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jadequeen88 · 3 years

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A Waitress’ Worst Nightmare

A/N: Written for the BNHA Degeneracy 9-5 collab! THIS IS 18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: TW.sexual harassment, TW.oral(recieving), TW.degredation TW.nipple play, TW.Mommy kink

Pairing: busboy!Keigo, linecook!Dabi, f!waitress!Reader

You’re a college student just trying to get by. The biggest worry you should have right now is if you had enough time to finish that psych paper or when you were going to meet up with your calculus study group. Instead, you’ve got a much larger problem facing you...A problem that has permeated through every aspect of your life. Your coworkers were Grade-A-Assholes who decided making your life miserable was on the top of their to do lists.

You thought waitressing at the 24/7 diner downtown would be a breeze. Money was tight and since you were 21 and almost done with your undergrad, you wanted a little more financial independence. Little did you know when the owner hired you that you’d have to work alongside the two biggest shitheads in the city.

First there’s Keigo. To the untrained eye, he could almost seem charming. But you found out pretty quickly what a dick he was. He was working as a “busboy”, but in reality he didn’t do anything but flirt with every woman within his field of vision. Keigo would leave the tables a mess until there wasn’t a clean one left in your station and you’d be forced to do his job for him.

“What, babe? Stop getting your panties in a twist. I’m real busy these days. You know I’m practically running this place now.”

Oh yeah. How could you forget? He took every opportunity to remind you of that fact. Keigo’s dad happened to be buddies with the owner, garnering a sense of trust with the old man. He slowly weaseled his way into running day-to-day operations while the elderly owner stayed home most days.

Although the diner needed another busboy to pick up his slack, Keigo refused to tell the boss to hire another. You overheard a phone conversation between Keigo and your boss just last night:

“Nah, boss. We’ve got it covered here. No need to hire another busboy. The waitresses are just finding reasons to nag. Women, am I right?”

You were fuming.

***

As bad as Keigo was, his friend Dabi was exponentially worse. The line cook was, without a doubt, a drug dealer. The only motive he could possibly have for working there is having a place to do business with his “customers”(and of course, to help Keigo make your life a living hell). It clearly wasn’t because he needed the money since you’d seen his “friends” slip him generous wads of cash when they stopped by the restaurant. If cleaning up Keigo’s messes sucked, trying to put in customer’s orders with Dabi was pure torture.

“Eggs over easy instead of scrambled? I dunno, Princess. Sounds like it’ll be a pain in my ass. Whatcha gonna give me if I do it?”

Then he’d lick his lips with his long pierced tongue, leering at you over the counter. Gag... You wondered if that ever actually worked in his favor.

One semi-decent thing you can say about Keigo is that he’d never actually laid a finger on you. The same can’t be said for Dabi. You learned after your first day to wear shorts under the skirt of your uniform. You were behind the counter slicing lemons when he took his spatula and lifted the hem of your skirt. Before you realized what he was doing, he was calling out to his partner in crime.

“Fuuuuuck, Kei! Look at the ass on the new girl!”

You wondered what was going on until you felt a breeze and realized it was your ass that was on display. You’d slapped the spatula away and straightened your skirt, but not before they both got an eyeful of your black, lace panties. You cried for ten minutes in the bathroom after your shift that day.

***

The day you’d been dreading was finally upon you. No, it wasn’t a big test or project due... You had to ask off work for your cousin’s wedding. That meant dealing with Keigo (who was now in charge of making the schedule each week).

You squared your shoulders and went over what you would say over, and over in your head so you wouldn’t stumble over your words when you had to face him.

“I need to have Saturday off for my cousin’s wedding. I can work the Sunday morning shift instead.”

This was repeated on a loop in your brain as you walked down the darkened corridor towards the office. You let out a long sigh and gently rapped your knuckles against the wooden frame. The sound of shuffling and muffled voices seeped through the thin faux wood and a moment later, the door swung inward. The thick cloud of smoke and strong, skunky smell almost knocked you flat on your ass. Instead of seeing Keigo alone working on the schedule, you saw that he and Dabi were hotboxing in the small office.

Knowing they were back here getting high while you closed the diner by yourself was the last straw. You slam the door behind you and stomp forward to lean over the desk Keigo was propped up behind.

“Listen you shit heads!” you slammed you fists on the desk knocking over a jar of pens. “I am so fucking sick of slaving away in this shit hole while you two get high and fuck off back here. You’re going to let me have Saturday off or I swear to Christ, I’m calling the boss and spilling my guts! About the weed, the drug deals, the snarky remarks, the groping, EVERYTHING! I’ve had enough!”

There was a moment of silence then the two of them burst into a fit of laughter. In a blind fit of rage, you leap across the desk and grab Keigo by the throat. When you made contact and squeezed as hard as your small hand would allow, a whimper escaped his throat and his eyes rolled back.

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you gripped your fingers tightly again to see if you could pull any more sounds from him. He didn’t disappoint. This time it was a whimper followed by him nervously mumbling.

“Heh, Kid... Seriously, knock it off. This shit isn’t funny.”

Your eyes traveled down the front of his body and when they landed on the crotch of his baggy khakis, your suspicions were confirmed. This loser who acted like a certified pussy-slayer popped a boner just from you choking him.

You leaned in close to his face, using this as your chance to get revenge for all the hell he had put you through. “Aww little Keigo... Not used to being roughed up?” you cooed. “Dumb little baby Keigo...I bet if I kept this up, you’d come in your pants like a dirty slut, wouldn’t you?”

You felt movement over your shoulder and heard a deep chuckle. “Dude you’re so pathe-”

Dabi gasped as you grabbed him by the crotch with your free hand and squeezed. He was already hard. You met his eyes and see panic etched across his features. A sadistic grin spread across your mouth as you tightened your grip. His head fell back and let out a whimper almost as needy as Keigo’s.

“You’re both going to do exactly what I say or I swear, I will tell every girl you ever try to speak to what a couple of pathetic virgins you two are...”

***

“Ungh! Plea-please... Harder! I... I need more!”

*SMACK*

Your hand lands hard across the blonde’s face, drawing a pathetic whimper from his throat. He thrust his weeping cock along your shin whimpering, craving more pressure to relieve his suffering.

“You don’t get to tell me what you need, Keigo. Shut your fucking mouth and be grateful you get this much.”

You throw your head back against the office chair and hum as Dabi eats your cunt like it’s his last meal.

“Mmm... See Keigo? See what a good boy Dabi is being? He knows his stupid mouth is only meant for one thing... Making Mommy’s pussy feel good.”

The praise causes the dark haired man between your thighs to moan into your clit sending a pulse of pleasure through your lower body. The ball of his piercing circles your clit and you feel the familiar ache of an impending orgasm begin to tighten in your belly.

Keigo starts shoving Dabi away from you with a growl. “This is bullshit! I haven’t even had a chance yet!”

Dabi elbows him, ”Fuck off Kei! I almost had her finished off!”

Furious from being jerked back from the edge of your orgasm, you grab a fist full of blonde hair in one hand and black in the other. You pull their flushed faces up to look you in the eye.

“If you want to come at all, you will shut...the fuck...up... and get me off. Now”

Dabi wasted no time in diving back into your dripping slit, panting heavily while he ran his pierced tongue in and out of your swollen entrance. Keigo attacked your neck, whimpering as he planted sloppy kisses down your collarbone until his tongue was licking long stripes up you clothed nipple.

“I think you can do a little better than that, baby,’ you cooed into Keigo’s messy blonde tresses, sweetly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He took that as his cue to remove the clothing between your hardening bud and his hot, wet tongue.

Keigo latched onto your nipple, nursing it with vigor while he gently grazed his fingertips over the other. You heard him mumble something into the soft swell of your breast.

“Speak up,” you pull him away from your nipple with a pop, “I didn’t catch that...”

“I-I said... I...”

Your attention was drawn to the man between your legs as he began to suck down hard on your clit. The hand you had wrapped in Keigo’s hair tightened causing him to cry out.

“Mommy! Please! Wanna be your good boy! Wanna make Mommy come...” He sobs as he starts frantically licking and sucking your neglected nipple. This pushes you over the edge and your long awaited orgasm rushes over you.

After you come down from your high, you push them off and begin getting dressed while the two men you left on the floor look up at you with wide eyes.

Dabi, still panting from eating you so vigorously, chokes out a little half sob.

“But.. where are you goin? We did what you asked!”

“Yeah babe! what the fuck!”

You eyed both men and let the tension hang in the air before turning and walking to the door.

“Give me the whole weekend off. Then we’ll arrange something Monday,” you look over your shoulder, “As long as you don’t piss me off before then..”

You walk out of the office with the biggest grin you’ve had in a long time and feeling a lot more relaxed. Maybe this job was going to turn out better than you expected.

#bnha dabi #bnha smut #dabi x you #hawks x y/n #tw mommy kink #bnha eijiro kirishima #mha hawks #mha x reader #bnha reader insert #jade writes smut

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wildernessuntothemselves · 3 years

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Prey for You | Part 5

Genre: Smut, angst.

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: After finding out what Chan really thinks of you, you’re determined to never let him in again. But he finds a way to sneak back into your bed.

Warnings: super unhealthy relationship, dom!reader, sub!chan, milking but not the prostate way, use of a fleshlight, cumplay?, degradation, enemies to lovers, wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader

A/N: this is a major risk cuz i don’t even know if I’m done editing this lol so if its a mess let me know and I might fix it lmao. the gif is for the bath scene btw uwu

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5, Part 6

You wish you could immediately move out and go someplace else, away from Chan and the constant reminder that you’re not good enough for him. But if it was that easy, you wouldn’t have had to move in with him in the first place. Now you were forced to live with the man who everyday reminded you of what you could’ve had if only you weren’t what you were.

For his part, Chan tries to apologize to you, but what use is his apology now that you have confirmation of what he really thinks of you? That doesn’t mean he has let up, though.

“Hey, baby.” The man in question greets you as soon as you come back from a lecture. “I wanna talk to you.”

You can’t keep going through this. Every time he tries to justify himself--to explain why it’s a good idea that people don’t know about you-- it just cements in your mind that he’ll never see you as someone worthy of him, of anyone. So you silently move past him, walking towards your room and hoping that the severe look you have on your face will discourage him this time. But it doesn’t, and he follows you into your room.

“I have something to tell you.” He announces and you turn to face him with an agitated sigh. “Then say it and go.”

You hope this will be quick, at least, but your hope is dashed when he crosses the distance between you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you towards his body. You open your mouth to curse him out, but the smell of him floods your nose with a spicier tinge to it than usual.

“Oh.” Your mouth gapes in realization. “You’re going into heat.”

He nods, leaning down to nuzzle your nose with his before going further, trying to catch your lips in a kiss, but his lips barely brush yours before you lean back, your hands pushing your body as far away from his as the embrace can allow. “So? That doesn’t change anything.”

“The hell it does.” He grimaces, not pleased with your reaction. “I need you.”

“No, you need to get laid. You could get that from any of your groupies.”

He scoffs in disbelief, “So you want me to go fuck other women?”

You realize how far you’ve let things go when just hearing him say it out loud makes you want to fold in on yourself to protect your heart from getting torn to pieces. You shouldn’t have let things get this far. There is a reason you were so cautious before and you’ve gone and fucked yourself over at the first sign of someone being nice to you, of someone showing you the slightest hint of trust and affection. And you thought you were strong.

“I don’t care what you do.” You lie through your teeth, wishing to at least keep the knowledge of your shameful demise from him. “We’re not together.”

That angers him the most. “Yes, we are!”

“Really? Because no one else seems to know.” You seethe, and he finally pulls away from you, infuriated at you as if you’re the one being ridiculous. “You’ve seen how my friends reacted. How do you think everyone else is gonna react?”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have anything to lose.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe how full of yourself you are! You think I would be so damn honored if people knew I am with the pride of predators that you are?”

“Stop fucking saying that! Do I need to be a mindless brute to earn your respect as a predator?”

“No, but this--” You gesture vaguely towards him with distaste, “certainly isn’t earning my respect.”

He takes a deep breath, face red and aggression rolling off of him in waves. You wonder if he’ll attack you like last time. But he just grits through his teeth, looking away, “What am supposed to do with my heat?”

“I don’t care.” You mutter, and his eyes snap to you, a little wild with fury.

You hold your breath as he starts walking towards you, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and you imagine what it would be like if he were to snap it around your neck. Would it hurt more or less than you’re hurting right now? But instead of tearing your throat out, he walks past you and out of the room.

_____________________________

Chan has been gone for an hour now. And your mind was running wild with images of him fucking someone else. You feel stupid. You’re the one who sent him away, but what were you supposed to do? Give yourself completely to him until he has exhausted his need of you and throws you away? He’s made his stance pretty clear, and you’d be pathetic to let him use you like that.

You're busy beating yourself when you hear the front door open, and you almost jump out of your skin. You whip around towards it, your treacherous affection hoping to see that Chan has changed his mind and came back to you, but instead your all too familiar bitterness takes hold of you as you see him stumbling into the apartment with a girl, their lips locked and their hands all over each other.

You suppose there must be some truth to the phrase “if looks could kill” because the girl--a bunny hybrid--pulls away from Chan and her big eyes flit around the living room anxiously until they land on you. She squeaks when your eyes meek and she fearfully latches onto Chan’s arm. “You d-didn’t tell me you had a-a roommate.”

Chan on the other hand is straight up grinning as he sees the murderous look on your face. He bends down to whisper something in the girl's ear that you can’t hear, but judging by the motion of his head and the direction she looks, you know he’s telling her where his bedroom is and to go wait for him there. She gives you one last nervous look before she scurries down the hall and disappears. When she’s gone, he struts over to you like a peacock showing off his feathers.

“You look upset, baby girl.”

“You’re a fucking bastard.” You spit out. He smiles wider and leans over you, pushing his hands against the back of the couch and caging you between them. "Last chance, fox. You gonna be a good girl for me or would you rather I go in there and fuck that pretty thing? I know she’ll be more than happy to do anything to please me."

You push him away roughly. He staggers for a second but quickly holds himself upright, grabbing your hands in a painful grip. “That wasn’t so nice, fox.” He grunts, pulling one of your hands towards his crotch and making you feel how hard he is. “But I’ll give you one more chance.”

“You’re such a fucking slut.” You scowl, roughly palming his dick through his pants. He seems to love it though, biting his lip as a groan slips out of him. Vexed, you pull your hand back and get up, leaning up to hiss at him, "Get her the fuck out and come to my room."

His triumphant smile is met with a disgusted sneer from you. "You think you've won?"

“Kinda, yeah.” He laughs cockily.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

_______________________

He quickly loses his smile when he steps into your room and sees the items you have on the bed--a fleshlight and a bottle of lube. He gives you a disheartened look. “No, no, this isn’t what we agreed on.”

“We didn’t agree on anything.”

"I'm going into heat. I need to fuck you not some toy!"

“You can leave if you want. See if the little bunny isn’t too hurt to let you fuck her.” You challenge, confident that he will take anything you give him at this point.

Groaning in defeat, he slumps down on the bed, and you smile knowingly, ordering him to undress for you. He obliges, although not without a sour pout. When he's naked, you gesture for him to come sit with you on the bed, back pressed against your chest as he settles between your legs.

He is hard despite his protests, and you open the bottle of lube and squirt some of it on his cock, putting it down then wrapping your hand around him and pumping his cock slowly, just spreading the lube all over it.

Grabbing the fleshlight with your other hand, you bring it to his lips. "Use your mouth, puppy."

He groans, reluctantly peeking his tongue out to lap at the toy. You tsk in disapproval. “You’ll never get it wet this way. You’re really big, puppy.” You drawl, dragging your fist tightly up his long member and extracting a deep groan out of him. “Wouldn’t want your cock to get hurt when I fuck you with it dry now, would you?”

He gives you a dissatisfied grunt but he pushes his tongue out more, starting to lick the opening of the fleshlight more deliberately now. “Good boy. Get it all wet so I can use it to milk every last drop of cum from your balls. Maybe then you’ll behave.”

His hips buck up into your hands and he starts pushing his tongue in and out of the toy, the wet sounds of his tongue working the fleshlight filling up the room.

"You're so pathetic. Eating out this silicone pussy so I can fuck you with it instead of sticking your dick in some bitch's warm pussy. All because I want you to, right?" You whisper in his ear before pressing soft kisses down his neck. His breath hitches and he pushes his hips up into your hands again, needing more than the gentle touches you were giving him.

"You'll do anything if I ask you to." You state, pulling the toy away from his mouth, breaking off the tiny translucent strings of saliva that connect them. Letting go of his dick, you grab the lube again and order him to put two fingers out for you. You squeeze some of the lube onto them then bring the fleshlight to his hand. “Finger your pussy open, baby.”

“You’re driving me crazy.” He groans as pushes his fingers into the toy, and you laugh. “Aw, is this frustrating for you, puppy?”

“Yes.” He hisses, his fingers fucking in and out of the toy aggressively.

“Good.”

When you’re satisfied with how slick the toy has gotten, and how needy he’s become, you order him to stop and line it over his cock. “Ready, puppy?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be for a fucking toy.” He swears and you smile, plunging the fleshlight over his cock. You don’t need his enthusiasm to do what you want as with a few jerks of the toy, he’s already melting back onto you and moaning out his pleasure, his impending heat already working him to the edge of insanity.

“See? You’re nothing but a horny dog trying to get off.” You use your free hand to massage his lower belly just above the base of his member, stoking the fire building there. “I should lock your dirty cock in a cage during this heat so you won’t go around humping and fucking whoever you can get your hands on. Only let you out when I want to use you.”

“Then use me, please. Take what you need from me.” He moans even louder, his back arching and his hips fucking up into the toy. “Sit on my face and make me eat you out until I can't breathe or sit on my cock and ride me until you've had your fill.” "And give you the satisfaction of giving me pleasure? No, you don't even deserve that. You'll just sit here and take everything like the selfish dog you are." You slide your hand up his body, brushing your fingers over his nipple. He instantly jerks and tries to close his legs but a harsh growl in his ear is all that's needed for him to swing his legs back open.

“See? You’re already gonna cum, aren’t you?” You mock, reaching your hand out to grab the small glass cup you left at the bedside table and placing it under his cock.

“What are you doing?” Chan sputters, confused and embarrassed.

“Wanna see how much cum you have for me, puppy. Show me how bad you need me.” You coax, taking the fleshlight off and using your hand instead, stroking his cock from bottom to top and pointing the leaking tip of it inside the cup.

“Ahh---that’s filthy.” Chan protests but his eyes are glued to the scene and his moans get higher in pitch as you both prepare for him to orgasm. Your hands continue their rhythmic pumping as spurts of white cum start shooting into the glass, almost as if you’re manually squeezing them out of his dick.

