#the fucking SCREECH has me folded like paper
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god i love tts i love how fucked up they can get
#rtvs#vid clips#been a WHILE since ive used that#loud#the fucking SCREECH has me folded like paper#absolute faves
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King Steve being a dick to shy!reader until he found out she was the one who left a note in his locker and not nancy 🥰
he's less of a dick and more of a dumbass in this but i hope you like it :D — when steve thinks nancy's left a note in his locker, he starts pulling away from you (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort ish but mostly fluff, 0.8k)
You’re not surprised to find Steve in the old chemistry classroom, half-abandoned in the west wing of the school — the two of you often seek sanctuary there, away from the vultures of Hawkins High. No, what’s strange is the note he holds between his hands. And the way he tries to hide it when he sees you.
He shoves the paper into the back pocket of his jeans and rises from the desk he sits on. It screeches and slides slightly back in his fumbling state. He tries to hide his panic with a lopsided grin but wears all the alarm in his eyes.
“Hey, babe…” he wavers.
The door clicks shut behind you. Instead of greeting him with a kiss and a warm embrace, you cross your arms over your chest and cock your hip gently to the side. The softness he’s grown so used to has suddenly hardened.
“What are you doing?” you wonder plainly.
He stammers. “Uh… Skipping calculus?”
“No, I mean, why are you avoiding me?”
“Avoiding you?” Steve scoffs, forcing out a breathy laugh. He stumbles over himself with words and gestures wildly with his hands. “Why would I— I have no reason to— I’m not avoiding you, okay? That’s crazy.”
His deflecting isn’t reassuring.
A weird, uncomfy feeling pangs in your chest.
“You’ve been acting weird for three days, Steve. I have to practically hunt you down to find you— and when I do, you act like you don’t even wanna talk to me.”
The pained look scrunching your features makes his stomach ache. He averts his gaze and shrugs. “That’s not true, you know that—”
“You won’t even look at me now,” you murmur, eyes glassy and stinging with distant tears. His gaze darts back up to meet yours again. You shrink inside yourself and shift your weight on your feet. “Do you… Do you wanna break up with me or something? Is that it?”
Steve’s face swirls with confusion, pained and panicked. “What? No!” he exclaims, voice ringing across the quiet lab. “Of course I don’t! Why would you— Why would you even say that?”
“Then what happened?” you agonize. “What’d I do?”
He rushes across the room and gathers your worrying form in his palms, fingers wide and warm on the outsides of your elbows. He ducks his head down so he’s more level with your tinier frame. His features furrow with anguish. “Nothing! You didn’t do anything, okay? I swear. It’s just this— It’s this stupid fucking note.”
Your brows pinch. “What?”
He drops his hand and reaches for the neglected paper in his pocket. The thing is folded four different times and slightly crumpled with how much he’s handled it. He waves it wildly in his hand. “Nancy left me this in my locker a couple days ago, and it just totally freaked me out, you know? I… I don’t know.”
He passes it off to you like he’s been dying to get rid of it.
You unfold the note. The sound of rumpling paper is much louder in the quiet. Steve watches you read it with a pained look on his face — doe eyes flitting across the familiar words and more familiar handwriting.
Familiar ‘cause you wrote it.
It takes everything in you to bite back the smile pulling at your lips.
“Oh…” you hum instead.
“I didn’t meet her!” Steve blurts. “I swear, I just… I didn’t know how to tell you about it ‘cause I didn’t wanna upset you, you know? And I just kept freaking myself out, and I’m… I’m sorry.” The words catch in his closing throat. He swallows hard and takes a breath. “I don’t like Nancy anymore, okay? I like you. I love you.”
“So you didn’t… You didn’t meet her there?” you wonder aloud despite knowing the answer, waving the paper in your hand. Meet me in the bathroom, it reads, sloppier than your usual cursive because you wrote it against his locker.
“No!”
“Okay. I believe you,” you nod, smiling when he drops his chin to his chest and sighs in relief. “…Wanna know how I know?”
He glances up at you then, peeking at you beneath his lashes. His honey eyes sparkle in a silent answer.
“‘Cause I left you the note,” you confess, scrunching the bridge of your nose. “And I waited for you for half an hour.”
Steve gapes, equal parts confused and embarrassed. “…Oh.”
“Oh,” you parrot with a quiet laugh.
He stammers. “I’m— I— We just… Me and Nancy used to meet there all the time during free period. I guess I just… I thought that—”
“That she came crawling back?” you finish with a teasing glint in your eyes. “Because no one can resist King Steve?”
He meets your mischievous look with a shier smile. “It’s not that,” he mutters.
“I know,” you promise with a gentle sigh. “I’m just teasing.”
You lean further into him, both of you less anxious now than a minute or more ago. Your palms smooth over his chest while his arms curl around your back. “I feel like a total idiot,” he admits with a sheepish chuckle.
“‘Cause you are one,” you quip, sparkling with all the adoration you have for him. “And I love you.”
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#stranger things x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things imagine#steve harrington imagine#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#st drabbles#stevie drabble
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A Proper Lesson
teacher!daemon x student!reader
A/N: This was a request for a fic similar to short skirts and lacy panties just changed up a bit. This is the version for people who prefer reader fics, the rhae x daemon version is here!
TW: MOJOR DUBCON, SMUT!!, choking, lots of spanking, bondage, dacryphilia, throat fucking
word count: 1,488 words
It’s filthy, the way he thinks about you, the way he looks at you. It’s a small class, Valyrian History 101, you are always right front in centre. Daemon can hardly understand why. The brat never pays attention, but is perhaps looking for it? It could be why you never turn assignments in on time or why you spend more time putting on lipgloss rather than completing you homework. You're just a little spoiled rich girl and he knows it. Daemon knows your father and it makes him realize how you gets away with everything, but he won’t let your behaviour slide any longer.
“Miss (l/n), you will stay after class.” Daemon calls out to you as the other students file out.
“Is there a problem, professor?” You asksinnocently.
He wants to say that the fact that he can see your nipples through your top is a problem. Instead he says, “Your assignment was meant to be turned in at the start of class.”
“I need an extension.”
“I hardly believe that.”
“My father donates a lot of money to this school.”
Daemon sighs and decides that he will at least give her one last chance. Your father is an old friend after all. “You have until tomorrow morning.”
“I need a three day extension.” You give him a condescending little smirk.
“It will be turned in tomorrow before class begins or you will have real consequences.” He says seriously.
“I’m sure I will.” You smirk before flouncing out of the room without a care in the world.
The next day, nothing is turned in before the start of class and you walk in without placing a physical copy on his desk. You're dressed even sluttier today, tits poking through the dress that barely covers your ass. He’s infuriated by it, by you.
“Miss (l/n), I need to see you after class… again.” He doesn’t make his anger as clear on his face. He wants you to feel nervous. When all the other students are gone, he locks the door. “Where’s your paper?”
“It’ll be ready Thursday.”
“I said you had to have it in today.”
“And I said it would be ready on Thursday.” you smooth out the ruffles on your dress before checking your nails. “Can I go now?” You ask in a bored tone.
“Can you go now?” He scoffs at the question. “Bend over the fucking desk.” His voice is cold, authoritative.
“Excuse me?” You say with the audacity to look insulted.
“Oh fuck this. You’ll never listen.” He walks over quickly and grabs your arm, pulling you to the desk.
“W-What in the seven hells are you doing!” You screech before letting out a huff as you're forced over the desk. Daemon reaches into his bag for the thing he knew he would probably need, handcuffs. Only fun ones but you'll hardly be able to break them.
“Shut up before I gag you.” He warns as he cuffs your wrists behind your back.
“I’ll scream if you don’t let me go right now!”
Daemon sighs before taking off his tie and tying it around your mouth to gag you. He keeps one hand on your upper back as he lifts your skirt.
“No underwear? I bet half the school has seen your bare cunt today with how short this fucking dress is.” He runs his fingers through your folds. Not quite wet yet.
He uses his free hand to pull off his belt. He chuckles at how your eyes widen in fear. Does she think i'm going to fuck her? Poor dumb girl. It’ll be much worse than that. He folds the belt in half and lifts it high in the air before bringing it down hard on your ass. You yelp through the gag but aren't even close to being loud enough for somebody to hear you. He spanks you again with the belt, enjoying the red stripe it leaves on your cheeks. He won’t be stopping until your whole ass is red. He spanks you again, and again, until your yelps turn to moans. Daemon knew you would like this treatment. Such a little brat needs to be put into her place.
“If you scream, i’ll make you do more than regret it.” He warns as he pulls off the gag. You look back at him with tears glistening in your eyes.
“I-I’m sorry, sir.” You say softly.
“Are you?” He smacks you hard with the belt and you arch your back. “Don’t you think you deserve this?” You take too long to respond and he belts you again. Your poor bum is crimson now, but the slickness between your thighs tells him you needed it. “Answer me.”
“I do! I do deserve it.” He chuckles and tosses the belt on the table. He uses his hand to give you a few more harsh smacks. You whimper at each one.
He pulls you by your hair back up to your feet. “Get on your knees and show me how sorry you are.”
You obey quickly, practically falling to your knees in front of him. Daemon pulls his own cock out because you're still cuffed and puts it to your lips. You suck like your life depends on it. And Daemon can’t help but think that the whore clearly likes having a cock in her mouth. He grips the back of your hair and starts fucking your mouth ruthlessly. He enjoys how the tears start to fall from your eyes as you gag around him.
“You’re going to swallow everything I give you, princess.” He commands before spilling on your tongue. You nearly choke on it but swallow everything.
He pulls you up by your hair again and slaps your ass hard before pushing you back on the table.
“W-Wait, i’m a virgin.” You breathe out.
“If you don’t want it then get up and get out.” He gives you a few seconds and you don't move so Daemon shoves his cock into your tight cunt. You nearly scream but he grips you around your throat so it’s barely more than a squeak. “Keep your voice down, baby. That’s my good girl.” He says as he begins to pound himself into you.
He brings his free hand down to pinch your clit while the hand around your throat prevents you from making any noises. When you finally calm down enough to be quiet, he lets go of your neck so he can use both hands to push your legs down into a mating press. You let out a squeak at the new position. He hits her deeper and deeper with each thrust.
“Fuck your pussy is so tight but I think i’ll be cumming in that ass.”
“No you can’t!” You squeal out as he pulls out. You begin to squirm so he flips you onto your tummy.
“I can fuck whatever hole I want.”
He spanks your thighs a few times to punish you for complaining but it doesn’t stop your squirming so he just rolls his eyes and rubs some of your slick over your puckered hole. He slips a finger in to begin stretching you out as you kick your feet and whine.
“Fine, you don’t want to be prepped? Then I won’t prep you.” You're lucky you are all lubed up because Daemon shoves his thick cock right into your ass, bottoming out right away.
“Ahh, ahh.” You whimper as he thrusts into you. You hate how quickly the pain fades into pleasure as he distracts you by rubbing your clit.
“There you go. Just had to get it in and now you’re a happy girl.” He coos as he fucks into you deeper.
“I-m gonna… cu-m.” You manage to get out as he rubs you faster.
“I know you are, baby. Cum for me and i’ll fill up that ass.”
That triggers you instantly as you reach your peak, squeezing around nothing. Daemon thrusts a few more times before spilling inside you once again. He pulls out only seconds later, starting to fix himself right away.
“I have another class starting in less than 10 minutes.” He uncuffs you but you can barely stand. “You need to leave.”
You straighten out your dress but you have nothing to wipe the cum from between your legs. “But I need-” You start.
“Panties? Maybe you should have worn them instead of choosing to be a little slut. Get to your next class. Let’s see if you can go the whole day keeping my cum in your ass.” He says before giving you a wolfish grin. “And if your paper isn’t in tomorrow, you’re getting a paddling along with another dose of the belt.”
You gulp and nod before picking up your things. Daemon gets the door for you and you nearly stumble out of the room as he sends you off with one more smack on the ass.
A/N: just changed every 'she' to 'you'. never doing that shit again
taglist (comment to be added):General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi
#daemon x reader#daemon#daemon targaryen#daemon targeryen x reader#hotd#hotd smut#house of the dragon#daemon smut#daemon targaryen smut#professor!au#professor!daemon
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The Mighty Fall
Molly's Tale as told by @snows-blog-of-fiction
Heaux Tales of Jack Harlow
Nothing in life is ever easy, is it? It reels you in, gets you all excited for the end result, and just when things are *really* starting to get good, it’s snatched out of your reach, like a toy on the top shelf. I, for one, should have taken better caution. I should have known the perfect relationship with the hottest new rapper in the game - all six-foot-three of a curly-haired, freckled, blue-eyed Southern gentleman who had a smile to light even the darkest days - would eventually come to a screeching halt. I just didn’t realize it would take six months to do so.
*Come Home The Kids Miss You* has been released. I was at the release party, ready to interview Jack for my media journalism final. I had to impress. I had to make sure the questions weren’t repetitive from every other interview. And most importantly, I had to look my very best. I don’t get starstruck, let alone have celebrity crushes. But something about him was extremely magnetic. Was it the looks? The flirty vibes? Or maybe it was the mystery.
For as big as he was, he sure did hide a lot. “Right this way,” his manager, Neelam, led me to the VIP room. As we passed the invitees, I couldn’t help but take in their expressions of shock and envy, as if they were all thinking the same thing: “why is *she* VIP and not me?” One woman’s glance captured my attention. It was a mix of concern and pity, like she knew something I didn’t. Opening the doors of the VIP room, my heart caught in my throat as I gazed at the man who would eventually destroy my life. He wore all black, complete with sunglasses, which were removed upon my entry, and a toothpick hanging out of his mouth.
The table in front of him had bottles of Sprite and Pellegrino, and the entire room smelled of cologne with a hint of weed.
This is where innocent girls come to die
“Evening, Mr. Harlow,” I extended my hand for a shake, and he accepted it
. “Call me Jack,” he grinned widely. “Or call me yours. Whichever you’d prefer.”
Goddamn, those eyes
Even if I looked away, I could feel them on me. I cleared my throat, maintaining my composure. I wasn’t going to fold that easily.
“Do you try that pickup line on everyone?”
“Only the very special ones,” he murmured lustily.
Was that a wink?
“This is an interview, not a date.”
“Well, we better make the interview quick, then. And if we’re both lucky, we can still make a date happen.”
That’s where I folded like a damn lawn chair. To be frank, I’m not sure if the interview even happened. Everything was such a blur. Each time he’d open his mouth, I just fell deeper, like he had physically cast a trance that caused me to stutter and stumble.
Who am I? Why am I falling so easily? Why can’t I snap out of it?
But even so, I wasn’t about to complain about the night taking a turn. He ditched his own party to take me for a drive. Normally I’d have 911 on speed dial if a man I barely knew was driving us to the parking lot of an abandoned store, but him… I trusted him. I trusted him enough to consent to us fucking in his backseat.
My first time
He drove me back to my apartment a while after we talked and got to know each other, and handed me a slip of paper on my way out. “Call me, Molly,” he blew me a kiss as I stood in disbelief.
The couple of months that followed were nothing short of a whirlwind. He was here, there, and everywhere but Louisville, as he was filming White Men Can’t Jump and doing international festival appearances. Still, he made sure to call and FaceTime me every day. Our relationship was blooming, but I couldn’t tell anybody, as a requirement of the NDA. Even when he invited me to go on tour with him that fall, I couldn’t talk about it. But I couldn’t say no. And then we went to Europe. If this man was inviting me to Europe, for a whole damn month, then we were secure. It was all going the way it was supposed to. Until the day after the tour had wrapped.
It was 8:30 am, and I awoke before him. Normally I’d get straight up to begin my morning routine, but today, I was in no rush. We’d been going and going for the whole month - the past several months, really - and today was our “us” day before we were set to fly home.
We had a dinner reservation that evening, after a day of sightseeing and shopping. He did owe me a new Prada bag, too. But something in my head was bothering me. I wanted to brush it off as me just overthinking like I tended to do, but it seemed like more than just that. Something in my gut had convinced me that this day was going to start and end horrifically, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. It had all been going according to plan, but I guess the Good Lord always has a bigger plan.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Jack stirring awake. He rolled over and placed a cold hand on my thigh, making me jump a little.
“Morning, baby,” he rasped. God, his morning voice was enough to make my knees buckle. Enough to get me wet, as if we hadn’t fucked four damn times in a row the night before.
“Morning,” I held his hand.
“Why are you so cold?”
“It’s chilly in here,” he wrapped himself around my legs, closing his eyes again.
“That’s cause you only ever sleep in a tank top,” I giggled.
“Maybe if you had another layer, you wouldn’t be so damn freezing.” His only response was a couple of snores, before he jerked himself awake again.
“Were you saying something?”
“Boy,” I laughed out loud, and he did, too.
“Why don’t you get in the shower? That might wake you up.”
“Mmmph, can’t I just stay here?” his eyes were threatening to close again.
“Well, you could, but you also smell. Go wash up, baby.”
“Fiiine.” He grabbed a pair of boxers and sweats before heading into the bathroom, as I flipped on the TV, trying to find something mindless to play in the background while I checked social media. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jack’s phone light up, and my curiosity got the best of me as I read what text he had received.
Xiomara ❤️🔥🤞🏻: “Good morning on your end babyyy I’ll see you soon 😘”
*Excuse the fuck out of me?* I already knew his passcode, so I typed it in to do a little digging. Come to find out, this Xiomara woman was his fucking wife. The mother of his children. And clearly not an important asset to him considering she’d been so hidden from everyone who interviewed and interacted with him at all.
Digging a little deeper, I discovered even more gut-punches. Not only was he married with children and failed to tell me, but I was also the side bitch to Vanessa, Grace, Alyssa, Jessica, Mariah, Brie, Gabrielle, Tahira, Noelle… the names just kept coming. Each of them saying the same thing.
“Can’t wait to see you soon pookie 😋”
“When are you coming back? I miss your dick.”
“Love you! Text me when you wake up!”
