#um this was supposed to be a drabble and it's 3k words

[mocalmangeal]

field trips through the years with the mellark children because @rosegardeninwinter put me into a mood and this ended up much longer than intended oops

Willow Mellark is four the first time her preschool class is led outside of their colorful brick building and told to prepare for an adventure.

She squints her eyes against the bright morning sun, surveying her surroundings carefully. Mama tells her it’s important to always be aware of what’s around you. Her eyes land on the faded mural flanking the sides of the school’s entrance; a dandelion field, with children of all ages zooming through the yellow blooms. Papa painted this, she remembers. A long time ago. Before mama even had any babies.

A hand curling around her back shakes her from her thoughts and she snaps her head up. “Mama!”

“Are you excited for your field trip, love?”

She crinkles her nose. “I don’t want to go to a field. Can we go back inside and read a story?”

Katniss merely laughs, grabbing her daughter’s hand to follow the rest of the group.

After a few minutes of walking, a familiar storefront comes into view with its dark green facade and large picture windows showcasing various cakes. Willow points her fingers and shrieks excitedly. “It’s Papa’s store! Mama, can we go say hi?”

Her mother smiles down at her. “Of course we can.”

Willow runs hurriedly through the door, not noticing the other kids following along. She sticks her tongue out as Papa kisses Mama, his hands resting on her watermelon-round belly. Yuck.

“I’m glad everybody could make it. Today, boys and girls, we’re going to learn all about the kitchen,” Papa’s soft voice calls from the front of the room. “If you follow me, I’ve got your uniforms all laid out.”

Ten tiny aprons lay folded over the back of chairs. Willow ties hers on (with Mama’s help) and sits up straight, hands folded on the table and watches mesmerized as Papa throws ingredients together into a large glass bowl.

“These are called shortbread cookies. First, we have to mix the butter with the sugar. Let’s pass the bowl around and take turns. Don’t be afraid to get in there with your hands; baking is a messy job after all.”

When the bowl has made its way around the table, much to the delight of the children, Peeta adds the vanilla and flour and sets out rolling the dough across the table’s surface. “Now, each of you gets to choose what shape you want your cookie to be.” A pile of cookie cutters lands on the table with a clank.

Tiny hands reach out excitedly, grasping for stars and birds and flowers. Willow picks a simple circle. When Papa makes his way over her to her, he nods and cuts her cookie out. “Why just a plain circle, Catkin?”

She grins. “Because it’s shaped like Mama’s baby.”

-

The ten minutes it takes the cookies to bake are the longest of Willow’s life. She huffs, kicks her feet against the counter, scowls at the clock (despite not being able to read the time), crosses her arms.

Finally, at once, the timer is done, and she pumps her arms in the air excitedly. Mama helps set each cookie down in front of its rightful owner, while Papa sets out a rainbow of colorful tubes and jars of shining sugar sprinkles. She peruses them carefully, squinting at her selections. No, not that one.

Finally, she settles on the purple. By the time she’s done, her fingers and face are a mess of violet frosting and Mama has to take her to wash up.

“It’s almost time to head back, love. Why don’t you go say bye to your dad?”

She skips over to Peeta, who’s at war with a red splotch of frosting on one of the chairs. “Papa?” She tugs the bottom of his apron, pulling him to her level.

“Yes, dear?”

“I think you should give me an extra cookie.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “I’ll give it to Mama. For the baby.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Eight year old Ash stomps impatiently at the grassy edge of the schoolyard. They should’ve left for their field trip exactly four minutes ago. That’s four less minutes that he gets to spend in the woods, all thanks to--

“Hey, isn’t that Mr. and Mrs. Mellark?”

He swivels in place, balking at the site of his parents running to his class group. No, why are they here? He groans out loud.

“Sorry, I thought I forgot to turn the oven off when we left so we went all the way back and turns out it was off the entire time but then I saw that I had put on my old boots with the holes in them and had to go and find--”

Mama gasps in a deep breath, not even finishing her sentence. “Sorry, we’re here now. Let’s get going.”

They’re split into two different groups. Ash ends up in Papa’s group, shying away when Papa tries to ruffle the top of his head. He turns on his heels, pretending to not notice the hurt expression on his face. It’s a fifteen minute hike to the stream they’re studying today and he just wants to get a move on.

By the time they reach it, he’s giddy with excitement. First assignment of the day: make rubbings of bark and leaves. He’s first in line to snatch up the paper and charcoal being distributed, taking off blindly towards a fallen log. He’s deep in thought, deciding which leaf would turn out the best, when he sees another boy coming in the same direction. A scowl twists Ash’s face.

Fine, take my spot. My leaf is still cooler than yours.

He scratches the image of the oak leaf into his paper with great precision, producing a perfect carbon copy. At last minute, he decides to add another, smaller leaf next to it and sets off in search of another perfect specimen.

He stops when he hears voices, peaking around a thick pine to investigate.

“Just press down on the paper a little harder. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt it. There. See, you did it!”

Papa stands next to Blair Ingham, guiding his hand over the rough bark of a maple tree. Ash scowls. That’s my Papa. He folds up his completed rubbing, shoving it into his back pocket and saunters over to his dad.

He tugs on Peeta’s sleeve. “Papa, I need help too.”

“Well now, there’s enough to go around for everyone.”

-

On the trip back to school, Ash sits perched on Papa’s shoulders, tasked with the job of swatting branches out of the way.

“You know, it’s funny. After I showed you how to make the leaf rubbings, I found a paper laying on the ground. Looked like someone was trying to throw it out. And you know we don’t litter in the forest.”

“Oh?” Ash looks down at the top of his father’s head.

“So I took a peak at whose it might be so I could have a talk with the culprit, and wouldn’t you know, it was a perfect leaf rubbing. Now, tell me why somebody would want to get rid of their school assignment?”

Ash feels like cheeks burn. “No clue.”

“Really? Because, if my memory serves me right, I believe I saw the name Ash Mellark on the bottom corner.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a trip that Willow has been dreading for the last two weeks.

Not to say that she doesn’t want to visit the Justice Hall, it’s just that, well.. when your parents are who they are, it just doesn’t sit right.

They started learning about the Games in school this year. She’d be of reaping age as of last month if they still existed. A shudder runs through her. Then, a sudden wave of sadness. She’s surprised her mother and father agreed to chaperone this trip, but if they have any qualms about doing so they hide it well.

Papa meets her out front of the school, hands dug deep into his pockets. “Your mother isn’t feeling well today. Ah, River Cardwell’s mom stepped up as an emergency volunteer.”

She takes a minute to study her father.

His eyes are ringed red, his cheeks splotchy. His hair is rather unruly this morning as well and a quick peak shows her he’s even forgone one shoe, the shiny metal of his artificial leg catching the afternoon light.

“Papa, are you sure you want to go on this trip?”

“I’m fine, Catkin. This place isn’t what it used to be. The last few times I was here were rather happy occasions, actually. It’s just.. hard to shake old memories sometimes.”

She curls her arm around Peeta’s waist, pressing into his side. “Will you and Mama ever tell us about...” she trails off, unable to say the words. She’s caught glimpses of their past, enough to get a general idea--it’s hard not to when your parents’ photos are printed in the margins of your textbooks--but they don’t talk about any of it, save for brief asides every now and then.

“One day.”

They walk silently wish the rest of her class towards the gray stone building in the center of town.

She’d once heard her mother call it a place of sadness, but today it is a rather ordinary looking front. Gray steps lead up to a glass door, pristine white tile shining from the inside. She pushes the door open.

A gust of frigid air sweeps out with a soft sigh and Willow shivers.

Mrs. Dalley passes out folders and pencils and clears her throat. “This Justice Hall was constructed the year after The Second Rebellion ended. In the pre-war days, it was where children said goodbye to their families after being Reaped.”

Willow turns to Papa. “Were you scared?”

He looks down, nodding. “I was. But not for the reasons you’d think.”

She peers up at him through long, dark lashes. “Was it because of Mama?”

“You’re a smart girl.” He chuckles. “By the time Effie called my name, nothing mattered anymore. Katniss was already standing up on that stage. I knew that I had to die, because if I lived it meant she wouldn’t. In a matter of seconds I’d already accepted my death.”

She feels tears pricking the corners of her eyes at his words. “But they let both of you live.”

“Well, yes, but no.”

Before she can ask another question, she’s being ushered down one of the long corridors.

“This is the Hall of Records. Here is where we keep..”

-

She’s completely exhausted by the time the day is over and ready to flop into bed, but before she can make a beeline to her bedroom, she’s startled by Mama pulling open the front door.

“Willow.”

If Papa looked worse for wear this morning, then she’s... well, a disaster.

“Come inside.”

Nervous, she steps through the threshold, noting the strange quietness of the home. Usually, Ash is antagonizing one of the cats by now, or Papa is clanking around in the kitchen.

“Where’s everyone else at?”

Mama doesn’t answer, instead reaching up on top of the creaky old bookshelf in the corner, feeling around a minute for something. Finally, she pulls down a large, dusty rectangle, blowing it off. She sets it down on the kitchen table and turns to her daughter.

“I haven’t written in here in a very long time.” Mama pulls the scarf she wears tighter around her neck. “I think it’s time for you to read it.”

Willow steps closer, peeking down at the worn leather cover.

“Memory Book”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Ash cranes his neck, searching for his mother through the crowd in front of the factory.

When he spots her, he pushes his way through the snickering kids, coughing “Mama’s boy” his way. He blushes, staring at the ground the entire time.

“Your Aunt Prim would’ve loved to have seen it,” she remarks, peering up at the four story monstrosity. Despite being constructed well over twenty years ago, she’s never actually visited the place. Until now.

“Willow talks about her sometimes,” Ash says, drawing a line in the dirt with his foot. “Almost like she knows her.”

“Prim would’ve loved you both. Spoiled you, even.” Mama treks inside, following the other groups of kids. She stops short, darting her eyes in every direction. “Wow. District of healing, alright.”

Ash follows her gaze. Tall machines whir and buzz, moving at a rapid rate. They dispense colorful pills and liquids faster than he can keep up with. A conveyor belt moves bottles from one end of the factory to another, quick hands slapping labels on and pushing them into boxes for shipment.

“It’s definitely a sight to see.”

Mama nods in agreement. They walk together, gasping and oohing as new sights emerge.

“Will you tell me about her?” Ash glances at his mother.

“She was smart,” she starts, running her finger along the glass partition between them and the great big machines running the factory. “Smarter than me, anyways. She was going to be a doctor. She was a great healer. I could never stand the sight of our mama’s patients on the table. But Prim? She could stitch any wound there was and not bat an eye.”

They stop suddenly, staring into some kind of testing room. People in strange rubber suits mill about on the other side of the glass, and Ash thinks they look a bit crazy with those fishbowls on their heads.

He spies a man in a white coat behind them through their reflection in the window. “We’ve been testing a new antidote for tracker jacker venom. I think this might be our big break.”

Mama shudders, turning away from the man.

They resume walking. Ash watches with fascination as a large roll of white bandaging is stretched and cut in one smooth movement.

“Prim always wore a ribbon in her hair. She tried to get me to wear one too, once, but I told her it was impractical. Can’t have it coming loose and stuck on the fence or a branch. I wish I would’ve just let her do it. Ash?”

He turns to Katniss. He no longer has to look up at her; he’s quickly surpassing her in height thanks to inheriting his father’s build. “Yes?”

“You and your sister be good to each other.”

-

They break for lunch around noon, propped up against the shady wayward side of the factory. Mama pulls out two sandwiches, turkey on rye, and passes one to Ash.

They eat in silence, listening to the zooming of hovercrafts here to transport the most critical medications and supplies to the big hospitals in other districts. Like the one that Grandma Everdeen works in.

“I think I might like to be a healer. Like Prim, and grandma.”

“You’re so much like her,” Katniss sighs. “C’mere.”

Before he can protest, she’s pulling him towards her, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head atop his. She leans in, whispering in his ear. “Now you know I don’t condone violence, but if those boys are still giving you trouble, stick rats in their lockers. That’ll have ‘em pissing themselves.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a two day train ride to the memorial site.

Every graduating class for the past ten years has been required to visit one, and even though she’s known it was coming for a while, Willow still shakes the entire way.

Mama isn’t faring any better. She carries a length of rope with her, knotting and twisting until her palms bloom pink. She doesn’t sleep, instead sitting frozen, staring out the window for hours. Papa doesn’t even leave his compartment.

There’s a lump in Willow’s throat because this isn’t just any random dismantled arena-turned-tourist attraction-turned memorial; it’s the one from the 75th Games.

When she’d told her parents which arena had been selected for this year’s trip, Mama had simply nodded, got up, and walked into the woods. She didn’t come back for three days.

Papa gripped the back of a kitchen chair, shaking. When Willow tried to comfort him, he spat, holding his hand out to stop her, telling her to take her brother and stay with Uncle Haymitch for a few days. They ended up having to stay for a week.

She still doesn’t know the full story, really. She knows more than she did all those years ago, but refuses to watch any tapes from the Games, and still gets sick trying to read more than a few sparse details. She knows her parents pretended to be in love to appease the Capitol clowns that held the guns to their heads. She knows they eventually grew to love each other for real.

She knows nearly everyone they loved is dead.

She doesn’t think she wants to know every detail after all.

-

When the train pulls into the station, Willow gets up on unsteady legs.

Papa leaves his compartment for the first time with a distant look in his eyes. He shambles straight to Mama, whispering something in her ear, pulling her to her feet. Their hands are grasped so tightly in one another’s that Willow can see the fingernail indents from here.

From a distance, it looks like it could be any other nature park. There’s a fountain in the middle, a winding, paved trail, a crumpled piece of metal that could be easily mistaken for contemporary art.

