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inkykeiji · 3 years

Text

break my heart in two, but when it heals it beats for you

character: zenin naoya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaaah this is my lil submission for the sewer’s soulmate syndrome collab (and my first collab ever waaah!!!) it’s a curseless soulmate AU with the tiniest hint of the zenin’s being a prominent crime family. please please heed the warnings!! | title credit: back to you by selena gomez

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, incest (reader and naoya are half siblings), mentioned death of a family member (mother), naoya being his misogynistic self, excessive use of the word ‘Daddy’ to refer to their biological father, one (1) instance of physical abuse, size kink/size difference, mentioned relationship between a university student (reader) and their TA, infidelity, one (1) mention of Daddy being yakuza, age difference, spanking done by reader’s biological father, toxic relationships, minimal prep, rough sex, a hint of degradation

words: 9.5k

synopsis:

Except the torture doesn’t stop, even when you’re gone, because he’s assaulted with thoughts of you the very moment you leave—what you’re doing, who you’re with, if he plagues your mind as much as you plague his—you’re like a fucking sickness, a parasite that burrows deep between the folds and tissues of his brain, infecting it, and he’s hopeless to find a cure.

It’s a few days after his twenty-ninth birthday, the night you appear—unannounced, uninvited, and an absolute fucking mess—falling into his father’s arms the moment he opens the door, fingers curling in the material of his cashmere button up and tugging as powerful sobs rip through your entire body, violent tremors following.

It’s fucking disgusting, the way his father reacts. Naoya watches the entire thing unfold from the shadows of the living room, nose wrinkled in distaste, features twisted in aversion and saturated in abhorrence.

Because his father lets you cling to him like a child—a grown woman, gripping a seventy-one year old man like a sniveling little girl—as he manages to scoop you up into his arms, collapsing onto his favourite armchair with you in his lap, hushing you gently as he rocks you back and forth, large hands stroking your shuddering back as you nuzzle your puffy, snot-stained face into his chest, wailing out Daddy!

It’s the first time Naoya’s ever seen his father behave in such a way, revolt churning his stomach as he observes the quite frankly unfamiliar man in front of him. It makes him fucking sick to watch, acidic bile rising in his throat until it stings the back of his tongue, face souring as he swallows it back down.

And you can’t even manage to force words through your stuttering breathing and hiccupped little sobs, unable to explain the situation at all without being overwhelmed by another fresh wave of tears, crashing over your body as you fall back into the sanctuary of his father’s arms, face buried in his neck, now soiled with spit and salt water.

“Naoya,” his father calls, voice curt and stern and demanding, snapping Naoya’s gaze to his own in an instant. “A glass of water, please?”

Naoya scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck do I look like to you? The help?”

And Naoya’s no stranger to the level gaze his father fixes him with, has seen that same look etched into his father’s face more times than he can count, eyebrows pinched and mouth pressed in a firm, fine line, chest rising as he inhales slowly, calmly, deeply, then exhales through flared nostrils.

“You look like a good big brother who’s on his way to get his baby sister some water,”

Ah, right, that’s who you are—the bastard, Daddy’s little mistake, an ugly, irreversible stain on their family’s prestigious name.

“That bitch is not my sister,” he grumbles as he stomps from the room and towards the kitchen to fetch you a drink, huffing under his breath about being treated like a fucking woman, yet obeying his father’s orders nonetheless.

It turns out, Naoya learns, that your mother has passed away, leaving his poor bastard of a baby sister all alone in the world, with nowhere to go—and you’ve come here to ask for shelter and food, just until you get on your feet.

It’s fucking pathetic, as far as Naoya’s concerned, shaking his head in condescending disbelief with a cruel snort. It’s almost difficult to believe that you, undoubtedly the family disgrace; you, with your dirty blood and the dishonour you haul around everywhere with you, have the balls to come crawling to his father begging for support. You’re an adult, for Christ’s sake, and you should act like one, should be out scouring the earth for some equally pathetic man to serve like you ought to, like you would have, if you knew your place. Maybe then, Naoya would have a shred of respect for you.

Maybe.

“How selfish. Daddy already pays for your tuition, why should he provide you with housing, too? Are you really that incompetent? Can’t do a thing for yourself, huh?”

Your head whips around to face him, almost as if you’re startled by his presence, by his voice addressing you directly, a sharp gasp falling from your lips the moment your eyes meet.

It’s the first time you’ve actually looked at him since you’ve arrived, the first time your gaze has connected with his, eyes bloodshot and gleaming as crystal tears stream down your cheeks, excess water clinging to spidery lashes, clumped together in spikes.

God, you’re beautiful.

It kicks him right in the motherfucking chest, hard enough that he stumbles back a few feet into the stone fireplace, a hand gripping the mantle for stability while his body caves in on itself. A spear of agony sears through his body, slicing clean through all of his vital organs as you choke out an apology punctuated with an honorific, head shaking in jerky little motions as your tongue struggles to form words to explain yourself.

And he’s never felt anything like it in his entire life, skin feeling as though it’s been set ablaze from the inside, thick black smoke filling is lungs as he wheezes on an inhale, strangled by it.

“Naoya,” his father snaps, eyes wide and scorching. “Leave.”

Each step away from the living room feels heavier than the last, as if his blood’s been replaced by lead, by rapidly drying concrete, rendering him incapable of lifting his feet from the floor, dragging them against the tile until it’s fucking painful, calves and thighs tingling as if the blood flow’s been entirely obstructed, muscles quivering and exhausted.

“It’s okay,” he can hear his father’s faint voice soothing you, each of your sniffles feeling like a sharp little thorn straight to his heart, each of your tiny I’m sorry’s carving out a vacant, phantom wound in his chest. “Shh, it’s alright, Daddy’s here, Daddy’s got you,”

“Pathetic,” Naoya spits to the empty hallway, though the word wavers, catching a little in his throat, letters scraping the gummy walls as he forces them from his mouth, leaving scalding little blisters in its wake.

It’s then that Naoya decides he hates you; standing motionless in the dark hallway, feet inexplicably bolted to the floor and chest burning with some unknown emotion, a fire that blazes and rages, flares and thrashes, with each of your hitched little apologies, his teeth clenched together so tightly he’s surprised they don’t crack.

But it’s only after your sobs have calmed, father having reduced them to soft sniffles and half-hiccups through tender words and sweet affirmations, only after Naoya knows that you’ll be staying here for the night—that you’ll be safe—that he regains control over his limbs, that he rips his cement-filled feet from the floor and trudges towards his bedroom, scalding inferno dulled to simmering coals and faint flickering cinders.

He doesn’t think about it—isn’t going to think about it, refuses to waste his time or energy on such absurdity, refuses to allow his father’s preposterous decisions and ridiculous sentiments soak up space in his consciousness.

And he absolutely refuses to think about is the way your sudden presence punched a sharp gasp from his chest, the way he suddenly feels incomplete, like something’s missing, now that you aren’t within arms-reach, the way that he lost control over his entire body for the first time in his fucking life, in that hallway, just a few moments ago.

✰ ✰ ✰

His father—your father—falls in love with you almost immediately; having only met you briefly a few times before this, despite sending your mother multiple cheques every month for over twenty years.

It’s truly deplorable, positively sickening to watch the way his eyes light up when you come skipping into the living room after your afternoon university classes, dropping a fat, almost obscene kiss to Daddy’s cheek before plopping down on his lap as you chatter on about your day—about what you learned in lecture today, about the essay you got back (top of your class, of course), about your cute TA with the white hair and crystal eyes who always seems to conjure a bashful expression the moment you mention his name.

Naoya watches the entire thing unfold day after day, a deep sneer etched into his face, jaw clenched so hard it begins to ache, light eyes glaring daggers in your direction.

Something akin to jealousy, a creature with glowing emerald eyes and gnashing teeth and razor claws that slash and tear at the pit of his belly, roars and rattles the ribs that keep it caged within his chest, gnawing on the bones every time his—your—father makes you giggle, your eyes sparkling with adoration as you gaze at him; every time lithe fingers brush hair back from your face or a large palm settles on the crown of you head, petting you gently; every time you nuzzle into his neck, curling up comfortably—perfectly—in Daddy’s big, strong arms that keep you protected from all of the bad, from all of the evils of this world, from him, the big brother that loathes you.

It’s unsettling, almost sad in a sense, seeing his father fall from grace, observing the way you decay his persona so quickly, eating away at it like corrosive acid, rotting him from the inside out; the way he morphs from one of the most powerful and feared Yakuza bosses into soft, sticky, sweet putty in your hands the moment you appear; the way your presence shatters his tough, hard exterior and renders him gentle and tender—gentler and tenderer than he’s ever behaved with Naoya or any of his older brothers.

He can’t fucking stand to watch it, despises every single thing about it, positively detests the inexplicable, uncontrollable sensations that thrash and thunder inside of him, an unusual mixture of envy and melancholy, of wrath and desire, combined to create something toxic, something hazardous, something uncontainable that erodes his senses and mind, leaking into his bloodstream and poisoning his thoughts.

Because his gaze stays glued to you the moment you enter a room, like he’s bewitched by you, cursed by you the way his father has become, unable to rip his eyes from your form until you exit.

Except the torture doesn’t stop, even when you’re gone, because he’s assaulted with thoughts of you the moment you leave—what you’re doing, who you’re with, if he plagues your mind as much as you plague his—you’re like a fucking sickness, a parasite that burrows deep between the folds and tissues of his brain, infecting it, and he’s hopeless to find a cure.

And the worst part, the worst part is that he hasn’t a clue why. He doesn’t know why he feels the way he does, why you evoke such strong emotions—emotions he’s never felt before, emotions he doesn’t have a name for—or why, suddenly, everything feels wrong, off, whenever you’re not around.

It’s fucking annoying. Those tiny, raised bumps on the inside of his wrist—shaped in the form of a zodiac constellation, a mark everyone is born with, a mark that supposedly hints at your soulmate—burn and tingle as he meditates on these notions, blunt nails scratching viciously at his skin.

✰ ✰ ✰

Daddy grants you permission to stay at the estate for as long as you’d like, because of course he does, a victim to the spell you’ve cast. He even gives you your own room, helps you pick out furniture and takes you shopping for new clothes. You promise to do your share around the house—pinky swear—and, to Naoya’s immense dissatisfaction, you don’t disappoint.

No. Instead, you excel.

Those pretty little words weren’t empty promises—you begin cooking all of the meals, taking on the task to do the dishes entirely by yourself, tending to the house and the garden outside, even going as far to aid the help in their daily cleaning routines, until Daddy tells you it isn’t necessary.

And you manage to capture almost everyone’s hearts through your deeds and duties, through your kind and compassionate nature, through your being attentive and, for the most part, obedient—but most important of all, being family oriented.

You do the laundry when it needs to be done. You keep the house spotless and the kitchen sparkling. You learn everyone’s favourite dishes and then dedicate hours upon hours to perfecting them.

Naoya observes you throughout it all, sharp eyes following your movements, watching as you expertly tend to everyone’s needs, almost as if you know what they’ll require before they do.

You’d be perfect wife material, if you weren’t his sister—he catches the thought as it drifts through his mind—a sentiment that’s almost involuntary, unthinking in nature— and strangles it with his bare hands, stomps on it until it’s nothing but dust.

Because what’s more infuriating than anything else is that you are a good woman, a perfect woman, a woman who—for the most part—understands her place and duty in the household; or, at least, you did, before Daddy began spoiling you rotten.

It earns you the nickname princess from your favourite nii-san, hissed through gritted teeth with narrowed eyes and scrunched up noses, drenched in condescension and sprinkled with artificial icing sugar—a nickname Daddy irritatingly and affectionately adopts, extracting all of the patronization Naoya had imbued it with and stuffing it full of love.

You aren’t invincible, though, no matter how precious you are, how sweet your voice becomes when you bat your eyelashes and fix a pout on your lips, how much Daddy is barely able to deny you.

Because Daddy’s incessant spoiling does eventually bite him in the ass, just like Naoya knew it would.

✰ ✰ ✰

“But Daddy,” you whine, wearing your prettiest pout and cutest puppy-dog eyes, lethal weapons that are nearly foolproof, your most cherished expressions that grant you almost everything you want. “It’ll just be for a little, I promise! Just a drink or two!”

“I said no—”

“But everyone’s going! Even my professors will be there; I’m expected to show up!” Voice rising in pitch, your arms cross over your chest as eyebrows knit deeply and a lip juts out further, looking about two seconds away from stomping your foot.

Naoya would be amused, really, to see a grown woman acting like a petulant fucking child over some inconsequential party being thrown by the department, if he didn’t feel like his heart was ripping itself to pieces with your teary expression and soft half-sniffles, with the knowledge that, if you attend, you’ll be with him.

“You have an exam tomorrow,” Daddy reminds you in a sigh, dipping his head to scrutinize you over the rim of his reading glasses. “Are they not all required to write the same exam as well?”

“Well, they are, but—”

“But they didn’t spend their study break out gallivanting with their TA, did they?”

Your eyes widen for a second, shocked by the words leaving your father’s mouth, but the expression is gone in an instant, morphed into incredulousness, eyes rolling as your tongue tuts in disbelief.

“Please, we were studying,”

The chuckle that escapes your father’s lips is anything but warm; it’s cruel and condescending, a sharp slap to the face, your bottom lip beginning to tremble as he snaps his book shut, the sound echoing throughout the living room.

“You must think me a real fool,” he’s almost snickering as he throws his glasses on the coffee table, grunting a little as he stands from his armchair and raises himself to his full height, towering over you. “Do you think Daddy’s stupid?”

“What? No, of course not—”

“Then why are you lying to him?”

“I-I’m not—”

“And you’re doing it again?”

Head shaking in jerky, quivering movements, your lips open and close, emitting nothing more but little squeaks of breath as you try to backtrack, managing to stammer out an apology.

“It’s a little late for that,” your father’s saying sternly, a large hand curling around your bicep as he yanks you towards him, beginning to haul you down the hall. “Good girls do not lie to their fathers,”

Naoya sits tense and coiled in his father’s armchair, a symphony of your cries mingled with harsh slaps of Daddy’s calloused palm against your smooth skin carrying throughout the house, and he swallows thickly, past the lump that’s lodged itself in the column of his throat, past the bitter acid rising in his chest, past the irregular thumping of his heart against his ribs.

Because he doesn’t know why your wails and squeals of Daddy! M’sorry! Daddy! make his cock throb and his chest ache—ache with longing, with want and desire, with jealousy—doesn’t know why he finds himself fucking his fist to those memories that same night, mind fixated on the quick glance he had caught through the sliver of the open door when he couldn’t stand it anymore, when he had to sneak down the hallway just to make sure everything was alright, images of you thrown over father’s knees, bare ass spanked raw materializing in his head.

Or maybe he does know. Maybe he refuses to admit it. Maybe he just pretends he doesn’t, because he wishes he didn’t.

Still, you always get off fucking easy, as far as Naoya’s concerned. He’s never witnessed his father allow any woman to talk back to him with such horrid disrespect, to whine and plead and roll their eyes without a backhand so heavy, so hard it knocks them to the floor.

And yet, you receive a few measly spanks to your ass—a punishment that’s more embarrassing than anything else, terribly unfit for a grown woman—and get sent to your room for the rest of the night.

“She truly is Daddy’s Little Girl,” his mother had snarled after one particular punishment, features curled up in an unattractive sneer.

Naoya can’t help but begrudgingly agree.

✰ ✰ ✰

“Oh, lighten up,” one of his brothers nudges his foot with the toe of his slipper before collapsing next to him one abnormally cold evening in early October, interrupting Naoya’s nightly routine of glaring at you, cuddled up into Daddy’s side as you watch a show. “Just because you aren’t Daddy’s favourite anymore doesn’t mean you have to skulk around looking like you just ate a whole lemon,”

“What’re you on about,” Naoya seethes through clenched teeth, glancing at his older brother through the corner of his eye.

“You know,” he responds airily with a knowing smirk, nodding his head in your direction. “She’s taken your place, huh? Or is that not what’s upsetting you?”

And that hurts—it hurts, because he used to be Daddy’s favourite, Daddy’s youngest—the baby—Daddy’s spoiled brat. He’s used to being the center of Daddy’s attention, used to being the object of his praise, used to being the golden child, the prized child, the destined son nurtured and conditioned to take over the Family Business once his father retires.

Light eyes roll back in his skull as he tsks in disapproval, shaking his head and clearing his throat to rid the tremble from his voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“Mm, I think I know more than you believe,”

The words are spoken in a murmur, only loud enough for the two of them to hear, but Naoya’s gaze snaps back to his face immediately as he calls your name, gently pulling you from the hushed conversation you were having with Daddy, full of giggles and murmurs, nonchalantly asking, “When’s your birthday?”

No.

No, Naoya wants to hiss at his pathetic excuse of a brother, large hands curling into quivering fists, nails biting into the fleshy heels of his palms as teeth grit, forcefully swallowing back down the two letter refutation.

No-no-no-no-no, he doesn’t want to hear this. He doesn’t want to know, doesn’t need to know, throat constricting as you inhale to speak, chirpily responding.

Blood turns to thick ice in his veins when he hears your birth date, when he realizes those raised little bumps he was born with on the inside of his wrist match your zodiac sign. Heavy dread, black and poisonous and akin to thick disappointment, sinks in his chest, latching onto the floor of his stomach and spreading quickly, sticky as it engulfs all of his surrounding organs, coating them in acidic pollution.

He’s up and out of his seat before his brother has even finished asking you his next question, stumbling out of the room on unsteady legs, nearly tripping over his own ankles in his haste to get away from you, to escape.

He doesn’t want to know what the bumps on your inner wrist are, tells himself that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t care, that this is all bullshit anyway, century-old myths created by the dreamers and the sentimentalists. It isn’t like the prospect hadn’t already crossed his mind—drifting through a sick orgasmic haze after fucking his fist to the memory of you—the potential that you may be his ‘soulmate’, a cruel trick played on him by the gods. Except…

Except it isn’t real. It isn’t real. There’s no science backing it up, nothing to concretely prove that the zodiac constellation embedded in his skin has anything to do with his ‘soulmate’—or anyone else’s. It’s just a legend, an old wives tale made up for the romantics and nothing else.

In his alacrity to resist it, he turns fucking ruthless in his verbal assault, but nothing seems to deter you; it barely seems to phase you at all, carrying on your tasks or your cute little babbling as if he hadn’t just insulted you.

Because you’re incessant, almost desperate to gain his approval, continuing to treat him like a god—doing more for him than you do for anyone else, including Daddy—regardless of how many how many expletives and offensive sentiments he hurls at you.

And eventually, he goes a little too far.

✰ ✰ ✰

The night before Halloween is dark and dreary, thick grey clouds stuffed with rain that continuously drizzles over the estate, brutal winds whipping the tiny droplets against the windowpanes, tiny specks and splatters of water decorating the glass, rearranging themselves every time the wind throws another smattering of rain towards them.

You skip into the living room, full of bashful giggles and muted squeals as Daddy fawns over you, awestricken as he murmurs about how beautiful his princess looks.

His princess.

Naoya’s not quite sure what you’re supposed to be, nor does he care, tearing his gaze from your scantily clad form before his brain can even register what the costume is, before blood can rush to his cock, before he can witness the shy little smile on your lips and the pretty way your eyes glitter as you twirl for Daddy.

No, the only thing Naoya cares about is the fact that the dress of your costume is way too short to be considered decent, fluffy petticoat barely covering your ass, fanning out to reveal the edges of dainty pink lace clinging to the supple flesh of your ass as you twist and turn.

And he hasn’t a clue what you’re chattering on about, isn’t listening, can’t hear anything over the roar of blood rushing in his ears as he stands from his seat and stomps towards you, strong, callous voice cutting off your excited babbling as he glowers expectantly at his father.

“Jesus Christ, Daddy, you aren’t actually going to let her go out in that, are you?”

“Why?” you ask before your father can respond, genuinely confused, head tilting cutely. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he repeats incredulously, thick eyelashes fluttering as he blinks several times, eyebrows raising and huffing out a sarcastic laugh in disbelief. “Are you joking?”

Your head shakes slowly, a frown beginning to materialize on your lips as your eyebrows knit.

“It’s entirely inappropriate,” he scoffs, enunciating his words slowly, like you’re stupid.

You stare up at him cautiously, bottom lip jutting out in a pout so deep your chin puckers. “But nii-san, it’s Halloween—”

“Oh? And what are you going as, a slut?”

A little strangled gasp of Naoya-nii! hitches in your throat, your entire expression crumpling at his disapproval, hands running over the costume in an almost protective manner, smoothing it down.

“N-No, I’m—”

“I don’t care,” he hisses. “There’s no way you’re leaving the house in that—go change. Now.”

The direct order surprises you, shock saturating your features before resentment begins to bleed through. Blinking hard, you force the tears from your eyes, expression hardening and shoulders rolling back, spine straightening.

“No.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Is there something wrong with your hearing? I said no,”

That sharp, self-assured smile drops from his face in an instant, face screwing up from such defiance, such disrespect. “Excuse me?”

Shivers skitter up your spine, tiny spikes of ice chasing them, but you refuse to back down, even though your voice is beginning to quiver.

“Y-You’re not Daddy! You don’t get to tell me what to do, I don’t care if you’re older!”

And just like that, the sharp smile is back, stretched abnormally wide across his lips—like it had been cut, carved, into his handsome face—uncanny and inhuman as his eyes glint with malevolence, words flowing from his mouth slowly, calmly, almost serenely, as he prowls towards you.

“You’re right—I’m not Daddy, because I would never let a woman speak to me the way he allows you to speak to him, you ungrateful little brat,”

A large hand, decorated with chunky, glittering gold rings, cuts through the air, striking you across the cheek with such force you stumble backwards from the impact, nearly tripping over your own feet only to have Daddy wrap a strong arm around your waist, catching you with ease and pulling you to his chest.

And it’s intense, so intense it kicks the breath right from your chest, barreling up your throat where you choke on it as it tangles with a sharp yelp. Hands fly to clutch your cheek immediately, throbbing thorns of pain shooting through the side of your face.