And he’d send them all the same response: “You n me forever baby. Love u. ❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥”
This motherfucker… I allowed myself to be heated for one more minute before taking some deep breaths, then screenshotting the messages like crazy. Once I captured what I needed, I sent the photos from his phone to my phone, where I then saved each one in a private folder. I heard Jack step out of the shower, so I went back and deleted the screenshots from his camera roll. He didn’t like anyone but himself touching his phone, and besides, I had all the evidence I needed to do the next step. He emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his hips, but this time I wasn’t mesmerized by the sight of his dripping wet abs.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” he noticed my solemn expression.
First of all, I’m not your damn baby, so jot that down.
“I just got a call from work.” “They know you’re still on PTO, right?”
“Yeah, but…” I faked a catch in my throat.
“They need me to come back early. Turns out they fucked up and didn’t realize my time off was supposed to end yesterday.”
“Oh, damn. Seriously?”
By his tone, he knew I was plotting something, but he didn’t say anything.
“Yes. They said I’m not in trouble, but I just need to get back to Louisville right away.” I got up and started packing a bag.
“I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t want it to end like this.”
Double meaning.
“Don’t be sorry, babe,” he said. “You just pack your bags, and I’ll drive you to the airport. But don’t worry, I’ll be back on Saturday and we can pick up where we left off.”
Don’t count on it.
“Thanks for understanding.”
As we piled into the car Jack rented, I pulled out my phone from the passenger seat and got right back to work. I loaded up the screenshots I had saved, then sent a message to both Deuxmoi and TMZ.
”This may be hard to believe, but I’m Jack Harlow’s girlfriend. Or, at least, I assumed I was. Come to find out, however, I’m just one of many side pieces he likes to drag around and rap about, as I’ll show you here. We all know he’s a private man, but does he have to be so private that he hides away a literal wife and children? Ladies, beware, for nothing can ever be what it seems.”
Send.
“Here we are,” Jack announced once we pulled up to the gate.
“Want me to wait with you inside?”
“No, I’ll be okay,” I smiled half-heartedly.
“I’ll text you when I’m back in the states.”
“Fly safe,” he leaned in for a kiss.
“I love you.” The most sour kiss I’d ever tasted from that man’s lips.
It didn’t take long for my little message to make its rounds. I’d only been in the airport for less than an hour when I got one last text from Jack:
“What the fuck did you do?”
Deuxmoi had a new post on their story.
TMZ had published an entire article.
Stan Twitter was going off the rails.
#JackHarlowIsOverParty was the biggest trending topic worldwide.
“What needed to be done. Bye now!” As my flight was called to board, I blocked his number. I sat waiting for takeoff and blocked his Instagram and Twitter. The flight crew gave their safety instructions and I muted his music on Spotify and deleted all traces of him on my phone. The plane rose into the air, and I settled back into my seat with no remorse, feeling sorry for all the girls he made those empty promises to.
So fatal. So tragic. And oh, so preventable.
Didn’t anyone tell his actions have consequences?
#jack harlow#jack harlow fic#jack harlow imagine#jack harlow concepts#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow fanfic#jack harlow angst#jack harlow imagines#heaux tales of jack harlow#jack harlow fluff
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Ash unfolded the paper. A jolt went through his body. He turned away quickly so that Jace and Sebastian, deep in conversation, wouldn't see his expression.
It was her, the strange human girl he's once seen in the Unseelie weapons room. Dark hair, eyes the colour of the sky he only partially remembered. A murder of crows circled in the sky behind her. Not a photograph, but a drawing, done with a wistful hand, a sense of love and longing emanating from the page. A name was scribbled in a corner: Drusilla Blackthorn.
Drusilla. She looked lonely, Ash thought, but determined as well, as if a hope lived behind those summer-blue eyes, a hope that could not be quenched by loss, a hope too strong to feel despair.
Ash's heart was pounding, though he could not have said why. Hastily, he folded the drawing and thrust it into his pocket.
there is literally nothing (and i mean nothing) that anyone could say that would convince me that ash doesn't have the biggest crush on dru blackthorn idfc.
LET ME TELL YOU this ain't platonic in the slightest, okay?
NOW FOR THOSE WHO HAVE TIME I WANNA ANALYSE THIS BC I HAVE ISSUES WELCOME
this one is for the folks who doubt morgenthorn will be endgame *peace out*
like the "her" being in italics is already sus enough because he's like "omg it's the pretty girl i saw that one time *blushes furiously*" and then he seems so pleased to finally know her name????? drusilla???? and then like examines the drawing so thoroughly it’s actually mental???? he thinks she’s the most gorgeous human to ever walk the earth (and he’s not wrong)
and to top it all off he’s all “hmmm my heart is beating kinda fast lolsies i wonder why” and then wait for it HE FUCKING TAKES THE DRAWING!!! LIKE HE FOLDS IT AND PUTS IT IN HIS POCKET BC OFC HE DOES!!!! HE HAS TO LOOK AT IT IN HIS FREE TIME U KNOW BC THAT’S WHAT U DO (when ur a freaking simp)!!! he is so so whipped already and twp hasn’t even been released pls i’m so far gone for them save me
dru is getting like properly thirsted over AND FUCKING RIGHTFULLY SO bc she’s an absolute goddess and we all know it… and ash is the drusilla blackthorn fanclub founder idc like god he is gonna have it SO bad for her in twp and guys when she finds out he kept the drawing all these years, i will simply evaporate out of existence
morgenthorn is gonna be my downfall mark my words
i can’t wait yay A N G S T😀
[pterodactyl screech]
#this has hardcore CRUSH written all over it#like this whole scene was sus to begin with#but then he proceeds to TAKE the drawing#like c'mon now#platonic my A$$#this is true love#i can't wait for morgenthorn to have that enemies-to-lovers phase until ash is like u know what i actually wanna treat u like a princess#and worships the ground she walks on#ALSO#when he says “summer-blue eyes” it makes me think of the seasons of shadowhunters artwork and how dru is representing summer :'(#and ash is winter#so they're “opposites” and YET so whipped for each other and-#hashtag morgenthorn 4 life#ash morgenstern#drusilla blackthorn#dru blackthorn#dru x ash#morgenthorn#the dark artifices#the wicked powers#tda#twp#tsc
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the tag “he’s not having sex!!” is killing me im trying so hard to keep it together in this coffee shop rn trying not to cackle
also yeah dabi probably considered the time that you helped him take a fully clothed shower (because he wasnt comfortable at the moment even if he was by himself to be naked) to be third base. maybe even a home run idk
LMAOOO okay okay, not to get on a serious note, but your shower bit 🥺 i genuinely think dabi would be so, so fun for friends to lovers. because a totally platonic relationship with him must be hilarious; this man is a smart ass, okay? he will always have you cracking up. and i think if he views you as just some acquaintance of his, he's more prone to like. just chatting with you or shooting the shit or drinking or walking around at all hours of the night when neither of you can sleep. it's not until things start to get a little...softer, i think, that he pulls back—but that's what makes it so good !
because it could come out of nowhere, for either of you. one minute you're sharing a bottle in a brown paper bag under the bright city lights, talking shit about pro heroes, and the next—
"fuck, i'm freezing." you laugh as you say it, but your teeth won't stop chattering and your legs are starting to feel like they're made of lead. you have to come to a stop, leaning against some abandoned shop in this lesser part of town.
"should'a dressed right," dabi murmurs, having the audacity to tell you such a thing even though he's in pants with holes in the knees, without a jacket. already he sounds like he's sobering up, but you suppose he can't help it; his metabolism probably eats through everything.
"can't all be so h-hot-blooded."
tired, his mouth stretches in a lazy smirk, and he rolls his eyes like you're being dramatic—despite the fact that it's snowing. "ain't that bad."
you beg to differ. "feel my hands!"
he watches you carefully as you offer them, like he's putting too much thought into it, suddenly. it's not often that you two really touch, not if he can help it, because there's never been a need. not before now.
the facade of his nonchalance is readjusted, though there's a tension lining his mouth that you've never seen on him, not with you. he tucks the bag underneath his armpit so that he can use both his hands, and then he folds your fingers down into fists and covers them with his own.
entirely, the long and rough expanse of his palms dwarfing you. it's hot, immediately, and the sensation has you shuddering in relief, letting out a grateful little sound as your body sways closer to his on instinct. neither of you say anything, and you're too tipsy too notice the grit of his jaw or the bob of his adam's apple.
been a long time since he touched someone, just 'cause. with the intention of helping instead of harming.
you don't care, only let out another teeth chattering whine before pressing your cheek into the back of his hand. yours is icy, but his own heat at the sight of you nuzzling into him like a fucking kitten.
it's weird, but only lasts for a moment before you're pulling away and turning to wobble down the sidewalk, back in the direction of the hideout. you almost slip once and the screech you let out is enough to make you both laugh, for now—but neither of you will be able to sleep tonight without thinking about it, his skin against yours.
#i just want to love him PLEASE 😭#i cam absolutely picture you both coming back one night after having had too much to drink#and you know how you come up with all these shitty dumb plans when you're wasted ?? and they all sound like a good idea in the moment#flash forward fifteen minutes and you are both tumped over in the shower LAUGHING#his hair dye is washing out and staining your clothes and his and you're like YOU'RE SO DIRTY. LEMME WASH YOUR HAIR#and he's like FUCK OFF DON'T TOUCH ME#but you're both just playfully fighting with each other#and then you actually DO wash his hair and he's just kind of. subdued. letting you.#bc when was the last time someone did this for him ??#BYE BYE 🥺🥺#this is definitely a home run in his book LMAOOOO#✿ willow writes#✿ ask willow#✿ thoughts: dabi/touya
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Rewatching Crystalized after a long time- here are my thoughts.
The first third isn’t bad (season 1), honestly it’s still funny
Fugidove you weirdo (affectionate)
I still hate the mayor/the new ninja/ronin
Pythor you bitch (derogatory)
Nya my beloved, how they wasted your potential
Skylor my beloved, how they wasted your potential
Pixal my beloved, how they wasted your potential
Mechanic you motherfucker
HARUMI MY BELOVED CHILD YOUVE RETURNED TO ME
I hate how they changed the overlords voice, rebooted was the best version
I think the overlord intercepted harumi’s soul while it was on its way to the departed realm. Overlord can never truly die, so he’s stuck in an ethereal void. That’s why no one else was around
Harumi, my beloved scrimbly, your body was literally crushed and probably impaled by rebar and concrete
Oni temple still ugly as shit
“Fall of the monastery” is homophobic because my favorite girls got the shit kicked out of them and I’m gay so it’s homophobic
Also Pythor is misogynistic like bro Nya saved your ass from wohira
Also mechanic is misogynistic
Fantastic fights tho
MINI PIXES
I love the minipix 7 saved her mama first 🥹
We did not need the fakeout death for Nya
I love the samurai x mech and Nya’s Sam x outfit
I think they took off the overeffect on pixals voice in Darkness within - that just gave Crystalized extra bonus points in my book
Lloyd dangling sideways is so stupid but funny
Ok but like that wasn’t the last time you fought, technically that was the SECOND to last time shitlord, Zane killed you last time lmao
The coming 👀 of the king
But they didn’t lose??? They killed you???
Golden master was better tbh
Ah, the ugliest fortress in the entire series
Uglyass motherfucker
Harumi my scrimbly
Harumi really be like I hate you but maybe we could be friends but also no I despise you but maybe???
ACAB
Harumis such a brat- I love her so much
GARMADON RETURNS
Garmadon is the funniest motherfucker
The fact that they didn’t get to fully acknowledge Harumi and Garmadon is a missed opportunity
Christofern is an innocent victim
Mechanic motherfucker I want you to die
I forgot about Zane’s head trauma reverting him to the ice emperor. Such a missed opportunity
MISAKO MY BELOVED!!!!!
T*mmy fuck off
Pixal being a badass like usual. Queen!!!!
They put her effect back over her voice
JESUS CHRIST ZANE
ronin redeeming himself 🫡
Pythor you annoying bitch
SKYLOR YOU ARE A QUEEN I’d let you punch me any day
When skylor put her hand on Cole’s head, his scar was glowing
Skylor god I love you
Kai you got trauma we need to discuss
RACER 7 aka BLAZY H. SPEED!!!!!
I would burn everything for Pixal
Jennifer you say the word and I would kill for you
THE PIXANE SPIN
“You brought me back.”
Pixal has the coolest mechs because she deserves it
Garmadon sprint past, screeching, with a barrel is my favorite
“Uh oh? What does uh oh mean?” A callback to season 13 💙
“Pet plant” Lloyd that’s your brother have some respect
I’m gonna be honest- I forgot the overlord was the literal threat this season 😭😭😭
Why do the dragonites have tits????
I literally still can’t believe they have to “jump up kick back whip around and spin”
And the reveal was when the paper was “fold” ed you motherfuckers
Why did the coolest form of the overlord come TWO EPISODES AT THE END
Coles crew showed up
VANIA MY BELOVED SCRIMBLY
MINIPIX
MAYA EDNA BENTHO LOU (💔)
SALLY YOU QUEER QUEEN
Dragon form is literally so dope tho
I’m still not a fan of the “plot twist” with the overlord x devourer
Anyways KICK HIS ASS HARUMI GO BABY GIRL GO
Mechanic shut the fuck up honestly
OKINO
Cole mocking Vangelis is so fucking funny
It hurts to see Lou honesty knowing he’ll never speak again
ADAM
VANIA MY BELOVED
Is it me or is Kai really handsome in his dragon form
Cole and Vania’s hug 🥹
PIXANE SPIN 2.0
Oni Lloyd my beloved
ROTSM 2: Electric Boogaloo
I like to think that it is the ninjas spirits that protected Lloyd and defeated the overlord, not a golden power
Inner Steel is a good song shut up
Overall honestly not a bad season, has some hiccups and missed opportunities but not as bad as I think it’s judged
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My glorious return to writing?? Preview below
It's there he sees it, the harsh taupe line cutting a swath across alabaster skin. A flash through the ample arm hole of Killua's tank. It's merely a glimpse, just for half a second or so, but it's then that Kurapika's blood chills where it sits in his veins, his throat dries, crackles, the gasp cut off, dead on his tongue.
It all clicks into place. A visceral ache, a profound sorrow deep in Kurapika's bones. A little boy with hair like fresh straw and eyes like the winter sea standing in front of a bathroom mirror a lifetime ago, wind crushed from his lungs in a way he'd always remember the first time he-
"Oh, Killua," he laments. The name tumbles forth from his lips like a prayer, so profoundly sad, reverent, where Killua freezes in place, snaps his head about his shoulder to take in Kurapika's expression.
(CONTENT NOTE: THE CONTENT BELOW THE CUT CONCERNS A CHARACTER BEING OUTED AS TRANSGENDER AND MAY BE UPSETTING TO SOME READERS)
It's in the heaviness of Kurapika's eyelids, the softening of the lines around his mouth that Killua realizes he knows.
"W-why are you looking at me like that?" Killua shudders. Skinny arms cross in front of his narrow frame, as if to defend himself from an attack that isn't coming.
"Oh, Killua," Kurapika murmurs again, mouth forming around the syllables like they're precious. Without permission, Kurapika pitches forward and gathers Killua into a bear hug; soft fuzzy platinum hair tickles his cheek.
Killua tenses immediately, his first instinct to claw his assailant to tatters, leave them here on the tatty bathroom rug. Kurapika's hold is unyielding, and it's surprisingly warm, warm like the way Gon's arm feels around his shoulder when he's dragging him off to Watch this! for the eighteenth time, even though he knows whatever Gon has to show him is going to be lame, but he does anyway because it's Gon. This hug is, perhaps, even better than Gon's, although he'd die before he'd ever admit that. But right now, he's scared, confused, embarrassed because fucking Kurapika of all people read him like a book, and he breaks.
"I-I don't understand-" he blubbers. The first tears are hot against a ruddy cheek.
"I know, Killua," croons Kurapika. One elegant hand fists in the scratchy fabric of the tank. "I know."
What in the fuck could he know? Killua screeches in the recesses of his mind. It comes out instead as a sob, a high, pitiful wail that's muffled in the plush folds of Kurapika's sweater. Kurapika pets his head, lets his nails drag lightly on Killua's scalp as he hugs him tighter. It's here, bracketed between the Kurta's knees on the bathroom floor, shorts long since cast aside and forgotten, that Killua shatters, and Kurapika somehow holds the pieces together.
Five minutes pass. Ten, Fifteen, maybe. Killua's not counting. He stops hiccoughing long enough to notice he's ruining Kurapika's expensive sweater with his tears and snot. Kurapika seems nonplussed by this, only hums what might be a childhood folk song of his, gently cleans up his blotchy face with some toilet paper.
"You d-don't know, Kurapika," croaks Killua. Kurapika sets his mouth, shakes his head to and fro, golden hair bobbing along.
"No, Killua, I know," he insists. It's then when he takes hold of the loose neckline of his top, and pulls it down enough to expose his chest. Except where his chest should be, there's the sheen of tightly-stretched fabric, the subtle hint of rolling curves where there should be none to speak of.
Killua finds himself gaping and flopping about like one of Gon's trophies.
"You have...you...you're like me?" he sputters.
Kurapika's lips quirk into a soft smile. The one he reserves for Gon, for Leorio, and now, for him too.
"It would seem so," he affirms. "The bandages you're using to bind with are showing clear through your shirt, by the way, that's how I deduced you were also transgender."
The Zoldyck startles, recoils to cover his torso as if he were naked.
"Is it really that obvious??" he squeaks. Killua's expression scrunches up into something so fearful it causes Kurapika's chest to squeeze, so much that he never wants to see the boy's face do that ever again in his life.
"No, no!" Kurapika rushes to clarify. Two hands find Killua's tightly fisted ones, he presses his thumbs in as if to say please, oh please, and is rewarded when the boy unclenches and lets him take his clammy, tremoring hands in his own.
"Hey, no, Killua, I wasn't implying you're not passing; I truthfully had no idea until now," reassures Kurapika, features softening. "I only noticed because when I was your age, I used to do the same thing. You're doing great, I hope you know that."
