, AND TODAY’S IS PLANNED TO LAST UNTIL LATE TONIGHT.” Papyrus had to hold back laughs picturing the short scientist holding one of Undyne’s spears with an eyepatch stuck on. He couldn’t seem to make it look anything short of ridiculous.

“BUT! BACK TO THE FAVOR, I WAS WONDERING IF YOU COULD TAKE MY PLACE TODAY. IF YOU’RE BUSY TOO, I UNDERSTAND.” Blueberry concluded.

“IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT JOB. WHY DO YOU STILL WANT TO BE A MEMBER OF THE ROYAL GUARD? DOESN’T BEING A STAR SANS GIVE YOU ALL THE LOVE AND AFFECTION YOU COULD DESIRE?” Papyrus said haltingly. Star Sanses protected the whole multiverse, the Royal Guard just protects the underground. If that didn’t give Blueberry enough love… What hope did Papyrus have?

“WELL, IT DOES, BUT…” Blueberry took a deep breath. “I HAVEN’T SHARED WHAT I DO WITH MY TIMELINE YET. IT’S KIND OF A HUGE SECRET. I’M THE ONLY MULTIVERSAL BEING WHO ISN’T AN OUTCODE. IT’S NOT SOMETHING INCODES ARE SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT. THERE AREN’T REALLY RULES BUT…” Blueberry trailed off, looking a bit upset.

“I’M SORRY I PUSHED. DOES THAT MEAN I’M NOT ALLOWED TO TELL ANYONE? MY BROTHER IS REALLY GOOD AT KEEPING SECRETS, MAY I TELL HIM?” Both brothers kept secrets from each other. Papyrus had his share, and he knew Sans had a pile. They had recently talked about trying to be more open with each other, and Papyrus wasn’t sure how he could keep his brother’s trust if he made a new secret. It was important to prevent new secrets from forming.

“LIKE I SAID, THERE ARE NO SPECIFIC RULES. IT’S JUST WHAT YOU FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH. BUT I WILL ASK THAT YOU COMMIT TO BEING ONE OF US BEFORE YOU TELL HIM,” Blueberry said firmly.

“OF COURSE! I WON’T LET YOU DOWN! HOW DO I HELP THOUGH? I’M NOT EVEN SURE HOW TO LEAVE MY TIMELINE.” Papyrus admitted. Blueberry looked relieved, and he stuck out his hand.

“I’M AFRAID I CAN’T OPEN MULTIVERSAL SHORT CUTS MYSELF, BUT IF YOU’D TAKE MY HAND MY FRIEND CAN BRING US OUT!” Blueberry widened his grin, and Papyrus reached out to grab his hand. There was a moment of stillness, where it was just the two of them in a snow covered forest. Some snow flurries falling from branches above. Papyrus shifted, the pause was uncomfortable. Just as Blueberry began to frown, a warm, distinctly yellow feeling began to spread through Papyrus’s bones. Blueberry even seemed to be glowing with the magic. Then pop, and he was somewhere new. It felt like a small jerk on his SOUL, more abrupt than his brother’s short cuts around the underground.

Speaking of, this wasn’t like anything Papyrus had seen in the underground. It was a large space with an orange gradient. It looked… undefinable, in the sense that it didn’t end. There were papers with small dancing images, and a number of them looked like Papyrus and his friends. Some were held up by strings while others hovered around the islands that floated about. It was a very dream-like place, like something Papyrus had imagined. It has been a long time since he dreamt something so serene, which was the only reason he could believe what he was seeing.

“Sorry about that Blue-” a new voice spoke, sounding a bit out of breath. Papyrus turned to find a golden Sans, laced with the same magic that brought him and Blueberry here. He had his hand wrapped tightly around another Sans. This one was incredibly short, he looked like a child compared to Papyrus (Not to fear! The Great Papyrus was fantastic with children!). He had a brush taller than him strapped to his back, and his outfit was all kinds of decorated- like a superhero! Both Sanses were.