Daddy’s yelling, but it all sounds muddled, muffled, like your deep underwater and he’s shouting from above the surface, despite the fact that you’re clinging to him, pressed up so tightly against his side you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his body.

Naoya-nii isn’t saying anything, hand dropped limply to his side, pretty gold adorning his fingers coated in gleaming crimson. He isn’t even looking at Daddy—no, his gorgeous light eyes are focused on you, on the sticky scarlet leaking from the wounds his rings left when they collided with your cheek and the glistening tears shielding your eyes.

And for once, he has nothing to say, no sarcastic remarks or cynical little comments, voice evaporating in his throat as his chest burns, scathed with regret, remorse, repentance—all unwarranted, undeserved, unnecessary. Because—because you earned that slap for being so fucking disrespectful; you needed it, were practically begging him to put you back in your place, back where you belong: below him, behind him, and never beside him.

Because no matter how cute you are, how sweet and precious and good, none of it permits you to speak to him in such a manner, to act as though you’re equal.

So why has this inexplicable agony taken root at his core? Why does he feel like his heart is mutilating itself, tearing itself to shreds, with each of your pitiful little whimpers? Why does he feel the overwhelming urge to make it better, to make your pretty tears and precious sobs stop?

Inevitable anger surges through his veins—furious at you, for eliciting such bothersome emotions; furious at himself, for being so weak, so vulnerable, and allowing such pathetic sentiments to take over, to rob him of his control, of his autonomy.

And despite everything, all of his rage and loathing and confusion, his hand buzzes from it, from the sensation of touching your soft skin for the very first time, even in such a brutal and malicious manner, and instantly, he craves more.

✰ ✰ ✰

You don’t speak to him after that. You stop making his favourite meals, stop asking him about his day and then uninvitedly reciting your own in that cute, excited chatter that is so distinctly you, stop doing all of those extra little chores—washing his clothes and changing his sheets and scrubbing his bathroom until it sparkles. You put an end to everything.

And he fucking misses it.

He shouldn’t, but he does.

It’s painful to admit, but he can’t ignore it, notices your lack of presence almost immediately, that gaping void spreading, growing, as it roars in protest, claiming more and more of his body every day, like some sort of inky disease that only your presence seems to calm, to cure.

It fucking sucks. It fucking sucks, because he can’t stop it, regardless of how hard he tries, an impossible ailment he can’t void himself of. It fucking sucks, because you’re eating him up, consuming his very soul, devouring him from the inside out without even sparing him a goddamn glance—and you don’t even know it.

And it’s getting exhausting, putting up this front all the time, fighting against the intense feelings you swirl around in his chest, in his cock, without a hope, without a chance in hell. Fighting for nothing, because he knows he’ll never win. Fighting for nothing, because he isn’t sure he wants to anymore.

They’re unruly, voracious and rabid, tearing up his chest, his lungs and his heart and his throat, with sharp piercing claws and becoming increasingly difficult to overlook, to disregard.

Still, he’s too stubborn, too proud, to give in, to give up, even though the thing living inside him grows stronger every day, even though he knows that one day, it will overpower him.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s windy—the estate quiet as the wind howls softly through the dense pines outside and ruffles them—the night it finally does, the night it takes over entirely, bursting through the barriers he keeps rebuilding and repairing around his soul and his sanity, writhing inside him when he hears soft sobs, muffled by the wood of your bedroom door, just past three in the morning.

It possesses him, like some sort of eternal spirit sinking deep into his bones and sewing itself into his soul, revoking his control over his body as a sudden, intense need to comfort you, to find out what’s wrong and make it all better, courses through his veins, entirely unaware of his actions as he pushes past the door and into your room.

“Naoya-nii?”

It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him, the first time you’ve even looked at him, since he struck you.

And he aches to apologize, I’m sorry’s and I shouldn’t have done that’s blistering his throat as they linger, just behind the back of his tongue.

But his pride outweighs them by a hair, despite how much his chest stings with the need to make things better, to make things right, for a reason unbeknownst to him. It’s just a sense—vague in meaning but strong in feeling—that longs for reconciliation, that’s desperate to rid your pretty face from the permanent scowl his presence etches into it.

That’s the first time he creeps into your room, the first time he loses his autonomy to the thing inside of him as he takes you into his arms and comforts you, the first time he allows you to cum from grinding on his cock.

Except it becomes a habit, an addiction, a nightly routine, cravings becoming stronger and stronger with each passing night. And for a brief span of time, it’s enough to appease the creature, the short nights spent with you in his arms, body trembling against his as you whimper out his name and his honorific, tangling on your tongue.

Because it feels right. It feels righter than anything in his life ever has, uncharacteristically gentle hands guiding your hips as they rock against his, soaked cunt gliding over the flannel of his pajama pants with ease as you huff out the prettiest little mewls into his neck.

It feels right only when he’s here with you, alone with you. Suddenly, it’s like everything makes sense again, like the world is in colour again, like the planet balanced again. He can no longer deny this feeling, this ache deep at the very pit of his soul that throbs and stings and burns mercilessly without your presence. You’re the only thing that can heal it, that can quell it, that can complete it.

So he gives in. It’s just for the nights, he promises himself, vows never to allow such sentiments to trickle into the daytime, to save it for when the sun sinks beneath the horizon, pledges never to permit these nightly escapades to advance from anything more than dry humping, nothing further than your cum on his fingers and your thighs stained with sticky cream.

But eventually, that isn’t enough, either.

And he was stupid to think it would be.

✰ ✰ ✰

The harsh slap of Testoni loafers against stone echoes out among the immaculately landscaped front yard, bouncing off thin tree trunks and being absorbed by tall, thick shrubs. Silver light, cast by the haloed moon hanging high in the clear navy sky, illuminates the garden, the foliage faded and washed out, painted by the moonbeams. Somewhere in the distance, the gentle trickle of water mingles with Naoya’s harsh breaths, cellphone gripped tightly in one fist as he paces back and forth like a rabid dog, small rocks popping under his feet.

It’s late. It’s too late—you were supposed to be home hours ago. Naoya’s tried calling—seven times, now, his phone buzzing in his palm to warn him of a low battery—but you haven’t picked up once. But that isn’t new, nor is it unusual; you rarely answer his calls while you’re out with Satoru.

So, really, this shouldn’t be cause for alarm. It shouldn’t.

Except he knows the man you’re out with, knows what you’re doing with him, and he can’t get it out of his fucking head, assaulted with fabricated images of you trapped under a large man with ivory hair and crystal eyes, back arching in ecstasy, his name leaving your lips in the prettiest gasps, in the way Naoya’s name leaves your lips during his habitual sneaking into your room in the middle of the night.

He’s terrified it’s going to drive him insane, eyes pricking and throat burning as his nose twitches with the threat of tears, eyelids shut so tightly his whole face scrunches up, tense and crumpled every time a new wave of contrived memories of you cumming all over that asshole’s cock crash over his mind.

Copper stings his tongue as sharp front teeth nibble at the raw cuticles surrounding his nailbed, face puckering at the taste and ripping his thumb, glistening with saliva, from his mouth.

This is pathetic, goddamn it! It shouldn’t even matter who you’re with and what you’re doing with them, shouldn’t be any of Naoya’s concern at all whether you’re safe or not, shouldn’t fucking hurt nearly as much as it does, a heavy ache that weighs on his chest more and more and more as each second ticks by, ribs caving in and splintering under the force, snapping into sharp spikes that puncture his lungs and make it painful to breathe.

“This is such a waste of fucking time, I don’t even—” he’s muttering to himself when you step out of Satoru’s car, his internal monologue beginning to leak from his head out his lips, your presence immediately cutting it off as his head snaps up, light eyes paler than normal, practically glowing in the moonlight.

A startled little whimper pries its way past your lips when you see him, stomping towards you with a heaving chest and a growl ripping from his throat.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he’s seething as a large hand seizes your arm, wrapping around your bicep and yanking, bring your face closer to his. “Huh? Do you know what fucking time it is?”

Frenzied eyes search your face, wild and erratic in their movements, sharply zeroing in on the tiny galaxies of swirling lilac and cobalt peppered with little pinpricks of scarlet that’ve been sucked into the flesh of your neck.

He chokes on something—a gasp or a snarl or a sob, maybe a mixture of all three, you aren’t entirely sure—pearly teeth gnashing together. “You’re a little slut,” he spits the word out like venom, harsh and biting as it whizzes past your cheek, slicing into your skin.

“That’s it, that’s all—that’s all you’re fucking good for,” his grip tightens with each word that flows from his mouth. “At least you’ve picked a rich man to sell your pussy to, at least you aren’t a total idiot, just like your mother, huh?”

“What is your problem?” little hands claw at the fingers latched around you, finally breaking free from him, ripping your limb from his grasp with such vigor you nearly fall on your ass, teetering backwards on unsteady feet. “You know, just because you can’t own up and face your feelings, doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. This,” you gesture between the two of you. “Isn’t my fault.”

“This?” he spits, face screwing up in scorn. “There is no this,”

“Oh my God,” eyes rolling, you shake your head, exhaling a dubious laugh. “Shut up. There’s no one here—you can be real with me, I’m not gonna tell anyone,” you snark, arms crossing over your chest as you level your gaze with him.

He glares back at you, sharp jaw rhythmically clenching and unclenching with the grinding of his molars, large hands balled into tight, trembling fists on either side of his body.

“You know there’s something here, between us, within us, even if you refuse to admit it,” you continue after a beat of silence, voice softening.

His whole form is beginning to quiver and he jerkily shakes his head, exhaling harshly. You think he may be crying, but in the faint moonlight it’s hard to be sure.

Holding your wrist up, you swallow thickly, glancing at those little bumps embedded in your skin, watching the tiny shadows that form when your arm twists. “I have your sign,” your voice is quiet as you look back at him, flashing the inside of your wrist to him. “And I know you have mine,”

A cynical smirk spreads across his lips, but it looks more like a grimace, like a flimsy mask desperately attempting to cover something else, tongue tutting in disbelief. “Yeah, and there’s millions of people in this world with any given sign. It’s all bullshit—it could be anyone,”

“It could be anyone,” you agree, nodding. “But it isn’t.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do! I know you feel it too! Christ, why are you so—so adamant on denying this, even when it’s just the two of us? What’s the point?”

“You’re my fucking sister, that’s the point. This is inappropriate, it’s wrong,”

“If it’s so wrong, then why do you sneak into my bedroom every night? Why do you let me cum on your fingers? Why do you fuck my thighs?” your footsteps speed up, jogging a little to catch up to him. “Huh? Huh? No answer? Or do you know the answer, and you’re too afraid to say it?”

“I don’t know!” he explodes, whirling around on you and trapping you against the brick, palms laid flat against the wall. “Alright? I don’t fucking know why I do those things. They make me feel sick afterwards, but I…”

But I can’t stop.

But I need you.

But I love you.

Chests heave with harsh exhales that mingle and echo in the garden, your eyes studying his face intently, in a way that makes him feel naked, exposed, makes him want to turn and hide from you.

“I’m not asking—” you start, words catching in your throat and blinking hard to clear rapidly welling tears from your eyes. Your voice is softer, more fragile and weak, when you speak again. “You don’t have to marry me, for Christ’s sake. I just—I just want you to—I need to know you feel it too,”

“Why?” he hisses, acidic envy bubbling in his chest, beginning to erode his resolve, walls crumbling to rubble. “What is there to know? You already have him,”

“But I’d rather have you,” the words materialize on your tongue before you even know what you’re saying, earnest eyes boring into his.

“God, don’t—” eyelids shut tightly, lithe fingers tangling in blonde hair and tugging. “Don’t say shit like that,”

He can feel them, those three little words thrashing in his chest, desperate to claw up his throat and spill from his lips, but he grits his teeth and swallows them back down, letters lodging and forming a painful lump.

And you notice. You notice, because you’ve studied him extensively, have learned to read him—his mannerisms, expressions, behaviours—well.

And you’ve just found his weakness.

“Do you want to know what I think of when he fucks me?” you ask, eyes searching his face in an almost frenzied manner, breath accelerating as you quickly push the words from your lips, worried if you don’t speak fast enough, if you don’t vocalize these sentiments now, you’ll lose him again. “It’s you. It’s always you. I’ve tried—I’ve tried to think of someone else, of anyone else, but you just…you just won’t leave my brain! It’s like a—a sickness, or something. Like a chronic illness, and it’s only getting worse,”

A strangled growl rattles in his chest as he tears himself away from you, fists violently rubbing at his eyes.

He knows. He knows, because he’s tried the same thing, attempted to desperately forget you, to disintegrate the weird feelings you endlessly evoke in his chest by losing himself in women night after night, often multiple women at once, drowning himself in their moans and gasps and soft bodies to no avail.

“There’s no cure,”

He doesn’t even mean to say it, words slipping from his lips unconsciously as he gets tangled in his thoughts, flipping through the countless memories of faceless women of all shapes and sizes, faceless woman that somehow always mange to morph into you.

“No,” you respond, shaking your head. “There isn’t. But at least I’m trying!”

He spins around, gleaming eyes flashing, brimming with bewilderment, features falling in surprise for just a moment before they harden again, varnished in offense.

“What’re you talking about,” he seethes, eyebrows furrowing deeply as his eyes narrow into sharp slits, scrutinizing, analyzing, dissecting.

“I-I’d rather have you, yes, and he’ll—no one will ever compare, will ever even come close to how much I—” you cut yourself off, swallowing the thought, then clearing your throat and beginning again. “At least I’m trying to find someone, though. At least I��m trying to find just a shred of what I feel for you, instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, alone and miserable,”

“Oh,” he laughs humorlessly, a callous little sound that viciously tears from his chest, that scrapes his throat and comes out strangled, full of incredulity. “You don’t think I’ve tried? You don’t think I’ve tried endlessly to forget you? To cleanse you from my mind? To move the fuck on from something that had never begun in the first place? You’ve imprinted yourself in the tissues of my fucking brain in a matter of months. It’s tiring. It’s hopeless,”

His voice breaks on the last word, some of the merciless heat fading from his features as he glares at you, eyes almost pleading for you to understand.

Because you’re the only one that can.

You’ve been in this together the entire time, right from the start, from the moment you walked through that front door.

And he’s been resisting it, fighting against it, against himself, all while the current only becomes stronger, only continues to grow in strength and size, and he’s motherfucking exhausted at this point, sick of battling some invisible force he was convinced didn’t even exist, sick of waging a war he will forever be destined to lose.

You’ve broken that wall, shattered it to dust, destroyed all of his weapons of defense and robbed him of his sovereignty, and now it’s all pouring form his mouth, an endless, uncontrollable stream of confessions, of thoughts and desires, of agony and misery.

“But it doesn’t even fucking matter, because I love you. I love you and I fucking hate you for it. And I’ve been trying, alright? I’ve tried not to, I’ve tried every single trick in the fucking book to stop it, to get over you, to forget you—and none of it has ever fucking worked, not even for a second. I don’t want you; I—I don’t want to be, but I’m in love with you,”

It looks as though your breathing has ceased, chest halting in its rapid movements, body gone still, static, stagnant. Your silence is deafening, has his ears ringing and his heart pounding, thrashing against his ribs as it aimlessly attempts to crawl through the cage, to present itself to you, bloody and beating and all yours. It’s all yours—take it, kill it, end its suffering.

“And there’s nothing—”

Surging forward, your lips crash into his, body following as it smacks against his own, effectively cutting him off. Naoya freezes, eyes wide and breathing stopped, entire body turned to ice, rigid and tense, but you are not deterred, arms winding around his neck as fingers thread through the gold and ink at the base of his skull.

“I love you, too,” you mumble into the kiss, refusing to break contact for even a second, lips brushing his as you speak. “I love you so much,”

The confession—an admission he already knew, deep down in his very bones, an admission he can no longer ignore, now that you’ve said it—snaps him out of his trance, and something switches, something breaks. Because then he’s kissing you back, tongue forcing its way through your lips to assault your own as calloused hands find purchase on your hips, squeezing your flesh hard enough that you yelp.

He chuckles against your lips, and then he’s pushing forward, forcing you to walk backwards, too fast for you to keep up, his legs longer than yours, body bigger than yours, stronger than yours.

Even with all of his shoving, you still aren’t moving quick enough for him, clumsy and stumbling over your own feet, whimpering hushed apologies into his mouth, a response to the growls that rumble in his chest each time you trip, your pitiful little sorry!’s consistently being cut off by his tongue.

Large hands hoist you up without breaking the kiss, mouth still attempting to devour you whole, to suck up your very soul, and your legs automatically wrap around his waist, latching onto him.

Either of your bedrooms are too far, and he can’t take it, he can’t wait—not with the way your fingers are tangling in his shirt and tugging, the way needy little whines are hitching in your throat, the way you’re squirming in his grasp, trying to grind against his half-hard cock.

You’re fucking desperate, but so is he, thigh whacking off the edge of the wooden coffee table as he blindly staggers towards the kitchen, tongue hungrily dragging against yours while he does so.

The cold marble stings your skin as he deposits you onto the nearest countertop, hips wedged between your thighs keeping them spread.

Little fingers immediately go for his belt, nonsensical whimpers sounding in the back of your throat as you fumble and struggle, hooking your fingers through his beltloops and pulling.

“Eager girl,” he chastises, a little breathless as nimble fingers find the soaked lace at the apex of your thighs, pushing it to the side. “Nii-san has to prep you first,”

“No,” you whine, pitched high and much too loud. “M’wet enough. Want you, want you now, nii-san, please, just give it to me, been waiting so long, please,”

The words are slurred together as they tumble from your lips, infused with a potent lust that casts a dense haze over your mind, rendering you capable of only focusing on what you need.

Light eyes dart up, holding yours through fanned lashes for a moment, as if they’re searching for any hesitancy, before his lips form the most genuine smile he’s ever given you.

“Yeah?” he huffs out, finally breaking your stare to watch his hands undo his belt, continuing to speak as he shoves his jeans down his thighs and frees his cock. “You think you can take it?”

“Yes, nii-san,” you nearly mewl, gazing at him with blown, glazed eyes and a cute pout. “Please, give it to me, I-I want it, please,”

His gaze finally flicks up, that sincere smile stretched wider across his face, a playful glint in his eye, voice void of any of its usual derision. “You want what? Hmm, baby? Come on, nii-san wants to hear you say it,”

A low whimper leaves your throat and you shift on the countertop, as if trying to wiggle closer to him. “Your cock, nii-san, want your cock, please-please-please, gimme-gimme-gimme,”

It sounds as though you’re close to tears, voice cracking and thick with desire, Naoya’s cock twitching in his palm in response to the sound, and, God, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that, absolutely adores it when you beg, thinks you sound so pretty when you’re pleading for him.

“You’re a greedy little girl, you know that?” he pants while he pushes in, a muffled yelp prying past your lips. “Shh, hush now, nii-san will give you what you need,”

The stretch is incredible, cute little cunt throbbing around his thick cock as it struggles to adjust to the sudden intrusion, feeling as though he’s going to tear you into two, leaving stinging micro-fissures in the delicate flesh.

Yet despite the burn, the ache that settles deep in your core, that feels like he’s splitting you in half, a satisfied moan leaves your lips, head falling forward and resting against his broad shoulder, fingers curling in the cotton that adorns his torso and pulling him closer, closer, closer.

Because, finally, you feel whole, more whole than you’ve ever felt in your entire life, satisfying an inexplicable desire buried at the crux of your very soul, something you didn’t even realize you were missing until you finally had it.

“S’not enough,” you mumble into him, nuzzling your face against him like a cat. “Need more, nii-san, need more,”

“You really are a selfish little fucking brat,” he grunts as fingers flex on your hips, tips digging into the pliant flesh and gripping, singeing his name into your skin in rapidly blossoming indigo and ultramarine.

“Nii-san was going to try and be nice,” the words, strained and husky, spill from plush lips as his hips begin to thrust, slow and hard, winding back as they draw the force to ram forward, slamming a cry from your chest as his cockhead pounds against your cervix. “But you’re too impatient for that, aren’t you?”

It’s a fucking lie; his self-control had been hanging by a thread, barely restraining the primal need to wildly buck into you, but you just snapped it, just tore the last of his treasured discipline to fucking shreds with nothing more than a few words.

The pace is ruthless, your head bouncing off the cabinets with each powerful snap of his hips, an endless stream of cries pouring from your lips, one hand curling around the edge of the counter as the other grips his shoulder, nails burying themselves in the hard muscle through the thin cotton of his shirt. Sharp bones carve a spot just for him, made for him, between your legs, into the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he pants out, eyes so bright they’re practically glowing. “Mine.”

“Yours!” you gasp out, head nodding in sloppy little movements against his shoulder as you fall forward, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing. “Yours, yours, yours,”

Everything feels hazy, almost dreamlike in a sense, vision blurring over with a thick shield of tears that you can’t quite explain, his name and the honorific becoming muddled on your tongue, fusing into one as you wail it out, clinging to him in a way that’s almost possessive.

“Nii-san’s here,” he promises you, voice hoarse. “Nii-san’s yours, too,”

“Mine,” the arms thrown around his neck tighten, fingers tangling in soft gold and wrinkled cotton. “Mine, mine, mine—”

“Mine,” he echoes, hips never faltering even as you wind your body around his, large hands keeping your hips still as he fucks into you. “And only mine—”

“Forever and ever and ever—”

“You belong to me, were made for me, put on this earth for me,”

Words of confirmation are escaping from your lips, you’re absolutely sure of it, can feel them vibrating up your throat as you speak them—but it’s so much, too much, all of the feelings swirling around in your chest, sending spikes of pleasure and thorns of pain shooting through your veins as they clash together. A sudden wooziness settles over you, brain fogging over as he becomes the only thing you can think of, the only thing you want to think of, nonsensical babbling still slipping from between parted lips in hitched puffs of breath.

“So full,” you nearly sob, one of Naoya’s hands tangling in the hair at the back of your skull and yanking, pulling your face from the sanctuary of his neck and exposing your expressions to his scrutinizing eyes, devouring the beautiful tears streaking your cheeks, the contorting of your features as pleasure washes over them. “M’so full, nii-san, it’s so much,”

“Yeah? Better than he could ever stuff you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re wailing out, affirmations falling from your lips with each brutal piston of his hips. “More, need more,”

Because it’s like an addiction, an innate need for more of him, for all of him, ravenous and unquenchable, that’s always existed within you, that his cock stretching you out, filling you up, has only just awakened.