Killua eases a bit. The compliment makes him feel muzzy on the inside, not the way Illumi's would leave slimy trails wending about his brain, nor the way Gon's would make his heart tap-tap-tap against his ribcage.
"T-thanks," he chatters. The Zoldyck averts his eyes. "And, um, I'm sorry for freaking out on you."
Kurapika sniffs a grin.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sure making that discovery was understandably frightening," Kurapika's voice is warm, tinged with humor, a familiarity he's only shown for his friends, guarded from outsiders. "I certainly was, and I'd at least been prepared!"
#fanfiction#hunter x hunter#hunter x hunter fanfic#kurapika#kurapika kurta#hxh#hxh fanfic#hxh killua#hxh kurapika#killua zoldyck#killua#gon freecss#my writing#hi astv people i promise ill work on nothings gonna change my world soon
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@pseudoneiric , “FUCK MARRY KILL. me, charlie!!!, or …” lucifer looks around the room then, gaze settling on a pink spider lounging on the couch. “that guy.”
reindeer games are fun when you're an entirely different creature, proudly seated in a chair of your own making ; hindlegs pressed together and two hands ( must specify such matters when in hell! ) folded neatly where bone is tougher to find. hotel activities and their meager attempts at bonding on full display, playing out undisturbed, untouched, the most hilarious picture show one could ever dream of seeing! can barely bite back laughter that splays across casted shadows behind his turned back, signing off live audience re-airs before they can clammer together to voice wicked delights in screeching sound. sometimes, his stitchy smile widening is all he’ll show as shame and embarrassment & failure are acted out right before him. bloody lids arching up half his face when gaze narrows and bends to toothy corners of lip, gums flashing in warning when gaping maws have long since stopped being adequate enough. how absolutely pitiful! wayward souls getting chummy only for weak grips to slip on what brimstone rocks they're leached on, somber cries and weak yells being left in dramatic storm-outs. ha-ha! soap operas will long outlive the tasteless world above … shall airwaves capture these pearls of entertainment in due time? alastor drums four knives against a solid surface in clipping thought. this shabby business would make for great programming! enriched by hell’s infamous, riddled with needed strife so viewers may be inclined to tune in for later airing. hm! if busy scheduling hollows itself out soon ( be it by his hands, or … hers ) then perhaps creativity will bear fruition. radio shack properly used and caressed as it should be, bright neons of ‘ on air! ’ shining daily against infested skies ; like it was before, a pride ring staple, heeded warnings that meant someone was watching. with more accuracy and care than voxtek’s factious machinery that was all show, no substance. what a waste. shifting attention is readily grabbed when his deer-wracked form feels barriers being crossed, personal space a bubble so easily popped around these dregs. eyes snap to life despite never straying, glowing like he's turning on, pupils shrinking before another expansion. smile slashes across odored skin in wide bursts of length, stock filler, until it's shown who’s gone through the trouble of bothering him. quite pesky, this one, privileged and royalty and utterly run ragged. catalogs a small heaving chest that now fills his scenery, how paper white skin shines when lucifer sucks in a breath -- there's an intermission, a lull, flesh that tugs and cuts so amusement can show all the clearer. not a single hair to be found out of place when stale meat is slapped down before crossing ankles.
and what poor pickings it is! laughter cackles somewhere dark and mushy, flayed open along inner parts of mouth. what a sight! : the king of hell, out of sorts and crippled by a desire for repulsive games, ones found at sleepovers or club corners, all the craze for lowly sinners too bored and scared to do much else. picky nose upturns in lieu of greeting ( oh, but at this angle, they're almost on even grounds -- if only an antlered head would bow, ) until actions shed into words. “ why, hell-o there! ” doesn't add silly adornments like names when reputations hardly matter here, their cruel monarch practically nothing when he's slumming it down here with everyone else. lidded eyes not batting since intimidation is folly, less enraptured by the peacock prattling many of his peers may fall prey to, angelic feathers all for show and naught much else. stained white would look far better in-between blackened gums, picked free with needle sharp claws like the ornaments they are, as well as what little meat encases them. would be kinder manners than this frivolous attempt at mindless chit chat ; my, my, you’d think you could hold god’s sons and daughters to higher standards! creatures of virtue, beings of light, paraded superiority alastor simply must chuckle at. cue an infectious laugh track, timeless in age, sounding off somewhere near : oh, but not too near! voices a dozen echo out quietly, muffled and locked behind hotel room doors, uniqueness strained until unanimous unity long outlives anything else. a soul’s joy, another veiled stab of mockery. graciously permits this crude question as lips stretch ( & break and bleed ) across teeth, ticking gaze thinned into scarlet gashes along the way. “ ho-ho! a game? well, if it's an order … ” silence blips, an endless sprawl forward as alastor dares to keep the devil waiting, charred corpse stretching odd and peculiar, all bones and no meat, as he brandishes nails to examine them. feigns thought ; consideration condescending down a sickly throat as if he'd waste away his entire frontal lobe on such dense matters. beddings and weddings were, frankly, not the radio demon’s wheelhouse! heart eyes dressed up with rose tinted lenses as loins ached and burned over physical deformities were hi-larious when applauded from crooked distances, nothing more. so the well within dries any formalities upon stone, dial-cursed eyes shutting while hums, hmm’s, and other noises flicker out, answer already bleeding from his split-end lips because he knows. and yes, it might not be what the heart wants, it might not be earnest or honest or true, but it will be funny -- will wrench ash right into blanche cheeks and will suffice as a statement. two carefully plucked gifts tied by one singular intestine.
a click, a turn of dial, frequencies & their waves churn until there's a chorus that overlaps in pulling up lids, pupils wide and unblinking when snagged on their darling nuisance. now presenting : radio, immortalized as a hissing shadowy figure draped inside flashy walls. voice erupting forward in a fuzz, “ who better to marry than this hotel’s darling apple! charlie has it all! lofty ambition, compassion, and -- ” on top blonde hair sits a child’s crown, feeble and held together by whimsical dreams of naivety ; between shoulders, just as weakly, just as new, lays vast space where wings should sit. royal blood rests inside, inexperience fluttered between lashes, so does it come as shock to want? tendrils could guide that potential, see her glory conquer, guide her powerful inclination -- “ she's kind on the eyes, isn't she? quite a gal, that one! the honor would be all mine. ” complaints spill easy in their limbo of falsehood and earnestness, interwoven as simply as shadows for whatever reason the radio demon deems fit. he's no regular joe of hell! prey instincts purposefully gouged out so he may sit before the king and blink absently, comfortable where he is, even more confident in all that crackles forward. as if alastor would care about fatherly approval if his sights aligned on pride’s spawn in such a way. still, he barely bothers with another show, happily chirping along to answer those last categories.
“ as for killing and other activities, i’ll be doing no such things! ” this time the laughter zapping into the air is purely his own, jerky and as pointed as what yellowed teeth it slips from, one singular wrist falling forward in movement. borne again into broken parts that alastor eagerly abuses, every splintered patch of skin and malleable marrow. “ not to residents! goodness no! what would charlie say? ” like all else, alastor is careful not to miss one witty swing.
#𝟬𝟬𝟭. [ 📻 ] ⸻ you're never fully dressed without one! / * 𝙸𝙽 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁.#pseudoneiric // lucifer .#literally dont ever play games with alastor he will never play by the rules#and he'll just be an asshole the entire time <3 IF he decides to answer to begin with lmfao#lucifer : fmk me my daughter or angel dust --#alastor : putting a ring on your daughter as we speak ❤️#anyway ignore how rusty this is ... this took forever and ignore the formatting im. messing with it lol#long post tw
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Third Wheeling
CEO!Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut
Chapter 14.
Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love
Warnings For This Chapter: Heart Tugging Yoongi, Crying, Emotional
A/N: This chapter is early because I’ll forget to post at 5 like an idiot :) shoutout to the squad @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna this chapter is goooood!
You have ascertained at this point that although Yoongi is incredibly fit -- he's never done heavy lifting in his life.
You watch him continuously mumbling to himself while carrying things over to the wooden porch, stopping himself whenever your father passes with something in his arms to show a tired smile.
It's kind of hilarious.
"Well! That's it!" you dad says, clapping his hands together happily. He stands on the porch, a smile etching onto his features as he looks at you.
Yoongi sighs happily beside Minho, feeling proud of himself that he's actually done something on his own for once.
"Will that be all, Sir?" Minho asks, his voice filled with amusement.
The CEO grimaces at him. "That'll be all. Be back here in two days with a new set of shoes for me and an Irish coffee."
Minho nods bowing to the both of you before climbing back into the car.
"Your mother is making bean paste in the back," your dad notifies you as he kicks off his sneakers.
You hum sweetly, walking up the steps to take off your own shoes.
Yoongi puts his hands on his hips, looking at the hanok with curious eyes.
"Here goes nothing," he mumbles, following after you.
"You didn't have to get us anything, you know," your father tells him. Helping him push all of the gifts into the house.
"It's my pleasure," Yoongi breathes out.
Your father turns to your boyfriend, holding up the Japanese whisky and winking at him. "It's a nice gesture though. I'll drink this well… by the end of the night." he whispers conspiratorially to him.
Yoongi finds himself smiling, chuckling to himself.
You're a lot like your father it seems. He likes that.
Stepping into the hanok, Yoongi feels like he's in a museum. Which, he can't help but kind of love. Everything seems so olden but perfectly taken care of.
"We do have a bathroom and beds, luckily for you." your dad jeers.
When you step inside, you feel so at home. Nothing has changed at all and it's so perfect.
"Wait for it," your dad tells your boyfriend, putting the gift baskets on the wooden table.
"MY GAESU!" you scream happily.
Yoongi jumps at your loud voice, eyes widening. He's never heard you screech so loudly.
A small corgi runs out to greet you, tongue sticking out with excited heavy breathing.
He watches you bend down, pulling the dog into your arms.
"Be careful," he admonishes you sweetly, watching you rock the dog in your arms.
Your father watches how concerned Yoongi is for you, how he presses his hand to the small of your back for support and he smirks at the sight.
"Whisky, Yoongi?"
"That'd be great, thank you Sir." he replies kindly, unbuttoning his suit jacket.
"Call me Dad," your father says with a wink.
The sentence sends Yoongi frozen. He's never heard such a gentle tone from a father figure before. He's only ever been used to tones of disappointment or anger.
"Alright," he whispers, grabbing the glass with a tentative hand.
You smile at the sight before you, Gaesu constantly licking your cheek to show how much he's missed you.
You know that Yoongi is going to love your parents, it'll just take a while to settle in.
"I heard the infamous scream," you hear from the back door.
Your heart warms at the sight of your mother.
"Mom," you whisper, taking in how happy she looks.
For the first time in a long time, she looks healthy.
"I missed you!" your mother whines, opening her arms to hug you.
"I missed you too!" you reply, hooking your chin over her shoulder.
The CEO can see how fond you are of your family. He hopes it'll be the same for this small family you're making of your own now.
"This is Min Yoongi, my boyfriend," you say, pulling away and nodding to the handsome man.
Your mother's smile seems to widen at the sight of him. "Oh, wow. You're so much more handsome in real life than on my t.v., as if that's possible." she breathes out, her cheeks starting to blush.
"It's nice to meet you," he laughs, bowing to her.
She bows back before sighing. "I'm a hugger!"
He hugs her awkwardly as she pats his back. You giggle at the warm sight before you, you know this must be so strange to him.
"You are the culprit that got my daughter pregnant?" your mother teases, sending him flinching.
He chuckles awkwardly, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. "Guilty." he whispers.
"Well thank God, I thought I'd never have a grandchild," she says, slapping his shoulder.
"Okay, mom." you mumble, rolling your eyes at her dramatics.
"This baby is going to be cuter than a button!" she promises, pointing between the both of you.
Yoongi finds himself filling up with warmth, chuckling as your father rolls his eyes to him.
"Why don't you both get unpacked? And then we can start to make dinner," your mother suggests.
"Yoongi's never cooked before," you tell her, going to pick up your luggage.
The CEO groans gently as you all giggle. This is what family must be like. Joking and loving towards one another. He finds it akin to how him and Maya act sometimes.
"Don't even think about it," he tells you, watching you grip the handle.
"I can pick something up," you whisper as he narrows his eyes.
"So can I. Show me where the room is, little dove." he instructs, grabbing the luggage.
Rolling your eyes, you shrug to your parents as they give affectionate smiles.
"My room and the guest room?" you ask your mother, watching her hug your fathers side.
"Just your room. You're already pregnant, what else could happen?" she replies.
Yoongi's cheeks burn with embarrassment as he picks up your luggage. But, he's content with knowing that he can sleep with you for the next two nights.
He finds himself already fond of this wooden and paper house. And maybe even warming up to the people in it.
"Just through here," you tell the CEO, picking up Gaesu.
"I didn't know you have a dog," Yoongi says, stepping into your old bedroom.
"Leena's allergic so I left Gaesu home," you reply.
He hums understanding before yelping out as he looks around your room.
"What?!" you whine, putting your hand over your heart.
"THERE'S A CHICKEN ON THE BED!" he yells, dropping the luggage to the floor.
You can hear your dad laugh loudly from the kitchen and you snort loudly, stepping into the room and sliding the door shut.
The chicken takes one look at Gaesu before jumping off the bed and scurrying around the room.
Yoongi gasps loudly, jumping onto the bed with fright written all over his face.
"Catch it!" he cries out, shoving his hands in his hair.
"Relax, it's just Miguk." you say with a laugh.
"Why is there a fucking chicken in your bedroom?!" your boyfriend whines.
"Because we keep chickens for eggs? And Miguk probably wanted to be some place warm?" you ask confused, setting down your dog and opening up the bedroom door for Gaesu to chase Miguk out.
"So you don't have a heat lamp or some… warm place for a chicken to stay? Do I have to buy one for you?!" he asks, smacking the bed to get rid of a few feathers.
"It's just a chicken, you'll be eating one in like two hours," you say laughing loudly as the animals finally leave your room.
"It's disgusting. I need to change the sheets," he whispers, clearly grossed out.
"You know the walls are paper and wood?" you mouth to him, shutting the door.
"I shouldn't have to scream about a fucking chicken laying in the bed I'm sleeping in tonight," he mouths back, flailing his arms.
"Everything okay?" your mother sings from the kitchen.
"Yes!" you both reply at the same time.
The CEO finds it hard to not stare at where the chicken was standing just seconds ago.
"Come on, Yoongi. It's okay," you say, sitting down on the end of the bed.
"I don't think you understand that I'm fucking traumatized," he whispers fiercely, watching as a shadow of a chicken walks by the paper door.
"Do you need me to hold you?" you ask, sounding as if you're speaking to a small child.
He grimaces at you, folding his arms.
"No! I just don't understand how this is normal behavior," he retorts softly.
"Welcome to my home," you whisper, booping him on the nose.
He swats at your hand childishly, eyebrows furrowing deeply.
"I like your parents," he mumbles softly as you place both of the luggages on the bed.
"See, I told you. They're nice," you reply happily.
"You need to promise me that I won't wake up in the middle of the night to a chicken trying to poke my eye out with their beak. Do your parents feed them properly? Are they on a mission to assault guests?" he whispers fiercely, grabbing your hands.
"You're an insane person. You're actually fucking crazy," you whisper back, kissing the top of his head.
"What's crazy is that there was a fucking chicken in your childhood bed," he says appalled, appreciating the warmth of your lips on his skin.
"If I'm not worried about it, you shouldn't be worried about it," you say with a smile, grabbing your change of sweatpants.
"That's what they said about Pompeii and a fucking volcano erupted!" he barks out in a fierce whisper.
You find yourself giggling, combing your fingers through his hair. Almost immediately he feels himself relaxing.
After washing up and putting on comfortable clothes as well as insisting to your boyfriend a multitude of times that no farm animals would kill him in his sleep, you were ready for dinner.
Or, ready to make dinner anyway.
When Yoongi was younger, he used to watch Maya cook for him. His parents were never really home, it was just him, Maya and her daughter Myeyoung.
He has no real skills besides making money and playing poker.
Stepping back out into the hallway, he's surprised to witness such paternal affection.
Even from the short distance he can see how much love your father has for your mother as he cuts up an apple for her.
Would he ever get this? Would you be like this to him?
"My Gaesu-ah!" you call sweetly, slamming the paper door shut.
Yoongi takes this in also, how affectionate you are to an animal.
His father had hunting dogs that slept in cages outside of their home in hopes that they would feel less attached to humans.
There was once a time where his father bought him an expensive bird for hunting. He ordered Yoongi to train it. Being only six years old and without love, the CEO named the bird and praised it whenever it did well with orders.
He remembers showing his father, so excited that the bird did his bidding. But, Min Sangcheol was angry when he saw the bird catering to Yoongi's every whim.
"You made this bird adore you, that's why it does what you ask of it, you've ruined the fucking animal."
And his father broke both of the bird's legs.
"Yoongi?" you whisper softly, watching how entranced he is with your dog.
Looking up quickly, he gives you a sad smile and your heart tugs with uncertainty.
"Are you okay?" you ask, earning a gentle squeeze on your side from him.
"Come on," he whispers, pushing some hair back behind your ear.
Hearing your footsteps, your parents smile at the both of you.
"Yoongi, you didn't have to buy us such things!" your mother chides him, gently smacking his arm as she holds her new Chanel purse to her chest.
"I wanted too, it looks made just for you," he compliments, rubbing his hands together awkwardly.
In all actuality, it looks just perfect for her. With a gentle giggle, you can tell how absolutely smitten your mother is with him already.
"The tie you got me is perfect, I'll just have nowhere to wear it," your dad jeers to the CEO.
Yoongi chuckles, picking up his forgotten whisky glass and taking a sip out of eyesight from your parents.
"Very good manners," your mother whispers to you.
Humming, you can only agree. "He took etiquette classes when he was younger." you inform them.
"You should show Y/N's father a thing or two about etiquette."
Your father rolls his eyes, grabbing a wicker basket from near the sink.
"To the chickens, my love," you dad says, shooing you out the back of the house.