“That’s a lot of cum. Such a horny dog.” You murmur, taking in the amount of cum collecting in the glass, and he shudders, transfixed by the way your hand is milking every last drop from him. “And you’re wasting all of it. What a useless pup. Should’ve never been a wolf.”

He growls and lays his head back on your shoulder to look up at you.You think he’s going to argue with you about what you just said but instead he stares at you with his puppy eyes and breathlessly asks for a kiss.

You could refuse him, of course. He doesn’t deserve it. But you want it too, his plump, red lips too enticing to pass up, and so you close the distance between you and capture them in a lazy kiss. But you barely start before he’s squirming and whining against you.

“I suppose you still have more to give me.” You murmur against his lips and start moving your hand over his dick again--the wet sounds from your lips against his and your hands over his dick soon filling up the room.

“Such a big boy.” You marvel as you pull away from his slick lips to gaze at his dick, his breath stuttering when you swipe your palm over the leaking head. “But you won’t even get to use it because you’re a dumb, selfish pup.”

He blinks tiredly at you, apologetically, but you’ll have none of it.

“Ready to fuck your toy again?” You ask haughtily, and he sighs, nodding defeatedly.

“There you go.” You put the toy back on him.

You’re surprised by how vocal he’s being. He’s the loudest you’ve ever heard him. You guess the heat was getting to him as he doesn’t even try to hold back, his moans lusty and shameless. He’s so consumed by the pleasure taking over his body like he’d die without it, and honestly it’s affecting you more than you’d like to admit, your panties sticking to your heat uncomfortably.

"You sound like a whore getting fucked.” You scoff, pumping his dick faster with the fleshlight. "Are you that desperate?"

“Hmm--yes! Please...fuck me--” He cries, easily giving in as his hips jolt up. “Need your hot---ahh--wet pussy around my cock. You can milk me all you want then. I’ll be all yours. My cum is all yours.”

“But I don't need to do that when you’re already being such an easy slut for me.” You move your hand up to his chest again, rubbing and teasing his nipples.

"But you want me--" He gasps as you pinch his nipple in retaliation. "Fuck me, please. Need your pussy--oh god.”

“You don’t need it, dumb puppy. You’re cumming fine enough in this toy.” You put your lips to his neck, sucking on the sensitive spot under his ear then laving over it with your tongue.

“But I want more.. And I know you want---ahhh, fuck--fuck!" He cries out, looking down in time to watch himself empty into the cup again. And like last time, you make sure to catch every last drop.

“Hah--please.” He pants, leaning back to look up at you, his eyes focusing on your lips. “Kiss...”

You sigh, kissing him. He doesn’t have to be instructed in this, his lips opening automatically and his tongue pushing needily into your mouth. As his panting moans pick up again, you pull away.

“Please fuck me.” He draws the request out, pleading.

“No.”

He whimpers at your definite tone and huffs. “Then let me see you at least.”

“See me?” You quirk an eyebrow at him and he nods earnestly. "Wanna see you."

You move out from behind him and settle between his open legs. “Here I am.”

But his gaze isn’t on your face, it’s glued to your hard nipples poking through your tank top in arousal.

“Ah, you wanna see my tits, puppy? Will that help you cum more for me?” You pull your tank top over your breasts, exposing them. He whines at once, struggling to stay in his spot, his tongue swiping over his lips hungrily.

"What is it? Wanna put suck on them, puppy?" You tease, sitting up and leaning your chest over his face, your breasts just out of reach of his mouth.

“Yes! Please, can I?” He begs, and just his breath brushing against your nipples is enough to have you rubbing your legs together. You don’t even want to imagine how fast you’d cum if he put his hands on you.

Tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, you push his face into your chest. “Go ahead. You better make it worth my while.”

His mouth immediately latches onto one of your nipples, lathering it with saliva and sucking on it eagerly.

"Fuck, that's a good boy." You hiss, grabbing the fleshlight and pulling it over his cock, not wanting to get distracted. But the faster you work him, the more eagerly he kisses and sucks at your tits, his tongue hungrily licking all over your chest and his teeth insistently nibbling at the skin.

It's so good the friction you’re getting from rubbing your legs together is enough to make your orgasm build up. You're both impressed and mortified that you can feel yourself getting close just from jerking him off and having him suck on your tits. But you can't dwell on it too much, too busy trying to get him and yourself off.

You get what you want when he flicks your nipple with his tongue then wraps his lips around your entire areola and sucks harshly, ripping the orgasm from your body. Gasping loudly, your movement over his cock stops and your head drops down. But Chan quickly reaches out and grabs your jaw, pulling your head against his so he can see your face as you cum, the both of you wide-eyed and breathing heavily as the orgasm shakes your body.

"Fuck." Chan grunt, his hips bucking up into the stationary fleshlight as moans flow through his spit-slick lips. You can tell he’s almost there and you pull the fleshlight away and reach for the cup but it's too late, his seed shooting out and landing on your belly, marking you with it and trailing down slowly towards your pussy.

"Shit, sorry." He groans apologetically but he’s too weak to do anything about it. Exhausted from the three back to back orgasms, he falls back to the bed, boneless.

You sigh, setting the cup down and getting up to grab some tissues to clean yourself up. When you walk back to the bed, you find Chan struggling to keep his eyes open.

“No, no, get up. Come on, you need to wash off.” You tug on his arm, but his body is too heavy to budge.

“I’m too tired.” He whines like a puppy trying to get out of a bath.

“You won't have to do anything. You just sit in the tub and I’ll clean you up.” You try to pull at his arm again but he just buries his face in the pillows and ignores you. You sigh, running your hand over his skin patiently. “Come one, don’t you want a nice, warm bath? Wouldn’t it feel good after all this effort? It’ll loosen your muscles right up.”

He lifts his head up, regarding you, and you brush the hair out of his face softly. “Come on, puppy. I’m tired too.”

He finally complies, getting up and letting you tug him towards the bathroom. You don’t give him a real bath, you just make him sit in the tub while you scrub and clean his body, letting the warm water stream over him and wash the soap and tension away.

By the time you’re done, he was starting to doze off again. He looked really cute like that, his eyes almost all the way closed and his lips in a slight pout as he tries to keep his head up.

You pat his cheek gently, drawing his attention towards you. “Get up, pup. We’re done.”

He nods groggily and slowly stands up. You dry him off with a towel then lead him to your bed, telling him to wait a minute while you go grab something for him to wear. You know he likes sleeping in only his boxers so you just grab that and come back, handing it to him to put on while you go grab a towel for yourself.

“I’m gonna go take a shower. I want you back in your room when I’m back.”

Your words jolt him awake, his eyes wide and alert suddenly. “What? But I thought...” He trails off, looking at you as if asking for you to help finish his sentence. Which is just ridiculous, you don’t, of course. You stare at him with a blank face until he continues in a small voice, "I was hoping I could stay."

“What gave you that impression? You thought you could manipulate me into fucking you and then everything will be fine and dandy?”

“No. I just really miss you.” He states helplessly, and tears spring up into your eyes at that.

I miss you. You’re special. These are all meaningless words that just serve to put another stab in your heart and remind you of what you’ll never actually have from him.

“I don’t have the energy for this right now.” You say weakly, turning your back around and heading for the door quickly. “Just leave.”

As soon as you get into the shower, you start to sob. You feel like shit. You've gone through so much abuse and ridicule before but this has to be the worst you’ve ever felt about yourself, for yourself. You have so easily given into him. He’s got you where he wants you again, and he didn't even have to compromise anything to get it. You just walked right into it like an idiot, and now you fear that you feel too much for him to get out of this intact.

You stay a long time in the shower, waiting for your tears to dry up, but they never do. All you can manage is to get them to stop streaming down your face like the water does, holding them in your eyes and hoping the long shower allowed enough time for Chan’s scent to disperse from your room.

But when you walk back into your room, towel wrapped snugly around your body, you find Chan himself still in there, sitting on top of your newly made bed. And just like that, the tears fight to be shed again.

“I changed the sheets.” He pipes up, looking at you for approval.

“Oh, you changed the sheets? I guess I have to let you stay now.” Your retort is weak and hoarse. “Baby…” He stands up and walks over to you, reaching a hand out to tug at your own gently, but you quickly snatch it back and take a step away from him,

”Don’t.” Your voice cracks and you turn away in a panic, not wanting him to see you shed any tears for him. But it's useless as he easily turns you back towards him and wraps you in his strong arms. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks like he genuinely cares.

"You're what's wrong!" You sob, trying and failing to to get out of his embrace.

“Don’t say that.” He pleads, wiping your tears and kissing each of your cheeks despite your struggles. “Please, don’t cry.”

“How can I not when I’ve fallen in love with you.” You scream the words at him, hoping that the sheer heartache your voice contains will cast him away from you. And for a moment it seems to work as he staggers at your confession, his face a look of pure shock. This is it. He'll finally take pity on you and stop messing with you. Or at the very least he'll realize that this game isn't fun anymore and he'll back off.

“Just leave me be, please.” You plead, trying once again to pull away from his now loose embrace, but as soon as you move, he snaps out of it, his grip tightening around you even more. Pushing his forehead against yours, he breathes out, “I love you too.”

Before you can think about it, you raise your hands to scratch at him, anything to defend yourself from the continuous torment he’s subjecting you to. You only manage a weak swipe at his cheek before he has both your wrists in his grip and pinned to your back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He curses, the tiniest bit of blood seeping out of the fresh wound in the middle of his cheek.

“Stop playing with me!”

"I'm not playing! I love you." He shouts back at you, and his words hurt like a dozen pellets piercing your skin. Because either he’s sick enough to lie about this, to continue playing with you despite how precarious your position has become, or he really does love you but his disgust at you is so great that it doesn’t matter.

"How can you say that when you’re ashamed of being with me? How can that be love?"

"You're one to talk! I'm always the one trying not to lose you and you're always the one pushing me away. What does it matter whether people know about us or not when you’re fucking crying at the mere fact that you fell in love with me?"

“I'm crying because the man I fell in love with is so ashamed of loving me that he won't even defend me in front of his friends!"

"And if I do? If I tell everyone that I love you and take all the damage and then you inevitably leave me?" He accuses, so sure of his words like he knows it will happen. All the fight leaves your body at that. He’ll never trust you, will he?

"Why are you assuming the worst of me?" You snivel weakly.

"No, you can’t pull that shit!” He rages, “You don’t have the right to treat me like shit and then cry about the fact that I don’t trust you! I have every right to be scared that in a couple of months you'll look at me and remember how much of an impotent predator you think I am and drop me."

“Then why do you keep me around?” You ask in a small voice, scared of the answer.

“I… I don’t know.”

You laugh bitterly, but Chan stays silent, rooted to his spot and waiting for you to do or say something. You can’t handle this anymore, not now at least. Every time the two of you talk, you hate yourself more. You need to get away from him or you’re afraid you’ll collapse into a void of self-loathing you’ll never be able to pull yourself out from.

Sighing wearily, you slowly shuffle to your closet. You drop your towel and put on some underwear before you start pulling on a pair of pants and a shirt.

“What are you doing?” Chan fumes as he realises what you’re doing. “Are you going out?!”

You stay silent as you pick out some shoes and put them on.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t go out right now. We’re talking!”

You ignore him once again, walking towards the door. He tries to intercept you, face red, “You’re not leaving!”

“Watch me.” You say coldly, going around him and walking out the door.

___________

You didn’t have a place in mind when you went out. You just needed to breathe, to get some fresh air. But you soon find that too sobering, the fresh wounds hurting too much for you to feel them right now. So you decided you’ll do the opposite, stop feeling. And how do you do that? Everyone’s favorite poison. And so you head to the nearest bar you can find.

You’re barely finished with your first glass when you hear a deep voice digging its way through your fuzzy hearing. “Hey! You’re that fox from Chan’s place, right?”

Your heart stops at the sound of his name, and you stare at the empty glass in your hand, determined to ignore the intruder until he goes away. But he just plops down into the seat across from you, exclaiming ever louder. “It is you!”

You stay silent, and he carries on, thinking you don’t recognize him. “I’m Felix by the way if you don’t remember.”

You still don’t give him any response, but he doesn’t give up. "I'm sorry, I didn't really get your name last time..." He trails off, looking at you expectantly. Your gaze shifts to him and he falters when he sees the dead look in your eyes.

After some pause, he drops the cheery look from his face, and says somberly, "Look, I know you probably hate us all because of what happened, and you have every right to, but I just want to apologize for what my friends said. They're really good people but they can be a lot misguided."

You snort mockingly at that, but he seems encouraged that he managed to get any form of response from you, and he continues on. “But you probably don’t want to hear that right now. Anyway, I just really wanted to apologize. I know how it feels to be distrusted because of what you are.”

That gets your attention, and you look at him closely, realizing he is a cat hybrid. They get the same lot as fox hybrids, albeit less severe if the fact that he’s friends with Chan and his pack is anything to go by.

“But you’re friends with them.” You comment suspiciously.

“Well, it’s because Chan took me under his wing. When he trusted me, the others did too. I kind of owe him a lot.”

“Ah, yes, the Perfect Chan agenda.”

“He’s definitely not perfect." He clarifies quickly, and you quirk an eyebrow at that. "Don't get me wrong, I love him like a brother but he can be really stubborn sometimes. He can never let himself be wrong about anything ever or else he'll start spiraling."

“No offense--umm, Felix, was it?” You ask and he nods eagerly, happy that you're talking. “If I wanted to chat about Chan I would've talked to one of his groupies.”

His face blooms red and he sputters sheepishly, “You're right! I just wanted to apologize.”

“Apology accepted.” You say dismissively, waving him away, but he stays, and you give him an exasperated look.

He breaks eye contact, his gaze dropping to his hands.Fiddling with the cup in his hands, he mumbles quietly, “Can I hang out with you for a bit?”

“Now why would I say yes to that?”

He thinks for a while, a pout on his face as he concentrates on finding an answer that will satisfy you. You can see the exact moment an idea pops into his head as his face lights up with a mischievous smile. “Because it will piss off Chan?”

“A kitty after my own heart.” You reach out to pet his head, chuckling at the blush on his pretty face intensifies at that

____________________________________

Felix is something else, you’ll give him that. He’s sweet and cute and he radiates so much warmth and happiness. He’s different from the usual cat hybrids who are cold and aloof even if secretly affectionate. You had wondered at the beginning how a cat hybrid can be so close to Chan and his pack, but it took a whole five minutes of being in his company for you to see it. Simply, Felix exuded a pure, happy energy that was infectious to everyone around him. Even you, down in the dumps and heartbroken, were starting to feel a little better in his presence.

Or maybe that was the inordinate amount of alcohol you have managed to consume throughout the time you spent together. And you guess it was quite some time because as soon as you stumble through the door to Chan’s apartment, the wolf is on you like a dog with a bone.

“Where were you? I was worried sick!”

“Now that’s a funny joke.” You slur, laughing stupidly.

“Are you drunk?” He bellows, sniffing you out. Then he suddenly freezes, a low growl rumbling out of him as he grabs you roughly, glaring at you with wild eyes. "Why do you smell like Felix?"

"I met up with him." You shrug, maddeningly jubilant to the livid wolf.

“What?”

“I. met. up. with. him” You repeat slowly.

"You went out drinking with Felix?" You grits carefully, and you swear you can almost see his eyes grow dark and menacing. But you’re too blissfully drunk to heed the warning storming inside their depths.

"Sure did." You reply nonchalantly.

"I told you…” He says slowly, lips curling around the words and infusing them with a cold fury. “to stay away from my friends."

"We were just talking." You insist stubbornly, needing him to see for once that you’re not the twisted monster he thinks you are. “He said he’d like to be friends.”

Chan’s grip tightens even more around your arms, so much so that it pierces through the foggy numbness of your intoxication. The pain brings about a sense of sobriety, and your breath stills as you become aware of much danger you were in right now.

But Chan wasn’t going to hurt you. Not physically at least.

You feel the blood return to your arms as he lets you go, a look of revulsion and contempt vilifying his face more than anger or violence ever could.

“Stay away from him.” He commands roughly, “I actually care about him.”

Any numbness you had gotten from the alcohol suddenly leaves your body and you crash, feeling all the pain all at once.

I actually care about him. Unlike you. And you’ll sully him if you get close.

“This--” You gesture between the both of you, face completely devoid of emotion. "is over."

________________________

A/N: you guys still want them together? because I think the next chapter will be the last. i mean it won’t matter anyway cuz I’m pretty settled on the ending lol but I’d still like to know

#chan smut #bangchan smut #chan angst #bangchan angst #stray kids smut #stray kids angst

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chanelsebbie · 3 years

Text

𝗩𝗶𝗰𝗲 | 𝘀.𝗿.

✝ Warnings: SMUT, manipulation, dub-con, innocent!reader, age-gap, dark!bishop!steve rogers, branding.

✝ Masterlist

✝ Summary: After being caught committing lustful acts, y/n is brought to the bishop for reconcile.

✝ A/n: Reader just turned 18, this is sinful, if you are offended, please don’t read. With that being said, after reading this, you best chug a gallon of holy water.

𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉 𝖆 𝖇𝖎𝖌 𝖌𝖔𝖉

𝕭𝖎𝖌 𝖊𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖚𝖕

Florence + the Machine, Big God

“No! Let me go!” the girl with a small voice ordered futily, the sound echoing off the large corridors as the nuns pulling her along payed no mind.

She fought against them, but it was useless, for it would only make their conviction worse. She had sinned, and like everything, sinning came with a grave price. Especially at the young woman’s academy.

She knew the bishop would be cross. Not only for her sin but for the timing. It was in the late hours of the night, but there she was, caught red-handed and in nothing but a snow-white bra and panty set, being dragged through the empty halls of the institution, everyone else sleeping.

Soon enough, she was faced with the large wooden double-doors of the bishop’s office, the lion knocker on the door seeming to snarl smugly at the girl as if it knew her fate.

One of the nun’s calloused old fingers wrapped around the handle clutched in the metal feline’s mouth, before knocking three times, the young girl counting absentmindedly.

A harsh and inharmonious voice called out an ill-toned ‘Come in’. The girl could have sworn she was on the verge of a panic attack. What she had done was wrong, but why did it feel so good?

The door was opened by one of her captors, walking her in before throwing her to the ground, her knees scraping up against the stone floors as she let out a pained yelp. She refused to look up, knowing that his eyes would be trained on her.

“Archbishop Rogers,” one of the nun’s began, “We caught this young lady committing an act of lust, and demand her to repent and save her faith plagued with desire.”

The man stood up from his working desk, setting his pen down, stepping in front of the trembling girl, almost anticipating her to look up at him.

“Leave us, sisters,”

His voice sent a tight shock through her spine, making her scramble to her knees, her ass resting on her heels, folding her hands in front of her, waiting as if she were about to be struck.