His aura is positively intoxicating, overwhelming your senses and becoming all you can see, all you can hear, all you can smell, taste, touch. His taste lingers on your tongue, faint notes of minty pine and sharp nicotine dancing with your tastebuds; his touch brands itself into you, bruises and bitemarks carving his name into soft skin; his scent assaults you, envelops you, overpowers everything else as it wraps you in a shackled embrace of expensive aftershave and cedar wood.

A growl tears from his chest, so rough that it vibrates throughout his entire body, and his pace quickens, cock plunging into you and an incredible speed, dragging against that one spot that has you nearly screaming, that has your eyes rolling back and your little hole fluttering around him as a blistering fire sparks to life in the pit of your belly.

You can feel it, furling in on itself with each vicious rut of his hips, each relentless bang of his cockhead against your cervix, a concentrated ball of scathing heat pulsing, quaking in your stomach as it curls tighter and tighter and tighter with each plunge forward—until it bursts, a fiery explosion that buzzes through your veins as your cunt clenches, gushing on his cock as he praises you—yeah, that’s it, make a mess on nii-san—entire body coiling from the sheer strength.

“Tell me,” he keens almost desperately, voice pulling you from the clutches of post-orgasm unconsciousness, hips stuttering for a moment before he regains his finesse. “Tell me how badly you need it,”

And you don’t need to be told what, pleads pouring from your mouth in an instant, before your brain can even comprehend what you’re saying, an instinctual reaction to his command. “Need your cum, nii-san, need you to full me up, fill my tummy with it, stuff me full of it, need it so bad, nii-san, please gimme your cum, please, please,”

The words are all jumbled together, thick with tears and wet with saliva and imbued with delirium, quivering and breaking as your body trembles from overstimulation.

“Fuck,” he chokes on the curse, hips stilling, pressed flush against your ass as his cock throbs, filling you with spurt after spurt of thick cum, a broken whine catching in his throat as endless words spill from yours, peppered with the sweetest moans—yes, nii-san, thank you, nii-san, fill me up, fill my body with it, my brain with it, I need it, I need it.

And he does, pumps you full of so much that it begins leaking out from your abused little hole—still stuffed with him—and down his cock.

And it’s then—after he has filled you up, with your precious little cunt still pulsing around his length, whimpering out his honorific as you hold onto him, voice raw and wrecked and cracking with residual tears—then that Naoya’s sure you were meant for him, made for him, perfectly tailored to him; he knows you were, his very own gift from the gods.

#zenin naoya x reader #zenin naoya smut #jjk smut #zenin naoya #zen'in naoya #tw:incest #tw death #tw toxic relationship #tw abuse #tw physical abuse #WAAAAAAH FINALLY HE IS DONE HEHEHE YAAAAY #whew okay

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finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

Can you write something about when Harry and Y/N broke up but fans speculate that they got back together and they did get back together. They broke over something stupid, please. You don’t have to do this exactly it can be something like that.

let’s see how this turns out! hope it’s what you wished for?!

The last few months had been rough.

What had started as rumours of a breakup between everyones favourite couple, you and Harry, had turned into an actual breakup.

It had started by Harry spending more time with Olivia, due to press for Don’t Worry Darling. They were always hanging out with each other, even when there was no publicity stunt telling them to. You found it appropriate at first, wanting the movie to gain some form of reputation, but after a while you believed it turned South. It was becoming a definite friendship and not just because they had to. It was the way that Harry would bring Olivia over for dinner without checking with you first, or taking the dog for a walk with her not you, or even staying longer out on stunts than they needed to just because they wanted to.

So you challenged Harry on it. Hell, even the tabloids were challenging you both - claiming Harry had split from you for Olivia. You made him question whether he thought his actions were irresponsible and appropriate or not, to which he thought there was nothing wrong and thought you were being irrational. You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, only to find him later on the phone speaking to Olivia about how crazy you’d been acting about it all. So you showed him crazy and walked out.

Until today.

For over a half a year your sister had her wedding planned and Harry was supposed to be your guest. You were nervous about turning up without him, because your family were very judgy. Your sister couldnt help being the smarter and the prettier one, but she also didn’t have to parade it around so everyone knew of it. Your mum and dad thought you a disappointment for the longest time, but once you’d gotten a job and had moved out they were a bit more loving over you. Still didn’t hide the fact they desperately hoped for you to have a relationship. It wasn’t that you were bringing Harry along to prove that someone loved you, but more to prove that they would never fully be satisfied whether you had a boyfriend or not. There would always be a podium stand slightly lower for you to stand on.

However, they didn’t know about the breakup.

“Y/N, nice to see you. Where’s Harry?” Another guest asked you, relatives of your mum. It was the same question over and over again, no one really caring about how you are but instead whether you’re in a positive relationship.

“Oh um I think he’s just running a bit late.” Was your chosen answer to respond to said question. It was repetitive, but it kept people off your back.

The wedding was completely beautiful. It was in a beautiful church and was decorated to perfection. The theme was white and royal blue, something your sister had always dreamed of. Children played amongst the pews and family relatives mumbled to each other about gossip. There was still a heavy sadness to the event. Maybe it was because your sister hadn’t asked you to be a bridesmaid - instead, choosing her best friends instead - or maybe it was because you missed Harry so much.

He’d fucked up. He really had, but it didn’t take away that burning passion for him that spread like a wildfire in your belly. You missed him. You still loved him. Worst of all, you had to pretend everything was all alright in front of your family when actually you were breaking apart inside.

Harry hadn’t messaged saying that he was or wasn’t coming, but after everything that had happened you were confident he was going to be a no show, and you would be the embarrassment of the family once again. Your relationship had been very private and exclusive, but Harry’s fans were so investigative you wouldn’t be surprised if they knew that you’d broken up and were aware that you were at a wedding today without him. Neither of you had made a public statement about your breakup, but neither of your wanted to damage each other even more. Fans suspected though and rumours travel fast.

“Y/N how are you doing? How’s Harry?” Another aunt came and asked you, this time with your mother in tow.

“Oh he’s great, yes.” You smiled forcefully, not actually having a clue how your ex-boyfriend was doing. You didn’t keep up with his social media because you were afraid of what you might find.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Your aunt asked.

“He’s late, apparently.” Your mother answered for you, sneeringly. “You’ll be made a fool of if he’s a no show Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I hope everything goes well for you both.” Your aunt kindly said, before waiting for your mum to say something nice too. That was a mistake though.

“Well it’s unlikely she’ll find someone again!” Your mother laughed and pulled your aunt away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows and let your heart sink low.

What were you thinking, letting Harry go like that? Your mum was right, you were never going to find anyone else again. You were so lucky with Harry. He was so kind and so patient with you, but obviously he’d run out of steam towards the end. It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always been told you’re a mighty handful and you need a lot of work put into looking after you, so you understand why you were probably too much for Harry. The showbiz life had never really been something you’d completely submerged yourself into, whereas you guess for Olivia it was rooted in her from birth. She understood Harry’s world the same way he did hers. They would match perfectly for each other, if that’s what they wanted.

You watched the room continue as usual, but you couldn’t keep yourself here. There was too much sadness welling deep within you that you wanted to just run and then keep running. So you did, only to get as far as the bench in the front courtyard. The outside felt calmer and more freeing than inside, you sat and absorbed it for a while, not realising that you were crying until your pretty multicoloured dress had grown darker with a pool of your tears.

“Shit.” You tried rubbing the tears out, but only made you cry a little harder. You thought about your makeup running and tried to compose yourself, fanning your face to calm it down from the heat now.

“And here I was thinking weddings were supposed to be happy.”

You stopped fanning your face to look at him. You couldn’t believe he was standing there, dressed in a beautiful white suit and salmon pink shirt underneath to compliment the colours of your dress - the outfit that you’d helped him pick out over a year ago. He’d remembered. He trusted that you’d still be wearing this dress. He was a sight alright. A vision of beauty and love.

“Harry?” You questioned, wiping your under eyes to clear away any running mascara, not quite believing he was standing there.

“So what was it? Bad music playing? No vodka? Or maybe there’s nowhere for you to escape to go read the book I know you have stuffed away in your clutch bag.” He stood at a distance from you, hands in his trouser pockets, to make sure you were comfortable.

“I brought vodka instead of the book.” You chuckled, reaching into your clutch to prove it to him.

“Lucky for you, i’ve come to save the day.” Harry reached to the inside of his blazer pocket and pulled out a Kindle. You’d always been debating whether or not to buy one, because the feeling of having a book to turn its’ physical pages is a feeling second to none. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Harry handed it out to you and you stood up to reach for it hesitantly. Harry assured you that it was okay and that you’d been reading too many books if you thought it was a trap of some sort.

“Thank you, Harry.” You spoke sincerely. You stroked your thumb over the cover and turned the case lid over to start up the screen. The screen lit up and it was set to a picture of your favourite quote, annotated just as you would have in your own book. You chuckled and let a few tears drop from the kindness of all of this.

“And then…” Harry unlocked the Kindle with your birthday as the password, before clicking on the library so you could discover what was waiting for you on your virtual shelves. Harry had downloaded all your most favourite books, whilst also downloading the ones he knew had been on your to-be-read list. He’d even added a few of his favourite books too, just because you liked reading his recommendations.

You smiled, but felt so lost.

“W-why are you here, H?” You asked, closing the lid and bravely looking up into his enchanting eyes. You had to control yourself not to comment on how wondrous they looked.

“To save the day.” He chuckled in repeat, until he knew you weren’t taking that for an answer. “Because I fucked up. Big league time.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your shoes to see that they weren’t that far apart at all. He was so close to you, yet he wasn’t yours to catch.

“And i’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out of that door. The promotion shit with Olivia? Done. I’ve finished. I explained that the movie isn’t as important to me as you. You,” Harry paused to breathe out, and took the risk of guiding your jaw up to meet your gaze with his soft hand, “you are real Y/N. You’re so important and key to my life and it bloody terrified me, still does actually, to think that you make me feel this way. I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, a home. A life. I was so worried I would screw it all up, though, to the point where I did screw it all up. I lost you and so I lost me. It’s selfish of me to ask whether any part of your heart still wants me, but—”

“Yes.” You quickly interjected before he could say something he’d later regret. “There is, yes.”

“R-really?” He stumbled over his response, not expecting you to react so soon but his words had got to you. His feelings were vulnerable and raw and it reminded you of how much you love him and feel safe with him.

“Why? Would you like me to say different.” You teased.

“No,” Harry rushed, stepping closer towards you, “God now. Stay, please. Forever, if you’ll have me?”

“I can deal with forever.” You leaned up to where his lips were, craving the taste of them against yours so badly. “Can I?” You looked between his lips and his eyes, watching his eyes coo in admiration of you. His arms snaked around your neck and cupped the back of your head, resting his ringed fingers against your skin delicately.

“You don’t have to ask, angel.” And with that you didn’t hesitate to reclaim your clips on his. He tasted as sweet and as soft as you could remember. The hint of mint sweets he kept in his car could be tasted all over his mouth, and he could no doubt taste the vodka on yours. He took no time in rushing to have his tongue exploring your mouth once mouth, biting on your lip when he got the chance to. He wanted you to remember this moment and how much love he has for you, and always will. Just as you do for him.

Hesitantly pulling away you smiled at him cheekily, feeling so much lighter and happier to have him here. With you in his arms so expertly.

“What?” He asked, leaving a quick kiss to your nose, inhaling his scent as he did.

“Just can’t believe you’re here.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into your touch so comfortably. He had missed you so damn much, and it showed.

“Let you down once before and I wasn’t going to do it again.”

“So you’d have shown up even if I hadn’t?”

“Not happily, but yes.” He laughed thinking about it.

“Why?” You laughed with him.

“I’ve got to make my impression on your family somehow. Need to remind some of them how amazing and beautiful their special Y/N L/N is.”

“Some are going to need a lot more persuading than others.” You sighed, side-frowning over your words.

“No offence, but anyone who doesn’t treat you as a fucking diamond doesn’t deserve you and should watch out for kick up their backside from me.” You laughed over his empty threat and buried your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat and rumble of laughter that came from within. This moment alone felt like home. Safe and warm.

“I love you, H.”

“Bloody love you too.”

Harry ended up returning to the wedding with you, much to your mothers surprise, and you both enjoyed the celebrations together. You shut yourselves out from everybody and just danced, talked and drank the night away.

You were so in love.

Later, photos got leaked of the wedding and it showed you and Harry dancing away in one of the backgrounds of the photos. It was supposed to be a shot of just the bride and groom, but you two have managed to get caught in it. You looked so caught up in each other that you still weren’t even aware the photo had been taken. You and Harry had determinedly avoided the camera all night, exactly for this reason, but a part of you was kind of happy that this one photo got leaked, because it showed the world that Harry was yours and you were his. It showed that you were together, or back-together as addressed by some FBI fans, and that you were stronger for it.

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moxfirefly · 3 years

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So I’ve been working on this for a little while now after a comment @supershiny-raven left on one of my post. I present to you:

How the others find out you and the turtles are dating.

Raphael entered the Lair with you in his arms. His brothers stumbling by him, Leonardo actually tripping.

The gang had gone to drink at Vern’s fancy penthouse, a round of drinks had turned to four and before anybody had common sense he had broken out his fancy wine collection.

That had truly been everyone’s undoing.

Yours as well.

Raphael the tank had pretty much only gotten buzzed, even more so upon seeing your state he figured he needed to somehow get you and everyone else home safe and in one piece.

“Where do we dump Donnie?” April had one of his arms slung over her shoulder while Mikey had his other, they had quickly found out the purple banded terrapin was a fan of wine. “Whatever is flat and comfortable, you think you can manage him and Leo?” Raphael nudged his older brother who had dozed off while resting against the couch.

“Yeah yeah brah, we totally-“ He unceremoniously let his brother fall on the nearest cot, poor April taken along for the ride. “Shit, sorry girly”

Raph shook his head, you groaned stirring awake and tightening your hold on him. Raph was basically carrying you with one arm beneath your rear. Making his way towards his room he gently placed you on his bed and set about the task of removing your shoes. “Hey hey mister, I got a boyfriend” You squinted at the large terrapin at the end of the bed.

“Yeah I heard, lucky guy gets to put ya drunk ass to bed, where’s your makeup bag baby?” He got up when you half hazardously pointed at the dresser.

Pushing yourself up a little on your elbows you watched him gather your face creams and a pack of makeup wipes. He sat back down but next to you and motioned towards his lap. “C’mere, let’s get your face off” You giggled when he manhandled you onto his thigh and took out the wipes. Slowly and in the most excruciatingly loving way Raphael set out to wipe off your makeup. Each stroke removing foundation and eyeshadow, you mumbled something he somehow understood in your inebriated state. “Yeah yeah I got ya kid” With all the careful dexterity he developed over time, he gently removed your eyelashes.

“Somebody has been paying attention” You giggled, feeling the buzz in your body shift into grogginess. Raphael looked inside the bag, adding some cream to your face to hydrate it. He examined his work, a lazy smile as he caressed your face. It felt bizarre he could actually do this, touch a beautiful girl and do something so silly as help them out with their face routine. The two of you had been rather quiet about your relationship, enjoying it all to yourselves.

“Ya were the cutest drunk at that party” He ran his knuckles across your chin, You smiled sleepily lifting up enough to catch his lips in a languid kiss.

The door creaked open and there stood April, her own slightly drunk face breaking out into a sweet smile. The two pairs of eyes that landed on her read ‘get out’ and ‘keep your mouth shut’ slowly April backed up nodding with a giggle.

Then there was a ruckus of what Raphael only assumed was April tripping and Leo drunkly laughing his ass off.

____________

Michelangelo

Oh he was screwed.

So insanely screwed.

How could he misplace something he kept on his person so diligently?

Mikey turned over everything he could in his room, currently he had done just that with the mattress but to no avail.

His phone was missing.

His phone with that very scandalous polaroid you’d taken for him.

Mikey had nearly passed out when you gifted him the picture and to his delight he had stuck the polaroid on the back of his phone in its clear phone case. He kept his phone on him all the time, sure he’d have to be a little sneaky about placing it down but he could manage.

Now though? He was about to have a coronary.

Okay, currently in this disaster there was no trace of it. This meant he’d have to scavenge the living room.

Where his family was.

Mikey swallowed and scurried out with a silent prayer that it would there.

Raphael and Leonardo were currently watching a basketball game. They seemed pretty engrossed and perhaps wouldn’t notice that he was scouring the ends of the earth for his actual girlfriend’s literal boobs. He peaked aglance at the couch, his large brothers had to take up so much space to make it worse.

“What are you looking for?” Came Donnie’s voice from the kitchen. The orange banded turtle froze, he tried giving him a nonchalant shrug. “Just checking how I can give Raph a wedgie ya know” Donnie raised a brow ridge, mug of coffee to his lips.

“I double dare ya numbnuts, the Knicks are down ten points and I’m pissed” Raph grunted as the opposing team landed another shot and Leo sighed exasperated with the outcome. His eldest brother got up thankfully which allowed him to take a look at the that side of the sofa. To his dread but relief there wasn’t anything.

Where the fuck was his phone?!

“Hey snot face, can ya order a pizza?” Raph grumbled as the game seem to worsen, a pizza could fix up his mood. Mikey frozen, mouthing a series of ‘shit shit shit’ as he frantically looked around.

“Oh man that would fix this terrible game, can you order it with extra bacon too?” Leo went straight to the fridge to grab something to drink. “Order some cheesy sticks too will you?” Donnie asked as he poured himself another mug of coffee.

Yes all of this sounded wonderful and his stomach did grumble but

HIS GIRLFRIENDS BOOBS.

Raph had scooted further to grab his own soda from the coffee table and just as he did he saw his phone. Relief washed over him but to his immense dismay and terror, the back of his phone was facing up. Which means the clear case he had was displaying the infamous polaroid he had been gifted.

You had simply asked him one thing.

‘Please don’t let your brothers see my tits’

It all felt slow motion, his eyes going wide, his hand diving to the couch and just as he did, Raph’s quick reflexes kicked in unfortunately and he turned to grab his youngest brothers wrist. “Ya ain’t giving me a wedgie man!!”

Raph’s eyes followed Mikey’s hand and then his eyes bugged out.

“Why are there titties on the sofa?!” Raph made for the phone but only got a face full of pillow cushion. He snatched the phone before it could be grabbed by anybody else. The red banded brute grinned as his brother hugged the phone to his chest. “Advert your gaze you perv!” Mikey all but shrieked.

“I’m not the one walking around with a titty pic as my phone cover” Raph grinned, just to make matters worse Leo and Donnie had gathered.

“Mikey why are you walking around with a random porn pic on your phone cover” Came Donnie’s disapproving tone.

“It’s a polaroid” Was all Raph needed to say.

The silence that fell was brief, then a series of ‘ooh’s’ sounded off and Mikey all but frowned and felt his cheeks heat up.

“No way! That can’t be...” Leo was incredulous. The relationship between Mike and you had remained rather on the down low. It was fun, a little secret away from the world that could stay between the two of you.

“Mikey, are you and y/n a thing?” Donnie asked exactly what the rest wanted to know but Mikey dreaded to answer. He sighed dramatically and tucked his phone into his pocket, shooting Raph a glare as his green eyes followed the motion.

“Listen dudes she made me promise that nobody would see that picture and I’ve already broken that cardinal rule thanks to this jerk face” He frowned at Raph, who in turn rolled his eyes.

“Well maybe keep the picture in your wallet or your room?” Leo sipped his soda with a matter of fact tone.

“Or as a background on your phone cause honestly man” Donnie smiled to himself when Mikey shot him an incredulous look. “Why’d she give you that?” Raph inquired sneakily with a smirk.

“For our three month anniver- AH YOU DICK” Mikey huffed out as Raph began to laugh, it was so easy to trick Mikey when one played their cards right.

____________

Donatello

Investigating could take a toll on anybody, even if by all means you weren’t a detective it still didn’t mean you wouldn’t find yourself researching and investigating crime. It seems to be part of the job description when you befriend four giant crime fighting terrapins.

In away you could help, you did.

Everyone had huddled around the living room, the coffee table littered with pictures, clues and all sorts of pieces of evidence that could possibly lead to the culprit they were trying to catch. You had set down a stack of papers, eyes already screaming for a break. Leo and Casey were at the kitchen talking, Casey had just clocked out and was reporting back what the nights investigations had gathered. Raph and Mikey were checking out the pictures Casey had brought over and Donnie naturally was researching on a laptop he’d placed there.

You had nudged him to come over and join the huddle, and secretly you just wanted him close. The two of you were dating, quietly and unannounced, but in those first few stages of just wanting to be glued to one another it was a little difficult to do said glueing.

On a few occasions with prying eyes preoccupied with their investigating, you had reached over to rub his cheek, his sleepy eyes spoke greatly of how tired he felt. Donnie had been at this already for a while, you’d been there with him along the way.

With a stretch of his arms, Donnie yawned and rolled his neck. The clock on your phone read 3:45am, he was due for a nap at the very least. “Why don’t you lie down, I can keep helping out here” You reached over again and took off his glasses, he smiled tiredly but shook his head. “I’m fine, I can keep going” Despite his entire body language screaming otherwise, Donnie would always soldier on.

By the time another hour passed, people consumed enough Coffee to give themselves an additional pulse (and somebody committed the mistake of giving Mikey said coffee) the investigation had died down. A few walls were hit but a few leads had come from it as well. Everyone was ready to call it a night (or morning).

Casey yawned, twisting his neck to let out a few pops. “Okay who’s staying and who’s coming with me?” By the sounds of April softly snoring against an equally happily snoring Raph, it seemed she would stay. Casey had a few hours of sleep to catch on before heading for his next shift and you had to preoccupy yourself with the same before tackling a night shift at your job. Donnie’s tired eyes expressed how he wanted you to stay over but he knew work was closer to your place.