A short, stout woman meets the group at the opening gates.

“Welcome, welcome! I’ll be your guide today.”

She’s far too cheery for the occasion, and Willow supposes she’s a bit like Effie Trinket in that regard (at least, from what she can piece together from her parents’ memory of her).

They’re lead first to a low stone wall, and WIllow’s eyes fall across the names. Her mouth goes dry as she finds some she recognizes. Finnick Odair. Johanna Mason.

Katniss Everdeen.

Peeta Mellark.

“These are the names of every tribute who went into this arena. Every person who was forced to fight in the last Hunger Games our nation ever had to witness. Oh, heavens, I was still in diapers at the time.” Their guide dabs at her eyes.

Willow dares sneak a glance at Mama and Papa. They stare straight ahead, silent tears falling down their faces.

She follows the group next to the mangled pile of steel she’d seen from the train.

“Now, this is all that’s left of the arena now. The rest has been recycled and put to better use. As you may know, this one was a remarkable failure for the game makers and actually helped jump start the revolution. An electrical short sparked a fire that brought the entire thing down--”

“Actually, that’s not what happened.”

Willow snaps her neck around towards Mama’s voice.

“Oh, dear, have you kids not read your history books? Everybody knows tha--”

Mama pushes to the front of the group, Papa trailing behind her. “That’s not how it happened,” she repeats.

She turns now, gripping Papa’s arm as she faces the class. Her voice raises.

“My name is, was, Katniss Everdeen. I’m fifty-one years old. And I survived the 75th Hunger Games.”

Willow can’t hide the shock that crosses her face. A few stray groups turn towards the commotion.

Her parents are a far cry from the photos in the history books now. Lines age their faces, they sport twin stripes of gray in their hair. But underneath it all, they still have the same fire in their eyes. Determination.

“My name is Peeta Mellark. I survived the 75th Hunger Games. This is our story.”

And the words tumble free.

[vikingcest]

aphrodisiacs // ubbe/hvítserk

this was definitely supposed to be a drabble and its now um. not a drabble.

3k words, explicit, Ubbe/Hvítserk UST and pining, Margrethe mentions

the aphrodisiacs are a surprise, so dub-con warning. not beta-ed

have fun!

"Can I come in?"

"Hvítserk?"

Hvítserk scoffs.

"Who else would it be?" he asks.

"What's wrong?"

Ubbe's voice is quiet, like he's trying to avoid waking people, but the sun has only just begun to set. Hvítserk knows that means he's hiding something, like a guilty dog.

"I think I'm sick," Hvítserk says.

"Sick?"

"Yes, sick. Can I come in or not?"

There's a rustling from somewhere inside the room, and then Ubbe responds.

"Okay, come in."

When Hvítserk pushes back the sheer fabric leading into his brother's room, he notices instantly that Ubbe looks exactly how he feels. Red-faced, too hot yet shivering. He's in his bed, lying back against the pillows and half-wrapped in a sheet but nothing else.

"You're sick, too," Hvítserk states plainly, almost accusatory as he crosses the room to sit on the edge of Ubbe's bed, right next to him. He places the back of his hand against his brother's forehead, but they're both so warm that he can hardly tell the difference. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"I'm sure I would have, brother, if you had not come to me first. Have you seen anyone else?"

"No, not since dinner."

Without much thought, Hvítserk strips his tunic off and crawls into the bed beside Ubbe. Since they were boys, it's always been a comfort to sleep in the same bed – even if they had to sneak it in during nights like this sometimes, ever since their mother finally moved them to separate rooms. He lies on his back and places his hands behind his head, staring at the beams of the ceiling for a moment.

"Do you think Margrethe poisoned us?" Hvítserk jokes, and he hears Ubbe shift his head to look at him.

"What?" Ubbe gasps.

"Ha. I'm just kidding."

Hvítserk turns his head to look at Ubbe, and their faces are close but neither of them mind. They have yet to find a sort of closeness that either of them do mind.

"Why would you joke about that?"

"I don't know," Hvítserk mumbles sheepishly, grinning as he shrugs one shoulder. "She made us that drink. You didn't think that was weird?"

"She drank it, too," Ubbe says, propping himself up on one elbow seriously. "You saw. And why would she poison us?"

"Why are you trying to convince me? I told you, I was joking."

Hvítserk turns his head toward the ceiling again. Ubbe remains still for a moment, blinking skeptically at his brother before he lies flat again.

"But, now that I think about it–" Hvítserk mutters, but he breaks off into laughter when Ubbe smacks him.

Both of them are quiet for a moment, Ubbe's hand still lingering on Hvítserk's ribs, but then he pulls it away. The spot feels strangely bare after, like it was far more natural to be joined to Ubbe's skin than to be parted from it.

"I think I'm starting to feel better," Ubbe says suddenly, and that makes Hvítserk notice that he's starting to feel better, too. His skin is still too warm, but it's not uncomfortable – it's almost like the tingle of spice on his tongue, but spread out across his whole body. In less uncertain terms, he feels good.

All at once, Hvítserk realizes that the feeling of warmth surging through him is starting to pool in his gut, starting to heat his inner thighs in a familiar yet foreign sensation. He suddenly feels like he's been groping Margrethe behind the stables, like his cock is starting to get hard. Swallowing dryly, Hvítserk sits up and pulls at the sheet over Ubbe, trying to steal enough of it to cover himself.

"Hey–" Ubbe snaps, surprising Hvítserk enough to let go as the sheet is yanked back. He stares doe-eyed at his brother for a moment, and Ubbe quickly gets a guilty look and shares some of the sheet.

"What's your problem?" Hvítserk mutters, and before he can stop himself, his eyes dart downward and he sees Ubbe clutching a corner of the sheet between his legs defensively. Hvítserk chuckles quietly. "Oh. Was I interrupting something?"

Ubbe scowls at him, his cheeks flaring back to that bright red from before.

"Yes."

"Well, my apologies, brother."

Ubbe swallows dryly, and the air in the room seems to grow thicker, heavier. Hvítserk

is completely hard in his trousers now, and there's no chance that Ubbe wouldn't see if he stood up now. But something about it is almost unbearable. He thinks that if he doesn't do something to relieve himself soon, his cock might actually explode. When he glances over at Ubbe, the neurons start to fire in his brain and his jaw drops.

"Do you think Margrethe drugged us?" Hvítserk whispers, and Ubbe stares at him with a raw, desperate expression, chewing on his lip for a moment before responding.

"I don't know," he hisses, and shifts uncomfortably in the bed. "Maybe?"

"Shouldn't she be here, then?"

"I don't know!" Ubbe snaps again, and Hvítserk frowns indignantly.

It seems like whatever they took, it's hitting Ubbe faster than Hvítserk. His older brother doubles over slowly, his forehead ending up pressed against Hvítserk's thigh through the sheet, and he groans softly.

"What is it?" Hvítserk asks, one hand instantly moving to soothe down Ubbe's back. "Does it hurt?"

Ubbe is still for a moment, but then he nods, his face still buried in the sheet. Hvítserk scoops him up gently, guiding him to sit back up against the pillows, and looks at his face with concern.

"Should I get someone?" Hvítserk asks, and Ubbe's eyes go wide.

"No!" he responds. "No. It just..."

Ubbe's eyes squeeze shut, and Hvítserk's eyes are drawn down as he sees Ubbe's hands flexing where they're cupping his crotch. The desperation is palpable, and Hvítserk is slowly starting to understand.

"I'm sorry," Ubbe mutters, and his voice cracks in shame. It makes Hvítserk's chest ache, so he presses his forehead against his brother's and looks him in the eye.

"Don't be sorry," he says.

"But I'm– this is so–"

"Don't," Hvítserk repeats insistently. "I don't think it's your fault. I'm... I feel it too."

"You do?" Ubbe asks, his eyes going wide. He looks cute, with a worried expression Hvítserk used to see on his face more often when they were boys.

Then, setting his jaw in determination, Hvítserk removes the sheet from his lap. He instantly reveals a tent in his dark trousers, and he clears his throat.

"See, look," he mutters. "It's not just you. I really think she gave us something."

Ubbe's face flushes and floods with relief all at once, and he curses under his breath.

"Does it also feel like you're going to die if you don't do something?" Ubbe asks quietly, and then he whimpers, his thighs squeezing together around his hands, and Hvítserk's cock twitches visibly in his trousers – he's glad Ubbe's eyes are closed now.

"Kind of," Hvítserk murmurs.

There's a long stretch of silence again, and Hvítserk's eyes are glued to the door, where he's expecting Margrethe to come in any second and relieve them. His knees are drawn up to his chest now, concealing his aching cock the best he can, and even the friction that provides, of rough fabric, makes him shiver occasionally. He glances over at Ubbe, and his heart drops from his chest to his stomach when he sees a tear streaking down the man's cheek.

"Ubbe," Hvítserk mumbles, leaning over to him and cupping his cheek, forcing their eyes to meet. He gives a concerned look, his dark blue eyes going glassy in response to seeing his brother cry.

"I'm okay," Ubbe insists through gritted teeth, but Hvítserk can't stand it anymore.

"If she isn't coming," he says, shifting back to his own spot and pulling at the drawstring of his trousers. "Then we should take care of it ourselves."

"W-what?" Ubbe whispers, horrified, and Hvítserk frowns.

"You don't want to touch yourself?"

"I do... I just... What about privacy?"

"I won't look," Hvítserk offers, and stands for a moment to let his trousers drop to the floor. "I'm not leaving you like this, or walking back to my room like this."

Ubbe chews on his lip for a moment before finally he turns away from Hvítserk and nods.

"Okay," he says.

"Okay."

Hvítserk sits back down on the opposite edge of the bed from his brother so their backs are to each other, and he wraps a hesitant hand around his own painfully swollen cock. He

raises his other hand quickly to bite down on his thumb knuckle, trying to stifle his own panting. Ubbe is silent behind him – not that he's listening. His hand squeezes himself lightly, and then he makes one experimental stroke, all the way up to the head, rolling his foreskin up over it, and then back down. It's not an easy feat to keep his breathing steady, to keep from moaning into the humid air of his brother's room. He has no idea how he's supposed to coax himself all the way to orgasm like this without even reacting.

"I can't do it with you there, brother," come Ubbe's exasperated voice, and Hvítserk clicks his tongue against his teeth in frustration.

"Seriously?" he asks, trying to ignore the way hurt snakes through him at the idea that Ubbe can't get off near him ‐ because it's an impossibly strange thing to feel hurt about. Maybe it's the drug.

"It's too embarrassing," Ubbe laments. "I can't–"

He lets out a desperate, shivering breath that makes Hvítserk tense.

"Ubbe," he says softly, staring at the wood floor. "Don't be embarrassed. I'm not going to care, brother, you know that. You can let go. I've got you."

He hopes it sounds reassuring, and not juvenile. Then, suddenly, Ubbe lets out a choked sob behind him, and all the hairs raise on the back of Hvítserk's neck. He turns around instantly, placing a hand on Ubbe's back that gets shrugged off.

"I'm fine," Ubbe mutters.

Hvítserk repositions himself to sit against the pillows again, one knee drawn up to hide himself poorly.

"Come sit with me, brother," he begs quietly, worry thick in his voice. Ubbe sniffs and glances over his shoulder for a moment before he nods and joins him, leaving a sprawling valley of space between them and covering himself again with the sheet.

"Are you sure I shouldn't call someone?" Hvítserk asks gently, and Ubbe shakes his head.

"You can't," he says.

"Why are you so embarrassed? It's not like I haven't... seen you like this before."

"That was different," Ubbe says, his brows knitting. "There was a woman there."

"And there should be a woman here," Hvítserk argues. "We can pretend she's sitting right between us, if that makes you feel better."

Ubbe's face is full of emotion Hvítserk has rarely seen, like he's fighting an internal battle that's much more difficult than what Hvítserk can see on the surface. Maybe he is.

Slowly, Hvítserk lowers his knee, letting both legs stretch out on the bed. He pops one of the knuckles in his toes idly, and then he wraps a hand around himself again. His jaw falls open, and his eyes fall closed, and he just goes for it. He strokes himself slowly, carefully, and the slide of skin-against-skin is better than anything he's ever felt. He has half a mind to ask for more of the drug later, preferably when there really is a woman around for him to sink into. Just the thought makes his cock twitch in his hand, a bead of pre-cum oozing from the tip. It slicks the way so he can stroke a little faster.

With his eyes closed, he can't tell whether Ubbe is watching with disgust, or more embarrassment, or ignoring him altogether, but now that Hvítserk has gotten a taste of skull-numbing pleasure, he can't find it in him to give it up again. His toes curl, and his hips arch up off the bed for a moment as he strokes at a steady pace, lower lip caught between his teeth. A groan punches out of his chest, and he barely cares.

Hvítserk hears the shuffle of a sheet. A quiet sigh. And then a keening moan, choked out from high in Ubbe's throat. The sound goes straight to Hvítserk's cock, and he squeezes himself roughly in surprise. His eyes flutter open, and he chances a look over at his brother to see him finally stroking himself, his face all red and screwed up with shame. Hvítserk's chest pangs, and he looks away quickly, focusing once more on stroking himself, on getting this over with.

He's starting to understand part of why Ubbe was so hesitant – he can't seem to keep his mouth shut. Tiny noises keep slipping from his lips, strained as he tries desperately to keep them in.

Hvítserk distantly wishes he would just let go, lose control for once and give in to the sensation completely. That's what Hvítserk lets himself do, slowly but surely, and he sinks further and further into the pillows as otherworldly pleasure laps at all his nerves. There's a sweat broken out across his brow, strands of his long hair sticking to it as he writhes and huffs.