As soon as the great wooden doors closed, the bishop took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Tell me,” he starts, “what is your vice?”

She quivered at the question, embarrassed to admit what she had truly did wrong. But in knowing that the longer it took to get it out of her, the more torturous the punishment would be.

“I-” she cleared her throat, “I h-have committed a lustful act,” she swallowed hard as she heard the man above her sigh, beckoning her to continue, “I feel as if I’ve been consumed by demons. The devil has put thoughts into my head... scandalous thoughts... and it creates such a tension between my legs,” she took in a shaky breath, “I can’t help but touch myself to relieve the pain.”

His jaw clenched at her confession, crossing his arms.

“Do you understand the gravity of your actions?” he catechized her, making her nod her head ‘yes’.

“Yes, Archbishop Rogers, I do.” she now had the courage to look up at the man above her, “I am willing to do whatever it takes to be right by the Lord’s name,”

His crossed arms unraveled, one of his hands going down to cradle the girl’s cheek as she leaned into his touch like an obedient dog, desperate for the relief and to bear no malice to her God.

When she looked up at him with her doe-like eyes, full of hope, there was a glint of guilt.

“First, recite ‘Hail Mary’,” he commanded, her head now hanging low again, not noticing that his hands were now reaching his pants, the leather of his belt coming undone.

“Hail Mary, full of grace,” she began, “The lord is with thee-”

Her face was suddenly jerked up, his hand wrapping around her head before pushing her forward, her open mouth suddenly filled with the mass of his cock, only half of her mouth consuming it.

Her tongue squirmed as she tried to pull away, but the archbishop’s strength was unparalleled to hers, her struggles futile. Her hands went to his thighs to anchor herself.

“A demon had infiltrated your mind, my child,” he grunted, “I know how to rid you of this evil, but you must do as I say.”

She did the best she could to nod her head, before getting pulled back by her hair.

“Did I tell you to stop reciting?” he growled, “Don’t make me start you over,”

“Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit-” she was pulled forward violently back on his cock, deeper his time, his tip touching the back of her throat as she gagged, tears welling up in her eyes, doing her best not to bite down.

She was pulled back once again, “of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary-”

Tears were now spilling down her face like a river, her face flushed as his cock seemingly went down her throat, the groans of her superior above her making her whimper.

“Mother of God, pray for us sinners now,”

He didn’t pull her in this time like she was expecting, “and at the hour of our death.” she finished, panting as she winced at the archbishop’s killer grip on her hair, “Amen.”

“Remarkable job,” he praised, before standing her up, taking her hand and leading her to his desk, before harshly pushing her down against it, smirking at her gasping reaction.

“P-Please? Haven’t we done enough?” she questioned, pleaded, earning her a slap on her ass, getting pulled up chest to back with him as his lips reached her ear.

“I am a vessel of God,” he hissed, “And he lives through me as I do him. I’m cleansing you...,”

His fingers made their way under the hem of her underwear, pulling them down, her dripping cunt coming into view, the archbishop squatting down after pushing her back on the desk. She whimpered at the feeling of his breath against her sex, Rogers letting out a dark chuckle before leaning forward, licking a torturous strip across her slit.

“God, you taste so good,” he groaned against her pussy, “why the fuck do you taste so good?” his rhetorical question made her clench.

She let out a soft moan at the sexual touch that was for once, not her own. He did this several more times before he stood straight back up again.

She whined when she felt his wide tip tease her entrance, circling his cock, the anticipation almost painful, his breathing echoing off the expanse of his large office. The moonlight shown through the stained glass windows, reflecting on the expanse of her back, making the archbishop all the more attracted to her seemingly supernatural glow.

“Plea-” she was cut off by a loud moan ripping its way through her throat, the feeling of being stretched out so far painful.

“Fuck! Fuck, you’re so tight-” he cursed into the open air, his hands latching onto her hips when he bottomed out.

He didn’t grace her with the opportunity to adjust, before he started to move, slowly, making her feel every ridge and vein.

“You better start praying,” he coaxed, her head nodding.

“O-Our father, who art in h-heaven, gl-glory be thy name,” she whined out, making the man behind her rut his hips harder and harder with each verse, “hallowed be th-thy name. Thy kingdom c-come,” she paused to catch her breath, earning her a harsh tug on her scalp.

“Didn’t tell you to stop,” he growled, bushing harder and faster inside her.

“thy will be done, on earth, as it is in h-heaven, g-give us this day our da-ily bread and... and...,” her brain was fogged with pleasure as he was getting pounded into, Rogers annoyed at her reluctance.

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” he degraded, “don’t make me start you over,” his pace slowing down.

She whined before starting again, “forgive us our tr-trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against u-us-”

She clenched around him, making him let out a genuine moan, and it was the most angelic sound she had ever heard, a coil tightening inside her as she cursed silently.

“Come on, princess, we can finish it together,” he offered.

“P-Please,” she gasped, gagging on air as she did her best to keep a level head and know what she was supposed to say next.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” they said in perfect sync.

“Come on, so close, just-” before he could finish, he released inside of her with a yell, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

The warm feeling in her gut made the coil inside her snap as well as she fell off the deep end, long and passionate moans leaving her lips as she trembled and tensed from such an earth-shattering orgasm.

The archbishop walked in front of the lit fireplace, poking at it with a fire poker before setting it down, the pointy end positioned over the fire.

The girl thought nothing of it as she sat in an armchair, covered in nothing but a blanket as she gave a dopey smile to the nude man approaching her. He picked her up, before sitting himself down, placing her in his lap.

Her head rested against his chest as he gently played with her hair.

“Am I cleansed?” she questioned, nudging herself closer into him.

After a small amount of time, he gave a quick, lack-luster response.

“Yes.”

“What happens if the demons come back? If my thoughts turn sinful again?” she whimpered at the thought.

“Well, I have a way I can make sure they don’t.” he smirked to himself, “Stand up, will you?”

She did as she was told; his perfect little obedient pet. Before she could question anything, she was grabbed by the wrists and slammed up above her head, her back against the wall next to the fire place, Steve reaching over and grabbing the bow heated fire poker.

It clicked for her as her eyes widened.

“W-Wait!” she squeaked, looking at the red-hot end of the fire poker, his fingers wrapped around it tightly.

When the scalding metal touched the skin of her breast, she let out a pained cry, a sickening sizzle ringing through her ears as she sobbed. The burning touch seemed to last for ages, before it was finally brought away, but the pain never ceased.

The shape made her stomach turn, the man pulling the girl in an embrace as she sobbed, shushing her.

There, over her right breast, was the mark of the lord. A blistering cross, that would be an eternal reminder of their shared moment together.

“In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit,” Steve spoke, right before her world went black from shock.

#steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rodgers #steve rodgers x reader #captain america #chris evans smut #priest!steve #dark!chris evans #dark!steve smut #dark!steve rogers

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1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years

Text

Chapter 17: Sakusa Musubi

[prev] [next]

[masterlist] [kia’s slambook]

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“The pre-season starts tomorrow, right?” You ask Kiyoomi as the three of you prepare for bed. Kia is settled in the middle of his bed, wrapped in a blanket burrito. Kiyoomi has her like that so she’ll stop moving around and sleep immediately.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi answers, taking the Kia burrito in his arms. She starts giggling, excited to be lifted up. “I said go to sleep or I’ll eat you.” Kiyoomi jokingly bites on her covered leg, making her squeal.

“No! No! Don’t eat me!” Kia shrieks in defense, her giggles turning into laughter. “Mama, help! Papa’s eating me!”

You grin from ear to ear, Kia and Kiyoomi’s interaction bringing joy to your heart. You let Kia be, continuing to talk with Kiyoomi. “Can we watch you play tomorrow? Kia has never seen you in an official game.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I’ll tell my manager,” Kiyoomi replies, gently throwing Kia back on the bed.

Kia manages to get out of the wrap, so she crawls going to you. He pulls her back by the ankles, bringing her back close to him. He starts tickling her sides, making her squirm around. “Mama! Help!” Hearing Kia’s sincere pleads, you sigh.

“Omi, that’s enough,” you tell your fiancé. He stops, Kia panting heavily. He whispers something to her and you immediately know what it is. “Don’t go near me. Stay there.” You warn them but they’re already crawling going to you.

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t attack you?” Kiyoomi asks, hands on his hips. Kia mimics him, her hands on her hips as well.

“Why would you attack me?” You whine, raising your arms, ready to push them away.

“Wrong answer,” Kiyoomi says, hovering on top of you. Kia goes on his back, her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs hanging off his sides. “I’ll you another chance.”

“Yeah! Another chance!” Kia repeats, peeking her head at you.

You can’t help but smile. “I’m your fiancée?” You answer but unsure. Kiyoomi squints his eyes at you, thinking about your answer. He shakes his head, his hands ready to tickle your sides. “Kia! Save me! You love me, right?” You plead to your daughter.

“Kia, don’t help her,” Kiyoomi convinces. “You love me, too, right?” You scowl at him.

Kia goes down from Kiyoomi’s back and sits down beside the two of you. Kiyoomi sits back on the bed, waiting for Kia’s answer. She takes a good look at the to of you, but doesn’t answer.

“I thought I’d never get to ask you this, but here we are,” you chuckle, sitting up and leaning on the headboard.

“What are you talking about?” Kiyoomi apprehensively glances at you, worried about the chuckle you gave out.

“Who do you love more? Mama or papa?”

The room falls silent, the two of you staring at Kia anticipatingly. Kiyoomi crosses his arms, his eyes telling her to choose him. You smile at her, expecting to be chosen. Her eyes shuffle from you to her dad, a serious but empty look plastered on her face.

“I’m sure she’ll choose me,” you tell Kiyoomi proudly.

He scoffs, “If you’re so sure, why has she not given an answer yet?”

“She’s thinking of a way not to break your heart,” you reason confidently. He snickered at your sureness, also certain that Kia will choose him.

“The only one with a broken heart tonight will be you.” He sticks his tongue out, mocking you. You charge at him, but he grabs your hands and stops you. “Kia, tell your mama that you love your papa more.”

You two don’t get a respond, so you check her. She’s lying on the bed, her body under her blanket. You let go of Kiyoomi and fold your arms together. Kiyoomi pokes her but she doesn’t move.

“Good night,” Kia tells the two of you. She’s avoiding your question. You and Kiyoomi laugh, leaving her to sleep. The two of you end up with broken hearts.

You get off the bed to wash your face at his bathroom. He follows you, saying he has to wash his face, too. He locks the bathroom door, so you gulp. You keep your distance, wary of his actions. You know he’s up to something. And you know you can’t say no to him.

“2 meters,” you tell him, making sure you’re out of reach from him. He pouts at you. “We did it last night and Kia is just outside. Don’t even think about it.”

He moves closer to you, but you step away further. “The walls are soundproof.”

“I swear to god Sakusa Kiyoom, move any closer and I’ll-,” you warn him.

“You’ll what?” He says with a cocky tone, stepping closer to you. He lifts your chin up with his finger, his darkening irises piercing through yours. “You’ll what, angel?”

You cursed under your breath, your knees becoming weak. He smirks, seeing your pressed thighs. You pull him by the back of his neck, making him bend down so you can capture his lips into a kiss. He tilts his head to the side so you can kiss him better. He places his hand on your butt, squeezing on it. You spring in surprise and he takes this as a chance to lift you up by your thighs.

“Let’s take a shower.”

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“Omi! What happened to your back?” The whole changing room of the MSBY Black Jackals team freezes at Bokuto’s question. They’ve all seen what Bokuto’s talking about. They just choose not to say something about it, afraid to be in their teammate’s bad side.

“Did Kia scratch you?” Hinata asks, worriedly looking at Sakusa’s back.

“It’s from (Y/N),” Sakusa replies nonchalantly, staring at his two curious and worried teammates.

“These idiots...” Atsumu mutters to himself. He takes a peek at Kiyoomi’s back and can’t help it but smirk. ‘He really went hard last night? And before a game day? Nasty. Just nasty.’

You on the other hand is walking Kia around outside of the arena, waiting for their manager. He arrives and gives you two the special passes that Kiyoomi has requested for. You thank him and he leads you two near the locker rooms so you can meet Kiyoomi before the game.

“Mu-chan!” Kia squeals, running towards Atsumu. You watch her as she latches on the setter.

Your eyes wander around the room, looking for Kiyoomi’s curly hair. You feel someone blow on your ear so you flinch, looking back only to see the man you were looking for. His mask was pulled down to his chin so you could see his whole face.

“Are you sure Kia won’t be afraid of the crowd later?” He asks you, staring at his daughter from the distance. “You know how loud it can get when the game starts.”

“I think she’ll be fine,” you reassure him. Kia sees Kiyoomi so she comes down from Atsumu’s arms and start dashing back to you and her father.

“Papa!” She screams on top of her lungs on her way to the two of you. Kiyoomi squats down, his arms wide open, ready to hug her. She prances to his arms, hugging him tightly. “I’m gonna watch you play!”

“Is that so? I’ll do my best then,” he replies, gently smiling at her. Their manager calls them back to prepare. “Give me a good luck kiss.” Kiyoomi lowers his head, Kia planting a kiss on his forehead. He stands up and leans down, waiting for a kiss from you.

“Win the match and I’ll kiss you,” you tease, chuckling. He rolls his eyes then puts his mask back on. “Good luck, Omi.”

You and Kia head to your designated seats, waiting for the game to start. The team starts to enter and the roars get louder, startling Kia. You calm her down, making sure she won’t cry. She sees Kiyoomi walk on the court, her fears forgotten. She leans near the railing, wanting to see him clearly.

“Kyo! Papa!” She screams on top of her lungs, waving her arms. Kiyoomi spots her and grins at her, taking the attention of cameras and the commentators. Sakusa Kiyoomi smiling is rare. They got to take a lot of footage for the fan service.

“Flying kiss,” you instruct her. She puts her small palm on her pouty lips, then flicks her wrist, making a smooch sound. Kiyoomi pretends to catch the kiss then swallows it. Kia giggles, turning his smile into a grin.

“Go Omi!! Get that service ace!” You screamed, your voice echoing through the entire gym. You even beat the Itachiyama Academy’s cheering squad loudness. He looked up to you, a little bit embarrassed. Not by you, but because his ears were turning red from excitement. He loved hearing you cheer for him.

You blew a kiss at him. You saw him shyly catch the kiss with his hand, making you smile. He wasn’t a big fan of PDA but he loved showing off that you were together. So he allowed all these cringe-worthy actions in public.

The whistle blew, signaling that he could serve. Before he could throw his service toss, he kissed the palm of his hand that caught your kiss.

And he got a service ace.

You look up to the screens hanging on the ceiling and see that the cameras have captured everything. Everyone is cooing and squealing, the commentators asking who the little girl Sakusa Kiyoomi is being soft for. Kia sees herself on the screen so she hides her face on your chest, shy. The cameras move away, giving her comfort back.

The game starts and the commentators introduce the players. “And for the MSBY Black Jackals!”

“Musubi?” Kia tilts her head to the side, the name of the team capturing her attention. “Can I change my name to Musubi?”

“You wanna be called Sakusa Musubi?” You giggle at her sudden suggestion. She nods, determined. “We can’t change your name, baby. Uncle Keikei chose your name for you. He’ll be heart broken if you change your name.”

“Then can we name my baby brother Sakusa Musubi?” Kia asks. You blink your eyes multiples times in confusion. Maybe you just misheard her because of the noise.

“What did you say baby?” You make her clarify.

“I want my baby brother to be Sakusa Musubi,” she repeats. You didn’t hear her wrong.

“You want a baby brother?” You chuckle, not taking her words seriously. You take it as one of her random babbles. “Did your uncle Keikei and Kenken tell you to say that again?”

“No. Papa.” Her reply makes you stop, your full attention on her.

“Papa?” You raise an eyebrow and she nods.

“Papa Kyo. He said you and him will give me baby brother.”

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Spam Musubi Recipe

Ingredients:

2 cups uncooked short-grain white rice 2 cups water 6 tablespoons rice vinegar ¼ cup soy sauce ¼ cup oyster sauce ½ cup white sugar 1 (12 ounce) container fully cooked luncheon meat (e.g. Spam) 5 sheets sushi nori (dry seaweed) 2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Directions:

Step 1: Clean rice grains by rinsing and draining it AT LEAST TWICE. Please watch Uncle Roger’s tutorial on how to properly cook rice the Asian way. Step 2: Once rice is cooked, mix in rice vinegar while it’s hot. Set rice aside to cool. Step 3: In a separate bowl, stir together soy sauce, oyster sauce, and sugar until sugar is completely dissolved. Slice luncheon meat into desire thickness and marinate it for at least 5 minutes. Step 4: In a large skillet, heat oil over medium high heat. Cook the spam/ luncheon meat until desired crispiness. Step 5: Cut nori sheets in half and lay on a flat work surface. Place a rice press in the center of the sheet, and press rice tightly inside. Top with a slice of luncheon meat, and remove press. Wrap nori around rice mold, sealing edges with a small amount of water. (Rice may also be formed by hand in the shape of the meat slices, 1 inch thick.)

Musubi may be served warm or chilled.

[prev] [next]

Taglist: @elianetsantana aoi-turtle ptv-hades aquzairus a-applepijustoneofthefangirlsarianna-r13 morenabambinii chaelysian loser-keiji mxngy ne-kuroon1fangirlsblog d-efendmissalicebaskervillemarvelousbakugou @agaashesmilktea bonkyandloki kimi09 ntimacy @mkazuyuh ushi-please minty-mangos-world @dearest-kiyoomi yeehawslap onlyshinjiobsessedwhxre

#haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #sakusa smau #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu sakusa #haikyuu series #sakusa imagines

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teddy06writes · 3 years

Text

Free (The Much Needed Part Two of Locked Away)

okay so this was requested by @5ugarcan3 who asked: “ PLEEEASE if its not 2 much trouble i’d love to see pt 2 to the sam x reader prison fic where its fluffy n stuff :( u broke my heart with the ending “

As well as @unalive-mee who left this reply on the first part: “ damnnn that was so good, would love to see a part two where they respawn and that was one of their canon lives because this broke me”

So I have been forced to see that I cannot just leave it there unfortunately so check out Part One if you haven’t already, just so you know what's been going on {low key I’m doing this begrudgingly, can you tell?}

{I mean can you blame me? I was so proud of the way I broke people}

{Alright enough stalling, here we go...}

Awesamdude x fem!reader

trigger warnings: a few swears, mentions of previous character death, slight panic attack

premise: Though you’d long since respawned after the incident at the prison, and you were sure Dream was out of your head, Sapnap, BBH and a few others still thought it was a good idea to keep you mostly isolated, until one day...