“I guess I’m carpooling with you” You told Casey, already grabbing your jacket and bag. A quick hug to Leo and Mikey, a bow to a recently awaken Splinter and you were next to Donnie.

He’d been sitting on the kitchen table, arms crossed and looking closer to being k.o’d.

It was the sleep deprivation honestly, on both your behalves.

Because you had spread your arms for a hug and so had he, but your face had met in the middle and before either of your foggy brains could comprehend what was happening you had smooched him.

On the lips.

For about a minute.

Minute and a half honestly.

You both froze, the awake members of the family staring with raised brows. Donnie furrowed his brows, lips pursed in a thin line, you still had your own in a kissing motion.

“Well at least we solved one mystery tonight” Spoke Mikey with a snicker, Leo nudged him.

Donnie sighed by shrugged. “Not exactly how I wanted to announce this so yup, I’m her boyfriend, she’s my girlfriend, please hold all inquires for a later time when I’m actually awake” He pulled you in again for a hug, and another kiss (greedy boy) and instructed Casey to deliver you home safely.

With a blush but albeit happy look on your face you waved everyone off.

___________

Leonardo

Keeping a relationship quiet had never proven to be so difficult. Truthfully it came easier when the circle of people surrounding you was bigger, but a close knit one? Everyone suddenly had the powers of observation up to God level.

But Leo’s ninja skills were God level too and you knew how to keep your trap shut and not sigh like a love struck teenager every second you saw him. So it had gone good, real good for a while. The thrill of maybe sharing an intimate kiss while others we’re around was a sensation you never expected to enjoy. When it was time to leave, Leo would ‘walk you’ home safely and by ‘miracle’ run into a few thugs on his way back.

Because there’s no reason a brisk ten minute walk to your apartment should turn into an hour and a half.

Raph wasn’t buying but cared little to stick his nose into it. Donnie was too busy to bother. Mikey had an idea but decided due to bro code not to voice it.

His father though?

Splinter knows what’s going on because well, he’s Splinter. You live long enough with four giant sons all with their unique personalities and traits, you pick up a thing or two about parenting pretty easily.

And Splinter is a phenomenal parent.

Both Father and Mother to his sons.

So naturally he’s irked that his eldest is sneaking out at odd hours and trying to conceal his return. Because Splinter feels that out of all four, Leo has always been the most open with him. Once Raph hit those pre-pubescent mood swings, Donnie began to teach himself all matter of subjects and Mikey was too busy trying to set a new record of heart attacks to give his father while skateboarding; Leo always remained the same.

Even with all the acolytes Leo has achieved in his ninjutsu training, he still had his hiccups and his father would never spare the opportunity to turn into a teaching moment.

So when Leo had kissed you passionately on his way out of your window, you still in nothing but the skin that he had dedicated a fair amount of time in kissing and bitting. He thought he was being slick, he thought he was going to ninja his way into the Lair, into the showers and straight to his bed.

What he didn’t account for was his father waiting up on him. A mug of hot tea on the kitchen table and hands clasps together in what Leo recognized all to well as ‘Dad Mode’.

He’d been caught with the proverbial hand in the cookie jar. His gear was half hazardously on, mask slipped down around his neck and for Christ sake he was holding a shoe. It was 6:30am and he smelled like a girl, a pretty girl no less. The jig was up, especially when his dad motioned for him to come forth and seat opposite him at the kitchen table.

“Dad I can ex-“ Splinter held up a finger and pushed the mug of tea towards his disheveled eldest son.

“My son, I am not angry” Which was truthful, he wasn’t, in fact he was ecstatic that Leo had found somebody, somebody good and somebody that loved him for he has. Long ago he had accepted the pain that his sons would not find suitable partners and the ache it would come with for them. But here was Leo, nervous and trying to adjust his clothing because he’d been with a woman, a woman he clearly loved.

“I like y/n, she is kind, thoughtful and caring to us” Splinter emphasized each trait with a tap of a long nail on the table. “She should be treated with respect, I hope I have instilled that teaching unto you, a lady is to be respected Leonardo” Leo nodded at his fathers words, he nodded and prayed that the underwear he had stuffed into his pockets wouldn’t magically transport on the table to further humiliate him.

“So please my son, do not lie to me, do not come home late in this state and not expect me to know what has transpired” Dad voice was on, coupled with the sympathetic eyes though, man Splinter was good at this shit.

Leo hung his head, clearly ashamed of his dishonorable doings. “Hai, sensei” Even as an adult being scolded by his father never stopped hurting.

“And please do tell her that there isn’t anything hide, she is welcomed in our home, I would not mind getting to know my future daughter in law a little bit more” Splinter enjoyed the way his son nearly choked on his tea.

“Perhaps I can tell her a few anecdotes of your growing up” He smiled when Leo looked at him with pleading eyes. “I believe I have a few embarrassing ones she will find most delightful” He stood up and placed a hand on his sons broad shoulder. “I’m sorry dad, sorry for sneaking around and not telling you” He was earnest in his words and Splinter bowed his head.

“I know, thank you Leonardo” He walked away, hands behind his back.

Leo sighed and pulled out his phone, shooting you a quick text.

-so my dad wants to formally meet you... as in introduce you as my girlfriend.

It felt nice to hit send on that message.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt Leonardo #tmnt Raphael #tmnt Michelangelo #tmnt Donatello #Leonardo #Raphael #Donatello #Michelangelo #tmnt Leo #tmnt Donnie #tmnt Raph #tmnt Mikey #fluff #comedy #slightly ns*w

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i-write-boop-spoops · 3 years

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N Harmonia Fluff Alphabet

One anon asked for an N fluff alphabet and another asked for just any N content, so I hope this sates you both!

Not proof read so rip me

Enjoy!

A = Activities (what do they like to do with their s/o? how do they spend their free time?)

Rather expectantly, N loves looking after Pokemon with you! Whether you’re playing with, feeding or tending to them, he really enjoys seeing you being so sweet and kind to cute little mons and giant scary monsters alike.

He also loves just snuggling up with you and playing with each other’s’ hair. He really cherishes that kind of gentle, intimate affection.

Other than that, he really enjoys doing mundane things with you, stuff like going grocery shopping, cleaning the house, gardening etc, even before you live together. There’s something very comforting about it.

Oh, and he loves dancing with you!

B = Beauty (what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?)

He admires your kindness obviously, but also your determination and resilience! He thinks you’re so strong, and in turn, it emboldens him too!

As for physical beauty? He loves your smile, even just a little quirk of your lips makes him so happy. It’s just so precious!

C = Comfort (how do they help their s/o when they feel down? what makes them feel better?)

N isn’t the best at this kind of stuff, but he definitely tries his best to offer you support. Usually he just sits with you and lets you vent, or cry into his shoulder, often bringing a cute pokemon with him to cheer you up. He also likes bringing you on walks, hoping it might clear your head.

His words of affirmation, though few, are quite powerful, so you know he means them.

When he’s sad, he’d like to be treated in a similar fashion, just quiet support and cute Pokemon

D = Dreams (how do they picture their future with their s/o and in general?)

N doesn’t really know how he wants his life to go, the only thing he’s certain of is that he wants to continue improving the relationships between humans and Pokemon, and that he wants to be with you for the rest of time.

E = Equal (are they the dominant one in the relationship or are they rather passive?)

Due to his lack of experience, he’s definitely more on the passive side, preferring to let you take the lead when it comes to dates and stuff. Though he has no problem asserting himself (gently) if he wants to do something else instead.

F = Fight (how quick are they to forgive their s/o? what are they like in an argument? who says sorry first?)

N hates fighting with you, absolutely despises it, so he tends to avoid it when he can. Inevitably, like in all relationships, you end up in a few spats. He’s never mean to you, but he does try talk over you and has a habit of just walking out instead of working out the issue right away. Really he just goes for a walk to calm him down, and he’s usually back in an hour or two, but you probably don’t solve your disagreement until the next day.

He finds it quite easy to admit fault and apologise, so you don’t have to weasel a ‘sorry’ out of him. And due to his earnest nature, you know he means it.

G = Gifts (what kind of things do they gift to their s/o? are they spontaneous or do they stick to special events like anniversaries?)

When N gives a gift, most of the time, he doesn’t even realise it. He just sees something he thinks you’d like and just gives it to you without a second thought. Usually it’s pretty flora or candy, occasionally it’s a plush. Sometimes you get gifts very often, sometimes it’s weeks, maybe months, between each present.

H = Heart Eyes (what are they like in love? is it obvious to others? how do they express their love? do they brag about their s/o to others?)

N can be described as blissfully confused when in love. So soft and blushy and not totally sure what he’s feeling, but he sure does love it, and you. His Pokemon friends pick up on it immediately and root for the two of you.

Unintentionally brags. He just thinks you’re swell and tends to bring that up often, but he’s not trying to gloat.

I = Impression (what first attracted them to their s/o? how accurate was their first impression to how their s/o actually is?)

You seemed to handle that little joltik so carefully as you returned it to its mother galvantula, without an ounce of fear or malice in your eyes, and truly only kindness in your heart. It made him feel so at ease, like he had found a kindred spirit.

Not only was he right, he also found his soulmate too,

J = Jealousy (do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?)

N doesn’t quite understand jealousy. Like, you love each other, what does he have to worry about? He likes your friends a lot, and he finds anybody who tries to flirt with you more annoying than anything else

K = Kiss (are they a good kisser? what was their first kiss like? where do they kiss the most?)

At the beginning, N’s kisses are sweet but awkward, he’s so new to it, so he’s a bit afraid he might make a mistake. As your relationships progresses though, he becomes more comfortable and confident with it, and kisses reflect that, so soft and caring and full of meaning

I did a whole thing about N and kissing here

L = Little Things (what are the little things they love about their s/o? are they attentive?)

Really what doesn’t he love? It’s not that he puts you on a pedestal, he just genuinely finds you amazing and he loves you so much

M = Marriage (do they want to get married? how do they propose? what would the wedding be like?)

N doesn’t feel the need to marry you, as long as you’re in love, that’s what matters to him, a piece of paper doesn’t make it any more valid than it is in his eyes.

That being said, if you want to get married, he’s down for it, but don’t expect anything sappy or traditional. No proposal, no huge event, just the two of you exchanging heartfelt vows at the courthouse, with matching rings.

N = Nicknames (what do they call their s/o? what do they get called?)

He doesn’t really use nicknames, just the occasionally “Love” or “Dear”

On the flipside, he loves your nicknames for him. Some of his favourites are “Cutie”, “Sweetie”, “Greenie” and “Nat”

O = Open (do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? is it easy for them to share?)

While I wouldn’t say N is an open book, he doesn’t really hide things from you. He tells you how he feels without much fanfare, and you’re made aware of his past quite early on, even before you started dating.

P = Pancakes (are they a good cook? how often do they cook for their s/o? breakfast in bed or fancy dinner dates?)

N’s actually pretty good at cooking, and tends to cook pretty often, especially when you’re on the road together. His meals are simple and comforting, sometimes spicy, lots of soups and curries and rice.

Since he’s vegetarian, he prefers to cook for the two of you instead of going out, since most restaurants don’t have great options for him. That being said, if you find a place with a good menu, he’s totally down to take you there.

Q = Quirk (a random quality/ability that is beneficial to their relationship.)

N does not understand the concept of BS, so you don’t have to worry about playing weird mind games to find out what he really wants. As a result, your relationship is quite chill

R = Romance (how romantic are they? are they cliché or creative?)

Again, he’s not traditionally romantic, but he does care about you quite a lot and loves making you smile. And while it doesn’t say “I love you” very often, he means it, and that is a lot more valuable than any serenade or flower bouquet

S = Sleep (who falls asleep first? do they need their s/o close to them? do they have any bad habits?)

If you play with his hair, he’s out like a light. While he’s cuddles are lax and loose when he’s awake, he hugs you like a teddy when he’s fast asleep.

His sleep routine is shit though.

T = Thrill (do they need to spice up their relationship with new things or do they stick to a routine? how often do they do new things?)

N loves the cosiness of domestic mundanity, so it’s safe to say he likes to play it, well, safe. It gives him a sense of comfort and stability that he really appreciates.

U = Unity (did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? what traits do they share?)

Through being with you, N learns to be more attentive and emotional (in a healthy way), and to appreciate humans even more. He also feels more human too.

While you already loved Pokemon, he makes you see how truly amazing and special they are, and treat them even better than you did before.

V = Value (how important is their relationship to them? what is it worth compared to other things in their life?)

Your relationship is very important to him, but deep down, you know his love for Pokemon trumps his love for you. Though it never causes an issue with you

W = Wild Card (a random fluff headcanon.)

Likes to make matching flower crowns for the two of you and whatever Pokemon you’’re with at the time!

X = XOXO (do they like to kiss and cuddle? are they upfront about their relationship or rather shy when in public?)

N loves fluttery kisses and really tender hugs and cuddles, ones when you’re loosely tanged together and gently stroking each other’s skin.

He is not a PDA person at all, besides holding your hand and the occasional kiss. Some of it is shyness, but it’s mostly because he doesn’t feel the need to prove your relationship to anyone. He doesn’t use affection lightly.

Y = Yearning (how do they cope when they spend time away from their s/o? do they miss their s/o?)

He’s pretty okay on his own, since he’s quite used to it, but he does still miss you a lot. He finds comfort in things that remind you of him, a certain scent, a flower, a sound, even a Pokemon, it makes him feel like you’re with him

Z = Zoo (do they have pets? do they want some in the future?)

N doesn’t have any pets, mainly because he thinks Pokemon are friends. How many Poke-friends does he have? Too many for even him to count. My man radiates serious Disney Princess energy with the way Pokemon seem to flock to him.

That being said, he’s not against good people having Pokemon as pets, so if you have pokemon, you know he’ll be the best dad to them ever.

#n harmonia #n harmonia x reader #natural harmonia gropius x reader #natural harmonia gropius headcanons #natural harmonia gropius #n harmonia headcanon #n harmonia headcanons #fluff #request

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

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Kinktober Day 7: Somnophilia (+Double Penetration - 2 holes)

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Words: 2,397

Warnings: Somnophilia, double penetration, anal sex, sex toys (dildo + plug), dom!Roger, protected sex, light degradation (slut), edging

A/N: This was kind of inspired by a couple of different posts I saw on a (now deleted) porn blog. I’ve been wanting to do something with the concepts for a little while now and this seemed like the perfect opportunity!

I guess I was picturing 70s rog since its a flatmate/fwb type relationship but go nuts imagining whatever you want lmao

It hadn’t been Roger’s idea to set up a friends with bennefits type arrangement, but he’d liked the suggestion when you made it and before the end of the night was out you’d sealed the deal, so to speak. He’d been a touch tispy at the time, as had you, but when he woke up in your bed the next morning he hadn’t believed it to be a mistake, even if you were his flatmate. And so the arrangement (or as Roger dubbed it, The Fuckbuddy Pact) stuck. In an effort to make sure neither of you would feel weird about what happened and to avoid anything becoming too much like a relationship, Roger suggested that you should get all your kinks and weird fetishes out into the open straight away.

“That way we’ll both know what we’re in for from the jump,” he said, looking at you from the opposite end of the couch, “None of that getting to know you shit, or taking our time. We’re both here for sex so let’s just figure out what sex we’ll both like and get straight into it, right?” “Sounds excellent,” you’d said, cheersing his bottle of beer with your glass. It was how he’d discovered your interest in somnophilia (a term he’d not heard before and had needed a thorough explanation of). But once he knew what it was, Roger had been keen to try it out with you. There were other things too but the somnophilia was the newest to him and, thus, the most exciting. Before the month was out you’d figured out a system to incorproate it into your sex safely. The main rule was that if either of you was asleep and naked, it was okay to initiate sex. Eventually there ended up being a few exceptions or addendums added to that rule – it was still okay if the sleeping party wore a top of some kind as long as they were pantsless, and once or twice lingerie had been deemed to not count as clothes, but only on special occasions when you’d prearranged it. It became a regular part of your sex lives, which was especially useful for Roger who often didn’t get home from playing gigs until the early hours of the morning. If you were in bed and undressed, he’d take the opportunity to blow off some of the adrenaline without having to use his hand which was underwhelming compared to your cunt. But, more often than not, you’d do what most sexual partners did and got it out of your systems before bed time.

Roger already suspected that you were hoping for a quick tumble when he heard the knock on his door, but he had other things on his mind too as he told you to come in. “Hey, Rog, you busy?” “Uhhh yeah, sorry, running late for rehearsals but I can’t find my fucking drumsticks,” Roger said, moving things around his desk as he searched for the missing sticks. “Oh, damn.” “Let me guess,” he said, pausing in the hunt and turning to face you, “horny?” “My friend recommended a porn thing and I kinda got worked up.” You shrugged, unembarrassed to admit what you wanted. That self-confidence was enough to make Roger wish he could stay and give you what you wanted but he was already late and couldn’t afford to be later. Instead he laughed and turned back to double check his backpack, “I would but, I’m leaving as soon as I fin- Aha! Bloody things must have rolled off the bed. Sorry, Y/N.” “Oh, no worries. I’ll take care of myself.” He smiled at the thought, “Well I better go. See you tonight?” “Yeah, see ya. Have fun.”

It was later than he’d expected by the time Roger got home. Part of him (the part in his pants mostly) vaguely wondered if you’d still be up for something but the bits of him controlled by his brain thought it more likely that you’d have had a nice couple of orgasms on your own and called it a night. Still, he thought he might at least check in on you once he’d dropped his bag in his room. To his surprise though, his bed wasn’t empty like it should have been. He jumped when the light from the hall softly illuminated you, on your back and deep asleep, but his shock quickly turned to delight as he realised you were naked. “You little minx,” he muttered under his breath, impressed by the invitation you were giving him. But as he walked closer he paused again, noticing something he hadn’t been able to see from the doorway. There, beside your hand, was your favourite glass dildo, as if you’d passed out after using it. “Oh you are naughty,” Roger chuckled. He traced one hand down your body, between your breasts and over your stomach, and softly said your name, checking if you’d rouse. But you were deep asleep and not likely to wake up any time soon. A plan for what to do with you forming, Roger stepped away from you for a moment to strip down to his briefs. His cock was already beginning to stir at the sight of you. He reached out to touch you again, less cautiously this time, palming your breasts before dipping his hand lower and lower, down to your cunt, pleased to find you still wet from whatever you’d been doing before you fell asleep. You let out a soft hum as he explored you, thumb teasing over your clit as he wet his fingers between your folds. Roger paused at the sound, not ready for you to wake up yet, but once it was clear you were still asleep he sank two fingers into you. Slowly they penetrated your heat, pausing to make sure the sensation hadn’t roused you at all. But you slept on. Carefully Roger partially withdrew his fingers before sinking them in again, gradually working up to a consistent thrust that had your unconscious body sighing and spreading your legs wider. “Good girl,” he whispered, watching you carefully. The hall light was still on but his door wasn’t open fully so the darkness was only dimmed slightly. He twisted his fingers inside you, easily finding the spots that usually made you scream his name but which now just made your eyebrows knit together. By this point in your relationships Roger was quite confident that he could understand your body. He’d made you cum enough times, awake and asleep, to know what you liked and just how much you liked it. And he knew what it looked like when you were close to orgasm. Which is how he knew to stop, to still his fingers and wait for you to calm down.

There was no real reason to edge you. If anything it just made it more likely you’d wake before he’d got his dick wet. But he had fun with it. Watching the way you’d shift, your chest rising and falling more rapidly, your lips parted as whimpers fell from them, your hips automatically rolling to meet his hand. And then he’d stop again. It made him chuckle quietly to himself. Knowing he could control your body so easily was thrilling. It made him want to do it more. So as soon as your face had relaxed again, your limbs loose and limp, he’d settle into the rhythm once more, curious how much you’d take before you woke up and begged him to finish you off. It was tempting to just keep going. He pictured you waking with a moan, your first words a plea for release or better yet for his cock so he could fuck you properly. Roger groaned. In the time he’d taken to edge you a handful of times his dick had well and truly stiffened and, as much as he enjoyed toying with you, what he really wanted was to cum in you so when you woke you’d know you’d been used. With that thought in mind he withdrew his fingers fully, taking a second to suck them clean and enjoy your taste. Having you on his tongue just made him want to fuck you more so he carefully knelt between your legs, shifting one to give himself a better angle. He was moments from finally taking what he so wanted to take from you, when something caught his eye.

It didn’t glint as much as it did in the day but he could see it’s outline all the same. And when he double checked that he wasn’t imaging it, pressing his thumb against the hard end of it, you groaned. “A dildo and a butt plug?” He asked you, knowing you wouldn’t respond, “Is that a surprise for me? Or is it just because nothing satisfies you like I do?” Roger’s hand slipped down to his underwear, pushing his briefs down enough that he could get his cock out. He hissed as he spread his precum along his length, contemplating how he should use you. “Could fuck your cunt now and hope you stay asleep long enough for me to get back there. Or maybe I should just go all in, have your arse straight away. That’ll mean wearing a condom though. Or would it?” he shook his head, now was not the time to try anal raw for the first time, “No, condom definitely.” He was still trying to decide what to do when you shifted in your sleep, rolling onto your side. The new position you lay in made it much easier to reach your arsehole. “That decides it then,” Roger said to himself, shedding his underwear and opening his bedside draw for his lube.

Carefully, he settled himself behind you and slowly began to remove your plug. It took a few stops and starts, pulling out and sinking in, almost fucking you with it, as you whimpered in your sleep but you seemed to press yourself back towards him as if trying to encourage him. “Just can’t get enough of me, can you?” he chuckled as he set the plug aside and spread the lube around your hole. He rolled the condom down his shaft and spread the lube along it too, humming at the slick friction of his hand, knowing he was about to feel something a hundred thousand times better. And then he lined himself up, pushing the head of his cock into the ring of muscles you’d so generously stretched out with your plug. He went slowly there too, partially so you’d sleep on and partially so he wouldn’t cum embarrassingly fast. When he finally began to fuck you, you moaned into your pillow, able to feel it in your sleep. Roger bit his lip to keep his own moan from getting too loud. You moved in your sleep again, your legs opening more as you half rolled onto your front. It let Roger fuck you deeper and gave him better access to your pussy too. “You’re a bit of a whore when you’re alseep,” he said softly, reaching for the dildo. You were still wet enough that it sank into you easily, like it remembered where it had been earlier and fit into your cunt perfectly. The way you lay meant he didn’t have what he’d call easy access to you but it was enough that he could thrust the dildo somewhat rhythmically. He faltered here and there as the feeling of fucking you distracted him but he didn’t feel too bad about the slips, knowing it was keeping you from reaching your release. Your sleepy sighs and moans got louder as he filled both your holes which just made him fuck you harder, enjoying the sounds you were making and wanting to hear more.