"You have to admit it feels good," he moans breathlessly.

His eyes flutter open again, his head angled toward his brother, and he catches Ubbe staring at him for a split second before his older brother looks away.

"Too good, maybe," Ubbe groans softly. He's still stroking himself slowly, hesitantly, and out of pure brotherly concern Hvítserk nearly reaches out to force his hand to speed up – he doesn't, of course.

"Just let yourself feel it, brother," Hvítserk murmurs.

Almost immediately, Ubbe's hips jump up into his hand, and he lets out a stressed groan. Then, to Hvítserk's surprise, he rolls over, presses his face into the pillows, and his hips start to roll down into his hand. There are muffled sounds, grunts and groans, as Ubbe shuffles his knees, adjusting his position until he can fuck into his hand properly. Hvítserk's face burns as he absently watches, his eyes drawn to the sweat on Ubbe's strong back, the curve of his waist as he humps his own hand as though it were a woman. His hand starts to speed up on his own cock again, and he finds himself matching Ubbe's pace, squeezing tightly and stroking downward every time his brother's hips rock down.

Hvítserk curses under his breath as he closes his eyes again, and as he continues to stroke himself he can feel the pleasure increasing, doubling and tripling, sending sparks through the dark of his vision. He hears himself moan, and then he hears Ubbe moan – to Hvítserk's pleasure-addled mind, it feels like a response. Maybe it was.

He moans again, the sound mixing with the creaking of the bed as Ubbe continues to fuck his hand, and then his brother moans again, too. It makes Hvítserk's ears ring, and he throws an arm over his eyes, panting toward the ceiling as his hand glides over himself, already making slick noises from the way he's leaking. He can feel himself circling a precipice, and knows that means he's close, but that cliff feels much, much steeper than normal. He's almost afraid to sail off the edge of it, afraid it will be too much somehow.

"Hvítserk," Ubbe breathes, and Hvítserk looks over immediately to find his brother looking at him again. His eyes look pleading, anguished, and though he can't place why, Hvítserk reaches his free hand out, offering it in the space between them. Ubbe takes it without hesitation, to Hvítserk's relief, and they lace their fingers together tightly.

"I think I'm–"

"It's okay," Hvítserk whispers, and Ubbe's hips suddenly lose all sense of rhythm.

"O– oh, Freyja help me, please," Ubbe sobs into the pillows, and then his back arches and he cries out incoherently as he shoots white ribbons onto the bed below him. It seems to go on forever, his muscles all tensing and twitching beneath the skin of his back and his hips bucking into his fist.

Hvítserk can only watch, his jaw hanging open, heart slamming against his ribs, and unwittingly he slows his hand, all his focus stolen by his brother's display of orgasm. Once Ubbe starts to relax against the sheets, though, Hvítserk closes his eyes again and grips Ubbe's hand tightly as he speeds up his own ascent to orgasm.

Tears spring to Hvítserk's eyes as he starts to rock his hips into his hand. He feels like he's on a blade's edge, so impossibly close. A tremulous moan escapes him, and he focuses his attention to the tip of his cock, the sensitive underside of the head, massaging it with a tight grip–

"Oh," he whimpers, and suddenly understands why Ubbe had pleaded with the gods. It feels like he's a ship, and pleasure is a wave from Thor that crashes him against a rocky shore, reducing him to splinters.

Hvítserk feels Ubbe grip his hand tighter, and he realizes he's frozen, back

arching off the bed like a bow, mouth open in a silent shout. Milky white cum dribbles from his cock and then shoots upward, and he cries out obscenely as his body falls back to the pillows. Wave after wave crashes over him, and he doesn't let go of Ubbe's hand until his front is soaked in cum and his body feels – well, boneless.

"Ubbe, have you seen Hvítserk?"

That's Margrethe's voice, coming through the door, and both brothers shoot upward in bed instantly, unlinking their hands and grabbing at the sheet. There's a struggle as the two of them fight over sheet acreage, but then they finally manage to get covered up. Margrethe is already standing at the foot of the bed with a shocked look on her features.

"You both finished?" she asks, disappointment in her voice.

Both brothers only blink in response, and they glance at each other before looking back at her with their metaphorical tails tucked between their legs.

"Well, don't worry," Margrethe says as she climbs over the foot of the bed, a wicked grin on her face. "I won't tell anyone you did it without me."

She sits on her knees in the center of the bed and slowly works her dress off over her head before tossing it to the side.

"As long as you're both ready to go again."

[spidey-babe-parker]

When he sees me

featuring: Steve Rogers and a plus size girl

Summary: She’s suppose to go on a blind date and panics that when he sees her he might not like what he sees.

WC: 3k

warning: self doubt, feeling self-conscious, oral female receiving, and unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll)

AN: I got inspired by When he sees me by Sara Bareilles from Waitress the musical. Also some of this is oddly personal. If any of you have request for cute one shots or drabble about marvel men let know, they can be fluffy or smutty

Pacing back and forth in Avengers compound her mind was racing she was supposed to be leaving for her date soon. Her pacing led to her constantly smoothing her dress fearing it was going to wrinkle. She couldn’t believe she had actually agreed to go on this blind date. Natasha had convinced her that she had the perfect guy for. She knew deep down inside she should have told her no she didn’t want to go on a blind date. She wasn’t really a person who went on dates at all let alone a blind date, she found herself to be awkward, and she always assumed that’s how other people saw her as well. It also didn’t help that she was a bigger girl and was always afraid her body was turn people off from wanting to be with her. She had recently started to grow more comfortable in her own skin, but she still didn’t find herself super desirable. Another reason she didn’t exactly date was because the only relationship she had ever been in did end well. She couldn’t see really risking hurt or even risk suffering through a relationship that didn’t make her happy. She knew deep down inside she shouldn’t over think things because what if this guy was amazing and charming, and made her super happy. She just couldn’t help but stress and over think everything. She was the type of person that always stressed about everything even if there was no reason to stress.

Her pacing continued as walked across the kitchen looking at her dress fearing that maybe her dress was too tight and didn’t flatter her shape. She wondered if she should go and change, she had a pair of black pants that she thought made her legs look nice.

“If you keep pacing you’re going to burn a whole in the title,” Natasha said standing in the door way.

Stopping in her tracks she looked up at Nat with wide eyes, “is it too late to cancel?”

Nodding her head, she said, “yes its way too late to cancel.”

A heavy sigh passed her lips, “I can’t do this.” She started pacing again. Her mind continued to race trying to figure out how she could talk Natasha into letting her cancel this blind. Because she should have never agreed to going on this. She hated the idea of not knowing who she was going to meet.

“You can do this, you guys will get along great,” Natasha said walking towards the kitchen island.

“Like what if he’s a crazy person and tries to kidnap me?” she said causing Nat to laugh.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“How well do you know this guy?” she asked.

“I know him really well, we’re pretty close.”

“I don’t have a lot of experience dating,” she said quickly stuttering over her words.

“He doesn’t have much either,” she leaned against the counter smiling. “I think you two will get along great.”

Her pacing stopped in front of Nat, and she quickly stated her number one fear, “what if when he sees me he doesn’t like what he sees.”

Reaching out Natasha rested her hand on her shoulder and looked right at her, “I promise you he’ll like what he sees, you’re a great girl and you’re beautiful you guys will get along great.”

“You can’t make that promise,” she said pulling away from her quickly.

“I’ll be back,” Nat turned on her heels and quickly walked out of the kitchen.

Leaning against the kitchen counter she started messing with her hair that she had spent way too much time curling. Her fingers started messing with the bottom of the curls looking down at the floor. Some walked in and cleared their throat causing her to look up at.

She found Steve in front of her smiling. She couldn’t help but admire how nice he looked wearing a sweater and pair of nice pants. Her eyes moved up and were met by his blue ones staring at her.

“So why are you burning a hole in the kitchen tile?” he asked causing her to smile.

“I’m extremely nervous,” she said quickly.

“What are you nervous about?” he walked over and leaned against the island across from her.

“So, I have this blind date, that for some reason Nat thought was a smart idea to set me up on, and honestly I regret agreeing to, I don’t know how to do this,” she said quickly.

“Why do you want to cancel?” he asked tilting her head to the side.

“Because what if when he sees me he doesn’t like what he sees?” she said sounding as if she was almost on the verge of tears.

Stepping towards her he slowly reached up taking her chin in his hand, tiling her head up so she was looking right into his eyes, “believe me I like what I see.”

Her eyes went wide at his statement and pulled away from him, “what?”

He gave her a smile, “well you see I also had a blind date tonight and Nat informed me that you were my blind date, and she sent me in here to give you a pep talk.”

“Are you sure you want to go on a date with me?” she asked fearing at he might say no. Maybe after finding out it was her he would want to cancel the date.

“Yes, I would love to go on a date with you,” he reached down and laced his fingers with hers. “I already thought you were funny and beautiful so I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Oh,” she was caught off guard by his statement. Steve Rogers was way out of her league she was very confused on why he would want to go on a date with her.

“So, it’s not exactly a blind date anymore, but would you like to go on a normal date with me?” he asked with a smile.

“Um,” she stuttered.

“You can say no if you want, I’ll completely understand,” he said letting go of her hand and taking a step back.

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you,” she said stepping completely out of her comfort zone. Reaching down she laced her fingers with Steve’s again. “What did you have planned for this date?” she asked.

“I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner and then maybe going for a walk together and look at the stars,” he said nervously. “You know I haven’t gone on many dates, and I wasn’t exactly sure what we should do.” His statement caused them both to let out a little laugh at how nervous they were.

“That sounds like a great date.”

---

Dinner was really nice they went to Steve’s favorite Italian place in the city. It wasn’t anything fancy but it felt as if it was home. They walked hand through a park that wasn’t too far the Avengers compound. They walked towards a panic table that was next to a huge tree.

Walking over she sat down on top of the table as Steve stood standing across from her. He stared at her smiling he couldn’t lie right now he felt like he owed Natasha an apology from when he told her to stop trying to find him to date. If she had actually listened to him he probably would have never got the courage to ask the in girl in front of him out.

“I love just staring at the stars,” she said looking up at the stars. They were far enough from the city that they could see the beautiful night sky clearly. “When I was younger I always wanted to be an astronomer, the stars have always been so fascinating to me.”

Sitting down on the table next to her he looked over and said, “when I was younger before I was chosen to be a super solider I always wanted to be an artist. Even after they turned me into this I would still try to sketch whenever I got a chance.”

She looked over at him and smile. What he was telling her was something she had never known about him. She had never really heard much about his life back in the forties, other then the only person he really had was Bucky. “Do you still sketch?” she asked.

He nodded his head smiling, “Whenever I get a chance I do.”

“Can I maybe see some?” she wasn’t sure if she was over stepping her bounds, because maybe his sketches were personal to him.

“Of course,” he smiled reaching over and lacing his fingers with hers again.

“Steve, I don’t really date per say, but I think its safe to say this has been a really good date,” she said with a huge smile.

Looking over at her he smiled and tilted his head to the side looking right into her eyes, “I’m trying to be a gentleman here, but can I kiss you?” he asked.

Her heart raced at his question she couldn’t lie from the moment she had met Steve she couldn’t help but have a huge crush on him, after he was Captain American. He was the definition of handsome, and he was built like a God. Thought of him kissing her mad her feel like butterflies were dancing around in her stomach.

Slowly she nodded her head not even aware if she could actually say words in that moment. He reached up and rested his strong hand on her cheek tilting her head towards him. Gently he pressed his lips to hers for a soft kiss. She felt sparks as their lips moved together. Pulling away they both had goofy grins on their face.

“We should probably head back to the compound,” he whispered.

“Sounds good,” she said as the got of the table holding hands.

---

As they arrived back at the compound where they both lived they stood in the kitchen staring at each other. They both knew they needed to say goodnight and go their own ways, but neither of them could bring their self to say goodnight. The date had gone so perfectly they were ready for the night to be over yet.

“Are you glad you didn’t have Nat cancel your blind date?” he asked as they stood in the same spot they had been standing when Steve found her before their date.

She smiled and nodded her head, “I’m glad sent you in to calm me down.”

“I think this is where I’m suppose to walk you to your room and say goodnight,” he said walking towards her closing the two feet of distance that was between them.

“Okay,” she said taking his hand.

He led them down the hall to where her room was. She leaned against her bedroom door and stared at Steve trying to figure out how she should ask him to come inside. She had never done this before but this date was special, and she didn’t want it to end as just a kiss goodnight.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he said leaning in and pressing his lips to hers for another kiss. This kiss wasn’t like the first one. This one was filled with more passion, he glided his tongue along her bottom lips asking for her to open her mouth for him their tongues moved against each other’s as their lips danced. His strong hands rested on her round hips pulling her closer to him. She couldn’t help but moan into the kiss. Pulling her lips away from him she bit her bottom lip for a moment.

“Did you want to come inside?” she asked softly.

“I should say no, but I really don’t want to,” he said causing her to smile.

“I don’t want you to say no,” she whispered.

“Will you go on another date with me?” he asked.

With a smile on her face she nodded her head quickly, “yes I would love to.”

“Are you sure you want me to come in?”

She nodded her head again.

“I promise I’m not expecting anything,” he said trying to let her know he didn’t have any motives.

“I know you’re not, but I want to do this,” she whispered reaching down to lace her fingers with his. As she opened her bedroom door she led him inside. She clicked on bedroom light, and walked over towards her bed. “I need you to know I never do this, and I’m not exactly comfortable in my own skin at the moment. I’m trying to be confident, but I want you to know I’m a bigger girl and I have stretch marks and curves where not every other girl does,” she said with butterflies in her stomach.