"Do you like dak galbi?" your mother asks, putting the gift baskets in the living room.
Yoongi watches you leave, his blanket of comfort gone from his sight. His left hand wraps around his right arm, feeling his usual comfort drift away. "Yes, Ma'am."
He feels awkward. He looks awkward as he stands beside the kitchen counter, watching as your mother begins to prepare ingredients.
The older woman can see how forlorn he looks, how completely out of his element he is and she can understand why you care for him like you do. He's broken.
"Come," she says, pointing to the seat across the counter.
He gives her a nervous smirk, sitting down in the seat she was just in.
"Have you ever peeled a potato?" she inquires softly.
With a small smile, he shakes his head. Black pieces of hair fall into his eyes and he goes frozen as your mother pushes them back just like you do.
"Well you're going to peel potatoes today," she tells him with a smile.
When she smiles, her face contorts quite like yours. And, suddenly he feels okay even for a little while.
Setting a bowl full of potatoes down in front of him, she hands him a peeler.
"We'll make you a chef yet, Min Yoongi," she winks.
Chuckling at her words, he begins to peel. It's clumsy and he loses the potato a few times from how wet it is, but he gets the hang of it after a few minutes.
"One time, when Y/N was younger she went on a potato ban. No french fries, no potato pancakes, no potato chips," your mother laughs at the memory, earning soft eyes from your boyfriend, "she was so adamant that she hated them for a good week or two. Then one night, I woke up in the middle of the night to crying. I went to check on her and she woke up telling me that she missed potatoes so much that it gave her nightmares."
Yoongi laughs along with your mother, shaking his head.
"I hope our baby comes out like her," he whispers hopefully.
In that moment, he realized just how comfortable he had gotten so quickly. It's easy to open up when you're welcomed. His instant reaction is to close himself off again but your mother catches it before he does. Not even giving him a chance to close himself off.
"You have a lot of good traits, Yoongi," your mother praises, beginning to cut peppers.
He hums unsurely, focusing on the task at hand.
"She's going to be a great parent, I'm not sure if I will be," he replies softly, he's so quiet if your mother wasn't paying attention she wouldn't have heard him.
"Why do you think that?" your mother asks and his eyes shoot straight up to hers.
In her eyes is softness and kindness that he sees in you on the daily.
In his eyes is worry and unsureness and your mother croons softly, petting his head maternally to give him some comfort.
He freezes at her gentleness but it reminds him so much of Maya that he feels his heart warm.
"Well my parents weren't very warm with me so I'm very cold with everything I do. Y/N isn't like that. She's understanding and always kind. She has patience and I lack that in spades." he whispers, washing some dirt off a potato.
Your mother hums. "Were your parents mean to you?"
He clears his throat, grabbing the whisky glass and turning away from her as he takes a huge gulp. "Yes Ma'am," he replies through gritted teeth, the alcohol warming his pallet.
"Well, let me tell you something about parents," she whispers across the counter, situating herself on her elbows, "some people aren't meant to be parents. They didn't have that affection when they were young and they don't know how to offer any to children as they get older and need to be cared for. My parents really shouldn't have had me, my father was cruel and my mother was obsessed with soju. I was a very mean, bitter child but as I grew up -- I came to realize that cycles must be broken in order for people to grow. Sure, I could have stayed mean and angry but that just leaves your heart black and broken. It's up to whomever feels this way to try and strive for a new path."
Yoongi takes in all her words, staring at her as she stares back.
Such wisdom. It's heartwarming and jarring.
"I see," he murmurs.
"Now, you're going to be a father. You should break that cycle, hmm?" she asks, picking her knife back up.
He nods thoughtfully. Just the way your mother speaks, it seems like she's lived a thousand lives. It feels as if she knows a part of his soul he couldn't begin to understand.
"You don't know how to be a father. Y/N doesn't know how to be a mother but you'll make that work. Because in actuality, you both care. You both want what's best for your child and you, sooner or later, will understand that they're the most important thing in your life. Not bitterness or hatred. Some people don't see that, but you will Yoongi." she says, throwing the peppers into a bowl.
"H-How do you know?" he stutters, gripping the potato in hand tighter.
"Because I see how you look at Y/N when she isn't looking at you. Like she makes the sun rise in the morning because she's willed it to be so." she says offhandedly, grabbing some green onions.
He whistles long and low at her wiseness, letting the potato fall from his hand to grab his whisky glass.
"I'm very grateful for how you raised her, she's wonderful. So thoughtful and caring… So completely different than anyone I've ever known before. She…" he finds himself saying, just letting his emotions fly out.
"She's bringing you inner peace and happiness." your mother says, looking up from the cutting board.
"Yes." he breathes out.
"And that's scary." she comments, wiping her hands on her apron.
Swallowing thickly, Yoongi turns to the open back door. Watching you gather eggs with your father. He can see your smile from so far away and his throat tightens at the sight.
"Y-Yes," he mutters.
"Y'know. The best thing about being frightened is knowing how at ease your heart will be when that's over." he turns back to your mother as she rounds the counter.
When she goes to hug him, he doesn't flinch this time.
"Your parents may have been mean to you, Min Yoongi. But, that doesn't define you. It shouldn't define you. If you need maternal affection, you can turn to me. I'm plenty of a mother for you and Y/N," she puts her hand over her heart, smiling down at him. He can feel his eyes beginning to burn and he apologizes as he bows his head.
"You don't need to be alone Yoongi, we're a family here and you're very welcome in ours," your mom whispers, cupping his face to raise it.
"Oh fuck," he cries gently, putting a shaky hand to his eyes.
He's never heard such earnest words like this from a parent and it brings him such relief that it makes his body wrack with sobs.
"All you've ever wanted was to be loved and be happy, I'm sure. We can do that for you, if you want that," she whispers, hugging him tightly.
His mouth opens, a small strangled groan leaving his lips as he cries louder.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.
Clicking her teeth, your mother rubs his back. "You never have to apologize for being emotional."
"Everyone can pretend to be strong, Yoongi. It takes a real person to admit how emotional and hurt they are."
Biting his bottom lip to quiet his sobs, he buries his face into your mother's arm as she holds him tightly.
He's never been held like this. Maya never held him like this because she worked for him. She's never spoken so straight with him before. She's loved him and he knows that, that's why he loves her too.
But she's never seen into his soul like this. She's never sat him down and spoke the words he needed to hear, even if it made him break down. But, your mother has.
Your mother has given him something that he's never had. And, he wants it more as he holds her.
He wants that maternal affection.
He wants to be a part of your family.
He wants to be loved.
He wants to be cared for.
And it hits him like a truck when he thinks of you.
You can give him all of these things. You can make him into the one person he never thought would see the light of day. He never thought he could even be that type of person.
But from a distance, he can hear you laughing with your father and he cries harder.
He wants it with you.
He wants you to care for him.
He wants you to love him.
He wants you to be his family.
"Oh my God," he whispers, pulling away from your mother and wiping his face on his t-shirt.
"You will call me Mom from now on," she says, booping his nose.
With a small smile, he nods. He turns to the open paper door once more, watching as you smile and laugh with your father.
He wants this family with you.
"So," your father says, slinging his arm over your shoulders.
"So!" you reply with a laugh, hugging him tightly.
Nearing the chicken coop, you can hear clucks of excitement as the chickens wait for their food.
Stepping out of the way, you let your father feed the chickens seeing as how you haven't done it in so long. It's for expediency.
"I like him," your father approves.
You smile gently, gathering egg after egg and placing them in the basket.
"He's a little rough around the edges but he's a good man." you insist.
Your father wipes his hands on his pants, getting rid of the small flecks of feed that linger on his palms. "You know, he looks at you like you're the most important thing in his life."
Snorting gently, you lean against the chicken coop. Your gaze fixes on the sky watching as pastel shades bleed into one another. But, you focus on the orange that mixes with a hazy salmon.
"His problem is -- he doesn't know what's most important in his life. He doesn't know how to live normally. He doesn't know regular emotions and that scares him," you announce, tracing a cloud absentmindedly.
Your father leans against the chicken coop with you, tracing your gaze to the sky.
"I see. He's never had a family, has he?" your father prods.
You shake your head, looking down at the basket in hand. "No. He's only ever had himself and heartache." you affirm.
The older man hums, looking at the dirt beneath his feet. "We should give him a family then," he surmises.
With a gentle scoff, you feel your eyes beginning to burn with raw emotion. "He deserves it. He doesn't even know what he deserves."
"Well, you do, kiddo. You know." your father insists, nudging you with his elbow.
Humming, your arms fold like a comfort blanket around yourself.
You want Yoongi to be so at peace. To love and know his surroundings. To at least understand what he feels day to day.
"Come on, your mother must be putting him through hell," your dad jeers, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.
You laugh, wiping at a stray tear that's had the chance to fall.
You want him to be your family.
Stepping back inside, you can see his gummy smile while he talks with your mother and your heart soars at the sight.
"Here, Mom." he whispers, handing her the bowl of potatoes.
The word he utters, sends you spiralling.
"If she's Mom, then I want to be Dad. You promised!" your father quips, setting the baskets of eggs by the stove.
Yoongi turns to you both in the doorway, black pieces of hair in his eyes as he chuckles.
"Yes, Dad."
Your father hums happily, the smile lines by his eyes wrinkling.
You watch the sight before you, your throat constricting and your nasal passages burning.
Yoongi is happy.
"Excuse me," you gasp, taking off to your childhood bedroom.
"Y-Y/N?" Yoongi calls you, watching you rush off down the hall.
He stands up, bowing to your parents. "Pardon me."
He rushes off to find you, wiping his wet hands on his sweatpants.
"Little dove?" he calls gently, opening the paper door.
Sitting cross legged on your bed, you hold a tissue to your face.
"What did I do wrong?" he asks quickly, shutting the door for privacy.
He's done nothing wrong. It's a shame he always thinks it as such. You were just so astounded, so fucking happy that he could speak so warmly and freely. It took over your whole body.
"Are you upset with me?" he inquires, sitting down at the edge of the bed.
You shake your head violently, sobbing into the tissue.
"Then what is it?" his voice is soft and unsure.
Pulling the tissue away from your face, you take in the worry lines that are etched onto his forehead.
With a whine, you wrap your arms around his neck tugging him into a hug.
Yoongi croons softly, rubbing at your back with comforting swipes.
"Is it the baby? Are you in pain?" he whispers into your ear, hooking his chin over your shoulder.
"No," you breathe out, hugging him tightly.
"Alright." he whispers perplexed.
"I'm happy," you insist, burying your face into his neck.
He feels his heart slow down from the racing pace it was just at. His eyes flutter shut as he pulls you into his lap.
"Me too," he replies truthfully.
Holding each other so closely, your heart beats seem to meld as one. You sit in comfortable silence, your sobs stifling and quieting down to nothing.
"You just looked so h-happy that I…" you croak, balling his shirt in your fists.
The corners of his lips flick upward, his eyes opening to look down at your body in his lap. With soft eyes, he presses his lips to your temple.
"Min Yoongi, I'm going to cut this chicken without you!" your mother calls out.
You feel his body shake with a laugh. "One minute, Mom!"
Your lips press into a straight line, tears threatening to fall again.
"You're happy that your family is welcoming me?" he asks, pulling you away to cup your face with both hands.
You whine gently, nodding while his thumbs stroke at your cheeks.
"I'm happy they're welcoming me too. It feels warm." he whispers, shushing you as you let out a small sob.
"You'll let your family be my family, right?" he asks hopefully.
"Always," you whimper.
He smiles softly, his eyes taking in every curve and inch on your face.
"You'll be my family?" he inquires nervously.
"Yeah, I'll be your family." you cry happily.
He looks up at the ceiling, trying to ebb away tears that threaten to come.
"Good. I'd really like that," he replies gratefully.
Pulling your face closer to his, he kisses you softly, both of your eyes fluttering shut.
When you pull apart, his forehead presses to yours.
"I have to go cut a chicken," your boyfriend mumbles, earning a gentle laugh from you.
"Go cut a chicken," you whisper, sliding off his lap.
"I'm really happy with you," he says earnestly, pushing some hair behind your ear.
"Me too." you reply, watching how he smiles so brightly.
Holding his hand out, he dries your face with the hem of his shirt. "Come on, let's make dinner."
To watch Yoongi laugh and talk to your parents as if he's always known them makes you feel fuller than any of the food on your plate could provide.
"Y/N saved me in History class one time," Yoongi announces to your parents, picking up his glass of whisky.
They hum inquisitively and you lean back against the wall as he chuckles.
"I did really terribly on a quiz that I didn't study for. And, the teacher was embarrassing me. But Y/N told me when the Mongols invaded Goryeo."
"1216." you state, earning a smile from your boyfriend.
He holds up his fingers and you stare at them.
You do remember it.
You remember how embarrassed he looked as a child. You felt the overwhelming urge to help him.
"I remember," you whisper.
He chuckles gently with a hum. "Anyway, she saved my bacon."
Your mother watches you both as you continue to stare at each other over the table. This is good. This is healthy.
"Yoongi, do you play any card games?" your dad asks, setting his chopsticks down on his empty plate.
The smirk that graces his features is devious and you giggle.
"I play poker," he quips, watching as you set down your chopsticks.
"Every Thursday," you add.
Clicking his teeth, he puts a piece of chicken over your unfinished rice. "Eat more for the baby," he insists.
He sounds so sincere you find yourself picking up your spoon.
"Would you like to play poker, later?" your dad inquires.
Yoongi nods, his hand under his chin as he watches you eat. "That'd be great, Dad."
"So how far along is my grandchild now then?" your mother asks, cleaning up the empty plates.
Your boyfriend immediately begins to help her, something he's never done in his life. "Sesame is almost ten weeks old now." he replies and you sit back on your hands to watch him help her.
"Sesame is a cute fetus name, I like that very much."
You can feel the sheer adoration beginning to drip from your mother for your boyfriend. When you first entered his mansion, you had absolutely no idea that it would lead you here. You couldn't have even guessed that he would be becoming a part of your family.
"I have some pictures if you want to see them, I can get a few more copies made to send to you the next time we go to the doctors." he suggests to her as they enter the kitchen.
"I'd love that," she cheers happily.
"I really like this guy," your father whispers conspiratorially to you, picking up your plate and bowl.
You find your nose wrinkling in delight.
"Me too," you mumble, watching your boyfriend's black hair fall into his eyes as he chuckles.
"I really like him too," you mutter to yourself, resting your head against the wall.
"Something tells me that this is your first relationship," your father says, shuffling the deck of cards.
Yoongi looks up from his whisky glass, a small smirk gracing his features. "That obvious, huh?"
The older man laughs, setting the cards down in between both of their bodies. "Just a little bit," he quips.
The CEO chuckles to himself, looking around the barren land of your backyard.
It isn't quite a farm and it isn't quite a relaxing place either. But, he finds it quaint. It's the company that's more so relaxing.
"Everything with Y/N is a first for me," your boyfriend admits, dealing the cards.
"Oh?" your father pushes, picking up his glass of whisky.
Yoongi hums softly, almost unsurely. "Emotions. Caring. Being concerned. Happiness. Actually wanting to be happy. It's all new." he breathes out, looking up at the star flecked sky.
Your father smirks over the lip of his glass, his smile lines appearing.
"It's hard to break out of a shell, isn't it?" the older man asks.
Answering the question, Yoongi nods.
"It'll be worth it though, won't it?"
"Oh yes, it will be. That's the thing about finding someone you want to care for. You find that everything you're feeling, whether it's new or not, is very worth it." your father replies, throwing a few peanuts into the bowl, in the place of poker chips.
Yoongi does the same, his cheeks puffing out as he thinks.
"Y/N's worth it," he surmises, picking up his whisky glass.
The older man smiles, raising his glass to the CEO. "I'm glad you think so too."
Their warm talk is cut off by the sound of a chainsaw a far bit of distance away. Your father huffs out, gritting his teeth in annoyance.
"Old man Im is at it again. Y'know, I can't stand that old prick," he gripes, laying his cards down on the small garden table.
"Old man Im?" Yoongi inquires, squinting at the house lights in the far off distance.
"I've been offering to buy that man's land for years now, it's lush and my wife would be able to plant flowers in it but he always asks for such a high price that it's nearly impossible! He wants to sell the land! He just won't give it to me because Y/N threw a rock through his window when she was a little girl," he proclaims, grabbing the peanuts and munching on them.
Yoongi watches how irritated his new family member is and he's immediately annoyed as well.
"How much is he asking for?" The CEO inquires, folding his arms.
"Five million," your father mumbles, grabbing the stack of cards to shuffle them again.
That's pocket change.
"Old man Im, huh?" Yoongi mumbles, watching the house lights shut off.
Yoongi knows you've been in bed for some time when he enters the shared room. The sheets are ruffled due to your constant turning and your hair is splayed all over your pillow.
He finds himself smirking at the sight, stripping off his shirt to climb into bed with you.
Sliding beneath the sheets, he shivers at how cold his side of the bed is. But he's immediately warm as you throw your body over his.
"Did you have fun?" you mumble somnolently, putting your head on his bare chest.
He snorts gently, smiling up at the ceiling. His eyes flutter shut at the comfort of your body on his. Stroking your head gently, he breathes deeply letting the pleasantness of today wash over him.
"I had more fun today than I probably have ever had in my life," he answers you truthfully.
Your fingers drift over his abs and it's instinctual that he flinches. "Sorry, still working on it."
He still finds it surprising how easy it is to apologize to you when he has never said he's sorry to anyone in his life.
You shake your head, kissing over his skin softly. The shock drifts away, leaving Yoongi to only be comforted by your lips.
"Why do you have so many small tattoos?" you inquire, dragging your fingers over the colorful ink.
Looking down, his tongue runs over his lips feeling as if they're drying out. "Each one is a memory I don't want to forget."
"A memory?" you repeat, picking up your head to look him in the eyes.
"A memory of every cigarette burn that wasn't my fault," he croaks, clearing his throat as he caresses the apple of your cheek.
Your blood runs cold at his strangled voice.