{Also the Bloodvines aren’t a thing here}

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You sighed, blinking sleep out of your eyes as sunlight filtered through the half closed window.

Slowly you sat up, looking around the tiny bedroom you’d been given, tucked up into the corner of Bad and Skeppy’s mansion. You’d been given relative run of this corridor, but you were still stuck inside.

At least, you reminded yourself, it’s not prison.

You went to the window, looking out over the wood, absently tracing one of the many scars that had appeared after you’d respawned, they had always told you that it was from what Dream had made you do, and all the people you’d fought.

The day had barley begun, and you had only just finished getting dressed properly when a loud explosion echoed over the hills.

“What the hell was that?” You demanded, already starting toward the stairs at a run.

On the main floor you could hear Bad yell, “Stay with (y/n)! Keep her in here!”

Moments later you crashed into Skeppy on the stairs, both of you quickly springing back up in a panic you yelling, “What’s happening?!”

“Go back upstairs- it’s being sorted!” He said quickly, trying to shove you back up the stairs.

“At lease tell me what's going on!” You cried desperately.

The diamond man sighed, “Its Dream-”

“He’s back?” You immediately went to shove by him.

“Stop!” Skeppy yelled, latching onto your arm and starting to pull you back to the stairs, “You can’t help them! We don’t know if he’s still in your head or not! If your in the middle of helping them take him down and he takes over again-”

You hung your head in defeat, “There's no telling what would happen.”

He nodded, and together you slowly climbed the stairs, reaching your room in a matter of minutes, “I’m going to have to lock you in here.”

“Probably for the best.” You murmured, shuffling inside and sitting down on the bed, watching as Skeppy closed the door, the lock clicking into place, followed by the telltale sound of him blocking the door up.

Sam watched as Dream staggered to his feet, facing the entirety of he army that had amassed, his expression seeming unfazed, “That all you got?”

“Not even close bitch.” Tommy said, staring back as he drew his sword.

Dream sighed, looking around before hefting his axe, using his other hand to bite off another piece of golden apple, downing a strength potion as well, “When will you ever learn?”

In a flash he was lunging at the boy, who barley had time to throw up his shield to block the attack, shoving Dream back, following him into the middle of the field, “I think I’ve had my share of lessons.”

From the side, several people drew there bows, knocking arrows and letting them rain around Dream, who began to struggle to dodge them.

Tubbo motioned for a momentary cease in fire and Tommy lunged forward, the tip of hiss bald connecting with Dreams arm. In retaliation the man nearly screamed, practically tripping over himself to slash at Tommy, who barley dodged enough, a shallow cut now lining his leg.

Technoblade handed Sam a splash potion, murmuring, “healing.” in the moments before Sam lobbed the bottle Tommy’s direction.

“’is ones harmin.”

Sam took it from the piglin, using the gap between Tommy and Dream, the archers now firing around Dream again, to throw the potion, grinning as it splashed just at Dream’s feet.

The man nearly fell to the ground, quickly twisting out of the way of another arrow, concentration clear on his face, though yet again it was clear his focus was on nothing near the battle.

Tommy grinned, taking the time to push forward, shoving Dream the rest of the way to the ground, preparing to run him through, “Any last words Green bitch?”

“Go to hell,” Dream spat, reaching up to grab Tommy’s hands, shoving the sword down, into his chest, “I’ll see you there.”

Tommy looked up, a slight gasp escaping as he turned to the army, grin spreading, “We did it! Tubbo we did it!”

There were cheers all around, people hugging and laughing and crying.

Techno and Sam stood to the side, the former looking at the latter warily, “If you try to hug me I will literally kill you, no hesitation.”

Sam nearly laughed, “No- there's someone else I’d rather be hugging.”

As if on cue, Bad came running toward them, “Sam! Sam we need to talk!”

“About what?”

A smile crept onto the demons face, “(y/n)- she’s- well I figured it was best to tell you now, and not before cause you know, we didn’t know if he- but never mind that! (Y/n)s alive, come on!”

The Next thing Sam knew he was being dragged off to Bad’s house, yelling, “But you said that was her last life!”

20 minutes later they made it up to your room as Skeppy finished removing the last of the obsidian, Bad reassuring, “It was a temporary percuasion, just because of what was going on today.”

Slowly, Sam opened the door, looking around to find you, looking battered and bruised from your attempts at throwing yourself at the door to escape, curled in the corner, hands tightly gripping your hair, eyes squeezed shut.

The (y/n) he could last remember, cold and cruel, unforgiving and harsh now seemed broken.

He slowly knelt in front of you, “(y/n)?”

Your head jerked up at Sam’s voice, and he could see the wide smile on your face as you rushed forward, grabbing his hands, “Sam! I’m- I’m free!”

His arms were quick to wrap around you, a smile now on his face upon seeing that you were no longer the monster he could remember, just the person you once were, repeating, “Free.”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #awesamdude x reader #teddy06 writes

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mqgriett · 3 years

Text

Paring: Tech x Fem!Reader

Warning: light smut and a little blood

Summary: of course things would go wrong right when you were so close to having him

Notes: this is a part 2 to “Princess” please read that before going into this one! also EEK I haven't posted in a while!! I have spring break next week and then online learning the week after so I should be able to upload more frequently!! Stay safe everyone please!

Oh stars this felt perfect. The feeling of his soft lips on yours, the way he gently tugged at the waist of your dress, his cologne, everything. When he finally pulled back you felt drunk with lust, the small residue of your lipstick on his lips only making it worse. Without your heels on you were reminded of how short you were next to him, your height diminishing by at least three or four inches.

Tech subconsciously bit his bottom lip, subtly looking down the top of your new dress. His hands were still placed just above your ass, an animalistic feeling cascading onto him as he locked eyes with you. He kissed you again, less sweet this time, and practically dominated your mouth with his own. The few times you pulled back for a bit of air, he would suck the tender flesh of your neck and whisper things that had flooded his mind for far too long.

“I’ve waited so- so long to do this.” He whimpered pathetically, cursing himself for how small his voice was in the moment.

It drove you mad how timid, yet rough, he was right now. You could hardly stand it, and the mere thought of him being this helpless when you were only kissing made your mind wander to the most sinful places.

You gently pushed him backwards, hands trailing down his collar bone to unbutton his black jacket. His breath staggered, fingers desperately trying to find the bottom of your silk gown as you continued to walk forward.

The backs of his knees hit the side of your bed, causing him to fall onto his back. You didn’t hesitate to immediately crawl on top of him, sitting directly where you knew he would feel it most. Tech let out a pitiful moan and threw his head back, back arching at only the feeling of your heat on his clothed hard.

You started at unbuttoning his shirt, your fingers shaking from pure excitement. He grew tired of waiting, that animalistic urge making its way back down his body. Grabbing the opened section of his shirt, he basically ripped the last three buttons off. You hummed in delight as he sat up and held the small of your back to ensure you wouldn’t fall.

All it took was one slow and hard grind of your hips for him to hopelessly whine, “take it off, please for maker’s sake take it off.” He groaned the last word, his hand pawing at your clothed ass.

Knees still on either side of him, you sat up and held your dress with the opposite arms. It was halfway up your torso when a ringing went off in Tech’s ear.

Hunter’s voice brought him down from his lust-drunken state, “Main floor’s been breached! Tech where are you?”

Tech raised a finger to his ear, pressing down to reply, “third floor, in the room. She’s still getting, Uh-“ He looked down at your bare thighs, “getting dressed.”

He heard a few shots echo from Hunter’s line of the comm, “Tech you got klankers heading up to you from the south stairs, get her outta here before Kraken finds her first.”

“Copy that Sarg.” Tech said sternly.

He selfishly took one last look at you on top of him before gently pushing you off in a hurried manner. “Main floor has been breached by a droid squad. Got a few heading up here, we need to go. Where’s the closest exit?” He asked, buttoning up his shirt where he could.

“The gardens, there’s a secret stairway that leads down from the balcony.” You replied swiftly, opening your bedside drawer and lifting up a tube of lipstick. The action unlocked the cabinet underneath the drawer, allowing you to type in correct code into the beskar safe.

The robotic clanking of droids making their way up the stairs could be heard through the wall, which was not a good sign considering the walls were thicker than those of the Jedi temple; meaning, there were at least a hundred of those robots.

“Hurry.” Tech stated quickly. You snatched your weapon from the safe and ran past him, grabbing his wrist tightly in the process.

As soon as you two were in the hallway, the droids had successfully managed to get through the locked doors. Tech fired a few shots at the front ones, not noticing that there were B2 droids behind the B1s.

You spun around just in time, the red plasma bullet hitting the bright blue blade of your lightsaber. It deflected it, firing back at the B2 and hitting him in the center of the chest.

“Go!” You shouted, blocking a few other shots from hitting him. You held the lightsaber in a backwards grip, swaying it from side to side to keep a steady momentum going.

Your bare feet smacked against the cold marble floor, making you slide almost every time you turned a corner. Even through the chaos, you found a moment to share a smile with Tech.

“This a little more familiar?” He heaved, both pistols waving in the air as he sprinted. The top of his shirt was still open, his hair a pure mess. If you weren’t on the brink of being kidnapped and/or killed, you would’ve thought he was hot.

Taking the final turn, you busted through the doors to the large balcony garden. The cold wind made your shoulders shiver, your braided hair falling loose. You made a beeline for the control panel, slamming your shoulder into it after it refused to open. It sliced your skin open, a small line of blood beginning to trickle down your arm. The staircase began to appear from the wall, each stair seemingly growing from the castle’s exterior.

Then it stopped.

A gunship full of B1s landed on the opposite side of the doorway, Kraken walked out behind them. Your shoulder had its own heartbeat, an indescribable pain shooting out your neck.

Tech pressed his fingers to his ear, “Sarg, we could use a little backup.”

Blasts from the other end is all he heard for a moment, “we got our own problems here, Tech.”

Dank Farrik, it was truly just the two of you now.

The battle droids started their first wave, Tech and you with your backs pressed together. A few BXs leaped from behind, landing strategically in front of you two.

One Of them lunged for you, latching onto your ankles and pulling you to the ground with a swift hit. You yelped, your shoulders hitting against the stone floor with an indescribable amount of force.

That same BX reached for your knees, starting to drag you towards the gun ship. You writhed and kicked, nailing it in the center of the head; as it went soaring to the ground, so did the bottom of your gorgeous dress. It left a long tear from your right knee all the way up to just below your left hip.

A string of cuss words left your mouth, your lightsaber blade hissing back out of the hilt as you cut the legs off of a few B1s reaching for you.

Tech lifted you up from under your armpits, immediately returning to battle afterwards. He fired straight for the heads of the droids, the two of you back to back as you destroyed each robot coming near you.

“Do you remember that mission on Felucia?” Tech heaved, “the one where that ancient tribe thought the yellow B1 droid was their leader?”

You slashed the heads off of the three enemies closest to you, your shoulder beginning to ache more with every swing. “Now’s not the best time to be all sentimental.”

“Think about that mission. What we did that day, you and I!” He shouted, the circle of droids tightening with every passing second.

You quickly scanned your memory, finally realizing what he was insinuating. Turning to face his back, you cleared enough room to get a running start. Tech ducked, just low enough for you to jump off of his back. As you soared through the air you spun around, reaching your hand out and carrying Tech through the atmosphere with the Force.

You landed smack down on your ass, the wind being knocked out of you while Tech landed with ease on the ground.

The droids turned back around, looking straight at your new location and positioning to attack again.

Just when all hope seemed lost, a 212 gunship landed behind the enemy's line, a plethora of troopers filling out and blasting the remaining separatist dummies.

You sighed of relief, your entire body seemingly having its own heartbeat. “I haven’t... done that,” heave, “done that much since we were last together.”

Tech helped you up again, snaking an arm around your waist after seeing the damage done to your right leg. That BX droid must have scratched through your skin while ripping your dress, a thin trail of blood trickling down your thigh.

“We need to get you to the ship.” He said lowly, “between both those cuts you could bleed out.”

You shook your head, “you know that they need help in the main room. You know that.” Your words were sharp and painful to huff out.

“You are my only priority right now.” He countered, bending down to scoop you up under your knees.

Pushing him backwards, you took in a deep breath, “We’re going back down to the ballroom. That’s an order.” Your bottom lip quivered, the aftershock of the plasma hitting your leg finally catching up.

Although he meant it in a much calmer way, his next sentence was tinted with something more sinister, “you’re not my Commander anymore. You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”

“Tech. We are going back to that ball room!” You turned and made your way towards the doors.

He grabbed your uninjured arm, “I can’t let you bleed out and die right in front of me. We need to get to the Marauder.”

Internally, he knew how stubborn you were, and that you would go by yourself if needed. The look you had confirmed his thought, your brows arching and eyes hardening.

“Fine.” He heaved, “fine.”

You nodded, already halfway through the door once he had agreed. The rest of the 212th troopers could handle themselves, but only the maker himself knew what was going on down in the ballroom.

The guests had been evacuated by the majority of the troopers who had previously been in the large room, leaving very few to battle the rest of the klankers still trapped inside.

Of course, Crosshair had somehow managed to smuggle his gun inside. You knew he would, he didn’t go anywhere without it, just as a safety measure. Hunter had resorted to his singular vibroblade while Wrecker only needed his strength to smash the droids together.

As you observed the scene in front of you, Tech tore the sleeve off of his white undershirt and swiftly tied it around your thigh. You raised an eyebrow at him, his face communicating a look of “I had to do something”

You reignited your lightsaber, the sudden pulse against your hand sending vibrations all the way up and down your body. Your weapon stabbed through the stomachs of every droid in your path, this pattern continuing until you reach the rest of the bad batch.

“Just like old times-- Commander.” Hunter smiled, a break in the sentence as he pried his knife out of a droid.

You smirked, gripping the hilt of your saber with both hands, “some things never change, Hunter.”

He returned your devilish grin with his own at the sound of his name, not hesitating another moment before launching his blade across the room.

Within ten minutes of continuous fighting, every droid was broken and dead. Not even a second after, Tech had you in his arms. Your vision was beginning to go a little starry, everything becoming a small blur.

As you zoned in and out of consciousness, you caught snippets of conversations being held. The majority were just Crosshair and Wrecker questioning why Tech’s top few buttons had been ripped off.

Tech set you down on the bench inside the cockpit, immediately barking out a few commands to Hunter for medical supplies. A needle pierced your arm, an echo of Tech’s snapping fingers causing you to slip in and out of your dazed state.

The anesthesia kicked in, your eyes shutting completely. Tech carefully sewed the gash in your arm shut, along with the one in your leg.

“Hunter.” He said softly, not wanting to wake you.

Hunter, knowing what he was on the verge of asking, replied instantly, “I’ll comm into Cody. Let him know what happened. You stay with her.” He tipped his head towards the other two, “both of you with me. Check for anyone else in the room who may have hid.”

Crosshair and Wrecker answered with a nod, following behind the Sargent.

Tech quietly sat next to you, gently lifting you up and setting your head on his lap. He lovingly stroked your hair back, allowing his head to touch the back of the cold bench.

He didn’t even realize that he fell asleep until the other three returned.

Luckily Wrecker had already taken a picture.

#clone trooper tech #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper crosshair #clone force 99 #bad batch #bad batch x reader #tech x reader #clone trooper echo

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uno-writing · 2 years

Note

Sorry if I’m just spamming my your inbox at this point, I just enjoy your writing and I’m in the mood of hurting John (he’s one of my favorites so that’s why)

Anyway, imagine Keon having to be around Wellston for a while for some reason, John is having mental breakdown.

Like John said he would be fine but not two seconds later he’s having a panic attack.

Arlo and Sera have put him in burrito while them and the rest of the main cast try to make sure John doesn’t break like a mirror. Maybe with Polyam sass squad in the mix.

Thank you <3 I’m glad you enjoy!! And I think everyone is almost always in the mood for hurting John lol🍿🥤🍭🍬🍫🧋🥨🥬🍦🍧🧊🐇🍩🥖📦🌻🥀

John could insist he was fine all he wanted. That doesn’t change the fact that he threw on the brakes so hard he almost fell over in the middle of the hallway as soon as he caught a glimpse of Keon. Nor could he stop his hands from shaking, no matter how hard he clinched his fists.

“John?” John finally notices Sera talking and he looks at her, trying to ignore the tight grip panic has on him. “Are you okay?” Sera asks and John nods.

“Yeah. I’m going to the bathroom.” John states abruptly, rushing towards the bathroom. He’s moving so quickly he doesn’t notice Blyke’s concerned gaze latch onto him. John enters the bathroom, giving a quick glare to the underclassmen in there, the two boys rushing out and almost running into Blyke.

“What’s wrong?” Blyke asks and John glances at him before turning towards the sink, splashing water on his face to try and gain control over himself again. He looks up at the mirror and the memories come flooding back. His fists clench tightly and a snarl forms on his lips as he pulls back to take a swing. His fist doesn’t hit the glass, Blyke grabbing his wrist and stopping him just in time. “We’re not breaking mirrors today. You’ve already hit your limit this month.” Blyke states, letting go of John’s wrist and watching him with concern. John takes a deep breath, shaking his head to try and get the thoughts to relax. He reaches up and roughly drags his sleeve across his face, wiping away some of the water. Footsteps sound a the entrance of the bathroom and they both look towards the door, Arlo watching the two.

“Let’s go John.”

“Fuck you.” John huffs half heartedly and Arlo rolls his eyes, knowing John’s just lashing out.

“Don’t argue with me in this grungy bathroom.” John scoffs as Arlo turns his nose up at the bathroom. John pushes past him, seeing Sera standing outside. Before he can react she grabs his hand and holds it tightly, pulling him through the hallways. John stops trying to register where she’s taking him, trusting her enough that he lets his mind wander. It takes him a minute to register that they’re outside of his dorm and Arlo’s unlocking the door. Arlo gets the door open and Sera pulls John through, going straight to his room and ripping the blanket off of his bed.

“What-” John barely gets out before they’re wrapping him up and sitting him on the bed. Sera wraps her arms around him from behind and rests her chin on his shoulder and Arlo rests a hand on his other shoulder. John feels his panic begin to ease and Arlo pulls away, sitting in John’s desk chair. John feels comfort spread through him and he gently tilts his head to bump Sera’s. Sera lets go of him now that she knows he’s feeling better and sits beside him. John’s mind goes back to the bathroom when Arlo came in and he rolls his eyes. “You’re such a fucking priss.”

“You’re welcome.” Arlo sasses and John scoffs.

“Just leave it at that.” Sera huffs, standing and dusting off her skirt.

#unordinary #unordinary seraphina #unordinary john #unordinary arlo #unordinary blyke #berriwords

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theimmaterialplace · 3 years

Text

holding on | emily prentiss x reader & spencer reid x reader | ch. 2: falling

Chapter Summary: The morning after the reveal of Emily’s death and a conversation with Spencer.