“IT’S FINE. IS… IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT HERE?” Blueberry regarded the Golden Sans’s grip on the Sans with a brush. Oh dear, so many Sanses. Someone who wasn’t as brilliant as Papyrus might not be able to follow!

“Uh, yep!” The golden Sans smiled, but he looked a bit too stressed. The brush Sans, however, snapped his full attention to Papyrus. His eyelights bounced between color and shapes before finally landing on a bright sky-blue shaped as a triangle and a Royal purple as a star.

“HELLO!!!!! I’m Ink!!!!” Ink struggled out of the gold Sans’s gasp and bounced overs to Papyrus. It was disturbing how little he resembled Papyrus’s brother. “I’m the protector of the Multiverse!! You’re Classic Paps, right?!” Ink grinned wildly as Papyrus avoided cringing.

“HELLO, INK. PLEASE DON’T CALL ME PAPS, OR CLASSIC FOR THAT MATTER. BUT WOWIE, PROTECTOR OF THE MULTIVERSE SOUNDS LIKE SUCH A BIG JOB!” Papyrus couldn’t help but be in awe of Ink’s title. It sounded more important than Head of the Royal Guard. Ink’s grin grew and his purple eyelight turned yellow. He looked like he was about to respond, but the gold Sans cut him off.

“Yep, super big job, which is why he has us to keep him on track. Anyways, hello, my name is Dream. I’m the guardian of positivity. If you don’t want us calling you Classic, what should we call you?” Dream kept his smile up, but he looked exhausted.

“HE WANTS TO BE CALLED COOL GUY.” Blueberry announced. Dream managed to look more worn out before responding.

“That’s… a fun nickname. But this needs to be like a substitute for your real name? Just, please pick something different.” Dream sounded incredibly firm, and Papyrus didn’t want to wear him out anymore. So he listened.

“WHAT ABOUT COOL BONES?” Papyrus’s smile faltered as Dream’s eyelights flickered out.

“Papyrus, please, be serious.” Papyrus had been serious, but he decided not to mention it. “Just- here, think about our names for a moment? Ink, Blue, Dream,” Dream pause, looking up at Papyrus hopefully. Papyrus did his best to reconsider. He could find an alternate version of his name? Translate it into another language perhaps. There was also the history of the word itself, which he and Sans had searched up late one brotherly bonding night. While the word papyrus is a plant, it’s also a form of paper in Ancient Egypt. Paper has simply so many uses, and it’s so incredibly important (and obnoxiously underrated). The Great Papyrus wouldn’t mind being called Paper.

“I CAN BE PAPER!” He offered, and Dream relaxed into a more genuine smile.

“Oooh!!! Like the paper to my ink!!!” Ink grinned, absolutely delighted.

“No, actually-“ Papyrus (Paper?) tried to correct him. With all the meaning behind his choice, he wanted to give it the proper glory.

“WELCOME TO THE STAR SANSES, PAPER!!!” Blueberry said, cutting Papyrus off. He tried to place his hand on Papyrus’s shoulder, but after discovering he couldn’t reach Blueberry settled for patting Papyrus’s back.

“THANK YOU NEW FRIEND!!” Papyrus widened his smile, reveling in the fact that he had made not one, not two, but THREE new friends in less than an hour. He couldn’t wait to tell his brother.

“NOW THAT WE’VE GOT THAT OUT OF THE WAY,” Blueberry said, “I HAVE TO HEAD HOME, ALPHYS IS EXPECTING ME. GOOD LUCK PAPER!” Blueberry threw a glance at Dream, then he lit up with the same golden hue as last time and disappeared. Ink’s eyelights flashed to a different color as he focused again on Papyrus, who had noticed by now that Ink’s attention was short and his focus quickly shifted.

“So, buddy, what do you wanna do now?” Ink leaned forward, almost as if bowing, and he bounced a little on his heels before performing some kind of trick jump and landing on an island floating a few feet up. He was now roughly at Papyrus’s socket-level.

“We tell Papyrus how this is going to go.” Dream said, cutting Ink off. Ink frowned, one eyelight flipping to a purple question mark while the other changed to a dim reddish-orange square.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Papyrus wiggled his fingers, the fabric of his gloves rubbing. Dream sounded awfully serious, a stark contrast to Ink’s carefree nature.