"Like this one, the one of the hummingbird. I put up a bird feeder on my balcony in the winter so they wouldn't starve. And, my father told me that I have no brain. 'Why would you invite those rats with wings into the sanctuary near your bedroom? Are you Mother Theresa, huh? You're making them weak for not finding their own food.' I remember it all the time." your boyfriend says, staring at the paper door as he recites the old memory.
Your teeth grit, eyes narrowing as you cover the tattoo with your hand.
"I hate him," you whisper fiercely, putting your head back on his chest.
"Get in line, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, closing his eyes with a smirk.
There are so many small tattoos that litter his chest, and your throat constricts just looking at them in the moonlit room.
Yoongi looks down at your hand that covers a selection of scars. "Interested in any others?"
He doesn't mind sharing his past with you. In fact, no one knows about these stories he would so quickly give up to you. Not Maya or Namjoon. No one.
"It'll just make me angry," you mumble, turning your head to look up at him.
He chuckles, running his hand over your arm to your stomach. "Well, we don't want that. Anger is poison for Sesame. I should know, I've been poisoned twenty eight years of my life." he sighs.
You scoff gently, moving to lay fully over his body.
"Watch the baby," he grumbles, running his hands over your back as he looks back up at the ceiling.
There's silence for a bit. You just stare at him. Staring at the handsome broken man that's never known happiness.
"I can feel your eyes burning holes into my face," he jeers, squeezing your side gently.
"I really like you," you tell him, sitting up.
He peeks one eye open, the corners of his mouth flickering up with a snort.
"I like you too, baby. That's why I want you to be my family." he replies softly, stroking your thighs with his large hands.
You hum assertively, putting your hands on your hips. "You are my family."
He chuckles, kissing his fingers then mushing them into your lips. "My family member without my blood, housing my family with my blood. My goodness. How much luckier can I get?"
With a smile, you tilt your head as he clears his throat. "Thank you for bringing me here, little dove." he thanks you, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it softly.
"What'd you talk about with my dad?" you inquire, laying down beside him.
Turning his body to yours, he pulls your back against his chest, situating his hand on your stomach.
"Just this and that. I'm probably going to buy a farm tomorrow," he murmurs sleepily.
"A farm? What for?" you ask, running your fingers over his arm.
"I hear that a farm around here has great land for planting. And, I want my family to be able to plant." he whispers, burying his face in your hair.
You go to lift your head in confusion but he shushes you softly.
"Sleep now, little dove. Sesame is tired, just like their father."
The words warm your heart and you smile to yourself, tracing random shapes over his skin.
It's easy for you to wake up in your old bed to the sound of roosters crowing good morning. It's not so easy for the father of your child.
Folding the pillow over his ears, he kicks his legs childishly.
"I hate chickens!" he whines loudly, stamping his feet on the bed.
"That's a rooster," you correct him, stretching as you stand up.
"Smart ass!" he barks out, flipping his body over.
Smothering his face in the pillow, he groans loudly.
"Guess he's not a morning person," your mother calls from the kitchen and the CEO's head immediately pops up.
"Yes, I am!" he retorts softly, his eyebrows furring.
"Mhm," you droll, combing your fingers through your hair.
Sitting up in bed, his joints pop and crack loudly to which he groans.
"The air here is so fresh," you exclaim, opening up the bathroom window.
"Why are you so chipper? We went to bed late," Yoongi inquired with a grumble, standing up out of the bed to crack his knees.
"Because I'm with my family," you reply, turning on the sink.
The CEO turns to the mirror, tilting his head as his hair falls into his eyes.
You're with your family. And that includes him.
He finds himself smiling to himself, grabbing a t-shirt from his luggage.
"Family," he whispers, running his fingers through his hair.
The simple word has so much more meaning than two days ago.
"Did you bring another set of comfortable clothes?" you ask him, peeking out of the bathroom.
"Why?" he inquires, showing you a pair of expensive sweatpants.
"Because it's six o'clock in the morning and we don't get up that early to just stare at each other," you quip with a laugh.
His hand falls, clutching the sweatpants with a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Have you ever done manual labor?" your father inquires to the CEO, watching him sip his coffee.
Yoongi looks up from his Irish coffee, internally groaning at the question.
"No. I'm a CEO," he retorts, setting down the cup.
Your hand slides over your mouth as you begin to smirk.
"Well, my knees aren't what they used to be. You'll help me gather some apples from the trees out back, won't you?" your dad asks, a kind smile gracing his face.
Pressing his lips into a straight line, your boyfriend sighs. "Of course, Dad."
"Good boy," your mother praises, petting his head sweetly.
He smirks at how affectionate she is.
"And what're you going to do while I'm hard at work?" Yoongi inquires of you, watching you kiss the top of Gaesu's head.
"Probably help my mom cook lunch," you reply.
Yoongi immediately begins to smile, "I love when you cook."
With a giggle, you wrinkle your nose at his cuteness. "I know you do."
"Alright Mr. Never-Did-Manual-Labor. Let's go pick some apples!" your dad cheers, patting your boyfriend on the back.
Yoongi is grateful that you insisted on comfortable clothes. He would have never pictured himself climbing a ladder a day in his life, but here he is. Climbing towards the heavens to just reach for a few apples to fill up a basket.
"I was thinking about something last night," your father states, holding the ladder still as the CEO continues his journey upward.
"Oh?" your boyfriend replies, sitting down at the top of the ladder.
"Why'd you get married to that woman, if you don't like her?" your father prods.
Yoongi's eyes widen, staring at the canopy of leaves not so high above him. Oh, if the ground would only open up and swallow both him and the ladder whole.
His hand shakes as he reaches for a ripe apple, his Adam's apple bobbing uncomfortably.
To be truthful, even though he's only been here a day, he'd forgotten that he's married. He's forgotten that he lives with a despicable woman who ruined him.
"Because my parents made me," he announces, almost falling off the ladder due to nerves.
Your father holds the ladder tighter, watching how nervous the younger man's back is. He can see it tensing and shaking like he's frightened.
"They can just make you get married?" your father asks, clearly appalled.
Yoongi turns to him, dropping an apple to him with a smirk. "Rich parents can make you do anything in the world."
Your father hums softly, his eyebrows furring while he catches the apple.
"Is she mean to my daughter? Should I be worried?"
Yoongi finds his teeth gritting. The simple idea of your father being so worried about you in a house with that leech makes him wrought with anger.
Folding his body over the top of the ladder, he narrows his eyes at your father. "Dad, nothing will ever happen to Y/N and our baby. I would die before that bitch has a chance to hurt them or be mean to them. There is nothing for you to worry about, because I would never let that happen."
Your father's eyes widen at how angry your boyfriend has gotten at the drop of a hat. But, he knows just how serious he is. And he finds his body filling with warmth at how protective the father of your child is towards you.
He hums gently, nodding to Yoongi letting him know he understands. "Why don't you just divorce her?"
The CEO's arm stops as he reaches for another apple.
Why doesn't he just fucking divorce her? Who is she to him? No one.
And then he remembers. And he sees red once more.
"My head maid Maya. She had a daughter named Myeyoung. Sera made her move out when we got married because she was beautiful. I never thought so, she always felt like a sister to me. She was always around so she was just a comfortable person to me. When she moved out, I helped her get a job where she could make enough money and live a good life. She opened up her own art gallery. But I learned what a snake that woman is, that damned woman who loves in my house. If I ever divorced her -- Sera swore she would ruin her life and make Myeyoung suffer if I ever took her money away from her." Yoongi fumes, running his fingers through his hair.
Your father shivers at his words, completely appalled with how bitter and evil this woman sounds.
"I see," he whispers softly.
Yoongi can feel anger coursing through every part of his body as he hangs onto the top of the ladder.
He hadn't thought about it in so long, he hasn't wanted to think about how absolutely vile Sera is. But, she's always brought up and always around to make him miserable.
He takes a deep calming breath.
"Maya has always been like my mother when I didn't really have one. I couldn't just let Myeyoung get fed to the wolves. She's too sweet for that." he announces, grabbing an apple and ripping it from its stem.
"You're a good man, son." your father praises, catching the apple as it falls.
Yoongi chuckles darkly, his tongue licking at his lips. "I'll be a better man when the leech is out of my life."
"Where are we going?" you whine, following your boyfriend as he tugs on your hand.
"I'm going to buy a farm." he replies happily, wading through thickets of bushes.
"This is Old Man Im's farm! He hates me!" you insist, feeling old emotions of terror from when you were a child.
Yoongi stops in his tracks, turning to you.
The sun is setting now, the pretty colors of the sky highlighting your features.
How he adores you.
Lifting his hand, he cups your cheek.
"You know, I'm feeling an emotion that I've never experienced before." he states, stepping closer to you.
With both of your bodies shrouded in the large thicket, it's only you and him.
"What are you feeling?" you ask, concerned and wanting to help.
He hums unsurely, wrapping his free arm around you. Pulling you up against his body, he pushes some stray hairs behind your ear.
"Whenever I look at you, little dove, my heart races like a horse on Sunday. I feel weak and needy when I'm with you. I just want to hold you without the need for food or water. I just want to stare at you every minute of every day. I just want to… keep you. Forever." he admits.
Your cheeks puff out, heart warmed by his kind words.
"Maybe what you're feeling is infatuation? Or maybe you're feeling comfort?" you ask, adoring how his arms wrap around you, tugging you to his body.
"No I'm not infatuated with you, I'm infatuated with art. My heart -- it bleeds for you." he says, putting his hand on the back of your head to bury your face into his chest.
"Well, we'll figure it out together then," you reply.
"I'd like that." he whispers.
He knows what emotion this is, even if he's never experienced.
He's falling in love with you.
Next Chapter ------->
Third Wheeling Taglist - @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykreuger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @yxnxxli, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @jooniebuggy, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie, @preciouschimine, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii, @kooafraid, @ladykadyrova, @singjisu, @yazanii, @moonlitmyg, @justzeera, @absolutefantrash, @whocaresarchives, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx, @bt21chim, @flowerboyhobi, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper
Sorry for those it didn’t tag!
#third wheeling#btscreatorscorner#thebtswritersclub#btswritingcafe#ficswithluv#ceo!yoongi#ceo!bts#yoongi fluff#yoongi series
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the night we met -
masterlists
note | some more angst, im sorry😭 um idk how to write song fics but i think this is how?!?!?! if not i apologize- but yeah this is one of my favorite songs and it inspired this sad story so here.
warnings | mentions of death, cursing
category | angst, fluff
wc | 1.9k+
pairing | levi ackerman & reader
song | “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron
Levi didn’t plan on falling in love with you.
Hell, it was the last thing he intended to do.
And then I can tell myself
Not to ride along with you
But he still found himself falling deeper and deeper, everyday he saw you. And before he knew it, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.
It all started one day when Erwin came to his office, knocking on the door while Levi was doing paperwork. “You will be getting a new comrade added to your squad, hand picked by me. She’s one of the best. You both will be fighting side by side,” He had said.
Levi didn’t know what to expect, and he definitely wasn’t expecting one of the best, someone handpicked to join the Levi squad by Erwin himself to be so… so kind. Because really, who could be that kind and generous in this type of life that you lived in?
Take me back to the night we met
He remembered the day you both met. You had waltzed into Levi’s life, all smiles, a happy look always painted on your face. You were always helping everyone, reaching out a hand and offering your shoulder to your comrades who were hurt, even if you were hurting yourself. And on top of that, you never expected anything in return. Not at all. You acted on all these kind actions, simply out of the goodness of your heart. Levi didn’t understand that. How could you be so nice, without even receiving anything in return? You were so innocent, so good. Levi even had to pinch himself a few times before he actually came to believe it.
And then eventually, with all your kindness, your warm smiles directed at him that would make his heart flutter every time, you had worked your way into Levi’s heart.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you
-
Rubbing his slender fingers on his temples, Levi sighs, feeling a headache coming on due to his endless hours of working on paperwork. He reaches a hand out to his cup of tea, grabbing it and bringing it to his lips to drink, when nothing falls out.
Oh. Right. He finished his tea an hour ago.
Groaning, Levi places the tea cup back on the desk. He glances at the mountain of paperwork sitting on his desk, sure to take hours more to complete. Even with the countless hours he has already been working, not even half of the paperwork was completed. Looks like it was going to be another night with no sleep. Exasperated, Levi runs his veiny hands through his jet black hair, his bangs falling in front of his face. Picking up his pen, he begins to write on his current paper in front of him, when he hears a knock on the door. He raises an eyebrow in question. Who would be coming to his office at this time of night?
Another quiet knock. “Levi?”
“Who is it? Name and business.”
“It’s me.” The corners of Levi’s lips twitch up. He can recognize that soft voice anywhere. “Come in.” You push open the door with your left hand with a creek, a teacup in the other. Levi’s grey eyes follow your figure as you walk towards his desk while you give him one of your warm smiles. Wordlessly, you place the hot cup of tea on his desk, moving the empty one to the side. You take a seat on the other side of the desk, across from Levi and you lift half of the stack of paperwork and place it in front of you, grabbing a pen.
“What are you doing?” Levi’s deep voice makes you look up at him. Placing your elbows on the desk and cupping your cheeks with your hands, you tilt your head and give him a reassuring smile. “Is it not obvious? I’m helping you with your paperwork.”
Levi glances behind your head to the clock ticking on the wall. He looks back at you, the same bored expression on his face, but dark bags evident under his steel eyes from a lack of sleep. “At 12 AM? No.” He shakes his head. “You’re not going to get enough sleep.”
“Levi, look who’s talking. You’re not going to get enough sleep. I knew you were awake, you always are. And I'm not going to let you pull another all-nighter doing an endless amount of paperwork. So I figured,” You connect your fingers together, stretching your arms out and cracking your knuckles. “Why not do it together?”
Together? Levi hasn’t heard that one before. No one he knows would willingly take half of his paperwork like you just did, and work on it with him… together. He feels… He feels… happy? A weird sensation flutters in his chest. Levi hasn’t felt like this before, what’s happening?
“Tch, brat,” He mutters under his breath while lifting the cup of tea to his mouth, basking in the steam rising and the hotness. He knows how stubborn you are. Once you put your mind to something, there’s no changing it.
You only laugh, picking up the pen once more and getting to work. Levi gets to work as well, but every so often his grey eyes flicker to your face, admiring your determined state. He finds himself studying how your brows furrow when you are focused, your teeth sinking in on your bottom lip. A small smile grows on his face, shaking his head at how determined you were to help him.
You guys continue on for a few more hours, enjoying each other’s silent company, only casual conversation sparking a few times.
Levi’s eyes land on your face again, and this time instead of your determined face, your eyes are shut closed, head resting on your folded arms against the desk. You fell asleep. Levi looks on his desk to the remaining paperwork, it’s only a bit left. You really did save him time, and stop him for what would be another night without sleep.
Sitting up from his chair, his legs walk over to you. Levi’s strong arms lift you up from the chair, carrying you bridal style. You stirred in his hold, softly grasping the front of his shirt with your fist. “Levi?” You mumble out, eyes half lidded. At the tone of your soft voice, Levi looks down at you in his arms, his black bangs falling in front of his face. “You were so stubborn and hell-bent on helping me, and you fell asleep anyways. Who does that?”
You only softly laugh at Levi’s words. Despite the bitter tone, you know him well enough to see that he’s only looking out for you behind the whole facade. In your half asleep state, you let your hand fall to your lap as Levi carries you out of the office and to his bedroom. “Sorry Levi…”
After what you assume are few turns and a door opening, your back comes in contact with a soft, pillowy material. Already knocked out, you don’t see Levi tucking you into bed, or placing a soft kiss on your forehead, his soft lips lingering for a few moments.
Levi lays next to you, watching your chest slowly rise and fall back in calm, synchronized breaths. Murmuring a soft thank you, Levi thinks to himself that he wouldn’t want anyone else bringing him tea at night.
-
When the night was full of terrors
And your eyes were filled with tears
Levi wasn’t the only one that fell deeply in love. The man that everyone knew as the stoic, clean obsessed captain, you fell in love with too.
“You’re too kind for your own good.” Levi would tell you.
“Everyone deserves a little kindness.” You’d tell him back.
Levi knew that one day your unlimited kindness would come back to bite you in the ass. And it very much did.
-
“NO!” Levi’s usually calm and bored voice now screeches as your body falls from the sky. He catches you in his strong arms, the intensity of the impact bringing the both of you to the hard ground.
“Why? Why the fuck would you do that!”
You had noticed your comrade about to be slapped out of the sky by a titans hand, while they were slaying another leading them not to sense the upcoming danger. On a whim, you used your own gear to rush to them and push them out of the way, letting yourself get hit instead. Unfortunately , Levi saw the whole scene go down above.
Holding you in his arms, dark blood seeping from your open wounds, you give Levi one last sad smile. “I love you Levi. Take care of yourself. Please… for me,” Were your last words.
Levi had watched you die in his arms. He couldn’t do anything to save you. Humanity’s strongest, just witnessed the love of his life get stricken down. And in that moment, humanity’s strongest felt anything but strong.
And then in that same moment, you were gone from his life.
When you had not touched me yet
Oh, take me back to the night we met
-
“I’m sorry it’s been a while since I’ve visited. Life has been pretty shit like usual.” Placing his handkerchief on the ground before him, Levi kneels on it so he doesn't get his pants dirty. Laying your favorite flowers on your tombstone, he sighs, tracing his hands over your beautiful name. “How was your day today?”
Silence.
“Mine was okay. Four eyes wouldn’t leave me alone like always.” Furrowing his eyebrows, Levi thinks of all the events that have happened since you were gone. “The brats are still as annoying as ever. Eren has been practicing with his titan, the others working on their combat skills, Sasha still stealing meat and eating lord knows how much food.” He almost smiles, thinking of the people he has grown fond of. “Nothing really new though.”