Contains: mentions of cat-calling and panic attacks, light kissing, grief and mourning.

Word Count: 2.4k

Comments: this fic is my new baby and i will nurture it to its end. this is gonna end up being a long story and emily won't reappear for at least another 25k so there's that! also look i gave a little flashback to their relationship! in case i didn't elaborate enough, spencer and reader are quite close and have known each other since elle left which ill get into in another chapter! so that's why she has some of his clothes and why he's so close to her and latching onto her. reader is going through it rn but she's shoving it aside which isn't healthy and not good in the long run so she'll have to adress it eventually but that's not now! she's kinda numb rn and trying to keep it together for spencer which is going... as well as one would expect.

i think my favorite line in this was "The song ends but the moment doesn’t." and "But all moments have to come to an end."next chapter, we'll be getting the rest of the bau team (yay!) and emily's funeral (💔)! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! i love hearing feedback even if it’s something small!

also i’m gonna do a taglist for this fic so if you’d like to be added, send me an ask with the username you’d like to be tagged with!

masterlist | read on ao3

What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling

What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling

- Harry Styles, "Falling"

When the morning comes, you wake up first on your couch and feel a crick in your neck. The night’s memories rush back to your mind and you immediately feel nauseous. You manage to very carefully separate yourself from Spencer and manage to make it to the restroom in time to vomit.

It’s awful.

You don’t even know why it’s still hitting you so hard when Spencer is the one that should be feeling like this. He’s the one that’s known her for years and you were nothing but a fling for her.

You don’t glance at yourself when you exit your bathroom, already knowing the state you’re in. When you enter your living room, Spencer is still out so you decide to do the next best thing you can for him.

You’re thankful that you already have some leftover ground coffee beans from the day before because you really don’t want to wake him up before you can put a cup of coffee in his hands. Going through the motions of making coffee and then a simple breakfast is calming.

You’re unsure if Spencer will be able to stomach anything if he’s anything like you are now so you make the lightest meal you can. When the coffee machine beeps, you grab two mugs and begin making the coffee the way he likes.

It’s as you’re making your own coffee that you’re interrupted by Spencer calling out your name. You turn around and find him rubbing his eyes and looking a bit better than when he first came in.

“Hey, Spence. I have some coffee if you want some,” you grab his mug at his nod and place it in his trembling hands, “it’s just how you like. Ninety percent sugar and cream and ten percent actual coffee.” A small smile crept onto his face at your joke and you’re glad you’ve managed to make him smile even if it’s just a little bit.

He sips on his coffee and you decide to plate the food that’s still warm onto your dining table. He follows and takes the seat across from you, mumbling his thanks. You both eat in silence for there are no words or fun quips to share with Emily gone.

Spencer is the first to break the silence. “Thank you… Thank you for last night. I couldn’t stay with my team after that. It was just too personal. I know I’ve mentioned it before but I’m the youngest of the team and though they mean well, they tend to baby me. I… I couldn’t handle it so I left them.” He pauses, fingertips tapping in a familiar tune on the ceramic mug, “I didn’t want to be alone and you’re the first person I thought of. I know you know… knew Emily and that you would just be there for me so thank you.”

He looks directly into your eyes as he says this and you know how serious this must mean for him so you reach out for his hand, which he extends for you, and squeeze it in your own. You have to articulate your response properly because you don’t want to scare him off by saying the wrong thing.

Maintaining eye contact, you speak, “I’m glad I was able to be there for you, Spencer. To be the first person you came to means a lot to me. I hope you know I’ll always be there for you, for the small and the big things. While I may not be as close… While I may not have been as close to Emily as you were, I will still grieve for her. Just knowing how much she meant to you is enough for me to know how much a beautiful person she was. From the little glimpses I’ve seen of her and the tidbits you’ve told me over the years, I know this is going to be one of the hardest things for you… and if you let me, I’d like to be there for you.”

He’s like an open book after you’ve told him your resolve, like the book you’ve reread more times you can count and the original copy has been worn down due with some of the passages long gone but memorized in your heart. His eyes are watering again and he’s out of his seat faster than you can comprehend and he lifts you up and his arms wrap around you tightly, as if you’re his lifeline.

He whispers words of gratitude into the crown of your head and you hold him back just as tightly, tears springing to your eyes. You’d do anything to take his pain away and if this is all you can do then you’ll do it willingly.

“I want you here,” his voice is low and wrecked, “I.. I don’t want to be alone. Please. Please don’t leave me. Everyone leaves, Please…”

You look up to him and grab his face gently in your hands, wiping the tears from his cheek as you say, “I’m not leaving, Spencer. I’m right here. I’m here for you always. I promise not to leave you. I’m with you. I’m here.” At this, he looks even more broken and only nods his head, breath hitching and his sobs ceasing for the moment. You know it’s not enough for him so you guide one of his hands to the pulse on your wrist.

“Count.” And he does, his mind focuses on the beat and it calms him; it reassures him you��re still alive.

When the minute is over, he looks significantly more calm and less likely to cry again. He looks at you like he can’t believe you’re really there and you pull him in again. Physical contact is meant to ground people and you only hope this helps him.

A shrill ring interrupts your thoughts and you know it’s Spencer’s because you’ve heard it many times before from him and Emily both.

He lets go of you to answer it and he tenses immediately as he hears whoever it is on the other line. He says a few things in response and his eyes become glassy again. He hangs up only a few moments later and turns to you.

“My team wants me to help inform Emily’s mother of her death so we can start planning her funeral…” He closes his eyes shut and his fingers clench into his palms. Slowly, you walk up to him and unfold his palms and find red, crescent indents on his palms.

“I can drive you…? I know you took the metro here. Let me help, Spencer.” He just nods and you lead him to the bathroom to help tidy him up. You turn the faucet on and hand him his toothbrush, your fingers lingering on Emily’s red one before grabbing your own. It’s a familiar routine and as you finish, you leave to let him use the restroom and wash up while you rack through your closet to find something he's left over to wear for the day.

You manage to find a striped brown button up and matching brown pants while you put on a simple outfit, a grey long sleeve with jeans and a pair of black vans. You knock on the door and he opens it after a moment and takes his clothes from you. You go back to your room to fix up your hair and after a while you deem it acceptable.

As you’re doing your makeup routine, you hear a knock then, “Are you decent?”

“Come in, I’m almost done.” The door opens and you catch his reflection in your mirror. He looks better but the despair that clings to him is obvious to you.

He lets a small smile fill his face and though it doesn’t reach his eyes, you still match it. “I’m surprised you still had this. I had wondered where this outfit had gone but I remember that when I stayed over that night I had to leave immediately and left it here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t just throw it away and I kept forgetting to give it back to you. It’s a good thing otherwise you’d be left in some sweatpants and a Star Trek t-shirt.” He lets out a small laugh at that and you’re grateful you’re able to get him to genuinely laugh.

“Okay, I’m done. We can head out now.” He follows you out of your apartment and into the passenger seat of your car. The ride is silent to Quantico, unlike the usual rides you give him where you play a new genre for him and for him to compare it to his classical music and talk about some facts of the music.

When you finally arrive, you both sit there. He doesn’t want to leave and face reality and you don’t want to be left alone with only the truth to haunt you.

Spencer breaks the silence once again, “Thank you for everything. I don’t know where I would’ve gone last night… If you can, can you pick me up later? I… I can’t be with the team right now. It’s just too fresh.”

“Of course, Spencer. Just send me a text a bit before and I’ll be there.” He nods and gives you a quick hug before leaving and your eyes follow him until he’s nothing but a pinprick in your vision.

Like a switch flipped, you can only think of Emily. It’s not fair that she… that Emily is gone, that’s she’s dead. You never thought this was a probability. She was always such an impervious figure in your mind, a larger than life kind of person. You knew it was a possibility in her line of work but it never crossed your mind that it could actually happen to her. She was a strong woman, never letting anything affect her and you can’t believe she’s gone.

You shouldn’t even feel this strongly for her, you’re not meant to be more than a friend to her but you can’t help but think of her as your lover. Every little moment you’ve shared with her flashes in your mind. One in particular stands out, one that had happened only a month or two ago.

“Ugh, Emily. We’ve gotta go or else tomorrow morning is gonna be hell for the both of us.” You drag her away from the bar and shoot a smile at the bartender who only shakes her head and mouths “have a nice night”.

“ No ,” she whines, “I don’t want to, babe. We were having so much fun. Let’s stay here and dance some more.” She grins at you, taking your hand and pulling you back into the crowd. You let her because you can never say no to her, not when she’s looking at you with those eyes and that smile.

Her mood is infectious and you let her have this one last dance. It’s not even a song you know but you think it might be your new favorite with the way she twirls you around and looks at you with affection and fondness.

Being with Emily is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, even if this is a temporary thing. You would do anything for her, even leave her alone if that’s what she wanted.

The song ends but the moment doesn’t.

“Okay, okay, Em. We really need to go now.” She pouts at you but relents and follows you out of the club.

Before you reach your car, she pulls you in, her hands cradling your face, and she’s looking at you in wonder, “Y’know I can’t believe you’re actually here. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You mean so much to me. I hope you know that.” She leans in and kisses you. You savor every moment of it, feeling her smile against your lips. Like an imp, she grins widely and leaves multiple pecks around your lips, never quite touching.

It’s just you and her in that moment and she’s never seemed more lovely than in that exact moment.

Deciding that her actions are enough, you grab her by the chin and your free arm wraps around her waist so that she’s flush against you and slam your lips onto her own. Every emotion you’ve felt for her is poured into the kiss and you hope she can feel it. It’s passionate and messy and it leaves you wanting more.

She lets out a small moan when you move your mouth to pepper kisses onto her jaw and to suck on her sweet spot, sighing praises into her skin as if they’ll imprint on her, an irrefutable claim.

You’re not sure how much time passes between that moment but you only stop when you hear multiple wolf whistles and she groans before pulling away from you and yells at the offenders, “Shows’ over, you fucks!” Then she turns to you and leers, “We’ll finish this back at my place.”

You’re only able to nod and look at her in awe, “Emily Prentiss… what a woman you are. I’ll never be able to forget you know?”

She smiles even wider at your admission, and beckons you forward and of course you come closer and she admits quietly, “You won’t ever have the chance to. I plan on never letting you go.”

But all moments have to come to an end.

If only that was the truth because she never brought up the conversation the morning after. Whether she actually remembered it and shoved it aside or she genuinely couldn’t remember, you can’t decide what’s worse. You never mention it because you don’t want to ruin something that already works and now… Now you would never have the chance to find out because Emily was dead.

Tears well up in your eyes and you recognize the signs of an oncoming panic attack. It’s with a wet laugh that you realize that you were right, your dramatic thoughts from the night she texted you had come true.

Emily Prentiss would haunt you forever and you’ll let her if it means you’ll never forget what she sounded like or what each gleam in her eye or each smile meant.

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #my writing #holding on

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ladynestaarcheron · 3 years

Text

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter One

ao3 - masterpost

back on my bullshit, y'all! as i have chattered about, this is my fix it for acosf. we've established that because acosf ignores canon from the original trilogy and is so poorly edited that emerie has two--count 'em, two--on-page tragic backstories...i am completely at liberty to ignore what I please, and so are you. i'll let you know chapter by chapter what you should keep in mind.

this one's not critically important, but I just want to say it: in acosf, nesta's revealed to be taller than average, and two inches taller than feyre. wrong. nesta's short. feyre's the tallest and she's only 5'6", elain's an inch shorter, and nesta's 5'3" on a good day.

anyway. enjoy!

---

There's nothing quite like stepping into Feyre's beautiful new home to remind Nesta just how truly ugly she is. The literary part of her, dulled by the wine from last night and the downward spiral of the past year, appreciates the contrast. Sometimes she still likes to narrate her life in her head as though it were a book. What would she write here? The woman curves her foot inside her boot, as if that would stop her from dirtying the marble. That's a nice line, isn't it? A good hook. But she isn't a woman anymore, so it wouldn't work.

"This way," Cassian says, unnecessarily waving his hand behind him.

It's probably supposed to be insulting, that Feyre has sent him to fetch her. But she doesn't care. Feyre can do what she likes. Just as Nesta will do what she likes. She'll sit through this scolding, turn down the invitation to stay for lunch, go home and sleep until she wakes up and has another night like last.

Although perhaps she'll spend less this time. If only to avoid this headache again.

"They're waiting in here," he says, stopping in front of one of the doors. How many rooms are there in this mansion, anyway? Feyre might've mentioned it on the tour, but she doesn't remember. Only remembers that decorating the walls are dozens, maybe hundreds of pictures of Feyre and Rhysand and Morrigan and Cassian and Azriel and Amren and Elain and their father, and none of Nesta. Or their mother, for that matter. She remembers that very well.

"Wait," Cassian blurts out as she lays a hand on the doorknob.

Nesta angles her head slightly. Not a full turn, not to look at him.

"Do you want your tea?"

Rolling her eyes, Nesta opens the door and shuts it--pointedly, she hopes--behind her.

Her sisters look up from the couch where they sit, heads close together. Little cakes and sandwiches and tea are arranged prettily on the glass table.

"Nesta!" Elain says, leaping up."You're here early!"

Nesta bites her tongue to keep from answering Five whole minutes. No use snapping at Elain before they've even begun, is there?

"Let me take your coat," Feyre says, standing up too.

Ah. So this would be this sort of meeting, then. These...luncheons, that they sometimes try to have with her. But it's nine in the morning.

It pulls at her heart, that they still try. And makes her sick to her stomach. She winces as she feels it. Too much alcohol and not enough food to add any extra queasiness. This will not be easy for her.

"Heard you had quite the night," Feyre says, voice bright and cheery in a way that does not quite match her eyes. "Sit down, sit down."

She does, opposite them. They take note.

"Do you want to try these macarons, Nesta? Raspberry. I made them."

"We got this new cinnamon tea...from the Continent. I think you'll like it."

Her sisters try again a few times, and eventually she says, "I'll take tea."

"I'll pour it," Feyre says quickly.

Great. Wonderful.

This isn't so bad, though, she thinks as she sipped her tea. She'll get through this...whatever it is. Force herself to make some conversation, say Feyre's newest art project is pretty, force down half a cookie and tell Elain it tastes good. Then she'll agree to see them for lunch in a week. And that will be all.

How long can they possibly keep her for? An hour? Two hours? She can do that.

And then Feyre clears her throat. "Nesta," she begins. "Elain and I...have something we want to say to you."

Here it is. She should've known better. Tea and macarons, at nine in the morning? Of course not.

"And we're only saying this because we care about you," Elain adds quickly.

"Yes. Yes, right. We are. And...well...what we want to say is..." Feyre looks to Elain, who nods encouragingly.

Good grief. Will this never end?

"We know that...all of this...has been...difficult...for you to adjust to."

Nesta's heart stutters. They wouldn't. This--this isn't happening.

She keeps it off her face, though. She is cool, impassive. Blank. Nothing.

It doesn't make Feyre give up, but it does make her duck her head. "We...understand. But we think...we know that because we love you we can't allow this to go on any longer." Feyre clamps her mouth shut as she finishes, appearing to be holding her breath.

Nesta only raises an eyebrow slightly. Inside, she is not nearly as calm.

"All of the...drinking, Nesta," Elain says, lips beginning to tremble. Oh, no, not this. Anything but this. "And the m-males." She cringes as she said the words.

The color leachees from her face. She wants to die. There is no Mother, she knows, because if there were any being with mercy, they would surely split the earth beneath her feet and take her down.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Feyre says, now the one hurrying to add on to the other. Elain nods, but she looks sick. "Just that--you hadn't really...there was Tomas, but other than that--"

Nesta flinches violently when Feyre says his name. She still isn't making eye contact, though, so she doesn't notice, and continues.

"--so the--switch. From not being with anyone, and then...and these males don't care about you. And I wouldn't--I would never judge you, Nesta, really, but it doesn't appear as though you're...enjoying...yourself." She shrinks back.

"So then," Nesta says, proud of herself for keeping her voice even, "you are judging me."

"We're just noting facts," Elain says.

"And...all right, let's take a step back," Feyre says, swallowing. "We're not here to criticize you. We only want to offer a solution."

"A solution," Nesta repeats flatly. To her problem. To her.

"A--not a solution. Help. We want to help."

Elain clenches her hands into fists in front of her. Feyre stills as she visibly holds her breath.

"Well?" Nesta says after half a minute of this, voice still deadly calm. "What is your solution?"

Who will be the one to say it, she wonders? Elain, frightened as a mouse already, or Feyre, ill at the sight of her?

It's Feyre. Perhaps being High Lady makes her feel responsible. But she exhales sharply, picks up her head, and says, "We think it would be beneficial for you to spend some time in the library."

Nesta blinks. A library? That...doesn't sound--

And then she realizes. Not a library. The library. The one off the side of that mountain, where Hybern had attacked...where Bryaxis had lived...where all those priestesses...those priestesses...

"Are you out of your mind?" she blurts out, losing grip on her faux calm completely. "You want me to go to that library? Are you insane? How is that possibly supposed to help?"

"Nesta--"

"With those--those sycophants? Who worship that thing?" The thundering of her heart blocks the sounds from her sisters' protests. "Is that what you want me to be? Some acolyte of that--you want me to pray to that--how can--how dare--"

"Nesta, please!" Feyre cries, hands thrown up in front of her.

"We don't mean that at all!" Elain says, tears in her eyes.

Nesta's chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath, her mind too full of that...Cauldron. That thing they all worship--that thing that did this to her--to Elain--to Father--

"Please hear us out," Feyre says. "Sit back down, please."

Nesta falters. She hadn't even realized she had jumped up. She fights to keep her cheeks from reddening in shame. Stupid--she shouldn't have lost control like that--and what if something had happened? Shattered a window, shattered one of her sisters' bones?

"Thank you," Feyre says as she sits. "What we mean is...to spend time at the library during the day...working on entirely secular things. Nothing to do with any worship at all. Not reading those books, not participating in any prayer, not even wearing their robes."

"We would never suggest you do that, Nesta." Elain's voice is tight. Feyre reaches out and holds her hand.

"Just during the day," Feyre continues, "and then at night staying in the House of Wind."

"So you don't even have to share a room with any of them," Elain is quick to clarify. "Or eat with them. And you could go to that private library, too, remember?" She still fights back tears, but her voice takes a hopeful turn upwards.

Nesta latches onto everything inside her and holds it down tightly. "What would I even be doing there?"

Elain and Feyre exchange a look. Was that excitement? They probably take it as her willingness to go. That is not what this is.