You woke with a broken moan in your throat, jerking under Roger’s hands but he shushed you, his palms warm against your skin and his voice familiar and reassuring. “Stay right there, baby. Being such a good set of holes for me to enjoy.” You couldn’t do much more than moan again, dazed from the sudden way you’d been pulled back to consciousness and realising what you’d felt in your dreams had been very real indeed. “This was what you wanted wasn’t it? When you fell asleep in my bed.” You nodded, the sound of the fabric of the pillowcase loud against your ear. “Uh uh, words Love. If you’re going to be a slut the least you can do is admit it.” “Yes, Rog. Want-wanted this.” “Good girl. And how do you feel now?” “Oh god, close. So close.” Roger slowed the pace of the dildo, putting more effort into thrusting into you, his hips slapping loudly against your skin. You keened at the loss of friction. “Slut-s don’t com-complain.” Roger grunted as he used you, “They t-ake what they’re giv-en.” You whined but that just made Roger laugh, louder now you were awake but broken by groans and moans of his own. It didn’t take much more for him to cum, stuttering out, “Fu-ck Y-Y/N,” as he did.

Roger was panting as he eased himself out of your arsehole, replacing his cock with the plug and giving your hip a light tap of thanks. The dildo was still inside you, but he’d not been moving it at all as he reached his climax so it wasn’t much help. “Did you cum?” he asked, his breathing still heavy as he flopped onto the mattress beside you. You shook your head and sighed, “And after I waited here all night to surprise you too. Thought you’d be home sooner.” “Is that why you had the toys? You got bored waiting for me?” “No, I was expecting you to come home while I was using them. Only then I came and fell asleep.” "Of course,” Roger laughed, “you still got your shag though, don’t know why you’re complaining.” “I’m really fucking horny still, that’s bloody why. What are you smirking about?” “Nothing. Just nice to know edging you in your sleep works just as well as when you’re awake.” “Prick!” you squealed though unable to contain your smile at the idea. “Don’t worry. Give me a few minutes to clean up and get my stamina back and then I’ll make you cum as many times as you want.”

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

#my writing #my blurbs #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

You write Moody so well! I would love to see something where Moody and Remus talk for the first time after Coops was outed. Whether it happens after the meeting Coops had with Arthur and Alice or after the all star break. I feel like they have such a good relationship!

Thanks! This was partially inspired by watching The Karate Kid (1984) last night, so I hope y'all are ready for some mentor hurt/ comfort this fine Sunday! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for mentioned forced outing

Remus was almost done. He only had a few more drawers to clean out. The whiteboards were as squeaky and shiny as the day he arrived; the desk had a few more dents and coffee stains decorating the surface, but overall it looked decent. He still couldn’t bring himself to take the pictures off, though. It was his life. His friends. He just couldn’t do it.

The sleeve of his ancient Wisconsin hoodie was still damp when he smudged it under his runny nose. No tears had fallen, but he could feel the maelstrom gathering in his throat. Everything he had worked for, gone because of one stupid mistake.

Not Sirius, of course. Sirius would never be a mistake. It was Remus’ fault they had been caught in the first place.

He stared around his office in misery—no official notice of his layoff had arrived, but he knew it would come, and it was always better to be prepared. Maybe it would hurt less if he did it himself, one final ‘fuck you’ to the homophobes before he trooped off with his tail between his legs.

The tiles were cold through the seat of his comfiest jeans. He tucked his knees closer to his chest.

A quiet knock at the door interrupted the suffocating silence. He didn’t answer.

“Kid?”

Remus’ lower lip wobbled and he croaked out a ‘come in’ with as much strength as he could muster; it wasn’t much. The door opened with a creak—he had never gotten around to having it fixed, after all—and uneven footsteps shuffled in, followed by a sigh as his visitor settled next to him on the floor.

“You have a chair, you know.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“Not all of us have young knees. Doesn’t your ass hurt?”

Remus nodded.

Moody huffed through his nose and hoisted him up by the arm. “Well Christ, kid, up you come. You’re awfully dense for a beanpole. What, you got concrete for bones or something?”

“No,” Remus mumbled as he followed Moody across the hall and allowed himself to be plonked down in the soft chair by the door. It was his favorite of both their offices; as far as he knew, Moody never let anyone else sit there. His chest seized as a sob tried to fight its way out. “I’m sorry.”

Moody shot him a look at he got comfortable in the adjacent seat. “For what?”

“I dunno.”

“I don’t like useless apologies, Lupin.”

Remus sniffled. “I should’ve told you.”

“Says who?” Moody snorted. “Your business is your business. You’re a bright young man, none of this is your f—oh. Okay, Lupin, easy does it.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus blubbered as the tears finally started to fall. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like crying, but I’m kind of a wreck right now.”

Moody made a few soft shushing noises, inching closer until he could wrap an arm around Remus’ shoulders and pat his arm like he was trying to soothe a frightened dog. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

The sobs were near-silent; Remus never cried loudly if he could help it, and he already felt bad enough for dripping his perpetual raincloud all over Moody’s office. He caught his breath after a few hitching inhales and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Remus pulled his knees up again and hugged them tight to his chest. “I haven’t called my parents yet.”

“Did they know?”

His heart gave another painful yank. “Nobody knew. Nobody. And—and now it’s everywhere and people won’t leave me alone and I’m gonna get fired—”

“Woah, deep breaths,” Moody interrupted gently, giving him a little shake. “You’re not getting fired.”

“Yes, I am.” Everything felt gross and cold and sad.

“Who told you that?”

“Coach said it might happen ‘cause I’m a doctor.”

Moody scanned his face for a moment, then reached over and grabbed a box of tissues off his desk. “First of all, take some of these. You look like a mud puddle, Lupin. It’s very unsettling. Second, this is a complicated situation and I wouldn’t be too quick to make assumptions. And third, I’ll go to bat for you.”

He paused midway through blowing his nose. “What?”

“You’re a good man. An excellent PT. The best colleague I’ve ever had, actually. You know your shit and if they try to fire you over this, I’m not going to make it easy for them.”

More tears threatened to fall over the edge of his itchy eyes. “You’d do that for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Moody grumbled.

“He hasn’t called.”

“Who?”

“Sirius.” Remus swallowed hard and, before he could second guess himself, leaned his head on Moody’s solid shoulder. “I’ve called him 23 times and he hasn’t answered a single one. He just…left. Didn’t even look at me.”

“He’s making a mistake.”

“I ruined his life.”

“Hey.” Moody’s tone turned stern. “You don’t get to talk shit about yourself in my office. This is a Lupin Appreciation Zone.”

Remus’ shoulders shook and he closed his eyes; he wished he could just dissolve into the floor and stay there until someone mopped him up. Everything hurt. The world sucked. Moody—

Moody was petting his hair.

The tears stopped abruptly and Remus hiccupped in pure confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m bad at comfort, kid, gimme a break.” The sat in silence for a few seconds as Moody continued to pat his head and muss his hair, which was in dire need of a cut but just long enough to cover his eyes when it was pushed forward. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually. How did you…?”

Something akin to embarrassment tinted Moody’s cheeks and he cleared his throat. “My cat hates thunderstorms.”

“Oh. Cool. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks,” Remus said again, much quieter. Moody’s office always felt safe; all the clutter was in its proper place, clean and homey. The touch of familiarity was more of a comfort than he cared to admit. He sat up straight and wiped his face clean, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “If I do get fired—”

“You won’t.”

“If I do, I wanted to say thank you for changing my life.” The words hung in the air. “You—without you, I would never have felt at home here. You were the best mentor I could ever ask for and I’m never going to forget that. You did more than just teaching me routines. Thank you.”

Moody cleared his throat again. “Tissues.”

Remus silently passed the box.

“If anyone gives you shit for being gay, you call me and I’ll take care of it,” Moody said once the tissue had disappeared into the depths of his pocket.

Remis blinked at him. “Are you offering to hurt someone for me?”

“I’ll deny it in court.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he laughed. “Fuckin’ hell, this is a mess. I’m a mess.”

“You just got outed and your boyfriend ditched you in an airport,” Moody said bluntly, fixing Remus with a look. “You’re allowed to be a mess. Now go talk to Lily. Call your mom. Do whatever you do that makes you so sunshiney, and then we’re gonna unpack all your shit and put it back where it belongs.”

Remus swallowed hard. Fuck it. Fuck the NHL, fuck the homophobes, and fuck being sad.

Moody narrowed his eyes. “You want to use the kicking bag, don’t you?”

“I really, really do.”

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“Stupid—fucking—son of a bitch!” Remus gritted out as the beat-up and half-folded gym mat squeaked under his assault. It was two inches of plastic and therapy—he was 90% sure Moody had stolen it from a middle school gym, and it had rapidly become the team’s favorite way of winding down after a frustrating day.

“Harder!” Moody barked behind him.

Remus wound up and slammed his foot into it again. “I worked too damn hard to be kicked out for this bullshit!”

“Damn right you did!”

The kicking bag creased in the center. “And I’ve got too much student debt to walk out of here like—like a coward!”

“Yes, you do!”

His grief had burnt off at least five minutes prior. Remus was well and truly pissed now. “And it’s nobody’s goddamn business who I kiss!”

“That’s the spirit!” Moody cheered.

“And maybe his face is stupidly pretty!” Remus threw his shoulder against the mat before he resumed kicking it. “And, yeah, he has really nice shoulders and a great ass—”

“Lupin—”

“But fuck him for leaving me in an airport! What kind of douchebag does that to a guy? I’m hot and smart and nice and I can date whoever the hell I want if he doesn’t appreciate that!”

“That’s certainly one approach!”

Remus stopped with a harsh exhale and dropped one last halfhearted kick to the base. “I don’t want anyone else, though. And I miss his stupid pretty face.”

A hand, heavy but gentle, squeezed his shoulder. “Then go get him.”

#remus lupin #alastor moody #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 8

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language? Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: Bit of fluff with some anxiety/update on primary conflict. Next chapter will be a cute date with Dani, the one after that will be maximum h*rny, and then what will likely be the finale. Music for this chapter here. PS this one is a bit on the shorter side, but I hope y'all still enjoy it. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony

Chapter 8: Obbligato

(Obbligato: An instrumental part which is essential in a piece of music)

“Okay, okay, serious this time, please? I’ll give you a kiss if you try hard enough,” you promised, grinning up at Daniela as you did. A week had passed since your talk in the library, with the two of you spending most days together, and you were progressing nicely with the musical lessons. Still, your girlfriend (you would never get tired of saying that word) was prone to getting a tad ‘distracted’. By you, usually. Not that it was intentional by any means. There was only so much you could do to keep her focused when the two of you were this close together.

“I could just kiss you anyway,” Daniela teased, leaning in with familiar intent. Right before your lips touch, however, she pulls back and smirks. “But if you insist, I can handle the challenge.” Then she’s turning back towards the piano, carefully finding the starting position. Even with her prior experience, you were impressed with how much she had already learned, and couldn’t help but be immensely proud of her. If anyone could meet Lady Dimitrescu’s expectations within a three month timeframe, it was the two of you. Except, of course, you still had to double-check just what her expectations were.

In the meantime, you were excited to hear your girlfriend play through the sheet music you had written up. Most of what you were working with had come from the family’s storage room, but you had also found some blank sheets, and figured it couldn’t hurt to create songs of your own. This particular one was relatively simple. It had been based on a song from a game you had played years ago, and only posed a moderate challenge due to its interesting rhythm. Daniela had seemed to enjoy playing it, with you even hearing her practice the song outside of your lessons, but had so far today refused to play it seriously.

Finally that was going to change. Once she found the starting notes, she nodded to herself, then started playing. For the first time today her expression is stern, focused. Seeing her like this was nice. She was always cute, you just thought that she was extra cute like this. But you tried not to let yourself get too distracted, knowing that you couldn’t give her feedback if you didn’t pay attention. In your head you “play along”, fingers miming the movements, knowing that it would help you catch any possible mistakes. Throughout the piece there are only a couple that you catch, none of them being severe enough to ruin the experience. Finishing with a little flourish, Daniela returns her gaze to you, grinning expectantly.

“Well? I seem to recall you promising me a reward,” she said, perking a brow. Laughing a little, you roll your eyes, before moving in to give her exactly what she wanted. Both of you are smiling into the kiss, enjoying every moment of it. Soon enough Daniela is running a hand through your hair, and pressing against you more, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss. You’re blushing hard now, thoughts going everywhere other than music. It’s not until you pull back for air that you remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now.

“As wonderful as this is… we still have a few more songs to go over,” you murmured, despite how much you wanted to keep kissing Daniela. By the way she groaned in frustration, you figured she felt the same way, more or less. “Hey, don’t fret too much. Think of this as an opportunity to earn a few more rewards,” you teased, gently patting her on the shoulder. For a moment she simply pouts, but eventually she sighs and gets ready to play another song…

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Rushing up the steps, practically two at a time, you desperately hoped that you wouldn’t be late. This was your third “update meeting” with Lady Dimitrescu, which by itself was enough to make you a nervous wreck. Add in the fact that this was the first time you’d be meeting alone? And in her personal study, no less? Well, it was safe to say that you were terrified. You hadn’t even been told why things were different this time. No, you were about as clueless as could be, given the circumstances.

By the time you make it your Lady’s study, you cannot tell whether your heart is racing due to stress or physical exertion. Regardless, you make it there in short time, arriving precisely at the scheduled hour. After taking a moment to settle your nerves, you briefly knock on the chamber door. There’s the sound of movement from inside before the way opens. Lady Dimitrescu has to bend a little to see out, but quickly smiles when she meets your gaze. Which was rather unexpected. The last time you had met with her she had been distanced, although still polite. Then again, Daniela had also been with you, and the focus was, as always, on her.

“Lady Dimitrescu,” you greeted, giving a short bow per customs. Then you were being waved in, brought over to a small sitting area, where you waited for permission to sit down. Once it was given, you relaxed a little. Maybe I don’t have as much reason to be nervous as I thought, you muse.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. There are no reasons for you to be unsettled, as far as I am aware,” Lady Dimitrescu said, smile disappearing for a moment at the end. But it’s back as quickly as it had vanished. Did she suspect something? Perhaps she had seen the way Daniela looked at you, or even overheard the whisperings of your roommates. Both thoughts do little other than renew your anxiety. Noticing this, Alcina frowns and shakes her head. “I was merely joking. Now, let us get to the reason for our meeting: How are Daniela’s lessons fairing? There is only so much I can glean from listening.” Glad to have something to think about other than your secret relationship with your boss’ daughter, you nodded and began explaining.

“Lady Daniela is making outstanding progress, in my opinion. Even with her occasional… lapses in attention, once she puts her mind to something, she’s quick to master it. At this point she can sight read nearly as fast and accurately as myself. However, we’re still going over vocabulary, as well as keys and their corresponding chords,” you answered, barely able to maintain eye contact with your employer. Thankfully, she seems to have accepted the inevitability of your nervousness. You were especially thankful now that you prepared to ask her a question. “My Lady, may I inquire about what specifically you expect from my teachings? If there are certain genres you wish for Daniela to be familiar with, or techniques-... I must admit I am unsure as to how to best meet your requirements.”

Slowly reclining in her chair, Alcina appears to ponder your question. In the meantime she sips at her beverage, holding the cup as if it were a fragile heirloom (which it could very well be), eyes looking into the middle distance. Then she gives a soft hum, setting her cup down and returning her attention to you.

“I suppose I can understand your concern. In some ways you have already exceeded my expectations,” she said, expression oddly plain in comparison to her positive phrasing. “My daughter has rarely invested herself in anything as much as she has in your lessons. For this, I am left wondering what she finds so captivating- the music, or the one who pulls the strings?... But that is not the answer to your inquiry, is it?” In that moment, you are incredibly still, willing yourself to keep a straight face, despite the racing of your heart. At your silence, Alcina perks a brow, expecting you to respond. You can’t, your mouth suddenly dry. “What I expect is a passion to educate, a drive to see my daughter flourish. I expect you to teach her exactly as much as she wants you to, focusing on whatever brings her the most joy. But I expect professionalism. Your duties come first, above your health, happiness, and all other desires. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my Lady. Of course, my Lady,” you replied, stuttering, eyes wide. Did she know? Or merely suspect?... There’s another thought, one you try desperately not to voice, only to hear the words fill the room before you can stop yourself. “May I ask where Lady Daniela’s desires fit into this?” Silence hangs heavy over the room for several seconds. Your employer has narrowed her eyes, lips curled downwards into a sharp scowl, watching you with thinly-veiled anger. All you can do is gulp and wait for her response. When it comes, you are surprised by the stability of her tone. It was almost as if she respected your gall.

“She is young still, with the mind of a lovesick maiden. Daniela does not know what she wants, not really, nor does she understand what she needs. If her… flirtatious nature begins to interrupt your instruction, then your response must be swift, and uninterested. Regardless of how unkindly she takes your rejection, I will ensure that she does not harm you,” Lady Dimitrescu said, giving a stern nod at the end. Though her tone was reassuring, you hardly felt better, considering you were far past the point of turning Daniela down (if anything, you had only turned her on). “Now, with that settled, I believe I should let you return to your duties. Oh, and do tell Cynthia that the tea she brewed was perfect, should you happen to see her.”

Then she looked away, practically ignoring your continued existence. So you rose to your feet, gave another bow, and left before your panic could devolve into a breakdown. Daniela is not going to be happy about this.

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #serenade #my brain got stuck on this for some reason #sorry it took so long #very excited for the date chapter tho!#gonna be hecking cute

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ficsilike-reblogged · 3 years

Text

What’s in a Name? Pt. II

A/N: So I know I said that the first part was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done...but this takes the cake. The softest, cheesiest thing I’ve ever written and I will apologize for nothing.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: PG for mention of guns??? A few smooches or two.

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The five times Marcus Pike tries to propose and the one time he actually does.

(Beautiful art by my bb @bucketheadredacted)

Read part one!

Marcus Pike was finally a man lucky in love.

Maybe. Hopefully. God, he really needed to be lucky. Just this once.

He had bought the diamond ring three months after she had moved in—that was him moving slowly! Honestly! He had felt the urge to look at rings only a month after she had kissed him in the park but had refrained, his past failed relationships whispering at the back of his mind. He didn’t want to push her away. Didn’t want to scare her by moving too fast. Didn’t want to break his own heart again. It had been a strange uphill battle to just learn her name—and now he wanted to give her his name, too.

But he loved her. Truly.

And he knew that within a month of stealing kisses and slipping into overpriced hotel rooms between briefings and meetings and auctions across the country. And Marcus hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking her if she wanted to move into his Washington D.C. apartment six months later.

The words had tumbled out of his mouth while they were still half asleep, his alarm blaring in the background, alerting them both that she needed to get up to fly back to New Orleans.

And she…giggled and rolled over to press a kiss to his lips, uncaring of his morning breath. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

And it had been perfect. It had been good to come home and see her jacket slung over the back of the chair, to smell her perfume lingering in the bathroom as she dashed out the door, to wake up next to her when they both had a reprieve from their chaotic jobs and not have to worry that they would have to separate again within a handful of hours. It was good even when she tried a new recipe and the entire apartment smelled like burnt noodles for two days.

But he wanted to call her his wife and he wanted to be her husband. He wanted to have a family with her and maybe buy a house a little further outside the city—she had mentioned that she wanted a dog and a cat. “With room for them to run around!” She said with a smile.

And that all circled back to the ring. The platinum ring with the princess cut diamond. The ring he had been hiding for ages. The ring he wanted to put on her finger—if she said yes. Or he would have to tuck his metaphorical tail between his legs (again) and nurse a broken heart (again) and listen to his coworkers well-meaning condolences (again).

“When are you gonna ask her, man?” One of his fellow agents asked as they parked the agency-assigned SUV in the underground lot. Marcus had made the mistake of mentioning how he had a ring waiting at the back of his sock drawer and this agent—and honestly? Marcus couldn’t even remember his name—latched onto that and had spent the last three hours trying to ‘help’ Marcus come up with a plan on how to propose.

Marcus had a plan already. Thank you very much.

“I am going to take her to see the fireworks over the river.”

“Romantic. Good choice.”

Marcus felt himself puff up a bit at that. It was romantic, wasn’t it? This would be fine.

It was not fine.

The spot Marcus had picked was already crowded by the time they arrived—he was still grumbling about the flat tire he had to fix on the way there but his mood shift when he heard her sigh. It was a happy sound that had a smile pushing at his own lips.

“This is a good spot. Good choice.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek before turning and grabbing the cooler from the back of his car.

Marcus quickly patted his pocket and felt the ring safely in its confines. This could work, right? He just needed to wait for the fireworks. He set a checkered blanket on the warm grass and helped her unload their cooler, filled with her favorite picnic foods and maybe a bit of alcohol too, hidden away in two tumblers. The wind off the river was nice, keeping them from getting too overheated and someone further down the bank had set up a radio, letting music provide a backdrop to the quiet lapping water and the conversations from the strangers around them. He was not the best conversationalist, Marcus had to admit, he was busy rehearsing what he was going to say in his head over and over, trying to imagine if she would cry or smile—or just…say yes. But he made her laugh and earned a few more kisses when he managed to contribute to the conversation and fed her a few of the grapes from the cooler.

It was good…it was fine…until it wasn’t.

It started with her swatting at something on her arm just as the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon. That wasn’t uncommon; the East Coast was notoriously buggy during the summer. It was probably a mosquito.

But then it happened again and again and again until she was standing up with a shriek, wildly hitting at herself. “Marcus! Marcus!”