Reaching up he rested his hand on her cheek and said, “you don’t understand how beautiful I think you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered as she stepped away from him. She stepped out of her flats and then slowly she turned around and looked over her shoulder at him signaling for him to help her with her zipper. Silently he reached up and slid the zipper down her spine. As it reached the bottom she turned so she was facing him again. Slowly he reached up and moved the straps of her dress off her shoulders so it fell on the floor at her feet. Standing there in front of him in nothing but her bra and panties she stared at him feeling oddly brave and confident all the sudden. Reaching over she grabbed the hem of Steve’s sweater signaling for him to remove it. He pulled off his sweater, then kicked his shoes off before unbutton his pants and sliding them off. He reached down and removed his socks so he was standing in front of her in nothing but his boxers. Biting his bottom lip, he watched her moment as her eyes traveled up and down his ton body.

“So, this is what the super solider serum did to you?” she asked reaching run and lightly touching his abs. He nodded his he watched her continued to star at his tone body. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered. She hadn’t planned on saying out loud, but she wanted Steve to know what she thought about him.

Leaning forward he slowly pressed his lips to hers again. Reaching between them he unhooked her bra and pushed the straps down her shoulders. Pulling his lips away he whispered, “you are so beautiful.”

She stood topless in front of him as he dropped down on his knees and slowly slid her panties off. Staring up at her he pressed gentle kisses across her round stomach. Biting her bottom lips, she watched as his lips slowly moved lower towards he sensitive mound. Slowly his moved his tongue across her slit causing her to let out a moan at the feeling of his tongue against her skin. He moved his hands up and he slowly moved his fingers across her entrance as his moved against her clit. She closed her eyes and moan. He slid a finger inside her and started pumping them at leisurely pace. After a few pumps he added another finger into the mix. Curling his fingers slightly he it the right place. After couple of pumps he pushed her over the edge. Moaning his name, she came panting.

Removing his fingers from his core he reached up and placed his fingers in his mouth licking them clean, “you taste amazing.”

“That was amazing,” she panted causing him to laugh.

“Why don’t you lay back on the bed?” he asked as he reached down and removed his boxers.

She didn’t say anything she just crawled onto the bed and laid down. Her eyes stayed locked on him as he gave his hard erection a few pumps. He crawled across the bed and hovered over, he connected his lips to hers as he reached between them and lined himself up with her entrance.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

Slowly he slid inside of her, at the feeling of his large member entering her she couldn’t help but moan. He was large but he felt amazing as he stretched her in the right way. Reaching up she ran her fingers across his tone back holding onto him as he moved at a leisurely pace thrusting in and out of her. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the feeling he was giving her.

“Eyes on me doll,” he said grabbing her attention.

Her eyes opened wide as they locked onto his blue ones. She couldn’t help but moan and he continued to thrust into her over and over again. Swinging her leg over his hip her leg rest right above his tone butt. His pace started picking up more as she started to moan more with each thrust.

“You feel amazing,” he groaned. He was getting closer to the edge and hope she was getting there as well. “Are you close?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she moaned.

He roughly connected his lips to hers as he started to pick up the pace more. Her fingers started to claw at his back as she got closer to the edge. With a few thrust he pushed her over the edge, pulling her lips away from him she couldn’t help but moan his name. He got a few more thrust in and hit is own high. He held himself up on his arms for a moment and stared at her as she was a panting mess. Reaching down he pressed a soft kiss against her lips before rolling onto his side next to her.

“That was amazing,” she panted.

“Yeah it was,” he smiled looking over at her.

“That’s was the best blind date ever,” she said with a little laugh.

“Remind me to thank Nat,” he said reaching over and lacing his fingers with hers again.

“Yeah I think we owe he big time,” she laughed.

  @thisismysecrethappyplace @minahraven @lokilvrr

[potter-loves-malfoy]

“Drabble” prompt meme

7- “I almost lost you”

A/N: Hey so this ended up being very not a drabble (~3k words) but it’s not beta’d so there’s that. For @chanandler-b0n9

Having an Auror as a boyfriend was hard, to say the very least. It was a dangerous and demanding job; with a weird, unstable working schedule.

You would think that after 5 years of dating an Auror, Harry would be used to it. Well, that wasn’t at all the case. It was still as hard as the first, the fiftieth time he got an owl from Draco saying he needed to cancel their date because he was busy with a case that was time sensitive and he was terribly sorry. It was still hard when he had to sit in an eerily silent and too clean hallway at St. Mungo’s waiting for someone, anyone, to tell him that Draco was okay. It was hard waiting alone at the tiny muggle family restaurant where they usually meet after work on Fridays for two hours without so much as an owl telling him that Draco was safe and would be back at Grimmauld Place (in which they practically lived together, though not officially) as usual when he was done with whatever case he was working on at the moment. The latter was happening currently. Harry checked his watch — second anniversary present from Draco, because they’d once had to obliviate everyone in that very restaurant after Harry cast a Tempus, forgetting that they were surrounded by muggles. It was 22:07, two hours and seven minutes after when they were supposed to meet. Harry bit his lip, worried, going through every single awful thing that might have happened to Draco in his head. He got up, apologizing to Joy, the old lady that owns the restaurant for having to leave while dismissing her questions of whether Draco was alright, trying to reassure her (and himself). Harry walked into the alley behind the restaurant, and sent a Patronus to Draco asking if he was alright and then another to the DMLE about whether Draco was out on the field, working a case. Right after his two stags went off, Harry apparated back to Grimmauld Place. He was greeted by Draco’s cat, Lyra who stayed in Grimmauld Place more often than not as she didn’t like to be alone and Draco’s flat was likely to be empty more frequently. “Hello, Lyra,” Harry said managing a small smile. “Care to keep me company while we wait for Draco?” Lyra meowed in response and followed Harry into the study where Harry’s floo was. Harry sat on the armchair across from the floo with Lyra lying on his side and just waited and waited and waited until he fell asleep. —————————————————————— Harry woke up to the sound of someone calling his name. “Draco? Are you back?” He mumbled sleepily, trying to feel the area around him for his glasses before realizing that he never took them off. “Sorry, Harry, it’s Hermione. They brought Draco into St. Mungo’s about te-“ Harry shot right up at the mention of his boyfriend in possible danger making Lyra meow her complaint and jump off the armchair. “Is he okay? What happened? How long has he been there? I’m coming through.” “Oh, hang on a bit and let me speak. I was just saying that they brought him in ten minutes ago. As for whether he’s okay...” Hermione trailed off with a wary look on her face. “We don’t really know yet, Harry.” “I’m coming through, Hermione,” Harry said, already reaching for his wand and the floo powder. “Harry, there’s really not much you can-“ “Hermione. I’m coming,” Harry said in a way that left no room for further argument. He watched as Hermione’s face disappeared from the flames and Harry walked into the flames and came out into Hermione’s office on the other side. “Harry, he’s going to be alright, Healer Milner’s in there with him and his vitals were fine the last time I was in and if something had gone worse they would’ve alerted me,” Hermione said, as Harry brushed off the ashes on his muggle jeans. “Do you know what happened?” “I don’t know for sure, the Aurors that brought him in said that he got hit by a curse but it was cast wordlessly and we weren’t able to identify it. He’s unconscious now,” Hermione said before she was interrupted by a Healer trainee at her door.

“Healer Granger, you’re needed with Auror Malfoy.”

“Why? Did he get worse? Is he awake?” Harry walked towards the trainee making her take a step back, intimidated and surprised by the sudden outburst.

“I-I don’t know, Mr. Potter, sir. Healer Milner just told me to fetch Healer Granger, sir.”

Hermione looked at Harry pointedly as if to say ‘behave’ and then turned to the trainee. “Thank you for letting me know, Emily, you can tell Healer Milner that I’ll be there right away.”

The trainee nodded at Hermione and then at Harry not looking either in the eye, before slipping away.

“Do you think you can wait here without terrorizing the trainees, Harry? I’ll let you know what’s happening as soon as I can. And before you ask no you can’t get in with me you’d just be getting in our way.”

“Fine, but I’ll wait by the door of the operation room.”

—————————————————————

As soon as I can my ass, Harry thought, glancing at his watch. The hallway was too bright, his chair was too stiff and the hallway was too silent. It was almost as if St. Mungo’s was designed to keep people from waiting for their loved ones to be better. Harry wondered why hospitals — muggle and wizarding — were never designed to be comforting and warm, people sure needed to be comforted when in such a place. He didn’t think a hospital could ever feel comforting, but he thought they could at least try.

He put his head in his hands and tried to block out the too bright too white lights. He felt the weight of the little velvet box in his jacket pocket. It felt too heavy now. Now that he thought he might never get to give it to Draco, that he couldn’t even try. He was going to propose tonight. 

Or last night, he thought looking at his watch that showed that it was nearing 3 am the next day. He couldn’t lose Draco, not now, not ever but especially not now.

Harry heard a door open near him and raised his head up from his hands. Hermione stepped out of the door adjusting her lime green Healer’s robes and sat next to Harry.

“We found the spell that hit Draco. Well, we don’t know the incantation, it must have been a custom spell that was developed by the castor or one of their accomplices. But we’ve found how it works more or less,” Hermione said before Harry interrupted her to get to the point.

“It seems like a variation of the Cruciatus combined with an Incendio. The castor seems to have managed to hit him enough times or with enough force that he burned part of his left lung. He likely passed out from the pain and asphyxiation combined. Draco’s under a Statis charm that’s keeping him unconscious and we’re still working on healing the burn, but other than that, he doesn’t have any critical wounds,” Hermione said before adding. “The curse seems to have worked fast, Harry, we might not have been able to heal him had they brought him in a minute later. But they didn’t, and Draco is going to be fine. We’ve cast multiple cooling charms to stop the burning from continuing and patched up the parts of his lung that took the most damage. We’re going to be taking off the Statis charm in a bit but keeping him unconscious overnight to give his body time to heal itself.”

“Can I see him?” Harry asked, sounding a bit more desperate than he’d normally like but this wasn’t a really normal time.

“In a little bit, yes, Healer Milner’s just running a couple more tests to see if we’ve missed anything and you know diagnostic spells take a little time. Once he’s done we’ll just remove the Statis and you can come see him, though he’s going to be unconscious.”

“Okay,” Harry said, his voice weak. “Can I stay here with him through the night? I’d like to be here when he wakes up.”

“I suppose it can’t hurt, though I will have to speak to Healer Milner about it, he’s the main Healer for Draco,” Hermione said, her eyes turning soft, different from when she’s being a ‘Healer’. “He’s going to be okay, Harry, we’re doing our best.”

Hermione went in to hug Harry and he felt himself relax into the hug. “Thanks, ‘mione.”

——————————————————————

Harry watched the permanent Tempus charm on the wall of Draco’s room blankly. Hermione had left a couple minutes ago but not before telling Harry to get some sleep. She was only called in because it was Draco and she was listed as one of Draco’s usual Healers, her shift at St. Mungo’s had actually ended at 8 pm today.

Harry looked away from the Tempus that was now blinking, indicating the start of a new hour — 4 am. He took in his boyfriend’s more-pale-than-usual face and white blonde hair that was now a greyish blonde with dirt. Draco normally looked peaceful and elegant in his sleep but now he was neither. 

He looks dead, Harry thought. The only thing giving Harry comfort and telling him that Draco was, in fact, not dead was the rise and fall of his chest.

“Hermione left a couple minutes ago,” Harry said. “I… I don’t know if you heard. I don’t know if you actually can hear or if that’s just something they tell visitors just to keep them from going insane waiting.”

Harry took in a deep breath and held Draco’s limp hand in one of his own. “I was going to ask you something today,” he started, feeling the ring box through his pocket. “I’m not gonna tell you what, just in case you can hear me, I don’t want to spoil the surprise. It’s nothing bad, I-I mean I don’t think it’s something bad and hopefully, you don’t think it’s bad either. It was just kind of important, I guess, but it’s nothing that can’t wait until you wake up. Well, it kind of has to wait now but, um, what I’m saying is it’s okay.”

Harry let out a weak laugh. “I’m rambling, aren’t I? You would’ve probably shut me up by now, if you weren’t…” Harry sighed. “You know. Anyway, Hermione told me to get some sleep but I really don’t know how I can. I just, I almost lost you. I really thought for a while there, waiting for Hermione to come out of your operation room, that I might actually lose you. Draco, I knew before this that I loved you and I’m not gonna be cliché and say that I can’t live without you because, well, that’s a lie; I’m pretty sure I could, if I tried but Draco, I wouldn’t want to live without you.”

Harry felt Draco’s hand twitch and looked up at Draco’s face to see if maybe whatever charm they used to keep Draco unconscious was wearing off. Harry was half expecting to see Draco awake and rolling his eyes at Harry for being sappy. He wasn’t awake or rolling his eyes at Harry. He was just as unconscious as he was ten minutes ago.

Harry sighed and brushed Draco’s hair out of his eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding Draco’s. “I just really want you to wake up and make fun of me for being a sap.”

Harry thought he saw Draco’s eyelids flutter but all movement had stopped — if it ever existed — when Harry blinked.

——————————————————————

When Harry came to, the Tempus charm on the wall showed 07:16, not that Harry could see it. Harry felt for his glasses on the nightstand next to Draco’s hospital bed and put them on, taking in his surroundings. He looked over at Draco to see if he was awake, hoping that he was awake.

Alas, Draco was not awake, or at least he didn’t look it even if he was. Harry let out a sigh and put his head in his hands, rubbing at his temple.

“Still moping, are you, Potter?”