I had all and then most of you
Some and now none of you
Levi runs a hand through his jet black hair, closing his eyes. “We miss you. I miss you. A lot. I was humming your favorite song today. It reminds me of you. Wish you were here to sing it.” His mind flashes back to memories of when you would walk around singing your favorite song with your angelic voice, how he would act annoyed with it but secretly he really loved hearing your voice. How everyone else would join in with you and the atmosphere would instantly brighten up. Levi wishes he could go back to that now.
Take me back to the night we met
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
“Some things are a little different. People are duller without your smile. Things are less fun.” Tears fill his eyes. “Tch, only you would be able to get me so emotional.” He brings a shaky hand up to wipe his eyes, but more just keep on coming. “I- I think I see you sometimes. When it’s late at night and I’m doing paperwork, I look up and there you are, sitting across from me helping. The same angelic smile as always.” He misses seeing your smile.
Uncontrollable tears pour down Levi’s cheeks, his sobs racking his chest, shoulders shaking up and down.
“I love you so much.” He stands up, picking up his handkerchief and placing it back in his pocket. He bows his head, bangs covering his eyes, face full of sorrow. “I told you that you were too kind for your own good.”
Haunted by the ghost of you
Take me back to the night we met
#levi#levi ackerman#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi aot#levitan#shingeki no kyoujin levi#snk levi#attack on titan#aot#attack on titan x reader#levi attack on titan#attack on titan levi#aot x reader
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A Proper Lesson.
teacher!daemon x student!rhaenyra
A/N: I don't usually do character x character fics but here's to smth new! Here's the reader version! This was a request so i hope you enjoy
TW: MAJOR DUBCON, SMUT!!, choking, spanking!, dacryphilia, bondage, no incest lol
word count: 1,488 words
It’s filthy, the way he thinks about her, the way he looks at her. It’s a small class, Valyrian History 101, and Rhaenyra is always right front in centre. Daemon can hardly understand why. The brat never pays attention, but she is perhaps looking for it. It could be why she never turns assignments in on time or why she spends more time putting on lipgloss rather than completing her homework. She’s just a little spoiled rich girl and he knows it. Daemon knows her father and he realizes how Rhaenyra gets away with everything, but he won’t let her behaviour slide any longer.
“Miss Targaryen, you will stay after class.” Daemon calls out to her as the other students file out.
“Is there a problem, professor?” She asks innocently.
He wants to say that the fact that he can see her nipples through her top is a problem. Instead he says, “Your assignment was meant to be turned in at the start of class.”
“I need an extension.”
“I hardly believe that.”
“My father donates a lot of money to this school.”
Daemon sighs and decides that he will at least give her one last chance. Viserys is an old friend after all. “You have until tomorrow morning.”
“I need a three day extension.” She gives him a condescending little smirk.
“It will be turned in tomorrow before class begins or you will have real consequences.” He says seriously.
“I’m sure I will.” Rhaenyra smirks before flouncing out of the room without a care in the world.
The next day, nothing is turned in before the start of class and she walks in without placing a physical copy on his desk. She’s dressed even sluttier today, her tits poking through her dress that barely covers her ass. He’s infuriated by it, by her.
“Miss Targaryen, I need to see you after class… again.” He doesn’t make his anger as clear on his face. He wants her to feel nervous. When all the other students are gone, he locks the door. “Where’s your paper?”
“It’ll be ready Thursday.”
“I said you had to have it in today.”
“And I said it would be ready on Thursday.” She smoothes out the ruffles on her dress before checking her nails. “Can I go now?” She asks in a bored tone.
“Can you go now?” He scoffs at the question. “Bend over the fucking desk.” His voice is cold, authoritative.
“Excuse me?” She has the audacity to look insulted.
“Oh fuck this. You’ll never listen.” He walks over quickly and grabs her arm, pulling her to the desk.
“W-What in the seven hells are you doing!” She screeches before letting out a huff as she’s forced over the desk. Daemon reaches into his bag for the thing he knew he would probably need, handcuffs. Only fun ones but she’ll hardly be able to break them.
“Shut up before I gag you.” He warns as he cuffs her wrists behind her back.
“I’ll scream if you don’t let me go right now!”
Daemon sighs before taking off his tie and tying it around her mouth to gag her. He keeps one hand on her upper back as he lifts her skirt.
“No underwear? I bet half the school has seen your bare cunt today with how short this fucking dress is.” He runs his fingers through her folds. Not quite wet yet.
He uses his free hand to pull off his belt. He chuckles at how her eyes widen in fear. Does she think he’s going to fuck her? Poor dumb girl. It’ll be much worse than that. He folds the belt in half and lifts it high in the air before bringing it down hard on her ass. She yelps through the gag but Rhaenyra isn’t even close to being loud enough for somebody to hear her. He spanks her again with the belt, enjoying the red stripe it leaves on her cheeks. He won’t be stopping until her whole ass is red. He spanks her again, and again, until her yelps turn to moans. Daemon knew she would like this treatment. Such a little brat needs to be put into her place.
“If you scream, i’ll make you do more than regret it.” He warns as he pulls off the gag. She looks back at him with tears glistening in her eyes.
“I-I’m sorry, sir.” She says softly.
“Are you?” He smacks her hard with the belt and she arches her back. “Don’t you think you deserve this?” She takes too long to respond and he belts her again. Her poor bum is crimson now, but the slickness between her thighs tells him she needed it. “Answer me.”
“I do! I do deserve it.” He chuckles and tosses the belt on the table. He uses his hand to give her a few more harsh smacks. She whimpers at each one.
He pulls her by her hair back up to her feet. “Get on your knees and show me how sorry you are.”
She obeys quickly, practically falling to her knees in front of him. Daemon pulls his own cock out because she’s still cuffed and puts it to her lips. She sucks like her life depends on it. And Daemon can’t help but think that the whore clearly likes having a cock in her mouth. He grips the back of her hair and starts fucking her mouth ruthlessly. He enjoys how the tears start to fall from her eyes as she gags around him.
“You’re going to swallow everything I give you, Rhaenyra.” He commands before spilling on her tongue. She nearly chokes on it but swallows everything.
He pulls her up by her hair again and slaps her ass hard before pushing her back on the table.
“W-Wait, i’m a virgin.” She breathes out.
“If you don’t want it then get up and get out.” He gives her a few seconds and she doesn’t move so Daemon shoves his cock into her tight cunt. She nearly screams but he grips her around her throat so it’s barely more than a squeak. “Keep your voice down, baby. That’s my good girl.” He says as he begins to pound himself into her.
He brings his free hand down to pinch her clit while the hand around her throat prevents her from making any noises. When she finally calms down enough to be quiet, he lets go of her neck so he can use both hands to push her legs down into a mating press. She lets out a squeak at the new position. He hits her deeper and deeper with each thrust.
“Fuck your pussy is so tight but I think i’ll be cumming in that ass.”
“No you can’t!” She squeals out as he pulls out. She begins to squirm so he flips her onto her tummy.
“I can fuck whatever hole I want.”
He spanks her thighs a few times to punish her for complaining but it doesn’t stop her squirming so he just rolls his eyes and rubs some of her slick over her puckered hole. He slips a finger in to begin stretching her out as she kicks her feet and whines.
“Fine, you don’t want to be prepped? Then I won’t prep you.” She’s lucky she is all lubed up because Daemon shoves his thick cock right into her ass, bottoming out right away.
“Ahh, ahh.” She whimpers as he thrusts into her. She hates how quickly the pain fades into pleasure as he distracts her by rubbing her clit.
“There you go. Just had to get it in and now you’re a happy girl.” He coos as he fucks into her deeper.
“I-m gonna… cu-m.” She manages to get out as he rubs her faster.
“I know you are, baby. Cum for me and i’ll fill up that ass.”
That triggers her instantly as she reaches her peak, squeezing around nothing. Daemon thrusts a few more times before spilling inside her once again. He pulls out only seconds later, starting to fix himself right away.
“I have another class starting in less than 10 minutes.” He uncuffs her but she can barely stand. “You need to leave.”
She straightens out her dress but she has nothing to wipe the cum from between her legs. “But I need-” She starts.
“Panties? Maybe you should have worn them instead of choosing to be a little slut. Get to your next class. Let’s see if you can go the whole day keeping my cum in your ass.” He says before giving her a wolfish grin. “And if your paper isn’t in tomorrow, you’re getting a paddling along with another dose of the belt.”
Rhaenyra gulps and nods before picking up her things. Daemon gets the door for her and she nearly stumbles out of the room as he sends her off with one more smack on the ass.
#daemon smut#daemon targaryen smut#daemon#daemon targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen smut#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra x daemon#daemon x rhaenyra#daemyra#daemyra smut#hotd#hotd smut
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Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 3 | And Miss Out on Mum Meeting the Girl You Married Without Telling Her? Not a Chance
A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.
SERIES MASTERLIST HERE
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)
Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?
This Chapter: Molly finally gets to meet Luke and they try to convince him that this marriage is not some elaborate plot to manipulate the press. And Tom makes a critical error. We learn more about Molly and her past.
Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.
TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!
–
Tom regretted drinking two cups of espresso the next morning before heading to Luke’s. He definitely regretted not eating anything more than a piece of toast with butter and marmalade. Even after Molly offered to make something for him.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you eggs, an omelette? I could probably manage some French toast before we have to leave.” Molly sipped her tea as she ate some oatmeal.
French toast sounded divine at the moment as Tom’s stomach did somersaults. Molly’s knee bounced in the passenger seat on the way to the Prosper office.
“Do you think Luke will yell at me?” Molly asked. “I don’t do well when people yell at me.”
Tom’s head snapped over at her. She sighed.
“Foster parents are not always kind. Bio parents can be worse.” She wrung her hands.
He reached over and squeezed Molly’s knee. “I promise I won’t let him yell at you.”
“Thank you, Tom. Are we telling him the truth?”
“Only if necessary.”
“Then what are we telling him?”
“That I went to Vegas, and I fell madly in love with you and on a whim we got married.”
“A fanciful tale.” Her head dropped to her chest.
“Oh, I don’t know, darling. You sell yourself short. You’re bright, funny, caring and dare I even say easy on the eyes.”
Molly blushed. “Thank you. You are not so bad yourself. Although I seriously question your dietary habits.”
Tom chuckled. “I’ll work on it. And I hope after all of this we will be good friends.”
“Me too.”
“Looks like we are here.” Tom parked the car on the street. He hustled around to open Molly’s door and help her out. “Time to face the firing squad.” Her eyes widened. “Kidding!”
By the time the meeting was done, Molly wished it had been a firing squad.
-
“Luke, this is Molly Bishop, now Hiddleston.” Tom wrapped his arm around her waist. “My wife.”
“My condolences.” Luke shook Molly’s hand.
Molly’s brow furrowed. “I…”
“Of all the stupid shit you have ever fucking done—” Luke started in on Tom.
“Luke, watch your tone.” Tom jabbed a finger in his publicist’s face. “You are not to yell at Molly.” His bright blue eyes flashed and his fists clenched.
Luke took a step back. “Right. Take a seat and let’s see if we can straighten this out.”
They sat next to each other. Molly reached for Tom’s hand and he took it. Luke sat down behind his desk, staring at the two of them. Luke pinched his nose hard and took several deep breaths. Before speaking, he poured a glass of water and dropped two Alka-Seltzer into the water. Molly stared at the whole thing. Tom leaned over.
“For later. Luke says I give him indigestion.” he whispered.
“And headaches.” Luke added.
“I can understand the feeling.” Molly muttered under her breath.
“I beg your pardon!” Tom twisted around to face Molly. “Et tu. Is this about the vegetables?”
“It wouldn’t kill you to eat one every so often. You’re not 21 anymore.”
Tom gritted his teeth. “I said I would work on it. Can we not talk about this right now?”
“You’re the one who brought it up. I was just making a comment.”
Luke’s head bounced back and forth like watching a tennis match, a smirk growing on his face.
“You two are good. Really good. Damn Tom, the lengths you will go to… hiring an actress to pretend to be your wife, that’s—”
“We got married, Luke. In Vegas.” Tom retorted. “Darling, do you have the copy of the license?”
Molly grumbled. “I do, but we are not done with the whole diet thing.” She rummaged through her purse and produced the folded piece of paper. “Show him the photos.” She whispered to Tom as she handed over the license.
“I’m not showing him the photos unless I have to.” Tom hissed.
“Show me the photos, Tom.” Luke beckoned him.
Tom side eyed Molly and handed over the license and his phone. Luke glanced at the license and then scrolled through the photos, eyes growing wider. He zoomed in on one and squinted.
“Is that a spider ring?” he asked.
“His name is Clive.” Tom deadpanned.
Luke cuts his eyes at Tom. “Of course, you named it. You wouldn’t happen to have the ring, would you?” He turned to Molly.
She let loose a breath, exasperated. “Honestly,” she jabbed a finger at Tom and then Luke. “I was not expecting the Spanish Inquisition.” She dug through her purse again. “You are both lucky that I planned ahead.” Molly slammed the two Tiffany boxes on the desk. “There, here is your pound of flesh.”
Luke opened the boxes and found the spider ring and plastic gem ring. His eyes went to their proper rings and then ran his hands through his hair.
“Holy shit, you got married.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “I have been saying that for the last 24 hours, mate. Can we move on?”
Molly giggled.
“I… I… apologize. Sorry.” He sputtered, he turned to Molly. “I’m sorry, Molly. You have no idea the things this man has put me through.”
“I can imagine.”
“Hey! I—”
“Not talking to you, Tom.” Luke held up a hand. “I am talking to your bride. Clearly the reasonable one. Although she did marry you, so…”
Tom slumped in the chair. “Two of you. I thought you were on my side.”
Molly reached over and rubbed his arm. “I’m always on your side, honey.”
Tom smiled and leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, darling. Do you believe me now, Luke?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes, I do.” He slammed his hand on his desk, rattling his water. “Now let’s talk about these.” He held up several newspapers.
Forty-five minutes later, they finally ended the meeting. Tom was starving. Luke grilled Molly about her background. By the end of everything, Tom now knew that Molly spent the ages of 12-18 in foster care, went to college where she worked two jobs to make ends meet, and has no contact with her younger brother who was adopted. Tom felt a twinge of guilt listening to Molly tell her life story. He never really bothered to ask.
Luke led them to the door but stopped short.
“How did your mom take the news, Tom?” Luke asked. Tom froze and paled. Luke leaned in. “You did tell her?”
Molly glanced between them. “I thought you called her when we got home.”
Tom ran his hands through his hair. Little bits stuck up. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened. “I forgot. I was distracted by someone yelling at me.”
“You haven’t told your mother about us?!” Molly screeched.
Luke chuckled, which soon turned into a full belly laugh. “You are so dead, Tom.” Molly gasped. “You will be fine, Molly, but pray for your husband. There is nothing scarier in this world than Diana Hiddleston mad at her only son.”
Molly gulped. “I will keep that in mind. Now if you excuse us, we have some calls to make.”
Tom nodded, still reeling from the fact he didn’t tell his mum, or his sisters, that he got married. Fake or not. He hoped she hadn’t seen any of the photos yet. But knowing Emma and Sarah, they sent her the links. “Right, calls.”
Molly pushed Tom out of the office and towards the elevator. She waved bye to Luke as the doors closed.
“That went better than expected.” Molly shifted her weight from side to side.
“Yeah, yeah!” Tom blinked and came back to reality. “You were brilliant. What made you think to bring the rings?”
“People have the tendency to believe you when you can present physical evidence. That, coupled with the photos, lends credibility. I mean, who gets married with a plastic spider ring?” She laughed and Tom joined in.
“Genius, really. Luke would have never—” Tom’s stomach rumbled. He blushed. “You were right I should have eaten something.”
Molly stretched to reach his cheek and gave him a quick peck. “You will soon learn I am always right. Let’s find you some food and then you call your mother.”
“Fine.”
-
They found a place for Tom to grab a sandwich since it was too late for breakfast and not quite time for lunch. Molly stared on as Tom inhaled the sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a bottle of water.
“Did you taste any of that?”
Tom glanced up at her as he poked the last bit of the sandwich into his mouth. “Yes.”
She shoved a napkin towards him. “You have crumbs on your face.”
Tom swallowed. “Thanks.”
“Call your mother.”
Tom slouched. “Can’t we wait until we get home?”
“No.” She stared him down. “If you don’t do it, I will.” Molly lunged for his phone, but Tom was too fast and grabbed it first.
“I’m calling her right now.” He held the phone to his ear, praying it would go to voicemail.
“Tom!” Diana’s warm voice filled his ear. “How are you doing, love?”
“Doing good. A bit of jet lag, I was in Vegas over the weekend.”
Diana hummed. “And how is Luke?”
Tom chuckled. “Angry at me as always.”
“If you would just listen to him…”
“I like her.” Molly popped in.
Tom waved her off.
“I know, Mother. Listen,” He fidgeted with his hair again. Molly realized it was an absolute tell when Tom was nervous. “I was wondering if you might like to grab some lunch this week. We can catch up. So much as happened since I last saw you.”
“I would be delighted, Thomas. Why don’t you come up to the house? Does Wednesday work for you?”
Tom mouthed “Wednesday” to Molly, who shrugged her shoulders.
“Like I’m doing anything? You and Luke are the only people I know here.”
“Right.” He returned to the call. “Wednesday is perfect, mum. Noon?”
“It’s a date. Don’t forget to bring that wife of yours, Thomas. I am quite keen on meeting her.”
All the blood drained from Tom’s face. “I… I… can explain—”
“I’m sure you can. On Wednesday. I have to go, love. It was good to chat.” The line went dead.
Tom stared at the phone. “I’m so dead. She knows about you.”
“Oh, she knows. You are her son. And didn’t you mention having sisters? They totally ratted you out.” Molly smiled at him.
-
Tom had some appointments on Tuesday which kept his mind occupied from seeing his mother the next day. Molly took some time to figure out how to change her name, get a new passport, and figure out how to maneuver life in a foreign country. Tom took her to get a phone that would work.
“Here you go.”
The first thing she did was snap Tom to add to his contact list. He was laughing in the photo.
“Don’t use that one!” Tom pouted. “Let me pose.”
“But I like this one. It captures your essence.”