“Honey?”

“There’s ants everywhere!”

He glanced down and…yes, there were ants everywhere. And then he felt his first bite.

They quickly gained more than their fair share of attention as they both scrambled to get the hundreds of ants off of them, knocking over their food and cooler with unpleasant groans and gasps as they gained more ant bites.

In a rushed haze, still swatting at themselves, they gathered up their belongings and all but dumped them in the back of the car. When their tires hit highway, they heard the first boom of the fireworks.

“How’re you feeling?” She whispered as she rubbed a bit more cream onto Marcus’s back. It had been almost a week since the ant incident and his body was still covered in small red bumps. A testament to his failure.

He reached back, a little awkwardly from his angle on his stomach, and grasped her hand. “I’m okay, honey.” He hummed when he felt her pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Marcus turned his head just a bit and looked at her hand. Her ring finger was still bare. The ring had been tucked away in his bedside drawer after they both scrubbed themselves clean and then all but bathed in calamine lotion. But Marcus was a man on a mission. Having brunch, just to the two of them, all calm and relaxed, was just as good as fireworks.

When she’d been showering earlier, he had called in a delivery from her favorite breakfast restaurant, the florist down the block, and snuck around the apartment to try to tidy up a bit. Not that the apartment needed much. He had set a new set of candles in two overly-priced candle holders and lit them…and then quickly snuffed them out, deeming it too early for candles. He had slipped back into bed just as she emerged in a puff of lavender steam from the bathroom, looking much more comfortable than she had in days.

He rolled over and sat up to steal a kiss against her smiling mouth before coaxing her down onto the bed to apply her share of the strangely scented lotion to her matching set of bumps and bites.

“You know,” she started, face squished in the pillow, “for what it’s worth, I did have a really good time.”

“Yeah?”

“You know I always like spending time with you.”

“Even if you get eaten alive by fire ants?” He asked, a smile pushing at his mouth as his fingers trailed down her back.

She laughed. “Even then.”

He leaned down to press a kiss behind her ear before finishing her layer of lotion and his smile only grew when he heard the familiar, satisfied hum rumble in her throat. A knock at the door had him rising. “I’ll be right back.” Marcus pulled on a shirt as he moved toward the door and opened it, happily seeing two delivery men. He paid them both quickly and moved to the kitchen to set everything up as he heard one of his least favorite sounds.

Her cellphone ringing.

Marcus placed the flowers in her favorite vase but didn’t even move to plate the food he’d had delivered. What was the point?

She came out of the bedroom, rubbing at her temples and her phone in her pocket. “I-”

“You have to go,” he said, finishing for her. “Where to this time?”

She grimaced. “Nowhere fun. But apparently a Pollock has surfaced at an auction set for tomorrow night.” Her eyes darted to the flowers and her grimace softened. “Are these for me?”

Marcus smiled and handed them to her, chuckling as she all but shoved her face into the blooms to inhale their scent. He tightened the knot on the top of the takeout and handed that to her, too. “Here, you can eat this on the road.” And when she opened her mouth to apologize, he kissed the words away. Marcus would never fault her for her job and its uneven schedule, just as she never held his strange hours against him. “Home by Wednesday?” He murmured against her lips.

“Home by Wednesday. I promise.”

When he closed the door to her taxi and waved as he watched the yellow car disappear around the corner, Marcus sighed. Strike two.

Patrick Jane was not who Marcus wanted to see right now. And neither was Lisbon. But that was beside the point. The point was that Marcus hadn’t seen his Honey in almost three weeks because of a demanding client wanting more and more art work so she was flown all over Europe to different auctions and private sales.

He had remembered how he heard her sniffle over the phone when she told him that this client was asking her to pick up more art. “It is good money, really good. I can probably take a few months off after I do this but I…” she hiccupped and his heart broke. “But I just really miss you.”

And that was why he had booked a table at this beautiful and romantic restaurant after she had managed to sleep off her jet lag and rinse the grime of the plane from her skin.

Marcus ordered expensive wine that she knew she only ordered when she closed a big deal and asked the chef to place the ring on the top of the tiramisu he had scheduled to be brought out in exactly 47 minutes.

But that plan had been fantastically derailed when that obnoxious blond man spotted him from across the restaurant and then had the gall to ask the hostess to seat them near each other. (What were they even doing in DC?) For her part, Lisbon looked uncomfortable, too, as they made small talk.

With each passing word and each forced anecdote, Marcus felt himself deflate. There was no way he was going to propose to the love of his life in front of his ex-fiancée and her husband.

“You know,” Jane started and Marcus felt his teeth grind, “Marcus always struck me as a family man.”

She smiled and reached out to wrap her fingers around Marcus’ and squeezed. “He is.”

“Oh?” Jane continued, leaning forward in his seat. “Is a congratulations in order?”

Marcus could hear his teeth grinding but her grip tightened on his hand while her smile remained steady. “That is none of your business. I am sure you can fill your time poking and prodding into other people’s lives. Now, please, you have interrupted my long overdue date with the love of my life with your prattle. I’m sure you’re lovely, but I am done entertaining you.” She raised her other hand and asked for the check which was quickly given. The hostess, for her part, did glance to Marcus to make sure it was okay before he subtly nodded. The ring was slipped back into his hand by a sly waiter.

“Marcus,” Lisbon murmured, “we didn’t mean-”

Marcus stood and buttoned his jacket before helping his Honey into her coat. “Have a good night, Lisbon.”

And they left the restaurant, flagging down a taxi as thunder rolled overhead. Marcus made sure to open the taxi’s door for her and let her slide in before joining her in the backseat. The pair was quiet for a moment, and then two before she started to giggle. The giggle grew into a full-belly laugh that had tears gathering in her eyes and Marcus had to laugh, too. She always made him laugh.

“God!” She said. “He’s so full of himself. And truly, Marcus, I’m sure Teresa is lovely but she has terrible taste in men. Choosing that over you? I would never.”

Marcus felt a selfish bloom of pride swell in his chest. “Yeah?”

She leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. “Yeah. I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

And you know? That made Marcus smile just as much as putting a shiny ring on her finger. She wanted him forever.

He could propose tomorrow.

He did not propose tomorrow.

Or any day after that for the next three months. There just…wasn’t the right time. The ring he now kept in his suit jacket pocket seemed heavier by the day. Even his fellow agents seemed to pick up on the fact that something was bothering him.

“Fighting with your lady, Pike?” One of them asked as they were huddled around a table in the art storage room, trying to devise a plan to catch a thief who had managed to disappear with fourteen million dollars’ worth of some blueblood’s family heirlooms which included an Artemisia Gentileschi original. It was a brazen heist and obviously a huge case that needed to be their sole focus.

But sometimes his group of agents were a little nosey.

“We don’t really fight,” Marcus muttered as he looked over the blueprints of the family’s home, trying to find a way that the thief had come in and out. The official police report said a downstairs window was open but he didn’t believe that. “We have our disagreements but she is the most levelheaded person I know. The most heated conversation we had was over which diner had the best waffles.”

Another agent gagged. “You two are disgusting.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘perfect,’ actually.”

Marcus shook his head and bit back a laugh—they really needed to focus on this case. “We’re not perfect.” And they weren’t. No one was. But that didn’t mean he loved her any less.

“Still haven’t proposed, eh?”

“Shut up, man.” There was no heat to his tone as Marcus scrubbed a hand down his face before looking at his watch. It was almost eleven at night. “Go home. It’s late. We can pick this up in the morning.”

The rest of the group grumbled their thanks and disappeared to the upper levels of the building, probably in search of their forgotten dinners before going home. Marcus tapped his pencil on the blueprints, his eyes constantly moving to the door leading into the ‘piano room’ which then led down to the wine cellar. He wasn’t sure why, but something in his gut just told him the answer led to that set of rooms.

“Marcus?”

He jumped at the sudden noise but quickly righted himself as he saw her entering the fenced off storage area, carefully skirting around a prized Greco-Roman statue they had just recovered in Philadelphia. It was no longer a surprise to see her down here, the front desk guards knew her by face and name and all but gave her security clearance, easily letting her through when they knew Marcus was working late. He stood and walked over to her, pressing a kiss to her lips and then forehead in greeting, listening to her hum in contentment as her hands wound around his waist. “What are you doing here, Honey?”

She smiled as she looked at him and shrugged. “I knew you were working late. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d keep you company instead of tossing and turning.”

“You know I’m always happy to see you.” He led her over to the table and told her a little about the case, as much as he could without truly getting in trouble, and let her look over his notes.

She frowned as she turned the blueprints around and looked at them. “These people are like…billionaires, right?”

Marcus confirmed it with a frown but let her continue.

“Right. So, last time I was in LA, I was at that big, private auction at one of the gaudiest homes I’ve ever visited. Remember me telling you about that? The host got so drunk that he demanded he show everyone his three panic rooms and the private tunnel he had requested be dug behind his laundry room in the basement. Apparently he bribed the city inspector to keep it off the official blueprints so that a thief couldn’t use that tunnel.” She held up the blueprints and tapped at the wine cellar. “Ten bucks says there’s more to this wine cellar than just some ridiculous vintages.”

Marcus could feel his face lighting up. She was amazing.

They spoke a little longer, about possible suspects and how there was probably more than one thief—or at least a getaway driver—before their conversations shifted.

“The guys upstairs said something funny.”

“Hm?”

“They called me Mrs. Pike.”

His next breath nearly choked him. He was going to kill the guards upstairs. “O-oh? Really?”

“I think it sounds nice,” she said, her tone a little embarrassed. “Not that I haven’t thought about it before.” She smiled a bit, almost nervous. “We’ve talked about it, me and you, but to hear someone else say it…makes it sound…really nice.” She hid her embarrassment behind her hand and shook her head.

“I think it sounds nice, too.” He could do it. Right now. He could do it. They were surrounded by beautiful art. All by themselves. There was a light in her eyes that made his heart squeeze. His hand patted the pocket where he kept the ring and-

-it was gone.

“Marcus?” Her tone was filled with worry and she reached out to trail a finger over the crease that had erupted between his eyebrows, a gesture she did often when he brought work home with him. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. I’m fine, honey.”

He most certainly was not but it wasn’t like he could tell her that or propose. ‘Yes, honey. I lost your engagement ring. Will you marry me?’ Fuck.

The next day Marcus was stopped by the man at the front desk as he headed toward his office. “Everyone’s been telling me about your big plans. Can’t do it without this.” He handed over a small bag and inside…was the ring.

“Where’d you find it?” Marcus asked, stashing the ring in his briefcase this time.

Apparently his pocket couldn’t be trusted.

“Parking lot.”

Marcus could only sigh.

This was it. This had to be it.

If it wasn’t? He was sure the universe was telling him to just give up. They were happy, right? In love? Maybe they didn’t have to be married. Maybe…

No. No, he wanted to be her husband and he wanted her to be his wife. And that was why the ring was (safely and securely) stowed away in his wallet. He just needed the right time.

She was sitting across from him at their favorite diner, a stack of pancakes and a plateful of waffles between them and half-finished milkshakes abandoned near the saltshakers as they tried to guess which type of syrup was in each little carafe from a single bite. It was a game they played a few times before—one they had played on their first official date, actually. It had lasted well past the dinner and museum visit he had planned and into the morning where they had landed at the diner as the sun rose.

“This has to be strawberry,” she said as she finished her bite. “What do you think?” She asked, holding out the fork for him to take.

He took his bite and nodded. “Strawberry, definitely.”

She lifted the carafe and smiled as she read the tape on the bottom. “Point for us!” They high-fived across the table, laughing. The waitress who always served them shook her head with a smile from her place at the counter, knowing their game too well.

Marcus poured the syrup on their next bite and guessed its flavor before letting her take a guess.

“Um…blueberry?” She licked her lips, contemplating. “Maybe?” As Marcus lifted the carafe and confirmed that it was indeed blueberry, she continued. “Oh, a display of Alphonse Mucha is coming to Georgetown.”

Marcus smiled. Over an hour of their first date had been filled with soft whispers and shy smiles in front of a wall of Mucha sketches. They had been asked to leave by a polite but tired museum guard, not realizing they were there past closing. It was one of his fondest memories. One of the first times he realized she was truly special. He fell a little (more) in love with her that night. “We should go.”

“I’ll get tickets!”

This was the time. This was the moment. He pulled his wallet out under the table and curled his finger around the ring and watched as she smiled, wiping a bit of syrup from her chin. “I love you.”

She paused and looked at him, smile continuing to grow. “And you know I love you, too.”

“And I’ve loved you for a long time. You make my life better, make me better. I know our jobs are crazy. But they’re beautiful. Filled with art and excitement. But you’ve really…made my life a masterpiece.”

“Marcus?” Her voice was soft, eyes narrowing just slightly.

But Marcus pressed forward. “And I know that’s cheesy but I-”

And his phone was ringing. Why of all times was his phone ringing? And worst of all, it was the ringtone he had set for his boss. He had to answer. And she knew it, nodding just once with a fading smile.

He stood from his seat and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he murmured before slipping away with his phone pressed to his ear.

Marcus was tired. Tired.

He had been to New York to Miami to Orlando to Atlanta and then finally to Rio. The band of thieves, making a run for it with millions of dollars of art—including a da Vinci sketch. But he and his team caught them before they disappeared into the wind and the art was lost to the black market.

But he was tired.

He yawned as he drove through the mostly-quiet streets, ready to slip back into his apartment and pull his honey into his arms and then…sleep for three days.

That sounded wonderful.

But then his phone rang again.

And he had to answer it.

Thankfully, it was a short call. Someone had just broken in to one of the smaller museums in Georgetown and they wanted Pike to catch the thief in the act. Marcus sighed as he tossed his phone in the passenger seat. If this went well, it meant less paperwork. And then he could sleep.

The museum was dark when he arrived. There was only a faint bit of life coming from around of one the corners and he slunk around in the shadows, a hand on his gun. He was ready. He could stop a theft before it happened. He could-

Marcus stopped dead in his tracks as he realized what he was looking at.

Standing in the center of the hall, surrounded by (electronic) candles and priceless Mucha originals, was his Honey. His Venus.

“Hi Marcus.”

He took one step forward and then two and then three-

And she dropped to one knee and gently grasped his hands in hers, tears filling her beautiful eyes. “You make me smile every day. Even when I feel the need to hide all your socks after you make me mad. You have given me a new way of seeing art, appreciating it. You, Marcus Pike, have helped me grow, helped me breathe when I thought the world was just too much, helped me learn what strawberry syrup tastes like.”

Marcus had to laugh at that, feeling tears start to gather in his eyes. “And pecan, too.”

“And pecan syrup, too.” She squeezed his hands again with a growing smile. “I’ve never known love like this. And I never want to be without it. I never want to be without you. I just…” she hiccupped, a few tears falling down her cheeks. “I just love you. Will you marry me? Can I be Mrs. Pike?”

Marcus pulled his hands from hers and quickly pulled his wallet from his back pocket, pulling the ring (finally), from its depths. “Can I ask you, too?”

She all but tackled him to the sparkling marble floors and pressed kiss after kiss to his cheeks, chin, brow, and lips, a laugh on her tear-stained lips. “Ask me.”

“Will you marry me?” The words finally came out in a rush, his heart beating wildly behind his ribs as he watched her smile. Her beautiful smile.

“Yes.”

A/N: Please let me know what you think!

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike #the mentalist

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Insatiable ( Jungkook x OC) Chapter 2

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC! Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ]

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five. Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“You alright?” Somi asked gently, watching me fling my backpack into the corner of the room with enough force to dislodge one of the wooden panels on the wall, the shelf crashing and bringing down the two potted plants on it. The sound of ceramic shattering made me wince, regret churning in my stomach.

“Yeah...yeah. Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Somi.. I broke your pots-”

“Never mind the pots...why do you look so upset? Have you been crying?” She demanded , reaching for me, hands curling around my wrists and drawing me into a hug and I swallowed, my throat dry and eyes swollen from all the tears that I’d wrung out of them.

Outside the room, Namjoon stood guard, at the door and I felt guilty remembering how the past three hours had gone.

After confronting Jungkook, I’d stormed off in righteous indignation and poor Namjoon had been forced to follow.

He had kept a discreet distance as I climbed to the tallest ridge on the roof, scaling the gables with ease and I knew he had been terrified at the prospect of me falling.

Immortal or not a three hundred foot drop to the ground would be something that would hurt.

And it was my bodyguard’s job to make sure I did not get hurt.

When he wasn’t busy fucking other women that is.

I gripped my sister harder, fingers curling into the fir of her coat as I tried to catch my bearing.

“Do you know Helena?” I whispered, pulling away to look at her. Somi’s face fell,eyes filling with sympathy.

“Oh, no. Was she here?” She asked gently, reaching out and cupping my cheeks and my lips wobbled.

“Why didn’t you warn me that he was in a relationship?” my voice shook and Somi shook her head.

“He’s not!! God, Helena doesn’t do relationships. Jungkook and her.... well, I’m not sure but they’re just fuck buddies..... barely that. You know she’s from the Kim clan right? Those bloodsuckers never settle for one partner. “ She muttered.

I stared at her.

“He called me a child and then told me he’ll tell dad if i try to make a move on him.” I whispered.

Somi flinched.

“Sera....”

“It was humiliating and painful and I don’t ever want to think about it, ever again.” I muttered.

She sighed.

“It’s not like you don’t have men dying for a glance from you, Sera. You forget that you’re literally the most beautiful woman in the clan. If he rejects you, you’re definitely not the one missing out in that equation.”

I nodded, misery seeping into me. My sob-fest on the roof hadn’t been wasted. I was angry at first but now, a sort of resigned acceptance had taken the place of my anger.

The look on Jungkook’s face had been too real, the emotion behind his rejection too potent for me to get over. I wasn’t sure I could change his mind.

Wasn’t even sure if I wanted to.

“Was he very hurtful ? You know, if you tell dad, he’ll hire someone else and-”

“No.” I said immediately. “ I won’t do that. It’s not his fault, it’s minge. I acted out like a...well a child to be honest. He doesn’t owe me anything and he’s always been obvious in his disinterest. I was just too blinded my own attraction to consider that it wasn’t reciprocated.” I grimaced.

God, I’d been an idiot and Jungkook’s words had knocked some good sense into my head. But I did care for him and his son and they needed this job. I wouldn’t put his job in jeopardy just because I didn’t get my way.

I was better than that.

“Alright... Dad wanted to meet you for breakfast tomorrow.... He sounded serious. Do you know what that’s about?”

I groaned, when I remembered the reason my dad wanted to see me these days.

“Dad wants me to start meeting men now. He thinks I’m old enough now that i’ve turned 21. He’s been badgering me for a whole entire month but I kept putting him off because of...well, because of Jungkook.” I admitted.

Somi looked worried.

“You want to ? If you don’t we can talk to dad and-”

“No-” I shook my head.” I’m just gonna agree.”

Somi looked surprised.

“Are you sure? Sera you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to-”

I smiled weakly.

“I’m not going to be allowed to stay single forever Somi. Especially not when the entirety of dad’s day is spent trying to chase suitors away from the door. Do you know the Count from Jeju Do...dude’s a whole seven centuries old and he looks like a toad. He apparently tried to ask about me and Dad’s been freaking out. “ I shuddered.

Somi laughed.

“ That’s what you get for being you. But dad’s right. Keeping you away from everyone is only inviting more interest. And we don’t want you to be with someone insufferable.” She ruffled my hair and I hugged her again sighing into her shoulders.

No I didn’t want to be with someone who just saw me as some kind of a possession to be owned. I wanted someone nice and kind. A handsome man who did the right thing . Someone who maybe, worked hard to give his kid a safe and protected life, someone who didn’t shun away from hard work and was a gentleman as well.

Someone like-

“Someone other than Jungkook.” Somi said gently reading my mind.

“I really liked him.” I whispered softly, feeling tears spring again.

God, I thought I was all out of tears for Jeon Jung Kook but apparently I was wrong.

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

I took extra care with my makeup the next morning, because my father usually had a ton of business meetings during his breakfast. I didn’t usually bother but , I was going to agree to his suggestions today and well, nothing wrong in delighting my father. And nothing made him happier than seeing me prance about with pretty feminine clothes .

My dad, for all his jovial cheerful air, loved his position as the head of the Hwang clan. And as his most prized possession , I was the apple of his eye. And while he didn’t treat me as an object or anything ( my dad loved me deeply and his affection was always evident. ) , there was no mistaking the fact that my dad enjoyed the power that came with being my guardian. Powerful men were willing to bend to his will, just for a chance to be with me.

I sound insufferable, don’t I?

Trust me I’m not.

The vampires that court me are usually assholes. Entitled, brain dead assholes . When I opened the door in the morning, dressed in a short summer dress and ready to meet my dad, I was surprised to see Jungkook standing guard outside. He straightened away from the wall where he was fiddling with his phone, his gaze flitting to me, eyes cold and blank.

I bowed lightly, not smiling.

“Mr. Jeon. I have a breakfast date with my father and then I’ll be heading to the cottage. I’m also meeting a friend of mine at the Art Museum in the evening so i’ll need the Mercedes brought around to pick me up maybe at 5.00PM.” I said briskly, glancing at him.

My face flamed red when I noticed his gaze, fixed steadily on my ass. I cleared my throat angrily and his eyes met mine, a slow lazy grin playing around his mouth.

“You look different.” He commented , shamelessly giving me another once over.

The nerve.

I swallowed, willing myself not to blush harder.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckled.

“That dress barely covers your butt, angel. You sure you want to head to daddy dearest, dressed like that?” The way he said daddy made my skin heat up.

I felt my jaw come unhinged.

“That’s...that is none of your damn business.” I said shrilly.

He gave me another once over.

“Okay, then. If that’s what you’re into...fine. Let’s go.”

Gritting my teeth, i tried to keep my face neutral. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to me. I would not.

I walked ahead of him , my fists clenched and my jaw tight and I felt incredibly upset because the day had barely begun and I was already wound tight. I was supposed to be relaxed and clear headed while talking to my father but Jeon Jungkook had muddled my brains as usual.

I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.

“Sera, wait.” His voice made me pause and I stopped, turning around to glare at him.

“What?” I snapped.