“Blue’s already learned how to deal with… the Bad Sanses. Since we already know what does and doesn’t work, I’d rather skip the hard-learned lessons.” Dream gave a weak smile at the end, while Ink stuck out a rainbow colored tongue, nearly pouting.

“...WHAT MIGHT THOSE BE?” Papyrus began to worry for the first time since he accepted Blueberry’s offer.

“First of all, Blue’s already tried speeches.”

“MAYBE THEY JUST NEED MORE, OR HE HASN’T FOUND THE RIGHT ONE!” Papyrus said. Dream winced.

“Maybe, but we don’t have the time to give the speeches, and more often than not the Bad Sanses don’t even listen, they murder while you talk.” Dream said, the spot where his eyebrows would be tilting up.

“MURDER?” Papyrus faltered.

“Did Blue forget to tell you?” Ink asked. He had plopped down and was lying on his back with his skull dangling off his island, looking far too relaxed.

“TELL ME WHAT.” Papyrus didn’t want to guess this time. Dust isn’t a puzzle he ever wanted to solve.

“Our role as Guardians of the Multiverse is to protect timelines from being destroyed. The way that happens is the Bad Sanses wipe through the entire Underground, killing anyone and everyone they meet. Once they’ve killed enough, the timeline is unstable enough for them to destroy it directly.” Dream sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Or so we think. Timelines are weird, and there could be a whole slew of reasons for how things work!! It’s really interesting. I’ve been wanting to study it all but- OOH A BUTTERFLY!!!” Ink said, jumping up to chase the shiny indigo insect. Even though Ink didn’t finish his sentence, Papyrus could get a sense of why he wasn’t learning anything. Ignoring the eccentric skeleton, Dream just looked sad. He was staring down at the ground, one hand wrapped tightly around the fabric above his SOUL.

“WHAT HAPPENS IF WE DON’T GET THERE IN TIME?” Papyrus tried to say it softly, but he could never figure out how to speak in lowercase. At least it still sounded caring.

“The entire timeline dies.” Dream sighed. He looked up, finally seeing Papyrus’s expression. “Ah! Don’t worry though!! We win a lot!! I’m just trying to explain why I need you to listen to me!!” Dream waved his hands about, trying to dispel the dark mood that had settled.

“THAT’S ALRIGHT. YOU WERE BEING HONEST. IT’S IMPORTANT TO UNDERSTAND ALL OF THE PIECES OF OUR JOB. I’M GLAD YOU TOLD ME.” Papyrus crouched so as to come eye to eye with Dream. He used this tactic with his brother whenever Sans was upset. Papyrus had found that it’s easier to talk to someone who’s right there with you. Papyrus reached out his gloved hands, and wrapped the bright, cheery red around Dream’s hands. Papyrus realized for the first time that Dream wore gloves too. Maybe he was a swapped version of Papyrus like Blueberry. Papyrus made a note to ask him later, when he was feeling better.

“Thank you, Paper.” Dream took a deep breath before continuing. “We pride ourselves in not killing anyone, ever. Not even the Bad Sanses. A tactic we like to use is trapping them. Blueberry does that the most, because he has the most magic to spare, so you’ll be using a lot of blue magic. Is that ok?”

“ABSOLUTELY!! I HAVE FANTASTIC CONTROL OF MY MAGIC, YOU DON’T NEED TO WORRY.”

“The butterfly flew away.” Ink said, butting in. He had a pout again. Papyrus leaned toward Dream a little and whispered to him.

“DOES… DOES HE PAY ATTENTION ENOUGH TO NOT GET HURT?” Papyrus was genuinely worried, but Dream burst out laughing. His grin widened as he turned toward Ink, who had begun to… eat… grass..?

“Most of the time.” Dream said, not particularly reassuring.

#writblr #fanfic #star sanses extended #classic papyrus #papyrus undertale #owl's writing #YE #I don't feel like tagging this properly so just like. take it

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