But now it is Wednesday morning. Tom woke up early to go for a run. Molly was already up, sipping tea in the living room.
“Can I join you?” she asked upon seeing Tom in workout gear.
“I run about three miles…”
“Sounds perfect. Give me two minutes.” She bounded off the couch towards her bedroom.
Tom fiddled with his headphones until Molly emerged in sneakers and workout leggings. Over the ear headphones around her neck.
“Ready to go.” She tucked her phone into a pocket. “I will just follow you.”
“Let me know if you need to turn around.” Tom winked as they set off.
They returned home about thirty minutes later.
“Sure you don’t want to go another mile?” Molly bounced on her feet.
Tom breathed hard. “Maybe another time. I’m a bit out of shape. You run?”
Molly nodded. “Most days I run. If I get up in time. I miss the gym.”
Tom chuckled. “We need to get you a membership. And I need to ..get into shape myself. Can’t let my wife show me up in paparazzi photos.” he half-joked.
Molly coughed. “They take photos of you running?!”
“Sometimes.” He took a sip of water, his heart rate going back to normal. “Definitely now with you in the picture.”
Molly raised an eyebrow, stepping towards him, grabbing the water bottle from him. “Think they are out there right now?”
Tom glanced around and sure enough, he spied a few cameras with zoom lenses down the street.
“Yup.”
Molly wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe we should give them a more scandalous photo.”
Tom leaned down. “What did you have in mind?” he smirked as Molly tugged his head towards her and her lips crashed against his. She sighed and Tom slipped his tongue into her mouth. Molly did the same. As he fisted the back of her shirt, Tom noticed one of Molly’s arms moving.
“AH!!” He screamed as the cold water poured down on his head and Molly jumped back laughing.
“I thought you needed a little cooling off.” she laughed.
Tom lunged for her with a smile on his face, droplets of water falling from his hair.
“You’ll pay for that!” Tom gave chase, while Molly dashed into the house, screaming and laughing.
She made it as far as the living room before Tom’s long legs caught up with her.
“Got you!”
Tom grabbed her by the waist to pull her towards him, but their feet slipped and they ended up on the couch. Tom on top of her. Their eyes locked for a moment before Tom scrambled to his feet.
“I’ll get you all wet.” he commented nervously. “I should…”
“Right.” Molly nodded, sitting up. “I’ll make some breakfast. Eggs and toast. I don’t know what your mother is planning on for lunch.”
“A light breakfast would be best.” Tom shook out his now soaked t-shirt and Molly caught a glimpse of his abs.
“No problem.” She smiled.
They both headed off in different directions. When it was time to leave for Diana’s house, Molly fidgeted with her casual dress and knee-high boots.
“Do I look okay?” she glanced at Tom in jeans and a sweater. “I’m overdressed. Look at you, casually gorgeous. I’m going to change. I have nothing to wear. Nothing to wear…” Molly’s face broke down.
Tom wrapped his arms around her. “What’s going on, darling?” She buried her head in his sweater. “You didn’t freak out like this when we went to go see Luke.”
“That was business. This is your mother. I don’t do well with families, particularly mothers. What if she hates me?”
He kissed the top of her head. “First off, you look beautiful. Second, if my mum hates anyone between the two of us, it will be me. She is going to love you, darling.”
Molly sniffled and dabbed her eyes with the back of her fingers. “Really?”
“I am 100% certain. Now let’s get on the road.”
Molly smiled and nodded. The fear wasn’t gone, but she felt better knowing Tom would be there with her. That fear came rushing back as they stood on the front step of the house of Diana Hiddleston. Tom reached for Molly first.
“I’ve got you, darling.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek right as the door opened.
“Gross, Tom. And at Mum’s house no less.” Emma gagged.
Tom’s cheeks turned a bright pink. “Emma! I didn’t expect you to be here.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “What a surprise.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “And miss out on Mum meeting the girl you married without telling her, not a chance.” Emma turned to Molly. “Emma.”
“Molly B… Hiddleston.” She smiled and extended her hand. Emma shook it with a firm grip.
“The papers didn’t give a name. She seems nice, Tom. Clearly she doesn’t know the real you.”
Tom continued to blush. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Em. Can we come in or are we eating on the front step?”
Emma held the door open wide and stepped aside. They stepped inside. “Mum’s in the kitchen.”
As if on cue, Diana’s voice rang out. “Is that them, Emma?”
“They just got here!” she yelled before turning back to them. “She’s been cooking all day.”
Molly gulped. Tom squeezed her hand. An older woman with grey white shoulder length hair. She came up to Tom's shoulder, if that.
“You were supposed to tell me when they got here.” she scolded Emma.
“I was on my way to tell you.”
“Go take the food out of the oven.”
“But…” Emma protested.
“Go, child. You’ll have the entire meal to listen to me yell. Right now I need a word with your brother.”
Emma pursed her lips as she walked into the kitchen but made a slashing throat gesture, mouthing the words “you’re so dead” at Tom before disappearing.
Diana wiped her hands on her apron. “Now where is my new daughter-in-law?”
Molly raised her hand. “That would be me. Molly, ma’am.”
Diana held open her arms and wrapped them around Molly tight. She realized where Tom got his hugging skills.
“You are just a doll. Is my son treating you well?”
Molly nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“So polite and much shorter than the last one. Right at eye height for me.”
“Mother…”
Diana waved Tom off. “And please call me Diana or Mum or Mom. I promise I don’t bite.”
Molly giggled. “Yes, ma.. Diana.”
Diana hugged her again before spinning to face her son.
“Tom.” She crossed her arms.
“Mum.” Tom grew very interested in the rug on the floor.
“Do I get a hug?” Diana smiled.
Tom looked up and grinned. “Always.” The two of them hugged tight, Tom bending at the knees to wrap his arms around her. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” Diana pulled back.
Her hand reached out and smacked Tom right upside the head. Tom cowered, covering his head.
“Mum!” he howled.
“You got married and didn’t tell me!”
“I was getting around to it. Luke distracted me!” Tom explained.
Diana smacked his arm. “Do not blame Luke for this, he is a saint! You were keeping this lovely girl away from me.”
Molly beamed as Diana smacked Tom one more time.
“You think I’m lovely?” she asked.
Diana turned to Molly. “Oh dear. You are perfectly charming. Unlike my wretch of a son.” Another smack to the chest.
“Really, Mum? In front of our guest?” Tom flinched.
“Molly is family.” Diana stopped, took a deep breath, and smiled. “Now with that sorted, let’s go eat.” She spun on her heel and headed back to the kitchen.
Tom hooked his arm with Molly’s. “My mother.”
“I like her.”
-
Emma and Diane pumped the two of them for every detail about this abbreviated courtship.
“A chapel in Vegas, Tom? Romantic.” Emma sneered.
“I thought so.” Molly added.
“Thank you, darling.” Tom leaned against her.
“Awww.” Emma commented.
Diana stood to clear the dishes as Emma examined Molly’s ring.
“Let me help you.” Tom rose to help, taking the rest of the dishes. Diana grabbed his arm when they reached the sink.
“I really like her, Thomas. You did well.”
“Thank you. She is something.” Tom smiled.
“Much better than the last girl you brought home.”
Tom frowned. “Mum, I…”
Diana held up her hand. “I know. Don’t mention her. But I will say this. There was something about her that didn’t sit right with me.”
“You never said anything to me.”
Diana smiled softly and cupped Tom’s cheek. “You seemed so in love and happy. And all I have ever wanted for all my kids is to be happy.”
“Oh.”
“But none of that matters. You have Molly now and the two of you have years of happiness ahead.”
Tom glanced over to where Emma and Molly hunched over Emma’s phone. Tom’s heart twinged with guilt.
“Right. Of course.” He smiled.
Molly burst out in laughter.
“What is so funny over there?” Tom called out, heading over to the table.
Emma giggled. “Just some old pictures.”
Tom’s face fell. “No, you didn’t…”
Molly giggled. “You were so skinny and that hair!”
The two girls fell into a fit of giggles as Diane placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder.
“Yes, I like her very much.” she whispered. “Why don’t we pull out the old picture albums?”
Tom groaned.
#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston fanfiction#tom hiddleston fanfic#tom hiddleston x ofc#tom hiddleston imagine#tom hiddleston fluff#tom hiddleston smut#tom hiddleston angst#accidently married
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i just wanna know like the reactions of phil seeing tommy come back and more of his disappearance and how to boys not exactly felt i have that idea but a way they dealt with their sorta grief of tommys disappearance
(The way I have this all written out form last night. It’s rlly sloppy and unedited but here. Take.)
So he walks into the kitchen right. It’s tense and awkward. The maids kinda just drop him off and he sits down in a car at the opposite head of the table a bit away from them. He pulls at the collar of his shirt awkwardly. Phil looks up from his papers, techno had been twirling a knife on the table. He stops it flat. Wilbur was literally just chewing his nails anxiously in waiting.
So how the fuck do they do this? They don’t know. All they know is that Wilbur came home, breathless from running as he barged into the office where Phil and techno were and said with the biggest smile on his flushed cheeks. “He’s home.”
Phil put his pen down. “What?”
Techno is very still.
Wilbur says it again. “He’s home. He - he looks just like you, dad.”
So that’s what they’re going off of? Looks? Seems…uh, sketchy.
Techno makes eye contact with Tommy. His eyebrows furrow.
Phil feels all the air leave his lungs when he looks at the stray across from him. His eyebrows furrow.
Wilbur goes lax. He doesn’t say anything.
Tommy clears his throat. This is so incredibly awkward. He doesn’t know these people and the one person he does know followed him for a few days before he dragged him home.
“Uh….”
Phil moved without recognition of his body. He’s up and out of his chair, floating across the floor like a ghost to Tommy’s side. He kneels, his movements elegant. Tommy looks down at him, bottom lip pulled between his teeth and eyes drawn in worry.
Up close, Tommy looks familiar. Nothing like the stray street rat that he imagined his oldest had brought home.
His skin was fair, as fair as Kristin’s had been, dotted with freckles sprinkled like stars across his cheeks and neck. His hair was golden, much like his own except for the age in his roots. His blue eyes were like repetitive pools, the same eyes he saw in the mirror each morning. And his hands? The ones folded in his lap? They were roughened like Techno’s, and fidgeted like Wilbur’s.
Phil found himself smiling as silent tears streamed down his face. He reached out hesitantly, brushing a thumb under the teens cheek and trying not to get discouraged when he flinched.
“Welcome home, son.”
*Son? * **Son?!**
Tommy reeled back. “W-what?” The word was a whisper in his lips.
Across the table, Wilbur had gotten to his feet. “It’s home, dad, right? It’s him?”
Techno has taken to gripping his knife until his knuckles turned white. He was staring at Tommy as if he’d seen a ghost.
Phil’s hands hovered over Tommys face, cupping his cheeks. He’s still crying, his tears falling to the polished floor. Tommy watches them fall in something like fear.
“Yeah,” Phil murmurs. “It’s him.
The room goes eerily still as the words settled like smoke in the room. Then, the atmosphere shattered like glass when Tommy finally dared to speak again.
“I - what -who are you people?”
The knife Techno was holding clatters to the table top. He pushes back from the table, chair screeching obnoxiously. In three brisk paces, he’s crossed the floor and left the room.
Tommy watches techno leave before his eyes track back to Phil who looks like his entire world has ended. He recoils from the teen in the chair like he’d just touched something unpleasant.
“Theseus?” Tommy blinks when he realizes the word is directed at him.
“W - who?” Tommy feels trapped. Even though the ceiling touches the clouds and the walls expand out for miles, he feels trapped in this foreign place. “Who’s that?”
Phil’s face cracks and breaks more, the tears falling more rapidly. He turns away and straightens in one motion.
Phil doesn’t look up from the floor as he addresses Wilbur who is still standing on the other side of the table.
“William,” his voice opposes his face and sounds as hard as stone. “Who have you brought into the palace?”
It takes a moment too long for Wilbur to stutter out a response. “It - it’s Tommy! What do you mean? It’s Tommy!”
Phil shakes his head, a finger jutting out and pointing between Wilbur and Tommy threateningly. “He didn’t react to that name! He doesn’t know who we are! You’ve brought a stranger into our home!”
“But look at him, Dad! He looks - he looks just like you! It has to be him. It *has* to be -“
“You said that the last time. And the time before that -“
“But this time you agreed with me! You called him son because he’s your son!”
Silence settles over the scene at that comment. Tommy feels incredibly awkward, stick between two stones with no room with wiggle free. His blue eyes flicker between the two men anxiously.
Phil drops his head, takes a deep breath.
Across the way, Wilburs chest is heaving, his face red as blood rushes to the surface. He licks his chapped lips and continues talking.
“So what if he doesn’t remember us? It was years ago. He was taken as a baby. And, uh, if it’s any consultation…he doesn’t seem to remember anything.”
Phil looks stricken at that. He glanced away from Wilbur and over to Tommy, his eyes taking everything in, as if his skin and his hair held the secrets to his past. He turns back to Wilbur.
“…nothing?”
“Nothing.”
#the stolen prince au#bellfort answers abt aus#bellfort answers#gummy and bellfort#tommyinnit#wilbur soot#sbi#sleepy bois inc#techno#mcyt#sleepyblr#philza
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A just because little fic for my dear friend @enchantedink-ag, hoping you have a wonderful weekend!
Ao3: Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3
“I don’t give a fuck whoever you are, where is my wife?” His growl growing louder, laced with venom, causing the twin demons to shiver. Inuyasha tightened his grip on Tetsusaiga, golden eyes darting back and forth between the two, readying himself for whatever they had planned next. Sniffing, he could smell the faint jasmine on their silk clothing. Kagome.
The female demon on the left, whose long blue hair glistened in the moonlight, smirked at him, her silver eyes giving him the creeps. “My my, someone’s a little angry. Who knew the half-demon had a little wife? Did you know that’s who she was, Kimoto?”
“I didn’t Kirigaya, but it seems the woman has a protector.” The green haired demon’s matching grey eyes filled with laughter, turning to her. “It seems he has come to rescue her.” Inuyasha’s jaw clenched as he searched for some way to defeat them, unsure of their abilities. His anger coursed through him, boiling his blood beneath. His thoughts returned to Kagome. What would she do? Find out what they want with me.
It was as if she was standing right beside him.
“What do you want with her?” He seethed, his knuckles white and shoulders tense as he waited. He needed to find her and not kill them on the spot.
“As if it matters to you, we need her spiritual powers to bring back our sibling, on the night of the full moon.” Kimoto explained, with the wave of his hand, before turning glistening eyes his way. “Though I don’t why we bother telling you. She’ll be long dead by the time you find her.” Kimoto’s fangs appeared as his smile widened, a laugh coming from his chest when Inuyasha growled louder this time.
All common sense seem to just fall away as Inuyasha raised his fang above his head, calling on the adamant barrage when a loud, painful sound pierced the air. Folding his ears back, he managed to side step just in time to see Kirigaya swipe her claws, aiming for his face. Closing his eyes quickly, he shielded his head with his robe wrapped arm.
When the excruciating sound stopped, Inuyasha opened his eyes to see the pair gone. Shit.
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Kagome knew this wasn’t a good position to be in. The twin demons had caught her off guard and came from behind, striking the back of her head when she was picking herbs in the forest. She remembered a painful signing in her ears and then pain as blackness followed shortly. Turning her throbbing head as much as possible, she saw the rope that bound her arms behind her tied in an intricate knot around a wooden pole. Sighing to herself, she knew her best chance was to wait it out and for Inuyasha to arrive. If he can find me.
Frowning, she peered into the dim light room, her only source a small candle that hung on the wall behind her. The small room was painfully empty, her mind attempting to come up with an escape plan, but becoming unsuccessful. Glancing down at her dirtied hakama, she noticed a bit of blood splattered. Oh great. Inuyasha is going to have a field day with that. Faint footsteps could be heard coming from the door across the room, Kagome’s gut tightened as two matching demons strolled in, smirks on their smug faces.
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Inuyasha sniffed, searched, studied, even crawled in the dirt to catch the faint scent of his wife. He couldn’t help but be frustrated, because this was getting him no where. The two demons didn’t have a scent, which in his right mind, would’ve struck him as odd, but he was so focused on locating the calming jasmine, he didn’t care. A soft jingling could be heard approaching and he knew it was Miroku arriving by his aura. Inuyasha raised his gaze just as Miroku jogged over the crest of the hill, panting as he stopped in front of still kneeling half-demon.
“Inuyasha, what happened to Lady Kagome?! Are you okay?” He managed to get out between breaths.
“Twin demons kidnapped her, but I can’t locate her scent. It’s faint and these arrogant assholes don’t have one.” His growl growing louder as he finished his explanation. He didn’t have time to waste, Kagome could be seriously injured. Kagome. His heart ached at the thought her bleeding, crying out for him.
“No scent? How odd….” Miroku mused as Inuyasha focused his attention back to the air. After a few quiet moments, Miroku continued. “What do these demons look like?”
“One had blue hair, the other green, matching grey eyes. Pale skin, gave me the fucking creeps. No scent from what I can remember. Spoke something about reviving their dead sibling.” He sniffed at the dirt, his claws digging in the hard ground when he couldn’t come up with a direction.
“Nothing is coming to mind. Anything else?” Miroku’s fingers stroked his chin in deep thought.
“There was this painful ringing in my ears, then they disappeared.”
“Ringing? Like a bell or a gong?”
Nodding, Inuyasha looked towards the setting sun, he needed to hurry and fast. The full moon was tomorrow night and not knowing which direction to head was making his head swarm with anger and anxiety.
“Inuyasha,” Miroku’s quiet voice came from behind him, “If these twin demons are who I think they are, you might be in for a rough battle….” Golden eyes snapped his way, filled with something Miroku had seen many times in the years he had known his friend. Fear.
“Tell me everything you know. Let’s find out form Sango and Kaede too. We don’t have much time. I’m leaving tonight.”