Harry’s head snapped up at the sound of Draco’s voice seeing the tired but genuine smile on his face. “You’re awake!” he exclaimed, lunging at Draco for a hug before remembering the condition that Draco was in and slowing his motions, which resulted in a somewhat awkward hug. But Harry didn’t even care that it was awkward, because Draco was hugging him back — not very tightly but that was to be expected — because Draco could hug him back, because he was alive. And then Harry was kissing Draco, he was kissing his lips, his cheeks, his eyes, his neck, every little bit of skin he could find.

“Very sound analysis,” Draco said through kisses, making Harry pull back and grin at him.

“Stop being a git,” Harry said, laughing before turning more serious. “You scared me, Draco, I thought you might not…” Harry trailed off, not wanting to say that he was afraid of Draco not waking up.

“I know, Harry, I did hear you, you know, when you spoke to me. Granted I don’t remember most of what you said but I did hear you,” Draco said softly before his tone turned teasing. “Though I’m not sure anyone could remember a lot of what you said with your rambling, unconscious or not.”

Harry hummed trying and failing to conceal his happiness. “It seems I need you to shut me up when I’m rambling, or else I go on for ages.”

“I can think of a couple fun ways to stop your rambling, though I’m not quite sure my body would allow me to do either one. So do try not to go on for ages, love.”

“Well, you’re already making jokes at my expense so I think you’ll be up in no time,” Harry said.

Draco hummed before changing the subject. “You said last night that you were meaning to ask me something?”

Harry laughed nervously, “Yeah, though I’m not sure this is the right setting for it,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“What if I told you I didn’t care,” Draco said. “You made me very curious and I think that I can’t wait any longer for it.”

“Well then, just remember that I’m only doing this now, here, because you couldn’t wait. So you can’t blame it on me,” Harry said before taking in a deep breath and locked his eyes with Draco’s. “Draco, I love you more than anything you know that, right?”

“Well, I had an inkling but I figured I might be a close second to your non-profit for muggleborns,” Draco said with a teasing smile.

Harry laughed, shaking his head before continuing as if Draco didn’t say anything. “Well, I do, love you. And it’s still mind-blowing to me how we’re like this now, happy and in love when we were how we were at Hogwarts. I just sit and think about how far we’ve come and it’s been over five years, Draco, but I still don’t believe it sometimes.”

“Does this have a point, Potter?” Draco asked, but he was smiling.

“Yeah, sorry. I, uh, had something prepared but I’m blanking now so you have to bear with me for a couple more minutes. Maybe you’ll remember that last night I said that I could live without you if I tried and that’s true but I meant it when I said I don’t want to live without you. And I know I’ve said before that marriage is meaningless other than just making everything official but I want you in my life and maybe making things official isn’t such a bad thing after all,” Harry said taking another deep breath before getting on one knee and taking the little black velvet box out from his pocket. “Draco, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

[dovechim]

magnolia (m)

➾ jeongguk x reader

➾ 3k (this was supposed to be a short drabble!!!!!)

➾ warnings: pregnancy sex, lactation, tit fucking, noona/ babyboy kink, handholding kink (lmao the last one is completely made up)

➾ after so many requests i decided to try my hand at this kink!! it turned out a lot more fluffy than i was expecting, but i hope you guys like it!!!! pls prepare ur bibles for a mass prayer session

Jeongguk considers himself the luckiest man in the world, nose tucked right into the crown of hair by the nape of your neck and inhaling that sweet scent as he spoons your heavy body with his. Even though the harsh red numbers on the clock remind him that he needs to get going for work soon, he closes his eyes for just a few more minutes, allowing his hands to caress over the small bump that holds his entire world.

You stir just slightly in front of him, and Jeongguk makes sure that he’s supporting your frame adequately- with all the extra weight added, it’s become hard for you to fall asleep lately. Sometimes he wonders how he got so lucky, seeing the round fullness of your belly gives him a rush of excitement to think that you’re entirely and irrevocably his. 

He’s careful not to wake you since he knows how little sleep you’re getting these days, but you blink sleepily anyway.

“Kook, what time is it? Don’t you have work?” You murmur incoherently, feeling him press a few kisses into the curve of your neck.

Jeongguk is momentarily distracted by the sight of your breasts, loosely clad in just a thin lace camisole. That delicious slope of smooth flesh dips gently from your neck, and he follows the lines of your body to the peaks of your nipples. You were never well endowed to begin with, he could easily take one of your tits into his mouth and the cup the other securely in his large palm, but that was before you got pregnant. Being several months along has awarded you a cup size or two, and Jeongguk can’t say he isn’t appreciative.

But he’s not distracted by their size today. In the dim lighting of the barely risen sun, he can see that the pink lace of your camisole is slightly damp, right where the nipple should be. Bringing his hands gently over the swell of your body, he lets them rest gingerly over your breasts, waiting for a reaction from you. You’ve nearly bitten his head off for trying to touch your breasts because they were sore and sensitive, but this was when you had just conceived.

Now, you arch into his touch, rubbing your perky nipples against his hand, and Jeongguk is delighted to find that your nipples are soaking wet. He brings his palm to his nose for a whiff, and the sweet, milky scent assuages his senses. Jeongguk reaches back down to tweak a nipple between his fingers, feeling arousal shoot straight to his cock when he feels a dribble of liquid soak through the lace.

Your eyes are closed, still in the vestiges of your hard earned slumber, completely unaware of the milk that’s dribbling from your breasts and only intent on the feeling of his hands on your skin. So Jeongguk sneakily licks a few drops from his fingertips, and the taste alone makes him close his eyes in bliss.

He’s consumed with the urge to turn you over and attach his lips to a nipple and just suckle, imagining that sweet, milky liquid filling the recesses of his mouth and sliding down his throat like the richest honey. But then the clock next to him beeps insistently, and he reluctantly prises his hands from your body to go to work.

*

All day, the lingering sweetness of your taste haunts him, and Jeongguk has had to confine himself to his desk at work in order to hide his raging erection.

3.59pm [You]: kook, there’s a problem.

Jeongguk’s heart skips a beat as he drops everything to type out a harried reply.

3.59pm [kook serving LOOKS 👀]: r u ok?? Did the baby come??? 4.01pm [You]: no, u idiot, im only 4 months 4.02pm [kook serving LOOKS 👀]: fuck, u scared me 4.02pm [kook serving LOOKS 👀]: what is it?? 4.03pm [kook serving LOOKS 👀]: do u need me home? i can leave work early 4.04pm [You]: no!!! don’t, it’s not that urgent 4.04pm [You]: it’s just… it’s nothing. really. 

Even over text, Jeongguk is so intimately familiar with all your mannerisms that he can tell you’re embarrassed. Over what is the real question, so despite your text, he shoots off a quick email to his boss asking for the rest of the day off before he’s out the door and in his car.

He comes home to find you seated at the dining table fiddling with a strange contraption. But he can’t focus on it long enough to tell what it is, because his traitorous eyes dip to the two wet spots on the front of his white shirt that you’ve repurposed as a makeshift dress. 

“Kook! What are you doing home?” There’s a nervousness in your voice that he’s never heard before, and the way you angle the front of your body away from him makes him feel so irrationally guilty. Jeongguk hates that you’re embarrassed about your beautiful body, feels the need to hide it from him, especially when he was the one who made you like this.

He crosses the distance in between you in a few strides, grasping your shoulders firmly but gently to get you to face him. Only then does he see your refusal to meet his eyes, and he can’t have this.

“What’s wrong noona?” Jeongguk knows how much this softens you up, something about the way he says that word that makes you melt in his arms.

“It’s nothing, you shouldn’t have come home,” you finally relent as you rest your cheek against his hard chest, still incredibly self-conscious about the two wet spots on your own chest. “I think I… um… started lactating.”

Jeongguk’s mind goes blank for a second, and his eyes drop to the strange machine on the table, still in its box. He reads the words ‘breast pump’ on the side, then everything clicks.

“It’s been non-stop all day, and the mess has been horrible, but I remembered my mom gave us this a while back and I was trying to figure out how to use it, but…”

Jeongguk recognises the tone of frustration in your voice, and how you always elongate your sentences like this when you’re tired and at your wits end. He shushes you with a quick press of his lips against yours, and takes your place on the chair, pulling you into his lap.

“We’ll figure this out together, okay?” It’s his way of reminding you that you’re not in this alone, that he’ll do whatever he can to alleviate every bit of your suffering.

The instructions make no sense whatsoever, so Jeongguk figures that it’s best to experiment through trial and error. After assembling the machine as best as he can by consulting the terribly drawn diagrams, he holds up the breast pump that’s supposed to be attached to your body.

Jeongguk shifts your weight into his arms, and you grab the pump to help him move the two of you into the bedroom, although you can’t help but roll your eyes at how he takes every opportunity to show off his monstrous strength. He carries you almost like you weigh nothing, even with the pregnancy. Setting you down gently against the pillows, Jeongguk slides in behind you to help you fit the pump.

“I feel like a cow,” you lift his shirt to expose one breast, and the slight smirk that catches on the corner of his mouth sets you at ease a little, even as he fits the device snugly.

“’m pretty sure you could give those cows a run for their money,” Jeongguk says as he fiddles with the switch to activate the pump. “I’d take your breast milk over cow’s milk any day.”

You gasp and slap at his thighs that surround your own legs. “What? You tried it? Since when- this morning??”

Your scandalised expression makes him chuckle deviously, and you reach out to pinch his nipple in retaliation.

“AHh! Sorry, noona, I just couldn’t help it,” he reaches to soothe the pinch, giving you a pout in return.

“Noona won’t work on me this time,” you frown at him in mock anger. “Now you know how it feels to be milked without your permission.”

Jeongguk flashes you a boyish smile that never fails to set your heart racing, and that mischievous little smirk reminds you of just how good he is at making you forget your embarrassment. Even hooked up like this, as the device whirs into action, his reverent gaze makes you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth, blessed with his child, breasts round with milk to nourish them.

He strokes your bare thighs absently even as he watches the cup attached to the pump slowly fill with milk.

“Noona, that’s it, you’re doing so well… can you fill it up for me?” Jeongguk watches in wonder as the liquid dribbles ever so slowly into the cup, the suction tugging at your sensitive nipple. He slides his hand down to the apex of your thighs, fingers brushing against the cotton panties to find that they’re damp too.

You rest your head back on his chest as his fingers slip inside your panties to tease your clit, finding it already slick. But being this early on in your pregnancy means that you don’t have much milk to offer, and the suction of the pump makes your nipple all swollen and puffy.

Jeongguk is dying to take it in his mouth.

“Jeongguk, can you switch it?”

He reaches for the pump to detach it from your skin, rubbing at the red marks as he moves to the other dripping, neglected nipple. But then he stops, cock hard against your back as he watches the milky liquid drip onto your skin, and he can’t help but ask.

“Noona, can I taste it? Please?” The last word comes out as a whine, and he knows how weak you are when he begs like this. He feels your frame stiffen against him, and just to sweeten you up a little, he resumes his tight circles around your clit. He rubs you closer and closer to your orgasm, and just when he’s sure you’re almost there, he slips a finger inside you, feels your walls clench around him in the throes of your pleasure.

When you’ve calmed down enough, boneless in his arms, Jeongguk asks again. 

“Your nipples are so pretty, noona, all pink and sweet, but I bet your milk is sweeter. Can I?”

“C-can you what? What do you want, babyboy?” You can feel the heat of his erection on your lower back, and it sends a thrill singing through your veins to know that you can arouse him to this extent without even touching him.

“I want your milk, Noona,” he obliges obediently, and you cast your head back to catch a glimpse of his doe eyes, so wide and innocent.

“Go ahead, babyboy.”

Jeongguk is beyond thrilled, but takes care to position your heavy body comfortably against the soft pillows as you coax his head into your arms, cradling his head the way you would your unborn child. His lips draw nearer and nearer your wet nipple, and he gives the surrounding flesh a few kisses before engulfing it entirely. He sweeps his tongue over the peak, tasting the remnants of milk before he starts to suckle enthusiastically. He allows his teeth to scrape teasingly at your nipple, tongue dancing over the underside of your breast as the taste of your sweet milk floods his mouth.

The sensation of his tongue on your sensitive, puffy nipple combined with his eager sucks makes you moan. Glancing down at him, you find his dark eyes trained on yours, and the intimacy of this moment far surpasses just sexual tension and lust as he drinks from your breast the milk intended for his unborn child. The maternal instinct to hold his body close for him to suckle threatens to overwhelm you.

Giving a few last sucks, Jeongguk draws away reluctantly, and you can see a stream of milky liquid dribble down his chin.

“Noona’s milk tastes so good. Our baby is so lucky,” he whispers, and his hand caresses your other breast gently. “You have no idea how good you look like this, noona. I love having you pregnant.”

His words have ignited jolts of desire that make you rub your thighs together, and you can feel how messy your panties are at this stage. Even your nipples are beginning to leak again, and you’re just one big mess, but Jeongguk loves it. He reaches to wrap his lips around your nipple again, suckling intently at the flavour of your milk that laves his tongue, and the creaminess that slides down his throat.

But it’s not enough, and you whine low in your chest.

“Kook,” you spread your thighs wide apart, and he reaches to tug your panties off, mouth leaving your nipple as he kneels in between your legs.

“So wet, noona, all for me?” He grins even as he readjusts the bulge in his dress pants that looks increasingly uncomfortable, licking his lips to get the last of the milk. “Want me to eat your pussy? Or my fingers again?”

You shake your head. “Neither, want your cock.”

Jeongguk makes a sound of hesitation low in his throat as his eyes immediately skim over your belly.

“I’ll be fine, the baby’s stronger than that, I won’t break,” you roll your eyes as you reach for his cock, tugging his dress pants open.