He sighed, deeply. I watched as he ran his hands through his hair, tongue pressing into his cheek the way it did when he was upset.

“About last night-”

I felt my pulse quicken.

“I don’t wanna talk about it!” I said quickly, turning back around to leave but his fingers came around my arm, gripping hard .

“Well tough luck. Because I do!” He said sharply.

I whimpered, pain blooming up my arm and he swore, loosening his grip.

“I keep forgetting you’re human.” He muttered, “ I’m sorry... I just... I wanted to apologize for how i handled things last night. I was twenty once and I should have been more understanding.”

I closed my eyes. Oh, God no. Please, please for the love of God, let me hate you in peace. Don’t apologize and make me fall in love all over again.

“Its fine.” I choked out. “ You were right. I was out of line.”

“You deserve better.” He said quickly, eyes flitting away from my face and I felt a sharp pang in my heart. God , this was agonizing.

“Jungkook-”

“It’s just that you’re...well you know who you are. You can’t be with ...someone like me and trust me you don’t want to be with someone like me either. I know its appealing, the whole illusion of stability. older man, has a kid, has his life together .....but that��s not all it means .” He gave me a tired smile.

I bit my lips, ot replying and he went on.

“ I have baggage, a shit ton of it and I would have to be especially cruel to unload something like that on a girl barely out of her teens. I’ve done shit I’m not proud of ,....but ruining your life, I’m gonna draw the line there.” He smiled , looking a whole decade younger and I closed my eyes.

I was back to square one, I thought miserably. He had my whole heart.

“ So we’re good right?” He prompted and I exhaled, giving him a smile.

“We’re good.”

“That’s good. Because my son loves you and I would rather we be friends. You’re just like a daughter to me. ” He touched my face gently, pulling away at once, the small contact leaving fire in its wake and I had to clench my fists .

A daughter?!! Is he out of his damned mind?

“Okay.”

“Let’s go then.”

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

“Jungkook, please sit down. You’re like my son and I don’t want you hovering like you’re part of the backdrop. I’ve trusted you with my entire life.” My father beamed, pointing at me and i laughed.

Jungkook bowed respectfully, taking the chair next to me.

“How are you , my buttercup?” My father asked softly, fingers gripping mine and I smiled.

“I’m well, father. Do you like my dress?”

Next to me Jungkook coughed and I shot him a dirty look.

“It looks ravishing on you. The prettiest flower in my estate is my daughter, do you agree Jungkook?” My father prompted and I swallowed the smirk that threatened.

Poor Jungkook was going to learn that being my bodyguard meant singing my praises twenty four seven or at least anytime my father was in hearing distance.

“Uh..” Jungkook’s eyes flitted between the two of us, “ Yes sir. Your daughter is quite lovely.”

I beamed at him and he looked away quickly.

Coward.

Turning back to my dad I held my hand out.

“DAd, you wanted to see me about something?”

“Yes dearest. You know the Kim clan’s matriarch has been after me. Three of her great great great grandsons have come of age recently. And all three of them are set to take over some very lucrative businesses. They are good men and apparently they’re quite smitten with you. They say you know of them from school?”

I sighed.

“Do you know their names?” I prompted.

“Mingyu, Minjae and Yugyeom.” My father said briskly.

Ugh.

“ They’ve asked me out before, yes.”

“Uh..Excuse me.. Could I get a refill?” Jungkook said quietly next to me and i turned, watching him wave to one of the footmen.

“Jungkook, are you thirsty?” My father asked brightly.

An idea formed in my head, wicked and dangerous.

“Perhaps, he should get a taste of the Hwang Elixir?” I said innocently.

My father’s gaze snapped to mine.

A small frown made its way to his face.

“Are you sure? I’m not sure if Jungkook would be comfortable-”

I turned to him, purposely flipping my long hair off my shoulders exposing my throat . Jungkook’s eyes went to the curve of my neck at once and i felt a sick sort of triumph when his eyes flashed red.

“Oh, no no...” I crooned, leaning in closer. “ I’m sure you aren’t uncomfortable , are you Jungkook ssi? After all, I am just like a daughter to you , aren’t I?” I stared right at him, fluttering my lashes and I saw his jaw clench.

“Of course, Ms. Hwang.” He said briskly, glaring at me. I played with the small gold chain around my neck, letting my fingers flutter over my pulse , drawing his gaze there.

“Well, that is true ...” My father looked uncertain, but I gave him a gentle nod and a smile.

“Well, as a special guest, I suppose you can enjoy our hospitality , Jeon. Why don’t you take a drink from -”

I moved closer, pressing up against him and Jungkook sighed, lips closing over my neck, and I felt my eyes flutter shut at the wet warmth of his mouth .

It was intoxicating, the way he used one hand to grip my neck gently, the other on my waist to steady me and when his fangs pierced through, I could sense the warm liquid flood his mouth and Jungkook’s entire body relaxed, a strangled moan escaping him.

“---my daughter’s wrist.” My father finished and I felt Jungkook stiffen next to me.

This time I couldn’t stop the grin that bloomed on my face.

My eyes dropped to his lap and yup, his pants definitely looked a tad tighter.

“Did I do good, Mr Jeon? Or should I call you daddy? ” I whispered quietly , fluttering my lashes at him and his fangs retracted and he pulled away from me, shoving me back into my own chair quickly.

My father was slightly slack jawed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hwang. “ Jungkook muttered and I laughed.

“I do believe it is I whom you should be apologizing to. It is my neck you just mauled. ” I smiled brightly staring at Jungkook and if looks could kill, I would have a thousand wooden stakes through my heart right about now. ‘

Take that Mr. Jeon.

Daughter, my ass.

“My apologies , Sera.” He said stiffly.

My father laughed raucously.

“Ahh, you must be used to the neck, my dear boy. understandable understandable. it is how we used to do it in the old days, after all . These younglings with all their etiquette and feminism and what not....it’s hard to keep up..... But now you must tell me? Is my daughter not the sweetest you’ve ever had?”

I choked, coughing. Oh God, sometimes my 900 year old father had no idea how he sounded.

Jungkook looked like he had swallowed a lemon.

“She’s certainly ...” He stopped, probably realizing that any adjective at the end of that sentence would sound entirely wrong.

“Delicious?” I prompted, blinking innocently and Jungkook shot me another glare.

“Well, nevermind nevermind. .... So, tell me dearest, will you be willing to meet the Kim boys?”

I sighed.

“I like Yugyeom. I cannot stand Minjae. I don’t know enough about Mingyu to make any judgement. How about I meet Mingyu and if I don’t hit it off with him, I will allow Yugyeom to court me....” I said softly.

I glanced at Jungkook but he was studiously looking away.

“Very well my dear. Do you have any plans today?”

“I’m meeting a friend at the museum.”

My father’s eyes widened.

“Well isn’t that a wonderful coincidence. Mingyu's law firm is just a block away if I’m not mistaken. I’ll ask the boy to pick you up afterwards. Have dinner with him and you can tell me tonight of your choice.” My father smiled briskly.

“Yes, father.”

“Jungkook..” My father prompted and the vampire glanced up.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take good care of her. At the restaurant, make sure you stay at hearing distance. “

“Yes sir.” Jungkook bowed and I groaned.

In other words, let my father know if I behaved appropriately.

i pouted and my father waggled his finger at me.

“No, no no.. Missy. I’m going to make sure you keep your end of the bargain . You need to give these men a proper chance before you reject them. “

I nodded.

“And you must ask Either Somi or Seolhyun to dress you. No jeans or one of those ridiculous gowns that make you look like a pastry.”

There was no mistaking the snort that came from my right and i glared at Jungkook before turning to my dad.

“Yes, father.”

“Good, now run along the pair of you. “

I stood up, kissing my father fondly on his forehead.

“I love you.” I whispered.

“You are my whole entire joy, dearest. “ He kissed my hand gently, eyes warm and soft.

As we left the room, Jungkook let out a sigh.

“I am never having a meal with you two again.” He ground out and I laughed.

“Anything you say, daddy.” I grinned.

Jungkook groaned.

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

As luck would have it, my friend cancelled .

So at six the evening, I finished locking up the cottage as the last of the kids left, fumbling with the lock while a tired Joo Won napped in his father’s arms, head resting on Jungkook’s shoulders. I felt myself soften at the picture they made, Jungkook singing softly , fingers brushing his son’s hair back as he rocked him gently.

“I’ll be a while... I needed to get ready. Why don’t you put him to bed? Who’s watching him tonight?”

“Hwasa and Moonbyul offered. I’ll drop you off in your room and head to the north wing. What time are you meeting the jerkwad?” He said casually.

I blinked rapidly, confused.

“I’m sorry... the jerkwad?”

Jungkook shrugged.

“It’ just a fact. Most men are absolute jerks at twenty one.” He shrugged.

i felt myself bristling on behalf of the unknown Mingyu.

“That is absolutely unfair. My brothers were incredibly kind and good.”

“To you perhaps. Because they don’t have to impress you. But men act differently when they’re trying to get between a woman’s thighs. They’re jerks when they want to get laid...” He grinned.

“Is that why you act like a jerk to me? ” I smiled evilly and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, darling we both know I don’t have to act in any different way to get you into my bed . I just have to do this.” He smirked, curling his finger in a come hither gesture.

I felt my pulse pound and I tried not to let his words get to my head. He was flirting , yes but it was a joke. He was joking with me because the very idea of being with me was a joke to him.

And I couldn’t forget that.

Rolling my eyes, I pulled on the lock a couple more times to make sure the door was well locked.

“Shall we leave?” He prompted watching me wrestle the backpack onto my shoulders. I grunted under the weight.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

We walked in silence for a few seconds.

“So, how’s he doing? With stuff?” Jungkook asked gently and I felt warmth bloom in my chest.

“He’s very advanced for his age Jungkook. You’ve done a wonderful job with him. He’s able to read and he has a beautiful l writing hand. He’s learned his multiplication tables all the way up to seven and he has the voice of an angel. Which I think he gets from you. ” I smiled, reaching out to brush the back of Joowon’s head.

Jungkook smiled softly, the late evening sun painting his perfect features in a soft golden glow.

“Your father was kind enough to support me the first few years when i had him. I didn’t trust anyone enough to leave him with them and well... i needed to put a roof over our head.” He sighed .

I touched his arm, giving it a small squeeze.

“I understand. I’m glad you’re here. He’ll grow up well in our clan. “

“And he has a lot of excellent men to look up to here...He needs a good role model, someone kind and amazing who can inspire him to be hardworking and fair. ” He smiled.

I bit my lips.

“I think he’s had that all along. ” I said quietly.

Jungkook’s breath caught for a second and the air between us changed. I licked my lips.

“Jungkook you’re a good father. You know that right?” I said after a few more seconds of silence.

He laughed.

“Am I really? I wonder.”

“He loves you.” I breathed , “ You’re all he talks about.... Today, one of the other kids tried to say that his father was brave because he helped someone who was stuck in an elevator. you know what Joowon did? He listed some twenty different incidents where you’ve helped people out....And he looked so proud.”

Jungkook’s ear looked red in the brightly lit garden.

“i was just doing my job. Most of those times, I was in danger.” He grunted.

“And yet, you did the right thing. “ I whispered. “ And your son was watching. And he’s learned the importance of doing the right thing even when you’re scared. That’s a life lesson that isn’t easy to learn.”

“Can’t disagree with that.” He chuckled. I grabbed his arm forcing him to stop.

I had to tell him this.

“ Jungkook, when immortality is on the plate, people don’t give much value to morals. They don’t always care about doing the right thing.... . Its how our kind functions. Consequences don’t mean much when you have a whole eternity to fix your mistakes.....So I always admire vampires who value morals. “ I smiled, “ To see a five year old with such a well formed moral compass... it tells me that you’re an amazing father. Possibly the best I’ve ever met. “ I reached out, to hold his hand, wanting to touch him in some way, to make him believe that I was completely honest.

“Sera!!!!!!” My sister’s voice made me jump and Jungkook stepped away as well.

“Dad told me you’re going on a date? I’ve picked out an outfit for you!! But you need to take a shower! You cannot show up smelling like diapers and spit-up.” She called.

I groaned.

“Time for the ugly duckling to transform into a swan, I see?” He said gently.

“Your son’s favorite fairytale.” I whispered.

“He makes me read it every night.”

“I would like to sit in on that someday.” I laughed.

His eyes met mine.

“You’re always welcome, Ms Hwang,” He smiled politely. “ Someday soon maybe your kids and my son would be friends.”

And just like that the wall grew between us.

His kids and my kids.

Not our kids because he wasn’t for me.

He would never be for me.

I felt the sudden inexplicable urge to cry.

Turning away, I began following my sister as she waved to me. .

“I’ll be at your door at seven.” He called out behind me.

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

#jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jungkook #bts fics #jungkook vampire au #jungkook vampire #bts vampire au #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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arcadejohn127-9 · 3 years

Text

Sorry the post reached its word limit so I have to add the undateables in a different post! Happy valentine's everyone!!!

Pt.1 = Demon brother's

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Mini golf, it was both surprising and unsurprising

He was able to ditch the suit he wore normally to more comfortable clothes

Enjoying the strange golf courses Wincing everytime he shot one too far and completely lost the ball

You were getting better scores than him and he a better player!

"will you guide me on this one? I think I'm going to hit it too hard again."

You smiled, happily moving behind him and putting your hands on his

You helped him control his swing and to no surprise it was a perfect shot

"perhaps I should guide you every turn, you're a pro."

"if it isn't (Y/N), who's this? I don't think we've met."

"go away, I don't have time for you."

Dia immediately recognised your ex, hiding his annoyance behind a smile and shook their hand

"I'm their boyfriend, we're currently on a date, so if you'll excuse us."

He tried to usher you both along but your ex grabbed his hand

"let's not end this so soon, I was close with them, don't you want to share stories?"

"No-"

"I'll go first, as an ex wanting to help you out! Don't bring up a single issue to them, they won't help you at all, they always told me I was overreacting."

You groaned, clutching your golf club tightly

"because you were, threatening to hit me over not wanting to hear you complain about your side girls not texting you back is an overreaction."

"always spinning stories! This what I mean, you just need to be prepared to be in that kind of relationship with them, they'd only Respond to yelling."

"you're the only one who would listen when yelled to and would just yell at me because you could, you're a horrible person and you should leave right now-"

You wanted to hit them with your golf club, fuming at how they talked about you

"they've been very good to me and I've never had to raise my voice at them, perhaps you were the issue."

His voice was still so kind that your ex almost didn't realize what he said

"such a shame they've already gotten to you - oh we need to move, watch me play okay?"

They winked at the demon, strutting off to their new golf site

"let's play but I won't bother you to guide me."

"it's no bother-"

Dia took a strong strike, the ball flying off and hit your ex in the head

But another flying golf ball was already being sent their way

"Sorry! You just look like target with seeing how much you open for mouth, here I'll give you my club as an apology."

He 'accidentally' did it too hard and sent his club flying in their direction, they just missed it

They screamed at him for being crazy but he just kept his sweet smile

"so you're actually a great shot on your own."

"guilty, I just wanted you to hold me."

Barbatos:

Aquarium, it feels fitting seeing he's also a serpent demon .

You held his gloved hand, pointing out towards the colourful fish that caught your fancy

"there are remarkable species I'm sure you've yet to have seen in the Devildom, Perhaps I'll take you to see them."

"really??!! I'd love to!"

He admired the dolphins that swam across the open space around the hallway, watching the way it delved back into the water

"this is embarassing, is that really you?!"

"oh no...."

"it is! When I found you disappeared I thought it was because of me! But here you are and with you're- whoever this is."

"I'm the boyfriend."

He nudged you away from your ex, his mood already sour

"boyfriend?! Already...? What a shame you moved on so quickly, I've been thinking about you."

They caressed the side of your cheek but you just slapped their hand away

"yeah right, leave us alone - I don't want to be around you."

"don't even think about insulting them, are you really going to bring up the past as a way to hurt them just because they've refused you?"

"h-huh-?! What are you- I wouldn't do such a thing!"

"oh...? So you weren't thinking of bringing up the time they use to 'love' you Touching them and was just 'shy' about it? Knowing it'll get a rise because you know that they didn't like your touch."

"how did you-?!"

"I know alot about you and what you plan to do, it would best you step away now before I set your fate in stone - swimming with the fishes."

He towered over them, their back pressing against the tank glass,

their eyes glancing to the fishes behind them

They let out a nervous laugh

"right....well I'll be going then, goodbye (Y/N)."

Solomon:

A fire works show - meant you could spend the mornings doing whatever you want but the night?

That's when you two went Speeding

You kept your scarf close to your face, it being a chilly night

You kept your hand intertwined with your boyfriend's, in awe at the fireworks

"They're not very close are they? i could make fireworks."

He shook his star wand, you were thankful it looked like a toy

"Sol, you can't just use magic when there's a small inconvenience."

"fireworks-!"

Soon enough fireworks came bursting out closer to where you two stood, still a safe distance away but seeing as you didn't get the best spot in the crowd

It was much cooler to see them closer

"No way!!! You're back in town?! I thought you left for good!"

It was almost hard to hear your ex over the fireworks

Solomon gave them the side eye as he clutched your hand

"I know have devastated you were after the breakup, seriously didn't think you'd disappear, I bet that you died or something!"

"do you have nothing better to do?! I'm trying to enjoy the fireworks with my boyfriend."

"Him?! You going for witchy hippies?! Wooow your taste has just stayed shit, hasn't it?! This is why you need me back, I actually gave you good taste!"

"You made me listen to country rap that all sung about beating women - I've upgraded!"

You shuffled closest to Solomon, ignoring your ex as they kept trying to pester you

"Can you stop being such a- are you kidding me?! You're never going to change- don't - ignore- you stupid bi-"

The more they began to yell the more powerful fireworks Solomon set off

Almost completely blocking out you exes screams

It got to the point there had to be a fireworks break due to how hectic it got

"this is dumb, I'm leaving." They huffed as you continued to ignore them

"how fortunate, I'm sure I could of started a fire from all that."

"like a fire would of stopped you, thanks for blocking them out."

He kissed your cheek, smiling

"my pleasure~"

Simeon:

He took you ice skating, unfortunately you were terrible at it whilst he was fine

You were both wrapped up warm as he helped you skate across the rink

Your legs wobbled and you slid to face your almost fell over

"hahah, you're adorable but don't worry, you'll be a master of it by the end of tonight."

You slowly got the hang of it, gripping his arm whilst he just smiled, enjoying being so close to you

"i think I got it-! Wait no no no don't let go!"

Just as your small victory gave you a big smile it immediately dropped when your ex skidded over

"What are you odds of you being here, I see you still can't skate."

"so what? You want to bother me about skating? Why not go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone."

They just laughed

"so insistent, if that's what you want~"

They skated past you, bumping into you and you immediately went flying into the ice

Happy you kept your hands close to your face as another skater zoomed by

Simeon hastily helped you back up, dusting Ice off you

"Let's sit down, maybe they won't be here for long."

He helped you off the ice and you both sat on a bench, he got you a warm drink before sitting down

But it wasn't over, your ex coming to where you were sitting still in the rink

"sorry about that, it was a total accident I swear - tell me (Y/N), what made you come here? I bet you were stalking my page again, wanted to see me?"

"no, I just wanted to have a date with my boyfriend."

"It would be best you left us alone, your presence clearly isn't wanted."

"neither was your opinion, from past lover to new, watch yourself because they will destory your heart and your life - nothing will ever be comfortable or happy with them."

"that is untrue-"

"really? Is it? We all know they just like to use people for their kindness and leave them because of a stupid mistake - don't you understand what parties do to people? Huh?! I'm glad I got with her at that party because she's a better partner than you ever were."

You pounded the side of your first to the table, glaring at them with tears in your eyes

"you cheated on me and blames it on alcohol, when I forgave you - it only made you feel happy to keep going back to her! Don't talk to me like you're the victim-!"

Simeon, rubbed your back, frowning at your ex

Your ex just scoffed, skating off

Your boyfriend suddenly stood up and began to march over to the rink

You tried to ask what he was doing but he didn't respond, quickly skating over to your ex

When he caught up he skidded so far they got covered in ice, grabbed your ex with a smile

And suddenly, you didn't see what happened but your ex screamed, darting off the Ice trying to get away from Simeon

When he finally came back he took a sip of your drink and smiled

"let's head back on the ice, I still have to make you a pro."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mc #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me imagine #obey me x reader #valentine's day

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frostedfaves · 3 years

Text

All Too Well

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: A new year leads to a new argument.

Warnings: angst

A/N: this was supposed to be a super angsty breakup fic inspired by Taylor Swift’s All Too Well, but apparently idk how to write sad shit anymore so enjoy whatever this is 😔 (on the bright side, I found a nickname for Wanda to use in my upcoming series 👀)

“Those aren’t even the lyrics!” Wanda shouted over the radio, her laughter nearly covering her speech like a blanket.

“Of course it is!” You reached over to turn down the volume on the radio. “Take it from someone who sang this song every day for a year during every single shower.”

“Well, it’s a shame your shampoo bottles never told you that you were serenading them with the wrong words.”

A loud laugh escaped you as both of your heads turned in the same moment, yours to gaze out the passenger window and hers to watch you. The orange and brown leaves that dropped from the trees were only part of the lovely scene in front of you, and Wanda thought the colors provided a wonderful background for her own movie. She got lost in admiring your features, wishing to run her thumb along your lips as a smile formed there, or place a palm against your cheeks, warmed by the sun. Her attention turned back to the road just in time to stop herself from passing a red light, throwing an arm across your torso to keep you from lurching forward against the seatbelt.

“Sorry,” she apologized with flushed cheeks, and you couldn’t help but poke one as you assured her everything was fine. Turns out the sun can bring warmth to fingers, too.

As the two of you made your way to your shared apartment, Wanda wished for your heated touch now, instead of the cold glare you directed to the windshield. She was grateful it was pointed toward the street for now, and she was tempted to drive on forever with the heat blasting until you defrosted. Anything to avoid the confrontation she knew was coming.

“What the hell was that?”

“Baby, please,” she sighed. “The new year just started. Can’t we wait until the sun comes up again and we’ve had some sleep?”