"So, day to day, it would involve librarian duties. Reshelving books and such. And over time, if you find something you're interested in, aiding a senior librarian with her research. Or perhaps doing some of your own, if you'd like. But...the real purpose, Nesta..." Feyre sneaks another look at Elain before saying to her, "is for you to heal."

"We're not saying there's anything the matter with you," Elain says, jumping in before she can respond. "Just that...you've been hurt. And w-we take responsibility for not being by your side all this time. That was obviously wrong. We thought...well...we know you've always preferred to be on your own. But you're--you're hurting yourself too much. We can't just let you do that anymore. We love you," she finishes, choking back a sob. Her tears start falling from her eyes, but she does her best to keep quiet.

Feyre squeezes her hand, but doesn't turn to look at her. She keeps her eyes focused on Nesta. "Look, we know...it'd be a big change. But just...give it a few weeks. Get a feel for it. And if it's really not working...and you don't like it..."

"Then what?" Nesta asks, hollow.

"Don't worry about that," Feyre answers, firm. "We'll think of something else."

She's going to be sick right here. She cannot handle this...concern. Their trying. It's too much.

And now she has to say no. And Elain will cry--maybe Feyre, too. And then she'll have the rest of them upon her; Rhysand leading them to storm down her apartment, probably. It'll drive her down further, and perhaps be the last snip needed to finally sever the frayed, sole remaining string tied between herself and her sisters. Goodness knows she has ripped apart the tie between her and Amren, had stomped out the one between her and Cassian before it even had a chance to be something--

"Hey," Feyre says, placing a hand on her knee. "Stay with us, please."

"We know it's not easy." Elain speaks slowly, breathing deeply and fighting back her sobs. "But...don't think of it as a big thing. Just one step. One change. And w-we're not abandoning you to do this alone."

Feyre stands up and moves to sit by Nesta's side. Elain takes her other.

"I know how you feel," Feyre says, quiet and calm, squeezing her knee. "I've felt the same. If you can't do this for yourself...that's fine. Just please, please. Do it for us. Please."

Nesta narrows her eyes on Feyre's hand. She doesn't open her mouth for fear of what might come out. She won't give this voice--can't--

"I killed two innocents," Feyre says in that same voice, and suddenly, Nesta forgets her own thoughts as she turns to face her.

"It was my third trial," she continues, meeting Nesta's gaze, "Under the Mountain. Amarantha made me. I could've killed myself...and I was going to. But then it all ended and she died and Tamlin took me back to Spring. And I..." Only now does a tear slide down Feyre's cheek. But she just wipes it away and musters a small smile. "I promise I know how you feel. Please do this for me."

There are some truths Nesta knows. That she is not worth anyone's effort because of who she is, what she is. Which is defiled. And rotted. And small. And ugly. And these are the reasons why people give up; why she deserves that.

And yet, here her sisters sit, quietly crying, begging, beside her, and they are not giving up.

It's not exactly seeing the chance, rather...knowing it's there. In her periphery. Out of reach from where she is now, but...perhaps she can get there.

And Nesta realizes that there is a small, nearly insignificant--except it's the most important, isn't it?--part of her that throughout this whole drowning tempest, remembers what it is like to breathe. And it wants to breathe.

The girl who gave everything she could against the Cauldron may be buried, but she's not dead yet.

So she nods once.

Elain gasps and throws her palm against her mouth. Feyre squeezes her leg so hard she thinks she might draw blood.

"Thank you," Elain chokes out, crashing her head onto Nesta's shoulder.

Feyre doesn't say anything; only leans onto her other side.

Nesta doesn't relax. She sits there stiff and unmoving. But that distant, minuscule thing inside her flickers and breathes.

#nesta supremacy #nesta archeron #nessian fic #anti acosf #nessian #fatwd #idk what else to tag this as #i trust any nesta supremacy people know where to find me #anyway i hope to post a chapter every friday #really excited about this<3 #lmk what you think<3 #dadrie thanks for your heeeeelp<3<3<3

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byeoltoyuki · 3 years

Text

Release my heart ⇾ Ch.6

↳ Pairing: Jimin x You

❧ Genre : Fluff / Smut / angst / gang au

❧ Words: +7k

❧ Summary: Your world is turned upside down when your father decides to sell you to the infamous gang in order to pay his debts.

You always thought that Jimin’s room at their headquarters was nothing but amazing and huge. That was your thought until the incident and Jimin’s decision to bring you to his safe place that only few knew about. It shouldn’t have surprised you to find out that he owned a place of his own but it still did, especially considering how huge the place was.

His flat was not located among the richest district nor the poorest. In fact, Jimin lived in a residential district where what you considered as ‘normal people’ lived. It was only when he got you inside that you understood the trick. The flat he owned was huge, a duplex with big windows and black and white walls. It was spacious just like Jimin liked it.

He had showed you your way to a room with a bed big enough for four. He put the bags on the floor and then turned around to face you, smiling and yet you saw a glimpse of something else. Anger seemed likely or maybe it was something else entirely.

“This is our room.” He had said and you thought that you liked the sound of ‘our’ coming from his mouth.

There was only one thing that bothered you. How could he bring you out of the headquarters where eyes were everywhere and could watch you over? Taking you to his place was just too risky.

Jimin frowned at your silence. “What is it?”

“Are you sure?” You finally asked and took a step towards him.

“Sure of?”

You spread your arms widely, showing everything. “This. Us? You can’t keep me hidden forever and I sure as hell can’t stay locked in a flat for the rest of my life. Which means I’ll have to go out, eventually.”

“Obviously.”

This time you were the one to frown. How could he be so relaxed about it when your questions made sense? “Jimin, what you’re giving me right now is freedom. You do realize that?”

He did, obviously. He ruffled his hair and sighed. “And you do realize that since I consider you more than just a let’s say employee, I can’t keep you locked and believe me I wish I could so nobody could try and hurt you. But I can’t do that, can I now?” A tiny smile spread on his lips as he took the final step that separated you. He wrapped one arm around you while his hand reached your face, thumb stroking your lips. “It’s hard for me to trust someone outside of my family but I want to trust you, Y/N.”

“Well, talk about pressure.” You chuckled and bit gently at his thumb – his reaction was instant, his eyes moved straight to your mouth and you could easily imagine what was going through this pretty head. “I’m not running away; I really don’t want to.”

“Good.” He whispered more to himself than to you, relief washing over him. He brushed his lips softly against yours as if he was afraid it was just a dream and everything would crumble if he did more than that. “More than good actually.”

You could not stop yourself from melting in his arms. You pressed yourself harder against him, devouring his lips just as eagerly. “Can we just fuck now?”

Jimin laughed at your demand but complied eagerly, lifting you from the floor. “Always so bossy. I like it.”

“If I say I wish to see you every day wearing only my shirt, would you agree?” Jimin asked you as you were lazily laying on your stomach on the couch, your feet in the air, reading a book.

You turned your head to glance at him leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest, hungry eyes on you. You smiled and winked playfully. “Can be arranged.” You knew exactly what he loved so much about his shirt on you. It wasn’t the fact that you wore his clothes. No, it had everything to do with the fact that you wore absolutely nothing under which was a nice invitation to him. And Jimin could absolutely not say no to such invitation.

Jimin chuckled at your reply. “Such a tease.” But he licked his lips and started walking towards you, eyes glued to your legs. “I will never get tired of the view.” He gave your bum a light slap that made you giggle.

“I’d be worried if you would.” You joked and shifted from your position, letting him space to sit on the couch.

He did and you hurried to claim your rightful place on his laps with your arms tightly wrapped around his neck. “Hi there.” You pecked his lips.

Jimin’s arms instantly circled your body and his hands found your butt, squeezing your flesh – you bit on your lips in response. “I missed it.”

“What? My butt?” You joked, “Or is it me on top of you?” You nibbled at his jaw playfully, pushing yourself harder against him to rile him up. Not like it was a hard thing to do, Jimin was always hard for you. This time was no exception.

“Y/N.” Jimin growled and squeezed your butt harder in warning but really, all he wanted was to be inside you.

“What?” You feigned innocent, lips latched on his skin, you made sure to leave a very nice red mark on his neck. “You said you missed it.”

“Just so you know, I’m trying to be reasonable.”

You snorted and took a look at him. “Reasonable? You? Please.”

Jimin’s grip around you tightened only to crush you against his chest so his chin could rest on top of your head. “Yes. You know I love your body and I will never say no to such a nice invitation, but,” Jimin didn’t know how to express himself without sounding like an idiot.

You pushed his chest lightly to check on him and god, you weren’t ready for the softness and pure concern in his eyes. Where did the bad, big wolf had gone? Your smile widened and you pecked his lips. “But what?”

“I don’t want you to think you’re another toy, another woman I can use and then throw away. Because I’m telling you it right now, Y/N, you’re not. I care for you. A lot.”

If someone had told you five months ago that you would found yourself with one of the most dangerous man in the country, listening to his confession, you would have laughed at the person and probably told them to check with a doctor. And yet.

Jimin’s confession melted your heart into puddle. You felt warm (and not only because you wanted him), light and ready to fight the world if it meant you could stay with this man. It was silly and some would probably worry for your sanity – you wanted him. You wanted Park Jimin, the guy who had changed your world, turned it upside down, only to capture your heart.

You couldn’t control it. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck; your mouth claimed his lips, sealing a silent promise that you would stay with him, no matter what.

One moment you were sleeping peaceful, having a nice dream and then, one other moment you were being woken up by something wet – someone or something (because you didn’t think Jimin would lick your face) was licking eagerly your face. At first you thought it was your imagination; you pulled at the blanket to cover your face but then came another lick and then another – you cracked an eye open to see that no it was not a dream or your imagination.

A white fluffy ball of fur sat beside you, looking expectantly at you and once it noticed your eyes had finally opened, it let out the softest meow you had ever heard.

You sat on the bed, confused for a moment before noticing a small note laying just beside the kitten.

“Since I’m being often busy, I was scared you’d feel alone. I found him in the street and he looked too adorable not to bring him home. Name him (I believe it’s a he). See you later. – Jimin.”

You sniffed, holding back the tears. And here you thought he couldn’t get any sweater. You shook your head and quickly returned your attention to the little buddy waiting for you. You picked him up, smiling fondly. “So. What should I call you hm?”

One week only after you moving in with Jimin, Yoojin showed up at your doorstep which both took you off guard and made you incredibly happy. You were convinced Yoojin wasn’t part of the people Jimin considered family and she shouldn’t know this place but because of you, he went against his own rules. One more time he showed you how much he cared for you.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You told her, excited to be finally reunited with her after the mess.

Yoojin whistled as she looked at every corner of the place, too curious to see what kind of place Jimin owned outside of the gang. “And I can’t believe Jimin lives in a decent place. I didn’t expect that.”

You could relate, you didn’t expect that either. “What did you expect?”

Yoojin pondered on the question for a short moment, fingers rubbing her chin before laughing. “Probably something extremely expensive and extravagant. But not that.” She spread her arms, “This is too cozy for him.”

You laughed and agreed on that.

After that you prepared a tray with food and drinks and put everything on the small table at the balcony. The air was still a little fresh with a cool breeze – you took two blankets and put it on you.

“I love this place.” You admit as a sigh of delight left your lips. It wasn’t the life you had chosen for yourself but honestly you found it hard to care when you were with Jimin or Yoojin. You missed your friends, but you believed that with time, you would manage to find a way to introduce them to Jimin without including them in the crazy life.

Yoojin inhaled loudly. “I do too.” Then she looked at you, smiling. “I’m glad Jimin told me to come.”

“How are things back there?” Not like you were too worried, but you couldn’t stop yourself from being curious. Jimin promised not to kill the idiot but Taehyung… You knew just how deeply he cared and wouldn’t listen no matter how much you tried to reason with him.

Yoojin’s smile turned into a wicked grin which was, you had to admit, quite terrifying. “As in you want to know about the douche who attacked you?”

“Yes. Did Taehyung killed him?”

Yoojin wiggled her brows playfully, “What do you think?” She expected you to know the answer.

And you did. You sighed in defeat and slumped further in your seat. “He killed him. Of course he did.”

“I don’t know the full details and from what I gathered, I don’t think I want to know either. But apparently, Taehyung made him pay badly before killing him.”

You shivered at the thought of what Taehyung could have possibly done to the man. ‘Poor man’ you almost said.

“But before dying, he made both Jimin and Taehyung anxious.” Yoojin admitted as she took a sip of her drink. “Maybe it was rubbish and just his way to try and save himself but in our field of work, you don’t want to mess up or things can get ugly.”

“What did he say?”

“He told them that they’re too proud and are going to pay for their arrogance.” Yoojin hummed at her drink in satisfaction. “That’s good.”

No wonder Jimin was spending more hours at the headquarters than with you (not like you were too worried, knowing his work). You were going to have another talk with him later.

“I like Jimin.” You said out of nowhere and Yoojin chocked on her drink.

She coughed and judged you from the sight. “No shit Sherlock, I haven’t noticed.”

You rolled your eyes at her and smiled nevertheless. Of course, she would react like that. “The point is, I love him enough to accept his life style. I want to stay with him.”

Yoojin was no longer laughing, instead a fond smile spread on her lips – she knew what you were trying to say and expected you to eventually say it. “Well then I guess I was right to write this down.” She handed you a piece of paper with an address. One look at Yoojin and you knew it was the headquarters’ address. “If you ever want to visit let’s say me or Taehyung or just to piss off Jimin – because let’s be honest he’s going to throw a fit if you suddenly show up and I’m so looking forward for it.”

“So violent.” But you agreed and clinked your glass with hers. “Cheers.”

Few days later you decided to use the address and pay some of your friends a visit. It was risky and you were probably going to have a fight with Jimin later but you knew him well enough to deal with his anger later. Moreover, who was he to refuse a nice lunch made by his oh so lovely girlfriend?

You

[11:45am] : Please tell me all the idiots are home.

Yoojin bae 💛

[11:45am] : Depends. Be more specific about the ‘idiots’ part.

You

[11:46am] : I don’t know, there’s too many to name. 🙃

Yoojin bae 💛

[11:46am]: You’re so lucky they can’t hear you.

Yoojin bae 💛

[11:47am] : But to answer your question, yes they are all here. They’re having a meeting.

You

[11:50am] : Good. I’m about to interrupt them then.

Yoojin bae 💛

[11:52am] : Go girl!

You smiled at Yoojin’s message, clearly someone was bored and wanted some fun. You put your phone (bless Jimin for agreeing to get you one just in case) back in your bag and with a determined step you got inside the building.

Some of the men you met in the halls recognized you; some were surprised to see you (you bet the whole building had heard about the attack), some not that much.

It was odd to be back. You expected to feel bad, to feel anxious about it but oddly enough you weren’t. Far from it. Maybe it was the fact that you were a free woman or the fact that you were under Jimin’s (not to mention Taehyung’s) protection.

You got to your destination without trouble and without being interrupted. You took a deep breath and pushed the door to the meeting room. Yoojin hadn’t lied, all of them were inside including Namjoon.

“Hi guys.”

All eyes were on you.

You smiled awkwardly at them as there were many foreign faces and all were staring at you. You quickly found Taehyung’s beaming face; at least someone was happy to see you – Jimin was scowling.

You winked playfully at Taehyung and only then your eyes fell upon Jimin. If there was one person who wouldn’t be extremely happy about your presence it would be obviously him but you forgot all about your fear of confrontation with him as you noticed his injured arm. Your eyes widened in shock and all trace of smile vanished from your face.

Without caring that so many people were staring at you, you got to Jimin’s side.

“The hell you’re-“ He started arguing, fuming from inside.

“The fuck happened to your arm?” You shout at him. You grabbed his arm too harshly (it was hard to control your strength when you were so worried and upset) making him hiss at you. You ignored his reaction considering he completely deserved it.

The wound didn’t seem too deep but it still looked painful and nasty. You bit on your lips to refrain yourself from making any harsh comment but truth to be told, all you could think about was that you wanted to murder someone.

“What happened?” You asked again without letting go of his arm. “Who did this?”

“Y/N, what are-“ Jimin tried again which was not the right thing to do with you – your grip on his arm tightened and he winced one more time in pain. “Bloody hell woman!”

“So this is the girlfriend?” You heard one of the men asking and it was only then that you remembered you were not alone in this room.

Embarrassed, you looked at them and let (to Jimin’s happiness) go of him arm. “Hi.”

If at first, you felt intimidated, you quickly found yourself relaxing as Taehyung was biting on his lips trying not to laugh at Jimin’s face who turned from angry to red with embarrassment. Namjoon was openly smiling, not even trying to hide his amusement.

Finally, you showed the bag you had been carrying. “Food?”

They all agreed all too happily.

It was nice meeting the other members of Jimin’s family. Despite their initial cold faces, it melted as soon as you told them about food. Men and food, a big love story. Jimin was the only grumpy one in the room but secretly you caught him stealing some food.

“Why did you come?” Jimin asked as you got home together, still obviously upset but not as much as he used to.

You spun around to face him, hands on your hips, you tried to look as intimidating as you could – it didn’t work. Jimin quirked a brow, amused at your attempt so just to annoy you he mirrored your action and put his hands on his hips.

“Jerk.” You huffed

“Shocking, I know.” He smiled and relaxed. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to get angry or make you feel unwelcomed.”

No matter how strong and fearful Jimin could look, you realized he cared a lot and maybe too much. You took a step towards him, cupped his face in your hands (trying not to squish his cheeks which was so damn tempting) and kissed him. “You worry too much, Jimin.”

“I-“

“Which I understand. But I’m not going to hide and especially not from your men. If I want this relationship, I can’t hide behind the safety of your flat.” You kissed him again, a soft brush of your lips against his that made him relax against you. “And I really want a relationship with you.”

“Thank god.” He muttered against your lips as he kissed you more fiercely this time, pouring all his feelings into the kiss.

Without a word, Jimin lifted you from the floor and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, letting him carry you to your bedroom.

“You should tell her.” The moment you heard Jack telling this to Yoojin, you knew they were talking about you. Not like you were the main subject most of the time but it just made sense this time.

Eavesdropping wasn’t in your habits but just for this time, you stayed hidden in the corner, trying to gather as much information as you could before going to possible war.

“Jimin is stupid for keeping it a secret.” He added (which got you even more curious).

“Why me?” Yoojin face palmed, whining at the task Jack was giving her.

Jack raised a brow; it seemed pretty obvious to him why it should be Yoojin. “Because you’re her friend and she hate me.”

No matter how entertaining it was to see Jack desperate for help, you chose to come out and relieve him from his misery.

“I’m going to suppose you’re talking about me.” You said and as you pointed at Jack you quickly added, “And I don’t hate you.”

“Hey Y/N!” Yoojin smiled brightly at you.

“Don’t ‘hey me’.” Someone was trying to avoid the conversation but you were not going to let them just run away from you. “What is this all about? Jimin and secrets? My favorite kind of stories.”