He gives in and allows you to stroke his length a few times before he has to stop you for fear of coming all over your stomach. On hindsight, the thought of painting your round belly white with his cum doesn’t seem all that bad, but he reminds himself that your pleasure comes first, so maybe next time. Jeongguk presses a kiss to your bump before sliding his head between your folds, and you sigh when he pushes in deep.

Jeongguk doesn’t go as deep as he normally would, opting for shallow strokes instead as he feels your walls tighten around him. Watching your round breasts bounce with every thrust, he leans back down to capture a nipple in his mouth again, suckling intently to get every drop of milk. He pulls you into his lap so that your breasts are at the perfect height for him to worship, head buried in your chest even as he encourages your hips to ride him.

“Kook, at this rate there won’t be enough for our baby,” you tease, running your hands through his hair as he suckles your breast. “The milk’s not for you, remember?”

“He can learn to share,” he mumbles around a mouthful of your tit, hips moving at a slow, even pace. He silences your protest by giving your clit the attention it so badly needs, satisfied when you buck your hips into him.

The warmth of your walls coaxes him closer and closer to his orgasm, and Jeongguk has to intentionally remind himself not to pound your pussy into the sheets like he’s tempted to.

“Your tits are so pretty when they’re full of milk for my baby, noona,” Jeongguk enjoys the way they bounce as he thrusts into your pussy. “You like being filled with my cock? Filled you up so good, noona, now you’re all bred and leaking with my baby’s milk.”

You clench and moan around him, silken walls milking his cock for his cum, but without the rough stimulation he’s used to, Jeongguk can’t quite cum the same time as you do. Your pussy is still convulsing around him when he gives you a kiss on the forehead, pulling his still hard length out from your depths.

“Wait, didn’t you cum?” You grasp on to his shoulders to keep from sliding off his lap, muscles weak.

Jeongguk is nonchalant, hands around your waist to settle you back into the pillows. “Nah, I’m fine.”

But you refuse to take no for an answer. You cup your breasts together, squeezing them tight and meeting his gaze. “Wanna fuck my tits?”

Jeongguk may be good at controlling his expressions, but his cock isn’t, especially when it literally twitches and jumps at your offer.

“Come here,” you reach out with one hand to tug on his cock, and Jeongguk’s eyes are fixated on your leaking tits as he inches closer.

He’s careful not to put any weight on your stomach, but he lets his knees fall onto either side of your ribs as you squeeze your globes of flesh together for him. Sliding his cock through your cleavage makes him feel like he could cum right away, and when the dribbles of your milk coat his cock, Jeongguk swears he could die a happy man.

“Fuck, so fucking pretty for me, noona,” he whines, cock stroking in and out of the valley between your breasts. He can only concentrate on the way his precum leaks from his head to stain your chest, minging with the streams of milk until it’s all one giant mess. “So, so good for me noona, f-fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Come all over noona’s tits, babyboy,” you watch as the reddened tip of his head moves rapidly. “Want your cum so bad.”

Jeongguk can’t help but let his hips speed up in sloppy thrusts between your breasts, desperately hoping that he isn’t hurting you as he erupts in messy ropes of cum all over your chest. Your nipples are coated in his thick semen that mixes with your milk, and you can only lie there and let Jeongguk make you a mess.

For a moment, he can’t do anything but admire how pretty you look, all covered in his cum, breasts leaking with milk, and belly swollen with his child.

All his.

“Fuck, thank you noona, I’m so fucking lucky,” he peels off his dress shirt to wipe at your chest, gathering you into his arms as his hands encircle your bump. Jeongguk feels a sense of contentment in his chest as you snuggle deeper into his embrace, his body tucked right up against yours, and he reaches for your hand.

“Glad you know, brat.” You whisper sleepily as your fingers find his instinctively, and his hands curl around yours.

[underimagines]

falling in love at a coffee shop (asgore/reader)

Summary: “You meet one of your top-tier clients. Oh no, he’s cute.”

3k-Kofi Poll Results Drabble - Asgore/Reader, SOULmate AU: Humor, Fluff, & Romance (with just a dash of Angst™)

read it on ao3 / buy me a coffee

That guy had been staring at you for over ten minutes.

Not non-stop, of course, or else you’d have called the cops by now. But he kept glancing at you every so often, and you were starting to get nervous.

He was a big guy, a blonde Monster that reminded you of a minotaur. You didn’t feel any malicious intent rolling off him—not with that Hawaiian print shirt and khaki shorts combo, at least. Didn’t mean you felt any better about it, though. You just wanted some coffee, man.

Aside from that, you had much bigger things to worry about than the blooming possibility of a stalker. Like work, which you had in two hours. For a ten-hour shift. That you’d woken up an hour ago for. God, this sucked.

Work sucked. Life sucked. Everything sucked.

You took another swig of your cappuccino. Things sucked a little less.

It was still dark out, too, which meant that you were going to be stuck in your dead-end of a job for the better part of what was supposed to be a pretty nice day.

Maybe you could call in sick? Two hours seemed like a fine range of warning. You rubbed your temples, groaning into your arms. No, you couldn’t do that. You needed the money.

In that case.

You made it through three extra sugar packets to your already saccharine caffeinated slush of a drink, when a soft, baritone voice echoed from right behind you.

“Excuse me.”

The small shock caused you to jump, but thankfully, you caught your cup before it could tip. Which was more than just relieving, because it was scalding. Your “admirer” had the decency to look ashamed when you whirled around, fixing him with a death glare.

“Yeah?” Usually you weren’t so snippy, especially with strangers. But it was early, and you were tired.

“My apologies for disturbing you.” He began again, in a low, rumbling voice that made your palms feel sweaty. Turns out he was a lot bigger up close. This guy had to be, what? Six, seven-and-a-half feet? Maybe eight if you were pushing it. “But I couldn’t help but notice the symbol on your shirt. You work for D.T. Corp, correct?”

You glanced down, eyeing the tiny logo. It was like an abstract heart, almost square in shape, with a line running through the middle. Too avant-garde for your tastes, but at least it stuck out. The place had a nice reputation, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that you got attention for it.

“Yeah, can I help you with something?” Your voice tipped more into customer-service mode instinctively, and you cringed. It was such an automatic response, you hated it.

The Minotaur…or whatever he was, gave you an awkward, shy smile. It was such a genuinely warm expression. Suddenly the room felt several degrees too warm for comfort.

“Ah, I am sorry to bother you. But I have important business to attend to at your workplace.”

Then it clicked. You knew you’d seen his face before. He was Asgore Dreemurr, the Ruler of the Monster Kingdom. Talk about your “TIFU” scenarios.

“I was expecting someone…taller.” You offered, giving him a small grin.

Asgore smiled back, the tension melting from his expression. “Ah, I get that often.”

The smile grew as you leaned back, patting the empty chair next to you. “If you’re in need of assistance, please, sit. I’ll be happy to help however I can, Your Highness.”

“Please, just Asgore is fine.” He waved a hand dismissively, settling onto the tiny booth-seat as best he could. It creaked under his weight. Jeez, he was big.

You coughed to clear your thoughts, taking another sip of your drink. “So, what can I help you with, Asgore?”

“Well, you see.” He reached around himself, pulling a small manila envelope. It was surprisingly crisp, and not at all wrinkled, despite being in what you assumed was his back pocket. “In this document I received, it stated that I would need a human witness with me to sign the procedural papers so that we could go ahead with the Reformation Plan.”

His smile dropped a bit at the edges, “However. The only human I am acquainted with would be our ambassador, a young child named Frisk. Given the circumstances, I’m afraid I could not ask them for their assistance. I was hoping that, possibly, I could ask a worker to find someone who’s available to take their place?”

You nodded sagely. Though you didn’t know much about this ambassador, you’d heard of them enough to know that your superiors were adamant that the proceedings take place in the presence of an adult committee. “Alright, so the meeting is…?”

He wrung his hands together. “In a week’s time.”

“And you need a volunteer witness to oversee a legal signing?”

Another nod. “Yes.”

“Understood.” Draining the rest of your coffee, you sighed. It was going to be a busy day. You hadn’t even clocked in yet and you were “on-the-job.” But there was no pussy-footing around this one, this guy was a big client. “Why don’t we meet at the administration building in, say…a few days, and we can speak to the front desk about finding an open appointment for one of our volunteers to assist you?”

It looked like you’d just offered him the world on a silver platter. “Oh, thank you! I would appreciate it.”

“No problem sir, we strive to offer our clients the best in customer service.” Your tone was steadily dropping into a “pre-trained” manner you’d grown very used to using over the phone. It was an unintentional instinct, but highly effective for the general position you had.

“That’s a relief to hear. I greatly appreciate your help!” When he smiled, the tips of two tiny fangs poked out from his upper lip. His eyes crinkled at the edges, one blue, one amber. Both sparkled in admiration. You hoped he didn’t catch you staring.

‘Get it together, agent.’

Like planned, you met up with Mr. Dreemurr at the end of the week. He was just as warm and friendly as when you’d first met him, though with an air of respectfulness that exuded from him like the floral scent he always carried. When it came to business, he seemed to take things seriously, which was both a great relief and a slight surprise to you.

It was his outfit that caught you off-guard the most. A long, royal purple robe encased his form from shoulder to feet, dragging ever-so-slightly on the floor. The shoulder-plates were thick and coated with ornate designs that put your Vera Bradley bag to shame.

He was big, bold, and bashful in a way that reminded you vaguely of Prince Adam from Beauty and the Beast. Considering you’d had a crush on said Prince from a very young age, you were beginning to regret lending your assistance to the royal. He was just too adorable for you to maintain a professional view, dammit.

His largeness just made things even tougher. It was difficult to keep a pleasant distance inside the terribly cramped elevators. It was obvious that he was trying to give you room, as much as he could, but you were still pressed into the fabric of his cape just enough that you could make out the flexing of muscles beneath. One of his hands sat on your shoulder, keeping you upright as he attempted to shift around the tiny space. He smelled so sweet and your entire body was flushed from head to toe with the heat of his body.

And the worst part? Asgore had no idea about the effect he had on you.

It was either that, or he was tormenting you for fun. You’d had a lot of clients who you were attracted to, physically, but you were quickly finding Mr. Dreemurr to be more charming than you’d ever expected.

The silence buzzed as you pressed against a wall, trying desperately to drown out the pounding of your heart with the dull hum of the elevator. Asgore shifted his weight, eyes glued to the far corner.

“So…again, I greatly appreciate your help. Genuinely. This has all been so…” He looked at a loss for words.

“Stressful?” You offered.

“I was going to say Tirritating, but that works too.” The monster chuckled gently. “Tiring and irritating.”

“Ah, I understand that.” You nodded solemnly. There were times when you often felt smad—your preferred phrase for anxious or melancholic scenarios. “So, um. How are things going? About the whole…erm. I mean. How are you adjusting to the Surface?”

His gaze softened considerably, smile hazy and faraway. “It’s changed quite a bit since the last time I was able to see it. Humans have evolved in so many ways. The technology today is amazing.”

Asgore turned to you, eyes shimmering with excitement. “My companions are teaching about how to use the Under—uh, Internet. So far I’ve become rather well-versed in may-mays.”

Did he mean memes? Ohmygod, he was precious.

“Oh?” You bit back the urge to giggle, “And how’s that going for you?”

Somehow, he perked up even more. “Wonderfully! I’ve recently become fond of a particular may-may that involves one person holding another’s flower before they descend into battle! Oh, and everything with the bees!”

“Bees?”

Asgore nodded. “My hobbies include gardening, so I’m quite used to having insects around. I’ve never been afraid of bees, oh, but Asriel was so afraid of them…!”

He stopped then. You watched the life drain from his movements, only understanding the shift when he glanced at you with sad, watery eyes. “Asriel was my son…he did not make it out of the Underground.”

“Oh…I’m sorry to hear that.” The horror of the statement sank into your gut, pummeling you with an unnecessary guilt. You had nothing to do with his son’s passing, but you still felt terrible. Like you’d somehow provoked the resurfacing of this memory.

A thick tension filled the small space, broken only by the soft hum of the elevator continuing to rise. Just as you moved to say something, trying to lift the mood, the elevator dinged. It came without warning, and you jumped a bit.

“Oh!” Asgore smiled, but his eyes were downcast. “We are here. I will let you lead the way.”

You clamped your lips shut, scurrying into the hall before you ultimately said something to make the situation worse. Stupid. You should have just kept your mouth shut. Kept your head down. It was against protocol to get friendly with clientele, and there was no doubt that the King of Monsterkind was not an exception. No matter how charming, or kind, or cute he was—

“Um, are you okay?” You jumped again. Asgore was leaning close to you as you walked, his large stride able to keep pace with your hurried steps with ease. He looked very concerned. “You look as if something is bothering you.”

“Oh—uh—no!” The words tumbled from your mouth gracelessly. “I’m just thinking about…work I’ll have to finish later today. Projects and all. Nothing huge.”

Ohmygod, shut up. You’re embarrassing yourself.

“Wowie! What branch of the corporation do you work for, if I may ask?”

“I’m a receptionist,” you replied bluntly. “It’s not a very prestigious job, but it has to be done. The company would fall apart without me.”

That was very unlikely, but you liked to think it anyway. It gave you a sense of self-importance and confidence in the workplace. Asgore nodded.

“I see! You seem very personable and friendly, I’m sure you’re very good at your job.”

Heat crawled up the back of your neck, a flush spreading across the bridge of your nose. “Oh, really? Thank you, sir, that means a lot to me.”

He gave you that sweet, simple smile again. Your heart pounded.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. You had to get out of this situation before you said something that could get you fired.