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“You are even prettier in the moonlight.” Kimoto purred as he held Kagome’s chin between his slender, pale fingers. “Sister, it’s a shame she won’t be alive to meet our big brother. He would love her as a companion.” Kirigaya’s gaze only stared at them for a short second before returning to the scrolls she had in front of her.
When they returned to the small room, the lit the remaining candles, bringing a soft glow upon the room. They had uncovered a small window, where the moon shown upon her features, giving her a little hope. Inuyasha had to have known by now she was in trouble. Damn, why hadn’t she grabbed her bow and arrows….
Kagome watched as the female studied the scroll, ignoring her brother, who reminded her of Jakotsu, a dead member from the Band of Seven. His figure as a bit on the lean side, but he wore masculine clothing. His voice, mimicking Jakotsu’s tone at times and his head, though a different color, was almost a replica of the dead mercenary. The female however, was the one who radiated energy from her aura, clearly the leader at the moment. Her stance, legs apart, back straight like a soldier only enhanced her perfectly fit clothing. It wasn’t until she was studying that what Kimoto said registered. Won’t be alive?! No way would she be a sacrifice!
“Wait a minute!” She cried, catching both of their attentions, “I will not be some sacrifice. You are going to be sorry once Inuyasha finds us!” Anger and tears began to fill her vision, as the blurry female figure stepped towards her.
“Priestess, we met your little half-demon protector.” Her smile grew broader, little fangs poking out beneath her top lip. Kagome struggled against the ropes, bringing more pain to her already aching body. Grimacing at the tight pull, she did her best imitation of an inu growl, hoping Inuyasha was alright. How dare they hurt him?!
“What did you do to him?” She seethed. Her teeth grounding against one another, the faint taste of blood on her tongue.
“My my, someone’s angry.” Kimoto laughed, clapping his hands together, as Kirigaya grabbed a fistful of dark hair and tugged Kagome’s face forward.
“Your precious husband,” she spat, “will never find you and after we are done with you, there won’t even be a body recognizable to him. Now shut up and sit there like a good little girl.” Releasing her hair, Kagome could feel streaks of tears falling down her cheeks, wetting her red hakama as the two demons grabbed their papers. Snuffing out all but one light once more, the last thing she saw was soft moonlight as she closed her eyes to sob.
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“Sango, your sure this should work against that screeching?” Inuyasha paced as he asked the others a million questions. Everyone could tell this wasn’t like him. Inuyasha is more of a fight now, talk later kind of guy, if he’s this worked up over and taking his time to figure out information about these two demons, this is a serious situation. Kaede mused to herself, grounding some healing herbs for him to take. She wasn’t sure of Kagome’s condition but he could use all the help he could get. She listened to Sango gently explain everything to Inuyasha once more, as Miroku sat beside his demon slayer wife, writing out a few scrolls. Kagome could use them easily, her apprentice having grown much stronger in the months since her return.
“Inuyasha, take this with ye. It will help with most ailments, since we do not know Kagome’s condition.” The older woman gathered a small pouch and handed him the small plum bag, carefully setting it in his palms. Seeing him nod a silent thanks, she smiled softly for him. He had come along way as well.
“Bozou, whatcha got for me. Kagome don’t have her weapons, so these had better work.” Inuyasha settled the pouch in his robe, before turning towards his best friend.
“These should work, especially with her spiritual power. These two demons, Kimoto and Kirigaya were once part of a trio before their older brother was killed during your father’s reign by non other than Ryūkotsusei and his hoard of dragons. They were powerful in their own right, controlling the air around them. It is most likely why you couldn’t pick up their scent or much of Lady Kagome’s, because they can control the air around them. In turn hiding away anything. Finding them will not be easy. But if what you was true, I think I know where they will be. This ritual, is supposed to be fatal.”
Silence filled the small hut, the crackling of the fire the only sounds as Inuyasha tried to calm his breathing. He had to find her and soon. He hadn’t told her yet, her scent has changed. She doesn’t know she carrying our child yet.”
“Miroku, tell him about the ringing sound.” Sango whispered, her hand gripping tightly on Inuyasha’s arm.
‘Ah yes, excuse they can control air and such, the youngest, Kirigaya has developed the ability to send this painful sound, wrapping the noise around your head. Controlling how loud and painful the sound can be. Much like Kagura could with the wind itself. The plugs Sango gave you earlier should help with the intensity of the screeching as you call it, especially with your sensitive ears.”
“Is that it? Anything else I should know about these demons?” Inuyasha’s shrugging Sango’s touch off, before grabbing a small stack of sutras from him and reaching for Kagome’s weapons.
“There is one more thing, my friend. Their brother, Koyanagi, the one they are planning to bring back from the dead, is said to be very powerful. Much more than Kagura ever was in controlling the wind. Be wary. Though, if my suspicions are correct, even killing one of the three will weaken them greatly. Do you remember the Panther King?” Seeing him nod quickly, Miroku continued. “It will be much like that, with the sacrificial part, but this ritual is needing some serious spiritual power to bring someone back from the dead. A full moon, a special scroll, and the blood of a pure powerful priestess are the key ingredients, take away one of those things and they won’t be able to finish it. But Inuyasha, if completed, or done wrong, it could kill Kagome instantly.”
“I won’t let that happen. Now, where the hell do I go?” He ground out as a wave of nausea came over him.
Author’s note: Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you would like to be tagged when part two and three comes out! A special surprise for part 3 will be featured along as well. Have a great Thursday guys!💕
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Text
Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.
Wordcount: 2.7k
Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm
Masterlist here
AO3 Link here
Atsumu didn’t get his name on the National team roster, let alone the Olympic team because of his genius setting skills (unlike dear Tobio-kun), but because of the stubbornness and determination that he has in spades and figures he might as well deploy these same qualities to win this particular match. Osamu is of zero help here, muttering insults under his breath but fortunately, he has an unwitting accomplice in Shino, who happily babbles about how ‘mama is going to bring her to the park on Sunday’ .
So armed with onigiris pilfered from Osamu and a box of mochi from her favourite dessert shop, he goes a-hunting for his wife and child at the park on Sunday afternoon and finds them lying on a picnic mat in an open field framed with trees.
‘Oto-san! ’ Shino squeals and dashes into his arms. He lifts her up, spinning her in the air, pressing kisses to her chubby cheeks.
‘What are you doing here, Atsumu?’ she demands as she sits up. ‘How did you even know we’d be here?’
He winks and gives her his most dashing smile. It doesn’t seem to work though - the frown on her face deepens, but he tries not to let her look of distrust slice through the smile on his face.
‘A little princess gave me a hint that her mama still has a habit of going to the park to watch the birds and clouds in the sky. Right, Shino?’
Shino cheers and waves her arms in reply.
‘Good girl!’ he laughs encouragingly.
She folds her arms and is about to retort when Shino demands that ‘Oto-san and Oka-san’ try to catch her - and takes off, barefoot on the grass. Atsumu catches her easily with one hand - because of course he does, a three year old is hardly a match against a national athlete, even with an injury, but Shino pouts when she sees the cross look on her mother’s face, and she has to hastily rearrange her expression into something more acceptable to her daughter.
He counts it as a point won when they share the onigiris and mochi in silence and watch their little girl chase butterflies in the grass.
‘What on earth are you doing here?!’ she says, feeling as if she’s woken up from a bad dream to find it actually is her reality.
Atsumu stands in the foyer of her office building, in the middle of a conversation with Yuna-san, the resident office gossip, who shoots daggers at her when he bounds over to greet her with a peck on her cheek.
‘I thought I’d surprise my dear wife with lunch,’ he drawls, with an emphasis on the word ‘wife’, passing her a bento box that smells amazing and makes her mouth water despite herself.
‘What are you playing at?!’ she hisses while pretending to tuck his hair behind his ear.
‘Nothing!’ he answers her, a too-innocent look on his face. ‘And you’re welcome. Enjoy your lunch, sweetheart!’
He counts another point won when she’s left gaping at him incredulously as he prances off.
He pats himself on the back for the stroke of genius that prompted him to pass Shino the three tickets to the Osaka Aquarium. Before she could utter even a word, Shino shrieked in excitement at the thought of being able to see her favourite penguins again, so with gritted teeth, she agreed to bring Shino to meet him at the aquarium on a Saturday afternoon.
‘Did you know seahorses mate for life?’ he remarks to her as Shino gathers with the other children in front to watch the penguins being fed.
‘And male seahorses are the responsible ones who bear their young - what’s your point anyway?’ she responds, contempt dripping from her voice. ‘Anyway, never mind that -’ she continues, brushing him off. ‘Have you signed the divorce papers?’
‘I forgot,’ he tells her lamely.
‘See that you remember to pass it to me next time’, she says, walking ahead to scoop Shino up in her arms.
Point lost. Time to recalibrate.
‘Atsumu! What the hell am I supposed to do with FIFTY rolls of toilet paper?’ she shrieks over the phone.
‘I may have bought a little too much…but there was a great discount!’ he responds sheepishly.
He’d overheard a conversation between her and Osamu yesterday that she needed to make a grocery run but hadn’t had the time to do so in between endless meetings with her boss. He concedes he may have gone a little...overboard.
‘And how many cans of milk powder did you buy?!’ he continues to hear her scrabble through the cardboard crate outside her home. ‘Atsumu!’
‘Gotta go, bye darlin’ - talk to you soon!’, he says, hastily ending the call as she screeches at him.
Shit. Another point lost.
He brings out the big guns by buying season passes to the museum of natural history, gambling that a blatant appeal to nostalgia might win him some points. But he knows she recognises his gambit when she corners him while Shino is playing with toy fossils in the sandbox.
‘Atsumu. When are you going to sign the divorce papers?’ she demands, her grip tight on his elbow.
Defend. Counterattack.
‘I’ll sign them after my collarbone heals and my arm is out of the sling, alright? I can’t even hold anything in my right hand, let alone sign anything now’, he says with a false smile.
Hold your opponent off until they start to tire.
‘Fine’, she mutters, shooting him a hard stare. ‘Make sure you do. I’ll be waiting once that sling comes off’.
Fuck. He’s backed himself into a corner. This might be a harder match than he imagined.
He offers to look after Shino on a Friday evening when she mentions to Osamu her boss organised a client dinner that she can’t miss. She’d nodded reluctantly after a moment’s hesitation, and they agreed that he’d drop the little girl off at home around ten p.m.
He fumbles with the keys pilfered from Osamu, pizza box balancing precariously on top of Shino’s pram and after an undignified struggle, manages to squeeze in through the doorway, finding the apartment completely still. With his one good arm, he lifts Shino from the pram, careful not to disturb her slumber and treads softly to her bedroom, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead as he tucks her in.
As he returns back to the entryway to fold the pram away, a glint of gold catches his eye, and he forgets to breathe when he realises what it is – the wedding ring he'd deliberately left behind, an act calculated to inflict maximum pain. Wow, he really wishes he could go back in time and punch that stupid prick of his past self - he thinks, holding the ring up to the light, failing to spot any flecks of dust or dullness to the sheen of the ring. She's kept it meticulously clean, sitting in the exact same spot he left it, the sole artefact of their marriage that's been preserved against the passage of time.
After all, he notices that she’s wiped the place clean of him, that much is obvious when he turns to survey the home he left almost a year ago. There are signs of Shino in the toys scattered all over the worn carpet in the living room, colourful scribbles on the walls that probably makes her fret, and there are little touches that remind him of her - the chipped teacup she insists on using, the set of handmade knives displayed in the kitchen that was always intended by her family as a threat.
But there are no traces of him - no stray pieces of clothes or volleyballs that he always forgets to put away (that she’d always get on his case for), no picture frames of them, not even the ones from their wedding day that he’d loved because he thought she looked like a snow maiden from a fairytale in her white kimono.
He’d promised her father that day he’d always take care of her. He wonders when he’d forgotten that.
‘Tsumu?’ he hears her murmur, and he jumps a little in shock because he hadn’t noticed her curled up on the couch. ‘Have you come home?’
Yes – he aches to answer, but does not.
(Because he knows he chose to turn his back on this little apartment, filled to the brim with happy, golden memories. It’s his fault he can’t call this place home, not anymore.)
‘I brought pizza in case you’re hungry’, he does say loudly – carefully keeping his distance as she sits up and shakes the sleep from her eyes.
‘Oh. It’s you’, she says, and he can hear cold steel return to her voice. ‘Why are you still here?’
‘I brought pizza to share. It’s Friday night, remember?’ he answers, plastering a grin on to his face, gesturing at the pizza box on the kitchen table. ‘I even got pepperoni, your favourite’.
‘You can’t keep playing this game, Atsumu’, she says, walking over to the switches to flick on the lights. It brings her into clearer focus, allowing him to notice the pink scars stretched across the back of her hand and the front of her knees - were they always there before?
His eyes sweep over her form - and oh - his heartbeat thunders, roaring in his chest because she’s wrapped herself in his old jacket - the same one he’d stolen from Osamu and threw over her trembling shoulders that fateful night when he stole a kiss from her for the first time.
‘I miss you’. He blurts out, startling himself. ‘I want us to be a family again’.
‘I don’t’, she answers so forcefully it makes him take a step back. ‘I want a divorce, Atsumu’.
‘But why?’ he persists, ignoring the spike of panic coursing through his blood. ‘If you give me a chance, we could try to start over again.’
‘How many chances do you think you deserve, because you’ve already left me twice, damn you!’ she shouts, pulling the jacket tighter around herself, as if to keep herself from unravelling apart. ‘The first time you left me when I was pregnant with our child was enough of a blow – but the second time I fell to pieces and if it weren’t for Shino and ‘Samu, I would’ve never been able to weld myself back together again. And now after all this time, you want me to take you back?’
‘It’s only been a few months’, he pleads, hating how stupid his excuses sound, even in his head. ‘I should've managed it better, I should’ve talked things out with you instead of just leaving, and if I could rewind time and change what I did, I would, but I can’t, and I regretted it so goddamn much when I got to Milan. I’m back now, I’m begging you - please give me another chance.’
‘Why would you even think you deserve another chance’, she laughs, the sound fraying at its seams, sending shivers down his spine. ‘You’ve spent our entire marriage putting your dreams first, Shino a distant second, and me - your fucking wife - dead last. This past year has taught me that I don’t need you, ‘Tsumu, I don’t need your lying, cheating ass in my life when I can manage perfectly fine by myself’.
‘I didn’t cheat on ya’, he defends himself heatedly, but she levels him a hard glare that makes his gaze slide to the ground. ‘I mean - I thought about it, but I couldn’t go through with it’, he admits, guilt flooding his belly.
‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’ she says dryly, rolling her eyes.
‘Yes - no - I don’t know.’, he answers. ‘Look doll - I know I’ve been an asshole, I know I’ve hurt ya badly, but I know you still love me - you know your face gives ya away when you lie’, he adds, when she opens her mouth to contradict him, and she closes it in defeat. ‘Otherwise you won't be wearing my jacket when you sleep, neither would you keep my ring clean. And if ya love me, don’t ya think you should give me another chance?’
Her face twists in anguish, and there’s a rush of shame in his chest that he tells himself to ignore, reaching forward instead to cup her cold face with his hands. She winces at first, almost as if his touch is scalding, white hot with heat, but soon surrenders when she realises his grip on her is unwavering, lifting her gaze to meet his.
‘You can’t do this to me, ‘Tsumu’, she says, her voice brittle, echoing with an aching sadness that tears a hole into his already gaping heart. 'You can’t leave as and when you feel like it and return when it suits you – that’s not how marriage or fatherhood works. And it’s not fair for you to try to guilt me into taking you back. Why should I give you another chance only to end up being hurt again? I'm only human, and there’s only so much my heart can take'.
It’s only then that it hits him that while she may have transformed herself in his absence into a woman of iron and steel, her heart is still made of glass, and a single careless touch might shatter her into fragments across the floor. And he knows he shouldn’t strike her any further with his words, but he’s a selfish fool of a man - always has been, always will be - so he pretends he does not see her pain (looks deliberately away from the fissures in her heart that might cause her to fall apart) and continues to press hard.
‘Please - just trust me enough not to hurt ya, I just need one more chance. Tell me ya still love me - even now.’
‘I do, oh gods, I do, ‘Tsumu- ’ she gasps, almost as if she’s drowning in a whirlpool of his selfishness, her breath tipping over into a broken sob - ‘I love you, but our marriage is over - it was over the minute you put yourself before Shino and I, and left us behind to fend for ourselves.’
He shakes his head, desperately flailing against the death knell in her words - because it can’t be over, he refuses to accept it’s over, what does she mean it’s over - but he stills when she chokes back her tears to smile, lifting her hand to meet his.
‘I’ve already paid you with my heart, ‘Tsumu - don’t you think I deserve to be free?’
Her words swirl in his mind as he makes his way back to Osamu’s flat.
‘Things didn’t go so well, I take it?’ Osamu asks as he lurches through the door with overcast eyes.
He inhales slowly through his nose. ‘Nope’, he admits, exhaling in defeat. ‘She isn’t prepared to take me back.’
Osamu pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and waves him to take a seat, sliding a plate of reheated curry rice under his nose when he does. ‘Eat up’, he says, not unkindly, and Atsumu does, even though the smell makes his head spin and every swallow of food lodges itself painfully in his stomach.
‘Go on, say what’s on yer mind’, Atsumu says, knowing his brother too well to see through his posture of nonchalance. ‘I know you’re gonna tell me ‘ I told you so ’ and mock me with some insult intended to make me feel worse than I already am’.
‘I’m not going to gloat, if that’s what you mean’, Osamu says mildly. ‘All I can say is that the heart is a funny, fickle thing, and sometimes it hungers for things it knows will only bring pain. But I think ya know you’ve reached a point where you need to consider whether you can live with yourself for constantly causing her pain.’
Atsumu stays silent, fingers tracing absently over the outline of the wedding ring in his pocket. He wonders if he’s imagining the coolness from the metal seeping into his skin.
#hq#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#hq writing#haikyuu writing#haikyuucreations#hq imagines#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu angst#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu x y/n#miya atsumu#atsumu x reader#atsumu scenarios#miya osamu#inarizaki#haikyuu fluff
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