Yoojin and Jack exchanged a glance that smelled like trouble to you.

Jack sighed in defeat and looked at you, looking apological. “You’re not going to like it.”

They were absolutely right. You didn’t like the story. Heck, you loathed it and it made you furious. The moment Suah’s name left Jack’s lips, you saw red.

“I’m going to kill him.” Was your first reaction. “No. Better, I’m going to first kill her and make him watch then I’ll deal with him.”

You were blood thirsty and were ready for a fight. To that Jack and Yoojin could only shudder. And just before you left, you swore you heard them saying something along the line ‘god, she sounds just like him.’.

How dare he.

Jimin should have known that being with you and still working with Suah was not the right thing to do. Business was business, yes, but he could find a more acceptable solution.

Annoyed, you halted in the hall. No, you didn’t want to go and pick a fight with Jimin. He was playing dirty and so would you. You turned around and headed straight to Taehyung’s room, hoping he was in there.

Luckily for you, he was.

“Y/N!” Taehyung wrapped you in his arms, squishing you against his body with so much strength you thought you were about to die. Hands still on your shoulders, Taehyung pushed you gently from him so he could properly look at you. He frowned, recognizing the anger behind your eyes. “Looks like you’re about to kill someone.”

And despite your anger, you chuckled. “Depends. Are you going to help me to hide the body?”

Taehyung whistled, impressed. “Now you speak like one of us.” He slid his hand along your arm before gently taking your hand and bringing it to his lips – he planted a soft kiss on your knuckles. “How may I help you?”

“How do you feel about pissing Jimin off?”

“Consider me intrigued.”

Jimin was not amused.

The party was filled with vain people (including his company), with discussions he would have loved to avoid. But he had no other choice but to agree to Namjoon’s plan and come since he and Taehyung were the best at charming people (and eventually tricking them).

Suah was another reason he was not amused. There was a time when he found her charming; there was something about her. But sadly, and just like the people in this room, she was vain. Beautiful from outside but ugly from inside and Jimin couldn’t ignore this part of her. Not anymore at least.

But what got Jimin’s mood straight from bored to upset was the sight of you stepping into the hall with Taehyung. It wasn’t because of the fact that Taehyung was the one escorting you or the fact that you wore a beautiful lacy red dress that made you look absolutely gorgeous, like a queen.

No, what bothered him the most was the fact that someone (and apparently it was Taehyung) thought it was a good idea to bring you to this party. A party that could possibly end in tears and blood.

He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his cool.

“Oh look who’s here.” Suah commented to Jimin’s dismay. She looked smug and too happy for his liking, making him regret bringing her with him.

“Apparently, you’re not the only man she’s interested in.” Suah faced Jimin, pushing him to snap.

He didn’t. He simply averted his eyes from you and Taehyung to look at her. “Shut up. For your own sake.”

Suah only laughed and took another sip of her drink.

If Jimin was not amused with your presence, then you were furious to see Suah so close to him. The wish to suddenly jump on her and possibly pull at her hair was very strong. But instead, you tightened your grip around Taehyung’s arm and put on your best smile and ignoring completely Jimin’s gaze.

“Maybe I should have checked my testament before coming here.” Taehyung joked as he leaned closer to you. “I think Jimin is going to murder me in my sleep.”

That was an understatement. “I don’t think he’s going to wait for you to sleep.”

Taehyung smiled, agreeing. He let go of your arm only to snatch two glasses of Champaign from a waiter and to hand one to you. “Then I should keep my guardian angel close to me in case something happens.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” You poked his chest playfully. But he was right, you would defend him if needed.

Taehyung stood before you making it easier for you to talk to him while observing Jimin from afar. It was a perfect strategy and oh how much it was worth it.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?” Taehyung asked as he took a sip of his drink, feigning fear when in fact he was particularly amused with his whole plan.

You hid your smile in your glass, eyes darting back and forth between Taehyung and Jimin. “A solid seven, I’d say.”

Taehyung whistled, impressed. “Then, he’s doing much better than I thought.”

But maybe you were quick to jump to conclusion – Jimin was slowly walking towards you. “Oh, oh, he’s coming.”

Taehyung didn’t even flinch and instead spun around, standing right beside you, hand resting on your back (which obviously made Jimin only angrier judging by his frown).

“Nice suit, Jimin.” Taehyung welcomed him with a compliment.

And he didn’t lie. Jimin really looked good in his grey suit. He looked so good you could almost forget about your own resentment. Get a grip Y/N! You slapped yourself mentally and did your best to fake a happy smile. “Hi there.”

Jimin’s eyes darted back and forth between you and Taehyung, gaze growing darker with every passing seconds. “Watch where you’re putting your hand, Kim.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his open display of jealousy (a part of you rejoiced nevertheless but you couldn’t possibly admit it out loud).

Taehyung hummed, pretending to think about his request but then he pulled you closer to his side. “Why should I? She’s my date for the night, Park. If you wanted her to come with you, you should have asked.”

‘Instead of asking Suah’ you wanted to add but that would be admitting you were also jealous and you wouldn’t do him the honor. Jimin, however, seemed to understand the unspoken words either way; his eyes averted from Taehyung to you. You held his gaze, refusing to give in so easily.

Jimin chose, for once in his life, to be reasonable – he ran his fingers through his perfectly styled hair (your eyes followed his every move despite yourself) and sighed in defeat. “I knew you were up to something when I saw you this morning.” He shook his head at Taehyung but eventually a tiny smile spread on his face.

Taehyung smiled wickedly. “Always. But you’d be surprised.” He glanced at you – you recognized the look of a man about to spill your secrets. “But this pretty lady is the one who was up to something. Not me.”

“Oh, was she now?”

It was so tempting to just stuck your tongue at him, but that would be very childish of you, wouldn’t it? Instead, you kept your mouth shut, feigning to be completely disinterested with whatever he had to say.

From afar, you spotted Suah talking to a man you had never seen. Not like it was a big deal since she had been working for Jimin for a while (and obviously it wasn’t her first party with Jimin either). But something about the man just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the tattoo peaking from under his sleeves or maybe it was because of how serious Suah looked while talking to him. Either way it smelled like trouble.

You just hadn’t realized how right you were.

“I’m going to leave you two alone for five minutes.” Taehyung announced. “Please, don’t start a war.”

You pinched his arm in response since you were almost glued to his side – Taehyung winced and hurried to get away from you. Jimin on the other hand took the chance to step closer to you.

“I honestly want to pick a fight with you,” Jimin started, he took your hand gently, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “But more I look at you and less I remember why I was angry in the first place.”

Oh yes, Jimin was that good with turning your mind blank and making you forget about your anger. “I hate it.”

“What?” He said absently as his eyes were fixed on your hand.

“That you have so much power over me.”

That got his attention. He quirked a brow and raised his head to look at you. “Do I now?” His hand let go of yours and instead reached for your cheek, stroking it sweetly. “And do you know how much power you have over me?”

You had an answer on the tip of your tongue, so ready to flirt back, but the movement behind him got all of your attention instead.

You thought that nothing worse than being kidnapped and told you were sold could ever happen to you. Oh how wrong you were. Tonight, you found out that you still had a lot to lose. When you saw the man Suah was talking to earlier, starting heading towards you – you frowned. Not just because he was walking determined, straight and with a dark and dangerous glance in his eyes, but because of what he took out of his pocket.

A knife.

You didn’t think twice. In fact, you didn’t think at all, there was only one thing that mattered: Jimin. You grabbed him by the shoulders, so tightly he actually winced in both pain and surprise but before he could comprehend, you had already spun him around, shielding him with your body as you were fast enough to grab the knife with your bare hands.

It hurt. Like a bitch. It was a dumb move but you could hardly regret it when the man looked completely taken off guard, confused with a hint of fear. His plan had failed because of you and now he would face the consequence (and you hoped it was something along the line of ‘slow and painful death’). He tried to shake the knife which only deepened your wound, but you didn’t let go.

Jimin was fast to react and before the man could have a chance to escape, he was being pushed far away from you (with a nice punch from Jimin). With a blink of an eye Taehyung was back by your side, one arm tightly wrapped around you and with the other holding a gun.

All hell broke loose around you and despite everything, you couldn’t care less.

“Taehyung,” Jimin started, hands tightly wrapped around the man’s throat. “Take Y/N back home. I’ll see you later.”

A protest was at the tip of your tongue; you didn’t want to leave when things were getting out of hand but one glance from Jimin and you knew staying was not an option. Apparently, Taehyung agreed too.

“Don’t.” Taehyung whispered to you.

And you obeyed.

By the time Jimin got home, your hand was taken care and you didn’t feel like murdering someone. Obviously, the night was completely ruined (and all your plan of sweet revenge) and you feared what reckless decision Jimin could take because of it.

Surprisingly, he did nothing out of ordinary.

Jimin got home at two in the morning. You were slumped on the couch, waiting for him (and being anxious as hell).

For a while, you did nothing but stare at each other, or more like Jimin was intensely staring at your wounded hand, scowling deeply. No need to be a genius to know he wasn’t particularly happy with the outcome of the night.

Neither were you.

“You’re angry.” You were the first to break the silence, unable to bear it any longer, it was too stressing.

Jimin didn’t agree or deny it, he simply joined you by the couch, eyes still on your hand. He got on his knees and took your hand gently in between his. “I’m sorry.”

You blinked, confused. “What for?”

Jimin pressed his cheek against your hand as he looked at you, his eyes conveying all his feelings. “I should have known. I should have seen it coming.” He pressed his lips to your hand. “I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”

“Don’t be silly.” You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to the couch making it easier for you to hug him. “I’m glad I asked Taehyung to bring me with him. I don’t want to even imagine what could have happened if I wasn’t there.”

Jimin wrapped his arms around you, crushing you against his chest. You sighed in delight; it felt nice being in his arms after a long and stressing night.

“I’m going to protect you.” You announced proudly. It was silly but if you could help him out one way or another, you knew you would.

Jimin chuckled and you felt him relaxing against you.

He kissed your forehead and told you how lucky he was.

Damn right.

The next morning everybody gathered in the meeting room.

Jimin didn’t like the idea of leaving you alone, not after last night, but at least he comforted himself with the thought that you were safe at his place and hidden from his enemies. He didn’t get any sleep, he couldn’t. Not when you got hurt instead of him and under their watch. Not when because he was so blinded, he didn’t see Suah’s little game. All he could think about was his guilt but also the wish to take his revenge.

At first, nobody talked. Even Taehyung who usually would make some joke to ease the atmosphere, was calm. Too calm even. The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“This shouldn’t have happened.” Yoongi was the first to break the ice and purposely looked at Jimin. “How the hell did it come to this? How none of you noticed the little game this bitch was playing?” This time Yoongi looked at Taehyung too. Jimin might have be the leader of his business but Taehyung spent much time in the place too.

Jimin didn’t answer or tried to defend himself. A part of him couldn’t come up with any excuses and the other part was just too angry to care to answer.

Yoongi sighed; it was so tempting to push on with the subject, it had to be addressed but he also knew Jimin, nobody had the power to force him to talk when he was in this state.

“Fuck it.” Yoongi cursed under his breath.

“Suah isn’t the only problem. She didn’t know where our men were watching over us which means someone else had betrayed us." Jin stepped in, arms crossed over his chest as he eyed his friends, one by one until his gaze fell on a rather silent Namjoon. That was unusual.

Namjoon didn’t comment or try to blame Jimin for the disaster that happened last night. No, instead he was taping slowly his fingers on the table, lost in his thoughts.

"How’s Y/N?" Namjoon finally asked taking aback most with his question, Jimin included.

Jimin hesitated. "She’s fine."

Namjoon only nodded. "What about Suah and the man who tried to stab you?"

Jimin ruffled his hair in frustration. The only thought of Suah made his blood boil and wish he could go and smash her head instead of letting someone else do his job. "Hoseok is taking care of them.”

Jin feigned a shudder. “I almost feel bad for them.”

Jimin didn’t comment but in his opinion, whatever Hoseok was doing to them, was worth it.

“Speaking of the devil.” Yoongi said as Hoseok pushed the door to join them. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, could have taken a shower at least.” Jin commented and pointed at Hoseok’s sleeves. “There’s some blood there.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes and pretended not hearing their comments. He sat on Jimin’s left and let a tired and long sigh. “Suah has been working for Red Lotus for a while.”

That got everybody’s attention.

“She has been gathering information, passing it to them. It explains how recently they had been a pain in the ass.” Hoseok explained. “The contract we’re supposed to sign in Tokyo? It’s a trap.”

“Fuck.” Taehyung groaned

“Well. I appreciate you found it out before I got there.” Jin thanked bitterly.

“So, how are we going to take our revenge?”

“They’re planning something.” Yoojin said as you were getting ready to go out. “And it’s going to be big and probably ugly.”

One week after the incident, Jimin had been absent longer than you both wished, busy with scheming and probably doing some dirty work you didn’t want to know about. But at least you got Yoojin.

“That bad?”

“Suah’s betrayal left a bitter taste.” Yoojin hesitated for a second. “Jimin is beating himself.”

“It’s not his fault.” There was nothing he could have done to prevent this situation. Suah was a good actress and managed to fool everybody. Not only Jimin.

“Maybe.” Yoojin bit on her lips as she thought about it. “Jimin was close to her, closer than the others. I get it why he’s beating himself.”

You found yourself wishing you could have seen Suah one last time, just so you could punch her in the face. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and emptied your mind. Today was not about Jimin or Suah or any other problem, it was about you and Yoojin going out for a drink.

“Let’s go.”

The weather was absolutely gorgeous. Sunny, warm with a breeze – the perfect weather for a girls’ day.

“Turns out, Smith was right.” Yoojin however said as she held the door for you.

“Smith?”

“The idiot who attacked you.”

“Oh.”

“You look good, Yoojin.” A man’s voice interrupted you.

You froze right on the spot, startled at the man’s interruption. Yoojin’s paled by your side; hands curling into a fist, she had obviously recognized the person waiting for you.

“Such a pleasure to see you again.” He said proudly. By his side four other men, looking just as dangerous as him, were staring at you. “Though, I’m still disappointed that you chose to become their whore.”

You had absolutely no clue who those guys were you didn’t care. He was messing with your friend and openly insulting her as if there would be no consequences. It was unacceptable. “Shut your mouth.”

Judging by his frown, he didn’t expect you to snap at him – Yoojin pulled you behind her, shielding you with her body. Despite your annoyance, all the bells in your head rang in alarm. You were in danger.

He ignored your order and averted his eyes to Yoojin; his scowl vanished right away and instead he smirked. “How’s Johnny by the way?”

The little shit.

If it wasn’t for Yoojin blocking your way, you would have pounced at him to make him eat his tongue. Yoojin only tensed but didn’t more or fight back.

“What do you want, Andrew?” She asked instead, refusing to play his game.

The said Andrew sighed in disappointment. “You used to be fun.”

“You used to be a decent guy but you don’t see me complaining, do you?” She snapped back with ease. “What do you want?”

Andrew seemed to consider her question. Seeing her with you was not part of his plan and her presence altered slightly his goal. “Well, I was planning to kidnap the lady behind you.”

His confession (and honesty) sent shivers down your spine; you were indeed in danger and with no way out.

“But since you’re here, I think I can finally have my revenge.”

At his words, Yoojin grabbed your hand and gave it a meaningful squeeze. She wanted you to run, to try to get as far as possible from this place and to get help.

You averted your eyes from the man and looked instead at her hand. You couldn’t leave her behind, it was out of question.

“Oh. Now that’s cute.” Andrew commented as he understood the meaning behind your silent exchange. “You used to care only for yourself. Really cute.” But then, he pulled out his gun and pointed at Yoojin. “But really, do you think I’m going to let her leave?” His smile grew more and more wicked with every passing minutes.

He pulled the trigger and fired right at Yoojin and hit her arm. Everything happened so fast. One moment you were still thinking about how to get you both out and then the next a loud bang got you frozen on the spot. The bullet had hit Yoojin’s arm and the sight of blood terrified you.

“Y/N, right? In my opinion, if you want this lovely Yoojin to survive, you should do as I say.” Andrew was clearly having a blast with this whole situation; it amused him while it terrified the two of you.

Yoojin, despite the wound and the pain, snorted. “Don’t make me laugh. You sparing me? Y/N might believe it because she doesn’t know you, but I do and I know that your hands are itching to kill me.” Then, she looked at you, pleading you silently.

But you couldn’t. Whenever what Yoojin said about Andrew was true or not didn’t matter, you couldn’t abandon her.

“I can’t.” You whispered

“Then, should I make it easier for you?” Andrew suggested as once more he pointed his gun at Yoojin.

Your body acted on its own and with a blink of an eye you stood before Yoojin with arms spread widely, forcing the man to halt.

“Don’t.” Your voice sounded so weak and desperate. “If you kill her I won’t come with you.”

“And what will you do? Try to run?” He laughed, “Should I remind you that I have a gun and you don’t.”

“I still can run.” That was, without a doubt, a desperate attempt to save Yoojin. “You need me alive.”

Andrew paused and scratched his forehead with the tip of his gun. “True. But I never said that I needed you healthy and unharmed.”

And before you could think or react, he pulled once more the trigger.

#jimin #bts #bts fic #bts fanfic #jimin fic #bts smut #release my heart

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txemrn · 3 years

Text

Happy (belated) Mother's Day! Book: TNA Warning: THIS IS PURE SELF-INDULGENCE! I decided to take some time and a) make Sam Dalton lovely and b) not kill off a certain handsome king; but fair warning, this is filled with fluffity-fluff-fluff with smidges of angst; discussion of infertility and maternal loss Song Inspiration: "We Thought You'd Be Here" by Wes King A/N: This is part of the Schuyler-Dalton Chronicles (Check out "Once... Always..." the mini-series that started it all); the characters belong to Pixelberry; I stole a quote from one of the greatest Christmas movies of all time 🎄; I am not perfect: I take full responsibility for all of my spelling and grammatical mistakes; I'm hoping you can ignore them and enjoy the story! 💗

Before the brilliant rays of the Sunday morning sun could greet the New York City skyline, Brynn stares aimlessly at the vaulted ceiling of the master suite. Although she physically craves rest, the clattering commotion of her congested thoughts keep her restless and exhausted.

Frustrated with her inability to calm her nerves, she quietly crawls out of bed, being careful not to disturb her peacefully sleeping husband. She retrieves his discarded pinstripe button-up shirt from the floor, and wraps it around her exposed body. After snatching her phone from the nightstand, she tip-toes cautiously across the wooden floor to the ensuite bathroom.