“So…why me?” Wait, that made no sense without context. “I mean, why me out of everyone else? I’m sure there are plenty of other highly qualified individuals who were available—we tend to pay legal officials to come in for most signings. Not that I’m not happy to help, of course.”

“Ah. Well,” Asgore began, a pink flush spreading across the ends of his ears. “I suppose you could say, out of convenience?”

“Oh.” Yeah that made sense. Kind of. “Well, I did offer, so you’ve got me there. I’m glad to be of service, though.”

“I’m glad to have your service!” He beamed. “Ah, but if I do recall, you seemed to recognize me, right? I suppose my reputation precedes me.”

You nodded. “It certainly does, Mr. Dreemurr. The entire corporation has been buzzing about your presence. We’re all very excited and lucky to have your patronage.”

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Asgore chuckled softly. “Though I do have to admit, I feel a bit guilty.”

“Guilty? About what?” Oh man, was this gonna be another sadness bomb? You braced yourself, just in case.

“Well, I was not entirely truthful about my reason for noticing you in the crowd.”

Oh. Well that was…slightly relieving. You cocked your head, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in your stomach. “Now I’m a little worried. You haven’t been stalking me, have you?”

“Goodness, no!” He was quick to reply, looking shocked. “I just…well…that is to say…”

You stopped outside the office door. Asgore gently placed a paw over your shoulder. Your ears were pounding with the thrum of your heart.

“Have you ever heard of SOULmates?”

It felt like the world came to a sudden stop. Those words seemed to flip some switch inside you. Or maybe your feelings were finally bubbling to the surface. The words hung on the tip of your tongue, trembling and joyous.

“Y…Yes. But aren’t those just myths? N-Not to sound rude, of course.”

He just smiled. Your body fizzed with energy. “I suppose it would, after so long. But they are very…very real. And I happen to think…that we might be?”

“What would give you that idea?” It tumbled out before you could stop it, your natural curiosity overriding the urge to accept the idea blindly.

“Perhaps you cannot see it, but…here, let me try something.”

Then, standing outside the door to your boss’s office, King Asgore engaged you in battle.

Not literal battle, of course. But everything went dark, then…monochrome? The world looked like it was filled with a grid, the perfect setting for a battleground. Asgore stood before you, bathed in blacks and whites. Something small and spade-shaped floated in his outstretched palm.

Was that…his SOUL? You’d heard that Monsters had physical interpretations of SOULs, but you’d never seen one before. Looking closer, you saw that it wasn’t spade-shaped at all. It was an upside-down heart.

“Wow,” you whispered. Asgore’s eyes were filled with warmth as he gestured for you to look down.

You did.

It was an incredible sight.

Your SOUL, glowing like star in the dark of night. The color shimmered from top to bottom, almost gradient-like in tones. But obviously and unmistakably your most prominent trait.

“Is this…my SOUL?” You couldn’t help but ask, though you already knew the answer. SOUL research was common at D.T. Corp, but given your low ranking position, you’d never really been involved with any of it. The closest you’d gotten to seeing a human SOUL were the fake display models they kept out for visitors to look at.

But seeing the real thing was so much better.

“It’s so warm,” You murmured, cupping your hands beneath the tiny bouncing heart. As Asgore stepped forward to approach you, the glow brightened considerably. A shyness pooled through you when he chuckled.

“That glow is the sign. I suppose Monsters are more attuned to Magic than humans have been for centuries. Of course, this is an issue we’re trying to rectify. Though I suppose, we’ll have to take baby steps working our way up.”

You looked up at him, watching as his expression tensed. “That is to say…I was actually not going to tell you. Until later of course. But I felt, before we continued our business together, that it would be more beneficial to us both if you knew.”

All you could do was nod. It was against company policy to date clients, so it was good that he’d told you. And at the same time, your mind reeled.

Soulmates were a real thing. And you had a Soulmate! And he was a king! And also your client! And a Monster! The King of Monsters!!

Asgore reached out to steady you as you wobbled. “Ah, I knew this was too much. Please, put it out of your mind for now. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about things after business is taken care of. If you wish to, of course. If not, I would understand.”

His eyes flashed sadly, like he was expecting you to reject him. Without thinking, you blurted, “Of course!”

He looked up, then, a small expression of shock on his face. You scrambled to rectify your statement. “Of course, I would like to…discuss matters with you. After all, perhaps this situation could be beneficial to us both…in more ways than one?”

Mr. Dreemurr smiled. “I look forward to it. Ah. But for now, perhaps we shouldn’t keep them waiting. We’ve been standing out here for a while now.”

Ohmygod, you had, hadn’t you? It was an extremely lucky coincidence that hardly anyone was out in the hall, because you weren’t quite ready to accept the news yourself.

You had a soulmate.

You’d met your soulmate.

And he wanted your company.

He wanted you.

The realization sent a surge of child-like joy up your spine. For now, you could push future complications under the rug. Anything problematic that you had to deal with, you could certainly deal with later.

For now, you were happy.

The 3rd Ko-Fi Goal has been reached! I had a lot fun with this one, even if it is kind of open-ended. What would you do if you found out you were SOULmates with one of your company's biggest clients? I'd spontaneously combust on the spot.

- Mod Mellow

[hayjeon]

Little Bit [02] ft. Yoongi

Drabble game #10 “I might have had a few shots.”

→ grumpy policeman!yoongi au, childhoodfriends!au aka extreme fluff, i think i’m gonna get cavities → 3k words, part 1 

To say Min Yoongi is fucking stressed out, is an extreme understatement. 

If the four cups of empty coffee cups on the corner of his messy desk and the black locks of hair that are tussled after carding his fingers through them in frustration aren’t an indication for everyone to back the fuck off, he doesn’t know what else is. The dark circles under his eyes are practically carved into his face and his eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. 

The case has been going in circles recently, the man who’d been terrorizing the entire county with the disappearing young women had been leaving bread crumbs all over the place, but Yoongi had a suspiscion that he was leaving random ones on purpose. Ones that made no sense, and would send the department on a wild goose chase until only time and resources were wasted. The guy was smart. A bit bold and brazen, but still, very smart. He was toying with them. 

And that frustrated Yoongi the most, to think that this guy was smart enough to capture and track down the movements of the police, but still had yet to do anything to you, who had literally been inches from his face. Yoongi knows that the culprit is probably keeping tabs on you, but the thing that makes him so anxious is that Yoongi has no idea when or where this guy will pounce. .

His work phone buzzes, and he picks up brashly. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, boss, uh I’m not sure how to break this to ya, but I think you need to be here.” Hoseok yells into the phone, speaking over loud music.

“Huh? What the hell are you saying, where are you?” 

Hoseok hesitates. “Uh, the bar on 5th and Southeast. Y/N’s here…” 

Yoongi is about to chew the fuck out of Hoseok for wasting his time when he hears your name. “What? Y/n?!” 

“Yeah…the bartender called me because she texted me earlier, but she refuses to leave unless you’re here.” 

“Fuck no, I’m not going.” Yoongi mutters into the phone as he stands and puts on his jacket. “Why would I go?” 

He logs out of his computer to protect the info, and stuffs his keys into his pocket. 

“C’mon boss, she looks like she’s about to cry if you don’t come over here.” 

Yoongi scoffs, “She’s just bluffing, just argue with her a little more.” He checks himself in the mirror next to the door real quick to see what he looks like. His eyebags are pretty bad, but he stuffs a cap over his hair to tame the mane. This would do for now. 

He briskly walks out and unlocks his car, sitting in the seat and starting the engine. Hoseok is doing something away from the phone, but Yoongi can hear in the silence of his car that his friend is currently arguing with you. 

“Yoongi, hyung, I really think you need to be here.” 

Yoongi groans loudly into the receiver as he maneuvers onto the freeway, checking his rearview. “Alright, alright, but only because she’s not leaving without me!” 

“Yeah whatever hyung, just get over here. I’m leaving in 10.” Hoseok hangs up the phone and looks disgustedly at your drunk figure whining and groaning on the bar, and then glances toward his phone, rolling his eyes. 

“Fucking dumbasses, why don’t you guys just date?! I can fucking hear the sound of his car unlocking, dumbass. Oh shit no, Y/N, you are not fucking supposed to crawl on the floor—!” 

You’d seen it all. 

The beautiful ballet dancer that was involved in a case a few years back had gone into Yoongi’s office earlier today and dropped off a handmade bento box for him to eat during his breaks, and had giggled and flirted with him until she made the entire department fall in love with her. 

You’d seen the way he smiled at her, opening the door for her before she left, smiling after her and glancing down at the bento box before digging into it. And you didn’t know what to do, standing there with your tinier lunch box, only 2 tiers filled with rice, meat, and kimchi. Nothing compared to the 5-course meal she’d probably asked her chef to cook since last night. 

So when your girlfriends asked if you wanted to go drinking and clubbing with them, you hesitated. You hated clubbing, and especially these days, you were trying to be really careful to keep your promise to Yoongi and stay as far as you can away from trouble. 

But the image of Yoongi’s smile flashed through your mind and you’d agreed to them in a heartbeat and had cast a hard look at the pepper spray on your vanity before choosing not to put it in your clutch. 

Maybe it was time to get over Min Yoongi, after almost a decade of grueling after a man who only showed his beautiful smile to others. 

“Where is she?” Yoongi asks Hoseok as he walks through the doors. 

Hoseok sighs and points at your figure, surrounded by your girlfriends who are trying to convince you to get off. You’re slumped on the bar and Yoongi can see from the entrance how hammered you are. 

He groans and briskly walks toward your figure, and your friends notice and part so that he can talk to you. 

“Y/N, get up,” He mutters. Your cheek is still plastered to the bar, and your eyes closed tightly shut. 

“No! I’m not leaving until Min Yoongi gets heremmmppffff–” You grumble, and turn your face and clutch at the chair tightly. 

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “It’s me, Min Yoongi.” 

 You sit up too quickly, and everyone gasps as you wobble on the stool you’re sitting on and it immediately flings backwards along with your limp body. But Yoongi’s there, as he quickly reaches out and steadies the chair and your torso along with it, righting you up and sighing as you turn and practically launch your body on his. 

“Yoongi!” You squeal into his ear, slurring as you talk right into his ear. It tickles a bit but he loves it. “I missed you!!” 

“I saw you yesterday.” 

You back up a bit, arms still looped around him so your face is literally inches from him. Pouting with red cheeks, you grumble, “Ya! I missed you still.” 

Your friends and Hoseok are standing there awkwardly. One of them speaks up, “Um,” she says, clearing her throat, “Yoongi? We’ll leave her to you, then, see ya!” 

He just nods as they walk off, not sparing a glance at them. You look at them as they walk off, pouting, “Wait, but I want one more round!” 

Yoongi straightens you up, sighing as he pries your arm off of him for a second so he can pay the bartender. You cling to his left arm like a koala, burying your face into his shoulder and whining about something along the lines of bento boxes. He ignores you as he heavily tips the bartender and the guy gives him a bottle of water for you. 

“Girlfriend?” 

Yoongi doesn’t know what else to say, or how to explain this situation, so he just nods and thanks him, turns around and wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. 

“Let’s go, yeah?” He speaks a bit more gentler this time, now that you’re both alone from any prying eyes, and steadily maneuvers you towards the entrance. 

“Yoongi! y’know you’re m’best friendmphf right?” You blink up at him with bleary eyes and heavy eyelids. 

He helps you into his car. “Sure, Y/N.” 

“And y’know I really likephf you? Like, a looooooot.” You slur, as he gets into the drivers seat and starts the engine. You slump over the dashboard and bury your face into his shoulder. 

“A looooooot, Yoongi.” 

He turns into the street. “Mhmm.” 

You don’t say anything after that and Yoongi can’t help but smile a bit at how cute you look, slumped over into his shoulder and with your cheeks a pink mess. 

Your hand rests close to his lap so he lets go of the wheel for a bit and wraps his fingers around yours, silently praying that you won’t wake up. It doesn’t take too long for him to maneuver the car quickly into his driveway, parking quickly and reluctantly letting go of your hand so he can get out. 

He opens your door and sees you shiver slightly at the cold night air. 

“Y/N,” he says gently, and you don’t stir. “Y/N,” he tries, a bit louder this time, but barely above a whisper. You’re still knocked out, oblivious to his whispers. 

“Huh, I tried. I was practically yelling.” He tsks and unbuckles your belt and gathers you in his arms and kicks the door shut behind him. “I’m only carrying you because I have to, ok?” 

You don’t reply and just bury your face deeper into his neck, and Yoongi shivers when he feels the unmistakable soft brush of your lips against it, and almost drops you while trying to press the elevator button. 

You finally wake up somewhat when he’s pressing the door lock code and flinging open his door, cringing in his arms and muttering some incomprehensible words into his shoulder. He props you up on the corner of his bed, dropping your handbag on the couch. He pads over to the kitchen quickly to start the cup of hot honey tea, and quickly pours it into a cup before coming back to his bedroom. He almost drops the cup. 

You’re practically naked, only in a bra and the pencil skirt you were wearing, heels and coat and shirt all discarded haphazardly on the floor. Your eyes are closed and brows furrowed as you fumble with the zipper on the back of your skirt, whining and complaining under your breath as you try to get it off. Yoongi basically drops the cup on his nightstand with a loud clatter and clambers over to you. 

“Y/N, what the fuc—” He grabs your hands from unzipping the skirt any further, averting his eyes when he sees glimpses of your lace underwear peeking out from the slit you just unzipped. His crotch tightens and he closes his eyes as he breaths out heavily through his nose. He grabs your coat off the ground and pushes it towards you, covering your torso with it and wrapping your arms around it.

“Y/N, No.” He feels like he’s reprimanding Holly because immediately at the negative word you pout up at him, still red-cheeked and pouting as you whine, “But Yoongi, t’s hot.” 