“I’ve waited long enough, Wanda.”

Her shoulders tensed and a shiver ran down her spine because your stare was focused on her now, and the ice made its way to your vocal chords, leaving an especially thick layer around her name. You hadn’t called her anything aside from ‘honeydew’ since your first date, and she endured the teasing from her team because seeing the sparkle in your eyes was worth it. Hearing you say her name now felt like being cursed.

“Can we at least wait until we get home?” she pleaded as she faced you after stopping at the red light. “I want to be able to look you in the eye without putting you in danger.”

“Fine.”

You broke away first to turn the radio volume up, turning your head to avoid her watery eyes. Her vulnerable gaze nearly melted away your resolve entirely, and you refused to let this go on any longer. Wanda forced herself to keep her own eyes on the road and the drive went on silently aside from the song pouring in through the speakers, neither of you bothering to fight over the correct lyrics. You were back at your building within a few minutes, and while you rode the elevator up from the parking garage, Wanda took the stairs. She had no idea what she was walking into, and she just needed to pretend everything was okay for a little bit longer.

When she opened the apartment door, your coat was already hung by the door and she could hear your bare feet padding along the wooden floor to the bedroom. She took her time hanging her own coat and slipping off her shoes, following you down the hall and nearly dropping them out of her hand when she saw you staring at her from the edge of the bed.

“What the hell was that?” you repeated, watching Wanda walk past to place her shoes in the closet.

“I’m going to need more than that, detka.” Her accent became more prominent as her nerves grew, a deep crease forming between her brows as she faced you and leaned against the opposite wall. “What are you asking about?”

“That woman asked about your girlfriend and you told her it was ‘nothing serious’.”

“I was just...saving face.” She kept her arms folded as she shrugged. “She’s friends with Tony and they talk all the time. If I would’ve been all obnoxious about our relationship, he would’ve made a big deal about it later.”

“You’ve been getting teased for ten months by Earth’s mightiest heroes over a nickname and expressing your love for your girlfriend is where you draw the line?!”

“Okay, I’m sorry! It was a mistake and it won’t happen again.” She pushed off the wall and walked forward to grab your hand, but you jumped off the bed and headed toward the kitchen before she could get close. “What--”

“You’ve stopped talking to me, too.”

“We’re literally talking now! We talked on Christmas Day--”

“Oh yeah, I really enjoyed that 30 second talk we had over pancake batter before the whole team stormed in and took over,” you huffed into the refrigerator while searching for something to drink.

“If you have a problem with the Avengers, just say it.”

“I love your team!” you cried out as you closed the refrigerator door. “I probably see more of them than I do you. Three weeks ago, I went to the tower because I hadn’t heard from you all day and I had to find out from the fucking spider kid that you volunteered to join some last minute mission. And you know what? We had dinner together and I talked to him for two hours, which is probably longer than I’ve talked to you since then.”

“I can’t help it if missions come up,” Wanda challenged as she took the glass of water you offered. “This is my job, just like you have yours.”

“I know, but you had your phone with you. At least send a text, let me know you’re okay.”

“I will. Is that it?” She watched your eyes avert from hers, sighing when you headed toward the couch in the living room instead of the bedroom. “It’s not, is it?”

“I just want to know why you haven’t been happy.” You finally met her gaze again when she stopped a few feet away.

“What? I’m happy.”

“Nothing’s been the same since that day you were driving and nearly ran the red light. That was in October, and it’s the beginning of January now.”

“You’re wrong,” Wanda insisted as she inched closer. “I’m happy.”

“I drove myself crazy here while you were gone on all these lengthy trips, trying to think of why you wanted to be so far away all the time. Maybe you weren’t feeling this anymore, or you’d found someone that made you feel more alive--”

“I told you I’m happy!”

In a split second, red filled her eyes and surrounded her hand as she sent her glass flying against the wall. You stared at the droplets of water running down the eggshell colored surface to the wooden floor, flinching when Wanda placed her hand on your thigh as she knelt in front of you and relaxing when you were met with her usual eye color.

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed gently as she sighed, never breaking eye contact. “I’ve just been worried. When we’re together, I tend to lose myself in your existence, and it isn’t safe. A few seconds more, and that day could’ve ended a lot differently.”

“I had my seatbelt on,” you reminded her as you placed your palm over her knuckles, and she shook her head.

“There are a lot worse threats than a car accident, detka. I just fear that one day, I’ll be wrapped around you so tightly that I won’t have time to free myself and protect you from danger.”

“So your solution to protecting me more was to leave me totally alone with no warning?”

“Now that I’m hearing it with a clear head, it doesn’t sound like such a good plan,” she chuckled with a shake of her head.

“No, it doesn’t, honeydew.” You squeezed her hand with a smile that widened at the sight of Wanda’s. “What?”

“I just never thought I could miss a silly nickname so much.”

Tags: @littlegasps @peggycarter-steverogers @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @creepingwolfberry @honeyvenable

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #avengers #the avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x fem!reader #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Note

That car sex Brian x proxy reader was SO GOOD!! Can we maybe get a follow up of her telling Brian that she's pregnant, and him finding out he's gonna be a dad? (๑♡⌓♡๑)

Thinking About It Later

[Hoodie X F!Reader]

[Warnings: pregnancy, slight angst]

[AN: here you go, hope you enjoy!]

Sleeping with your group’s right hand, Brian was a dream come true. You’ve felt deeply for him since the moment you met him, and touching him how you’ve always wanted - if wishes could come true, yours certainly did that night.

He’s still the right hand of your group and you’re still essentially a runt just moved to ‘middle child’ status. Things aren’t any different between the two of you. Every now and then, Hoodie grins at you when he’s fronting or his hands linger on your forearms, hands and waist just a little too long, and Brian speaks far more gently to you than he did before.

He still makes your heart sing with just a glance.

So, why do you feel like you’d be anywhere but in his presence? Why do you feel like you should be anywhere but in his general vicinity? Why are you so flighty all of a sudden?

You broke one of the Operator’s cardinal rules: if one must have relationships, keep it so silent there are no traces when the deed is done.

And you thought that you followed that rule to its T, to the exact letter, but a few weeks later and you’re throwing up in the bathroom at 4 AM praying your group leader doesn't hear you and you know something is wrong. Your body is feeling different, and when you’ve missed your period, your suspicion grows stronger. There’s almost no doubt about it, but you still manage to sneak out one evening and get a few pregnancy tests.

“Don’t be surprised if we’re not back when you come back,” Masky says with a small hum as he twirls the car keys in his fingers.

“Why’s that?” You ask, pulling your bag’s strap up on your shoulder as you follow him out the door. Your other group members are chatting and leaning against the ugly minivan Toby stole. The sky is cloudy, so at least the car’s chrome isn’t blinding you this time. You take in the sweet air of the town you’re currently living in with your group.

Masky glances at his watch, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Big job. Gotta meet with some independents to get the work done. Not expecting to be back that soon,” he answers. “You gonna be okay while we’re out?”

You nod and wave to Toby and Kate who light up upon seeing you. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go have fun,” you say, a smile on your lips. It doesn’t reach your eyes until Brian looks over at you. And there it is, lighting up your eyes as much as lips. “Stay safe!” You call out, once again waving at your team.

“You t-too,” Toby chuckles as he slips into the back passenger seat.

“Gotta be dangerous going to the store,” Kate teases as leans in the rolled down window of the car.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you giggle, ready to head into town.

Brian scoffs playfully as he opens the passenger door. “I should be saying the same thing to you,” he says before Masky quietly chuckles for him to get in the car. Another smile your way and he goes in, and then the car peels out and to their destination.

You on the other hand, take a nice walk to the town, get some pregnancy tests, then rush back to the temp house to see if you’re that dreaded thing.

You’re scared for a lack of better words. Heart pounding, palms sweating, face contorted - scared.

A part of you feels like you can’t breathe. You’re directly going against your boss and you’re not sure how Brian is going to feel about this either. Is he going to be mad? Never want to speak to you again? You’re not sure, and the suspense sends you into tears. You’re not even sad, just frustrated.

You look angrily at the positive pregnancy steps and work yourself into a stupor in your tears, hands grasping the positive tests and throwing them with a scoff at your nightstand. You collapse on your bed and begin to let your tears fall, frustration lining and filling your body. You’re scared.

Brian ends up coming back to the temp house early the next morning by himself. Toby, Kate and Masky decided to stay the night with the independents. “We’ll find our way back,” they said. Brian has a horrible feeling he’s going to have to come get them in the evening, what a mess.

He sighs and steps into the house, quiet, as to not disturb you, when his heightened hearing picks up something. Sniffling? Are you crying? He closes the front door quietly behind him and locks it before heading up the stairs to where your room is. He knows you’re prone to waking up crying, but this feels different.

Your door is slightly ajar, but Brian won’t enter without your permission. He knocks gently on the door. “Hey there, sugar, you awake?” He asks softly, voice quiet and low in case you’re still resting. He hears you shifting in the bed.

“Go away,” you mumble into your pillow.

Brian frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“C’mon, we both know lying isn’t going to solve anything,” he chides slightly. “Just let me in. We can solve this problem together.”

You wipe your remaining tears away before nodding slightly. “Okay… Come in,” you murmur.

Brian pushes the already open door further and enters in. He’s greeted to the sight of you rolled up in the blankets, head under the covers, unwilling to see him. He presses his lips into a frown again before closing the door quietly, then focusing on you. His fingers gently trail the edge of the bed before he sits down beside it. “What’s got you in such a state?”

“I think I made a mistake.”

Brian chuckles under his breath, hand petting your blanketed head. “What kind of mistake?” You take in a deep breath and look over at the nightstand.

Brian’s eyes follow your gaze and then he sees it. His heart stops. He leans forward and looks at the plastic sticks, his eyes glazing over - with what you aren’t certain with.

You hold your breath as he looks them over, the little plus signs making your head spin. “I’m so sorry-” you begin to apologize before you’re overcome by Brian’s warmth.

He’s pulled you up from the blankets and hugging you tightly, his head buried into the crook of your neck. “How long have you known?”

You gulp as more tears well in your eyes. “A few weeks?” You whisper.

Brian pulls away from you slightly. His eyes are soft and gentle, a little scared, but ultimately, he looks at you with such deep, ardent love. His thumb wipes some of your rolling, salty tears away.

“You’re not mad?” You ask, shocked he’s not lashing out or screaming at you.

He shakes his head, “it took two to tango,” he says, a small smile on his lips. “Did you get any rest?”

You glance down at your place on the bed and shake your head, a sigh escaping your lips.

“Let’s get some rest then,” he murmurs as he moves the blankets around to get you settled back in again.

“But what about-”

“We’ll think about it when we wake up,” he cuts you off gentle. “Whatever happens with you, this,” he gestures to your abdomen. “We’ll figure it out together.” He knows the punishment for something like this, and the thought scares him ever so slightly. But for you? For you, he’d shoot the Operator himself.

You settle against Brian’s chest and take in his deep scent, already lulling into a sweet sleep.

Brian’s lips press on your forehead before he wraps his arms around you, encasing you in the safest place you’ll ever be.

#hoodie #hoodie x reader #hoodie headcanon #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas headcanon #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets headcanon #masky #kate the chaser #ticci toby

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gamergirl929 · 3 years

Text

Forgiveness Is The Final Form Of Love (Christen Press x Reader)

Anonymous Request: Christen Press x reader: Where R always gives her a single forget-me-not every time Christen has to go away, but before she leaves one time they get into an argument, so they aren’t on speaking terms before she leaves. It affects Christen until she goes to read a book she brought with her and finds a flower pressed into the pages with an apology and they make up over the phone. Just some angstiness with some cute fluffiness.

Hope you’re all ready for the fluffy angstinessssssss!

You were being foolish, that was obvious.

The fans usually didn’t get to you, but it was hard to ignore the comments about Christen and Tobin, Preath as the fans had dubbed them.

You were jealous, and tried to tell your girlfriend how to act around her best friend which was entirely wrong, you knew it was wrong when you said it, but the words still slipped out.

Christen was livid, and she had every right to be, you’d basically told her how to act when in the public eye and that was not fair to her.

You trusted Christen with all your heart, the fans and their comments had just gotten to you, their comments dug deep, but it wasn’t Chrisen’s fault, it wasn’t because she was friends with Tobin, it was because the fans latched onto that relationship, seeing innocent moments as more than they truly were.

You brushed your fingertips across the flattened flower.

The same type of flower you’d picked on your first date, sticking it in your girlfriend’s hair with a toothy grin, the woman’s cheeks pink as her eyes sparkled.

You’d pressed the flower weeks ago, planning, as per usual, to hide it within one of her book’s pages she’d always take with her.

This time, the flower had a deeper meaning than the typical forget-me-not.

It didn’t just mean, I love you and I’m still here even though I’m not there physically, it meant, I’m sorry and I was out of line, but I’m still here if you’d have me and let me work for your forgiveness.

You press a kiss to the letter, the flowers pressed into the back of the apology letter that you slip into Christen’s book, right where her bookmark had been.

Inconspicuously, you slip it into her bag, right where she’d left it, hoping your apology letter, along with the sentimental flower would be enough to at least begin your steps to forgiveness.

***

“Chris-

“No Y/N, after what you did last night, the LAST thing I want to do is talk to you.” She grabs her bags and heads outside, towards her car.

“You aren’t going to tell me what I can and can’t do in this relationship, and if you think you’re going to, I don’t know if this is a relationship that I want to be in.”

Christen freezes at the heart broken look on your face, your eyes immediately filling with tears.

You turn away, swallowing hard.

“Whatever your decision... I understand. I was out of line... And I’m sorry, and if...” You sniffle, brushing a tear away.

“If that’s what you want, I understand, just know how sorry I am. I let the fans get to me and I shouldn’t have... I trust you Christen and I know nothing is going on between you and Tobin, and trying to tell you what to do was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.” You take a deep breath.

“I don’t deserve you and if I lose you because of my mistake, I understand.”

You stare down at your shuffling feet, ignoring your tears as they stream down your cheeks.

“Just, be careful please... I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t say that and something happened...”

You turn around, your teary Y/E/C orbs locking with Christen’s glassy green orbs.

“I love you Christen. I hope I get to see you again soon, but if not, if you don’t want to see me. I understand.” You whisper before turning away and making your way back into the house, leaving the woman behind, tears in her green orbs as she whispers.

“I love you too.”

***

“You look like you’ve had a rough night.” Kelley frowns at the look on Christen’s face, the purple bags under her eyes the first thing they notice when they look at the woman, the second being her bloodshot green orbs.

Tobin frowns as the woman takes a seat beside her, her hand running down Christen’s back.

“What happened?” Tobin whispers, frowning and Christen sniffles.

“I think Y/N and I just broke up...”

Tobin’s eyes widen as she wraps her arms around the forward who buries her face in Tobin’s neck, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“It’s okay, it’s alright.”

Everyone turns to the forward, frowning.

You and Christen had been a committed relationship for nearly 2 years, the two of you were inseparable, and incredibly happy.

Christen pulls back, turning around when she feels a hand on her back, that hand belonging to Ashlyn.

“What happened?” She asks, her and Ali worriedly eyeing the forward who shrugs, realizing Alex and Kelley are also turned her way.

Megan too has moved up the aisle, ignoring the narrowed eyed glare she gets from the bus driver.

“The fans got to her.” She mumbles sadly, turning to Tobin. “She didn’t want me hanging out with you so much.”

Everyone lets out an outraged snarl, but Christen shakes her head.

“She took it back less than a second later...” She shrugs and Kelley sighs.

“She definitely was WAYYY out of line, but you know how the fans can be.” She shrugs and Christen nods.

“She knows I’d never do anything with Tobin, just fans have been relentless lately...” She frowns, remembering the names Y/N had been called by some of the USWNT so called ‘fans.’

“Deep down Y/N knows we would NEVER do that to her, she’s always made jokes about the diehard Preathers, and you and I together?”

Tobin snorts.

“Ewww.”

Christen rolls her eyes, giving her best friend a nudge.

“I think in the same breath you have to think about Y/N’s trust in you, if she said it, she’s thought of it.” Megan frowns.

“We all know how demanding our jobs can be, and the fans don’t make it easier, maybe Y/N is a little jealous that you get to spend so much time with her Tobs, and she doesn’t.” Alex gives Christen a soft smile.

Christen glances at her lap, her brows furrowing when she spots something in her bag.

“What’s wrong?” Ali asks as she tries to sneak a peek into Christen’s bag.

The forward takes the small flower petal between her fingers, recognizing the flower immediately before she starts searching through her books.

It doesn’t take long before she finds it, the flower pressed in its pages on the back of a scrap of paper, a scrap of paper that she realizes has been written on.

“Is that a forget-me-not? That’s so sweet.” Ali places a hand on her heart and Christen’s green orbs glaze over, her fingertips tracing the flower as she remembers the first time, she’d seen the flower for the first time.

***

Christen remembered the first time she saw you in town, she specifically remembered it because you were so busy looking at her you accidently walked into a door that someone had just opened, immediately falling onto the sidewalk with a grunt.

Christen immediately rushes across the street and helps you to your feet, the forward giggling.

“You okay?” She asks, her green orbs locking with your Y/E/C orbs, your cheeks pink as you rub the back of your neck.

“Ye-Yeah. I’m alright.” You grin, a grin Christen can’t help but return.

“I’m Christen.” She smiles sweetly, your heart skipping a beat.

“I’m Y/N.”

***

It was a matter of weeks before you’d planned a date, the two of you eating at a fancy restaurant in town, eagerly getting to know one another.

It was after the dinner though that Christen realized she was absolutely smitten.

“What are you doing?” Christen squeaks as you jump a nearby fence, running into someone’s yard to pluck a small flower from a bush before running back, nearly falling over the fence when you jump over it.

“Put that back!” She giggles, but you shake your head, tucking it behind her ear.

“They won’t miss it.” You smile, your fingertips brushing her cheek as you adjust the flower.

“It’s a forget-me-not.” You grin, cheeks pink. “I don’t want you to forget today.” You glance away, shuffling nervously from foot to foot, your heart racing in your chest.

“I don’t want you to forget me.”

Christen takes a step towards you, cupping your cheeks as she leans in for a kiss.

“I could never forget you.”

***

“I think we lost her.”

Christen jumps at the sound of Kelley’s voice, glancing around the bus, finding nearly everyone’s eyes on her.

She clears her throat.

“Where’d you go?” Tobin nudges her, smiling when she realizes Christen is still gently stroking the flower.

“The past.”

Tobin looks down at the flower with a grin.

“Don’t let a little argument end your relationship.” She whispers. “Just talk it out with her...”

“Wait, do you guys always do this?” Alex asks and Christen nods.

“Y/N hides forget-me-nots in my books, she’s done it ever since we started dating.” Christen cheeks flush.

“This is the same kind of flower she gave me on our first date.”

Christen’s teammates watch her with a grin, that is before Tobin snorts.

“You mean the flower she stole from someone’s backyard?” She asks and Christen giggles, nodding.

“Yeah.”

Kelley, Ali, Ashlyn, Megan and Alex all share a glance.

“Alright, this we got to hear.”

***

You’d nearly fallen asleep when your phone starts to ring, the phone had literally been inches away from you, just in case Christen had decided to call you.

You abruptly sit up, answering the call immediately.

“Chris?” You whisper, your heart racing.

“Hey.” She says into the phone, the way she says it tells you she’s smiling, and that brings a smile to your face.

“Did you make it to the hotel safe?” You ask first and foremost, the rest could wait, your girlfriend's safety was what was important.

“I did, I’m safe in my room...” She glances around and you swallow hard, your gut twisting with nervousness.

“I found your forget-me-not.”

Your eyes widen and you swallow hard.

“Did you uhh... Did you read my letter?” You whisper, head hanging and shoulders hunched.

“I did.”

You patiently wait for the woman’s response, a smile spreading across your face when she giggles.

“Did you steal the flower from the same person’s backyard?” She asks and your eyes double in size, your cheeks flushing as well as your entire body.

“Uh... Ma- I mean...”

“You totally did, didn’t you?” Christen giggles wildly, the sound of Tobin’s laughter in the background making you laugh, the feeling of jealousy the furthest thing from your mind.

“Yeah, yeah I did... I had to hide in a bush when the owner came out.” You snort, the sound of a roomful of laughter filling your ears.

“I love you, even if you’re a dumbass.”

You still, your heart skipping a beat as the butterflies' flitter their wings in your stomach.

“You still love me?” You ask nervously, wondering if it was a slip of the tongue, but when Christen laughs you grin.

“Of course, I do... We have a lot to talk about. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I don’t want to end our relationship like this, I want our relationship to work, and the first step to doing that is us communicating more.”

You nod, glancing around when you realize Christen can’t see you.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, I was nodding like a dumbass.” You groan, the sound of Chirsten’s giggle making your embarrassment worth it.

“I love you too Chris, and I know we have to talk... I made a mistake, and let my insecurities take over... I trust you and I trust Tobin; I know neither of you would ever do that to me... I just need to be more open with you about the fans and how the media makes me feel and... Yeah.”

Christen smiles, leaning against the bathroom wall where she’d snuck to have a private conversation with you, away from the team.

“We’ll talk more when I’m back home. I love you Y/N, and the last thing I’d ever do was break up with you. You have my heart, and I never want to take it back.” She confesses and you grin, squealing as you wiggle in the empty bed.

“I love you too, and that’s the last thing I want... I’ll work on this... I promise.”

You glance at your alarm clock, humming.

“You need to go to bed, it’s late there.” You yawn and Christen laughs.

“Checking up on me?” She asks and you chuckle.

“Of course.”

Christen takes a deep breath, beaming.

“I love you Y/N, more than anything in this world.” She whispers and you grin.

“I love you too Chris, and I’m sorry for what I said.”

“I know you are. Go sleep Y/N, you sound exhausted.” She says softly and you yawn, realizing too late that your mere seconds from sleep.

Christen’s brows furrow when you go silent, it isn’t until you snore softly through the phone that Christen grins.

“I love you, you idiot and I could never EVER forget you and never EVER let you go.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #christen press x reader #christen press imagine

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