He shakes his head as he makes sure you won’t strip any further before digging furiously through his drawers for a shirt and sweatpants that would remotely fit your smaller figure. The last thing he wanted was for you to be sleeping in his bed with just those lace undies on, for the love of God. “Shut up, it’s like 40 degrees outside right now. You’re just drunk.” 

You giggle at him as he glares at you, “Hell yeah I’m drunk.” He returns with a tshirt and sweats with tight drawstrings. 

“You can sleep in my bed, so here, put these on.” He turns to give you a bit of privacy. 

Also because he needs to stop himself before he pounces. 

You nod cutely, and begin putting the shirt on when you stop, glancing down at your chest. “Wait, I still ‘ave m’ bra on. Yoongi come back, heeeeeelp.” You pout again, whining as you struggle to wrap your unflexible arms far behind you enough to take off the thing. Yoongi stops in the doorway, nostrils flaring as he struggles with either knocking you out or knocking you up. Either one, he deems, is a bad idea. 

He returns, eyes cast upward. “Turn around,” he mutters gruffly, and only looks down when he’s heard you move. You’re slumped over in his bed, and he gathers your hair up so he can move it over your shoulder and expose the clasp. You’re sort of shivering, and he can’t tell whether it’s from the cold or from the anticipation, but it intensifies once he puts his fingers on your skin. 

Your skin is absolutely so soft, and he has to hold himself back from running his palms over it, something completely unnecessary than what he was about to do right now. Maybe he should’ve turned on the light so it wasn’t so dark and erotic, what he was doing, but it’s too late because the clasp of your bra unhinges with a light snap, and then you’re pulling it off quickly. 

Yoongi gets up from the bed like he’s been burned and briskly walks out of the room to let you finish what you’ve started. He shuts the door behind him, running a hand over his face to get himself back together. What the fuck? Over a bra? C’mon Min Yoongi, you’ve seen better. 

It’s true, he’s seen better. 

Back in high school, just to spite you and see what you would do, he’d flirt with the most sluttiest girls on campus. He knows. He was such a dick. But that was why he doesn’t deserve you. He was young, and stupid, and so undeserving of the unconditional love you gave him constantly. Why was it now, almost a decade down the line, that he realized his feelings for you? 

And he couldn’t even do anything about it because personal relationships with anyone involved in your cases was strictly prohibited. 

“You finished?” He says loudly, when the sounds of your whining stop from behind the door. A small mhm sounds and he sighs before opening the door again to see you slumped on his bed with the shirt properly on and the sweatpants loosely hanging around your hipbones. At least you’d gotten then up there, he gives you some credit. 

Sighing, he ties them for you, cursing under his breath when he accidently grazes your skin, which makes you shift and your underwear is revealed to him again. He somehow gets it done, his fingers feeling like sausages, and gathers you in his arms and hoists you higher up on the bed so you’re comfortably seated against his pillows. 

“Here, Y/N, drink some of this.” He props you up and lets you take deep gulps of the tea before you let out a cute little burp and settle back down. When he turns to leave, you blink up at him drunkenly, grabbing his sleeve. 

“Yoongi, ’m cold.” 

He looks down at your pathetic figure, buried in his thick covers. He chuckles a bit. “Weren’t you saying that it was too hot when you put that show on earlier?” 

You frown at him. “well, it’s cold now.” 

“What do you want me to do about it? I’ve already turned the heater on.” 

“Cm’ere.” You tug at his sleeve again, and Yoongi lets you tug him into the bed, sighing as he drops right next to you. The kitchen light is on, and he should probably go turn it off before he goes to bed, most likely in the living room couch, because this was definitely a bit personal. 

But he’s a bit tired. Right? 

Right. 

You blink up at him and wiggle closer so that you can snuggle into his chest underneath the covers, your legs tangling in between his and your cold hands coming onto his waist underneath his shirt. He shivers. But not from the cold. 

Your lips are near his collarbone and he can smell the liquor on you, but the sweeter fragrance of the perfume he once bought you years ago is apparent in your hair. His arm comes out to cradle your neck and another around your shoulder. 

Not because he wanted to hold you. You were cold. Body heat was a thing. 

You mumble something but he can’t hear it since it’s muffled. “Hm?” 

You say it again and Yoongi uncurls himself from you a bit to hear it. “–te you.” 

“What?” He says, pulling you back further so he’s looking down straight into your face. 

You whine when the cold air hits you as he shifts, but he stays as he waits for you to answer. “Wanna date you, not that ballet girl,” you drawl, cringing cutely at the last few words. 

He chuckles a bit, “Huh? What are you even saying, what girl?” 

You blink at him through heavy lashes, squinting at him. “I saw! Saw everythin’, saw you smilin’ at ‘er, hated it.” 

He chuckles a bit. “Oh, you mean, Hyemi?” 

You frown, voice raising a bit. “Yeah, she has a name now? Well Hyemi–” you hiccup, “–can suck my!” Yoongi squishes your cheeks together before you can respond. 

“Alright, alright. Sorry, I won’t smile at her anymore.” You nod at his response, seemingly content. You had no idea, no idea that Hyemi was actually only there because she had a boyfriend who works in HR and could probably figure out the paperwork when Yoongi finally grew the balls to ask you out. You had absolutely no idea. “And what was that about dating me?” 

You scrunch your face, looking up as if deep in thought. “Uhhhhhh,” you whine, trying to rack your memory. “Oh!” 

“Wanna date you, Min Yoongi,” you blubber, cold fingers curling against his waist.

“I think I’’m the one who’s supposed to say that.” 

You frown when he lets go of your face and immediately snuggle closer to bury your face into his chest. “Yeah?” 

He smiles into your hair, a hand coming to cup against your neck and play with your hair. “Yeah.” 

“Okay. Promise?” 

He chuckles a bit. 

The kitchen light can wait. 

“Promise.” 

to be continued ;) 

[joo-heo-n]

Affinity

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Member: Changkyun x Reader

Word Count: 1,656

a/n: This is the second part. Enjoy!! Feedback is highly encouraged!! I know I said the next parts would be at least 2k-3k but I’m posting as I finish writing each part and this is all I was able to get for this part am sorreh..

Drabble / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 (Final)

Summary:

affinity-  a spontaneous or natural liking for someone or something

For the following two weeks, the two of you seemed to be working in and out of busy schedules, and the one day that seemed like you were finally going to spend together, a last minute surprise arose.

The knocks on the door made Changkyun groan and furrow his eyebrows together as he took up the space in the living room. He waited a few seconds for you to appear and answer it in his place but when the knocks continued and you didn’t show up, he stood up.

He reached for the door handle and opened the door, leaving a gap for him to see who it was. His eyebrows further knitted at the sight of a guy, probably a year or two older than him, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands. The guy seemed just as taken aback as Changkyun and him exchanged stares. It took a second too long before either one finally spoke, the guy looked at the apartment number and back at Changkyun, chuckling slightly in embarrassment.

“By any chance, does Y/N live here?” he asked, and Changkyun’s eyes widened, “U-Uh, Y/N? Yea she does, um, who’s asking?” Changkyun asked, standing a little straighter. The guy knitted his eyebrows for a second before relaxing his features, except his posture seemed to become tense.

Before he was able to reply to Changkyun, you had already made your way to the door and were pushing Changkyun to the side. “Hi w-what- I didn’t know you’d come, what are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest nervously. “I-I was trying to surprise you but, I got pretty surprised myself” he replied, nodding his head to the inside of the apartment and you realized he was talking about Changkyun.

“Oh yea, him, he’s my roommate” you said indifferently and his smile faltered, “Ah, I see, I wasn’t able to introduce myself properly because I was kinda confused” he added with a chuckle and your eyes widened. “Oh well come inside” you said, stepping away from the door for him to walk inside. Changkyun sat on the couch where he had been before, and you cleared your throat to get his attention. If you didn’t know better, you’d believe he was entirely oblivious to your presence and that of your date.

“Changkyun can you come?” you asked from the dining table as you took the bouquet from your date and fixed in on a vase.

You saw Changkyun move lazily towards the two of you with a forced smirk. “This is Changkyun, my roommate, Changkyun, this is my date” you said, finding yourself picking at your fingernails as the two exchanged looks. You didn’t exactly hate introducing others to Changkyun, but you weren’t a fan of the idea either. It was like oil and water, your life in your apartment with Changkyun, and your life outside of your home just didn’t sit well. Especially, when it came to dating. You knew nothing of Changkyun’s love life, and for the first unfortunate time, he’d find out about yours.

In contrast to the relaxed confidence your date was radiating as he held his hand out for Changkyun to shake, Changkyun looked careless, but he awkwardly took your dates hand with a smile you knew was of pretense and something else you couldn't figure out. “Nice to meet you man, I hope I didn’t get your hopes up in thinking the flowers were for you” your date joked and Changkyun grinned, making your shoulders relax a little.

“My heart fluttered a bit but no hard feelings” Changkyun said, earning a snicker from you. “Well, nice to meet you too, I’ll leave you be” Changkyun said, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweats as he nodded and turned away towards his bedroom, but not before giving you a quick glance that you couldn’t decipher. You finally let go of your distressed fingernails and turned to your date, who smiled, “So, you have a guy roommate, must be fun” he said, a hint of jealousy tinting his words.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, “He’s a good friend, and we have a strict just roommates relationship” you commented and he nodded.

“Let’s head out and get some food” he then said and you smiled with a nod.

________________________

You made your way into the apartment and dropped yourself on the couch, not taking notice of Changkyun who was now walking back from the kitchen. “How’d it go?” he asked, shoving your legs so he could sit. You picked them up as he sat and placed them over his lap. “It was okay” you commented softly, letting out an exhale, “I’m sorry for this morning, I had no idea” you added, and Changkyun shrugged. “It’s whatever” he said calmly, tapping your shins like if they were a drum set.

You smirked and closed your eyes, thinking about the conversation you had with your date half an hour ago.

“This is going to sound stupid jealous and petty but… I’m not really comfortable with your roommate being a guy” he said, his eyebrows knitted slightly as he rubbed his thumb over your hand. You furrowed your eyebrows, “Yea that does sound jealous and petty” you said with a scoff. “I know I just… maybe if I get to know him I’ll change my mind” he had said with a slight shrug and a shake of his head as he looked away from you.

You shook your head, “No, look, most of the time we’re not even home at the same time and the whole, becoming friends with your roommate’s dates, is against our roommate policy” you commented, pulling your hands away from his own. You could have brought up the fact that he wasn’t even your boyfriend to set boundaries for you, but you refrained from saying more.

It had ended after changing topic, the air between the two of you slightly heavier but no longer bringing Changkyun up. 

“I thought you didn’t like flowers?” Changkyun said and you opened your eyes to look at him as he squeezed your calves. “I don’t, well, not those at least” you replied and the two of you giggled. “How long have you been dating him?” Changkyun asked, averting his gaze from you and massaging your legs.

You remained silent for a minute or two, his interest in your relationship causing you to debate whether you wanted to tell him or not. “Like a month” you said nearly under your breath. You felt his hands stiffen on your legs for half a second before he continued his ministrations. “Why?” you then asked and he turned to you with a small smirk. He scratched his neck and sighed, “I had no clue you were seeing someone” he said, his smile widening but for some reason, it didn’t seem convincing.

You stared at him with a simper, “You weren’t supposed to have a clue” you replied through a chuckle. Changkyun turned away from you and grinned, “A month… I guess it would happen eventually” he said and you shrugged.

_______________________

Another few days without seeing much trace of each other went by. You were working on and off with your date since he brought up his displeasure with Changkyun as your roommate. He’d constantly want to go see you despite how much you protested against the idea. You began closing the store and racking all the clothes out of place. “I think he probably sees your roommate as competition, you know, since he isn’t your boyfriend yet” your friend said, scrunching her nose at the last words. You groaned and dropped your shoulders, “It’s annoying, and I’m sure if he starts going over, he’ll probably annoy Changkyun too” you said, roughly hanging a t-shirt. “What does roommate guy think of date guy?” your friend asked with a grin and you couldn’t help but snicker. “Nothing, Changkyun looks like he doesn’t care about the guy” you said, eyebrows raised as you lifted your hands in question.

Your friend giggled and followed behind you, “Can I ask you something?” she said and you hummed. “Did you ever like roommate guy? Like romantically?” she asked and you suddenly stopped walking. You stared at the clothes in your arms and took in a sharp breath, “I don’t know… I mean, I always tried not to since we’re roommates, I just thought being in a relationship would complicate things” you answered, picking out a pair of jeans and beginning to walk again. “Ah, makes sense” your friend said, “You seem to know him real well though… wait- do you talk about roommate guy a lot in front of date guy?” she asked and you pursed your lips in thought, “I don’t think so? I mean he had no idea I had a guy roommate prior to their encounter. As a matter of fact, ever since, all date guy talks about is roommate guy” you said in realization, turning to your friend with eyes wide.

The two of you stared at each other with surprise before bursting out into laughter. “Maybe date guy wants to switch you for roommate guy” your friend said, still laughing. You nodded and frowned, “Imagine that” you said. You shook your head and continued hanging and folding clothes for the next hour.

By the time you got home, your feet ached and you dropped your bag by the door along with your shoes. The apartment was dark and only lit by the big television screen. You squinted and found Changkyun already staring back at you with a soft smirk. You let out a sigh and waved, plopping down next to him. “My feet hurt” you said, slouching slightly as Changkyun smiled.

He patted his thighs, signaling for you to place your legs on them, which you gladly did. He rubbed your feet gently and you sighed, “Can we watch something?” you asked quietly, making Changkyun grin, “Sure”.