Staring at her abdomen in the mirror, the all-too-familiar excitement laced with sheer dread latches heavily onto her heart. Her breathing labors, loudly thundering in her ears; a sour uneasiness pours through her nerves, settling on her queasy stomach. She tenderly cradles her belly. Her fingers brush across the flattened contours of her healthy physique until they rest curiously on two tiny, flesh-colored scars: the remnants of a pregnancy that simply wasn't meant to be.

"Are you there, little one?" She whispers hopefully. She endearingly hugs her tummy once more fighting back tears from the painful emptiness she has felt many times before.

But, maybe this time was different.

Brynn turns to her digital calendar to ensure that this wasn't in vain, that there was a reason she was doing this today of all days.

She clicks her tongue on the side of her mouth. "The first day… that was the third," she mumbles to herself, "which makes today... one, two, three, ah! Four days late."

She fills a crystal tumbler with water before locking herself into their opulent water closet. Taking one last massive swallow of the room temperature fluid, she tears into the bright pink box. Without giving it another thought, she tosses the printed directions and plastic wrappers into the wastebasket as she places the apparatus between her legs. She knows the routine; this is far from her first pregnancy test.

Before Sam and Brynn married four years ago, the discussion of having more children created much discord between the couple. Entering his forties, Sam was satisfied with having just his twin boys, Mickey and Mason. They were growing older with flourishing social and academic schedules; keeping up with them alone was challenging. Sam's line of work wasn't slowing down anytime soon, especially with the couple's meditated decision to buy out their shares from Dalton Enterprises to start their own company projected during their first year of marriage.

Brynn was still youthful, ending her twenties by becoming a Dalton with her childhood dreams still intact: getting married and starting a family. She adored Sam's boys, quickly and naturally claiming them as her own; but, a large part of her desire was to become a mom biologically, to carry a child created by her and her beloved.

After experiencing a tragic ectopic pregnancy early in their relationship that almost cost Brynn's life, Sam's heart softened to the idea of having another child. He saw the depth of Brynn's broken heart; he felt the depth of his own humanity, facing the possibility of losing the love of his life. Again.

Somehow having the last word about the size of their family didn't matter to Sam anymore. Conceiving would be difficult, but they agreed to cherish the journey together, whether the family expanded or not.

The shattering of crystal startles Sam awake. With one eye peeking open, he inspects the empty disheveled sheets on Brynn's side of the bed.

"Brynn?" he gruffly calls out as he reaches for his eyeglasses on his nightstand. Listening fervently into the silence, he hears a muffled whimper. Throwing on a pair of heather-gray sweatpants, he investigates the tinkering of something sharp being scraped on the floor from the bathroom.

"Babe?"

'"I'm fine--" her voice is dampened by the door. And her tears.

"Brynn baby," he softly knocks. Opening the door to the small area, he reveals his kneeling wife with shards of glass splayed all over the floor. On closer inspection, she's attempting to clean up the mess with her bare hands. "Oh my God--"

"I'm sorry. I'm such a klutz. I-I-I know it was your favorite--" she stutters through her sniffles.

"Baby!" he grabs her wrists, forcing her to drop the broken pieces. "Stop-stop-stop. You're bleeding."

"I'm fine--"

"Come here." Sam grips his wife's arm snuggly, pulling her into a stand before tucking her petite body into an embrace. Pressing his lips against her hairline, he reaches down with his arm, lifting her body into a cradle-hold against his chest.

Sitting her on the sink, he quickly inspects her feet, ensuring no glass had blindly infiltrated her skin.

"I'm sorry--" she silently offers, wiping away the wetness in her eyes.

'Stop," he brushes a wisp of her hair behind her ear. He leans closely towards her, desperately wanting to dive into her stormy blues; but, her eyes stay trained on her hands.

Sam takes her injured hands in his palms, and gingerly rinses them in the sink. After allowing the water to run clear, he finally breaks the pained silenced.

"Was it negative?"

"I-I just needed a sip of water to take some Tylenol, and-and--"

"Baby," he coddles her face, making her look at him. "Did you--did you think that you--? That we were--?"

Brynn drops her head as rivers from her eyes roll down her cheeks. Sam delicately wraps her in a tight hold, peppering her sweetly with kisses.

"I thought for certain," she sniffles. "I was so shocked when nothing popped up on the test that I dropped the tumbler." She sarcastically chuckles through the sadness to herself. "And I thought it would be so sweet to find out today--today of all days. It sounded like a fairy tale, but it's now turning out more like a nightmare." She buries her face into Sam's shoulder as he tightens his arms around her body.

"I think it’s time that we--” Sam lets out a sigh, “--make an appointment--"

"No." She breaks from his hold, turning to leave the room.

"Brynn."

She angrily twirls around to face her husband. "And what, Sam? We've made appointments. What could they possibly tell me that we don't already know?"

"Okay-okay-okay--" Sam stifles the budding fire. “Forget that I mentioned it.” He reaches for his wife, pulling her back assuredly against his chest. "Please don’t cry,” he whispers into her ear, his hands rubbing her back intimately. “I am your husband, your confident. I am in your corner. Always will be." He looks down, lifting her chin attentively to his eyes, a subtle smirk growing across his face. "You want the moon?"

Brynn chuckles through her sobs resting her hands on his bare chest.

Sam presses his lips to her forehead. "Just say the word," he quietly teases. He nibbles across her cheek, his voice becoming lower, huskier, "and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down--"

Brynn meets Sam's lips in a tender kiss. She slips her arms around his neck, tugging him in closely as their mouths entwine as one.

Pulling back to dance in his sultry chocolate eyes, Brynn casually twirls the wavy locks in the back of Sam's head.

"You are my moon, Samuel."

Sam presses his forehead to hers. "I love you. We'll work through this." Looking back into each other's eyes, he begins to trace small circles on her back.

"We always do," Brynn playfully kisses his nose. "I love you, too."

"Let's head back to bed," he suggests, holding Brynn tightly, escorting her backwards to the bed. "I have a feeling that two eleven-year-old stars in our galaxy have a special surprise for you later this morning."

*****

"Happy Mother's Day, Mom!"

Brynn pops one eye open to a brightly sunlit room, only to be met with two pairs of doting brown eyes crowding her weary face. She lets out a guttural yawn.

"Mmm… thank you, boys." Brynn turns over, pulling the down comforter over her head.

"The subject is still sleeping, but moving, Dr. Dalton!" Mason playfully speaks into his watch. "I think we have a heartbeat!"

"Can't be too sure, Mr. President," Mickey dramatically grabs Mason's arm, keeping in character. "I'm afraid we're going to have to shock her. Or amputate."

Brynn squeezes her eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep as she hides her snickers. She loves listening to the boys play, using their vivid and clever imaginations. Even though they were getting older and 'too cool' for some things, she's pleased to see their dreaming hasn't stopped.

"Charge to fourteen zillion. And-- clear!"

All of a sudden, the boys ambush Brynn, tickling her feet and pinching at her sides.

"No-no-no! Ah!" She yelps, her words caught up into her laughter. "You turkeys!" She breathes heavily as she inadvertently kicks her feet wildly.

"Stop--ohmygod--Sam! Please!" she beckons between snickers, "I can't breathe--"

"Very fine work, doctor!" Mason cackles.

"Thank you, Mr. President!" Mickey mimics his brother, continuing to jovially attack their stepmother with tickles.

"ENOUGH!" Brynn screams. She grabs Mickey by the arm, pulling him into her lap, and starts plastering sloppy kisses all over his face.

"Gross! Mom! No!" he screams in agony, all the while Brynn giggles with each goofy kiss.

"Eww!" sputters Mason as he starts to crawl off the bed.

"Oh, no you don't, mister!" Brynn grabs him by the ankle, gathering him in an embrace as she plants tender kisses on his cheeks.

After a few more minutes of laughter and slathering of kisses, Brynn feels the struggle dissipate in her arms, the boys now cuddling tightly to her body. She rests her cheeks on the tops of their heads, eliciting a gentle, satisfactory moan. Soaking in the moment, Brynn realizes the truth: she is a mom. She already has everything she has ever wanted wrapped up in two beautiful bouncing balls of energy.

As the boys share the plot of the game they were playing, she secretly savors the scent of their warm brandy curls, cherishing the soft texture of their waves against her skin.

My boys. The thought of a life without them terrifies her; though her heart longs to create and deliver a baby with Sam, she would never trade this unexpected, ready-made motherhood she inherited by becoming a Dalton. In her eyes, her family is already perfectly whole. She hopes that with time, her desire for a baby will be silenced.

"Boys?" Sam calls from the kitchen. "Where are my sous chefs? This fruit isn't going cut itself."

"Uh-oh," Mason lowers his voice, "we better go, Dr. Dalton."

"Roger that, Mr. President!" salutes Mickey before turning his attention to Brynn. "Stay right here, Mom. Mother's day is just getting started!"

"I hope it's fluffy with maple syrup on top!" Brynn singsongs as the boys bounce off of the bed. She gleefully tucks herself back under the weighted comforter, glowing from the beautiful moment she shared with her sons.

Moments later, the boys barrel around the corner, this time with Sam in tow, balancing a lap desk with an immaculate breakfast spread; but keeping with tradition, the spread is for everyone. Brynn refuses to eat in bed alone.

The delightful aroma of the feast teases their stepmom's senses, and she quickly steals a strawberry slice. She instantly starts dividing up the pancakes, the grilled sausage and scrambled eggs as all the Daltons climb into bed.

"Mickey, do you want some of this--" she stops mid-sentence, her attention being stolen. Her eyes focus on a white satin jewelry box, tied with a pale pink bow.

"What is this?" She curiously lifts up the box while Mickey and Mason beam with excitement.

"It's a new kind of tradition," Mason coyly answers.

Brynn, clearly touched by the gesture, turns to her husband who's relaxing on his elbow. "Did you know about this?" she whispers. "No gifts--"

Sam raises his hands in defense. "They really wanted to do this. They did this all on their own. Saved up their allowances--"

"Uncle Robin took us to the mall and helped us pick everything out," explains a humbled Mickey. "Can she open it now, Dad?"

"She's the mama," he chuckles, swiping a kiss against the back of her hand.

Brynn meticulously unties the bow and unfastens the delicate pieces of wrapping paper, revealing a simple white box. She takes a moment to soak up her sons' excitement, who are intently watching her.

Biting her bottom lip, she opens the lid, revealing a stunning, white gold charm bracelet, already hosting several ornate charms. Brynn's mouth falls open in shock while her eyes well with tears. Taking it as their cue, the boys crawl into her lap.

"You said you always wanted one growing up--"

"Yeah," interrupts Mickey, "so we thought we could make you a mom charm bracelet."

Taking a few breaths to find the right words, Brynn distraughtly looks to a grinning, elated Sam. She looks back to the boys before fixing her eyes back onto the thoughtful piece of jewelry.

"Here, Mom," Mason takes the chain, and loops it around her wrists to clasp it. "We've been practicing,'' he smiles.

"You're doing it wrong, Mase," whispers a slightly irritated Mickey.

"I am not," Mason huskily rebuttals.

"You are, too."

"Am not!"

Brynn pulls her wrist away as the twins begin to stick their tongues out at each other.

"Guys! C'mon--" chastises Sam as he takes over,, clasping the bracelet to his wife’s arm. "Don't ruin the moment."

"Sorry, Mom," the boys simultaneously apologize, giving Brynn heartfelt looks of remorse.

After squeezing them tightly and thanking them for the very thoughtful gift, Brynn continues to admire the charms they picked. Two identical charms in the shape of a boy silhouette and a tourmaline birthstone catch her attention first.

"'Michael Aaron' and 'Mason Alexander'." A large smile plants securely on her mouth as her fingers trace over the etching of their names.

She tinkers through a few more charms, including a soccer ball, a microscope and a stand mixer. She stops at a simple silver heart with the inscription 'November 18.'

"I thought this was a mom charm bracelet," Brynn jests. "Why is our wedding anniversary on here?"

"Because that's when you officially became our mom."

Unable to control her tears, Brynn pulls them onto her lap, rubbing their backs before caressing their heads in her hands. Sam leans over, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips again and again.

This is all she ever wanted; this was her childhood dream. This is her family.

The four Daltons quickly ate breakfast in bed, laughing at the irregular shapes of the pancakes and the random eggshell in the midst of their scramble.

"Well," Brynn finishes first, "in the spirit of new traditions, I'd like to start a new one now, too. But we have to clean up and get dressed."

"Really?" squeals Mickey.

"Cool! What is it?" inquires Mason.

Brynn shakes her head. "It's a surprise." She hands the boys their empty plates, giving them a knowing wink. They both eagerly grab the dishes, and hurry to clean up the kitchen.

"Should I be worried?" Brynn flashes a sweet smile to an inquisitive Sam.

"Trust me, baby."

***

"Happy Mother's Day, Mrs. Brynn--"

"Oh, Mr. Carter!" Brynn collects a stunning bouquet of lavender tulips from Dalton's longtime driver. She takes a quick sniff of their sweet fragrance, wrapping an arm around endearingly around the older man's neck. "These are lovely! Thank you so much!"

He graciously nods, adjusting his hat with a sweet smile.

"So, the farmer's market?"

"Yes sir--"

"And I have the second address pulled up and ready to go."

"Perfect. Thank you for doing this."

***

Brynn and Sam walk hand-in-hand through the aisles of vendors, the boys remaining close. She has a destination in mind, but Brynn refuses to rush such a lovely sunny Spring day with her special guys.

They make a pit stop to try a few samples of freshly cut mango and dragon fruit. The twins sweetly plead a case for a smore with homemade marshmallows and tempered chocolate.

They finally stumble upon a florist with a delectable selection of gorgeous bulbs and gathered creations.

"We're here, boys," Brynn announces with a big smile.

"You wanted flowers?" Mickey wrinkled up his nose, sharing a confused look with his brother.

"Well," Brynn squats next to her sons, "sorta. I want you two to pick out the biggest, most beautiful bouquet."

"'Biggest'?" echoes Mason. "And 'most beautiful'?"

"Yes," Brynn giggles, "I want the biggest and the most beautiful. When you're finished," she holds up her crossbody purse, "my treat."

Sam gingerly grabs hold of Brynn's elbow, holding her back from the flower search.

"You're up to something," his eyes darken, staring into her stormy grays. A corner of his mouth curls waiting for an answer.

Brynn captures his bottom lip in a tender tug. "Trust me," she whispers, pulling his lips back into hers. His hands naturally find the curves of her rear, massaging her lovingly. "C'mon," Brynn grabs Sam's hand, her fingers intimately lacing with his.

The twins did not disappoint. With the help of the florist, Mickey, true to form, picked out a beautiful bouquet of red, white and blue wildflowers, homage to his favorite football team. Mason was charmed by the long-stemmed sunflowers. He has a stunning arrangement of orange and yellow flowers amongst a cloud of babies' breath.

"Guys, these are absolutely perfect!" A glimmer and sparkle grow in Brynn's eyes as she investigates the colors and smells. "You two did wonderful!"

"Happy Mother's Day!" Proud of their work, Mickey and Mason offer their bouquets to Brynn, but she quickly waves them away.

"Hold them for me, please. We have one more stop to make."

***

Carter picks up the Daltons, and quickly takes a detour, leaving the city. The car remains silent from conversation; the gallop of the wheels plodding against the rubber road lull the boys into a nap. Brynn rests her head against Sam's broad chest. His strong arm wraps tightly around her shoulders, his cheek basking amongst her vibrant almond waves.

"Excuse me? Mr. And Mrs. Dalton? We're here."

Carter kindly opens the door for the family to exit to their new endeavor in the country. There is a brisk chill in the air, but nothing the bold sunshine couldn't cure. Instead of the familiar sounds of people shouting and horns honking, they were surrounded by birds chirping, grass whistling, and leaves gently clapping.

"Where are we, Mom?" whispers a nervous Mickey, the first to file out of the car.

Brynn bends over, kissing his head. "You'll see, baby. You'll see. Did you grab your flowers?"

Mickey nods, handing the other bouquet to Mason.

Sam climbs out of the car, instantly aware of his surroundings. "Um, sweetie," he motions with his finger for her to come closer. "You think they're ready for this?"

"They've been ready for this. Trust me." She touches her hand to his downcast face, offering a tender smile. "How about the boys and I go on ahead?"

Sam soaks in the nature around him as a sweet breeze lingers on his face. Grabbing Brynn's hand, he kisses it delicately before letting go with a squeeze. "Okay."

"C'mon, boys," she reaches out, taking the boys by the hand, "we've got someone to talk to."

They enter the iron gates, walking respectfully on the stony pavement. They wind around on the path, trees gracefully blooming above their heads. They finally come to a fork in their venture.

"Okay, you two," Brynn walks in front of them only to kneel down to stop them. "Do you know where we are?"

"A cemetary?"

"That's right, Mase--"

"So, there are dead people buried underneath us?" Mickey cautiously asks. “Cool.”

"They are buried here," explains Brynn, "but we aren't walking on top of them. Their bodies are marked by those big rocks with writings on them--"

"Headstones!"

"That's right, Mase. They're called headstones."

"Why did you want to bring us to a cemetery for Mother's day?" questions Mickey. "That seems weird."

Brynn chuckles pulling him into a tight embrace. "Cemeteries are a beautiful place to communicate with those who have already passed. Sometimes on special days, like birthdays or anniversaries--”

“Or Christmas!” interjects Mickey.

“‘Or Christmas,’ that’s right.” Brynn stands. “Those days can be sad and lonely for those of us still alive on earth because we miss them so much.” She begins to draw closer to a plot with a large white granite headstone. “Spending time with them where they are buried is a way to remember them and to show them that we still love them.”

“Do they, um, talk back?” nervously asks Mason.

Brynn smiles sweetly at her stepson, hugging him tighter as they continue their saunter. “I’d like to think so, but not in the way we expect them to. Like sometimes, it might be a familiar fragrance, or a familiar song. Something to remind us that they are looking down, watching us, loving us.” Brynn nods in the direction of the breathtaking, large stone. “Go ahead.”

The boys cautiously step towards the monument, laying their flowers on top of the glistening stone.

“Caroline Austin Dalton--” Mason reads out loud, tracing the etching carefully with his fingers.

“That’s mama, right, Mase?”

“I think so, Mick.” The brothers endearingly hold each other’s hands as their eyes focus on her name. Mason’s eyes begin to well with tears first. “I can barely remember her--”

“Me, too.” Mickey quickly turns to Brynn, motioning for her to come closer. “What do we say to her? You’re our Mom--”

“--and she is your mom, just in a different way.”

“How do we talk to her?” shrugs Mickey.

“How do you talk to me?” Brynn smiles warmly, pushing a curl out of Mickey’s face. “Just talk. Talk about your day. Your favorite food. Your soccer game on Thursday.”

The boys raise their eyebrows at each other before returning their gaze back to Brynn.

“Here. Let me show you.” Brynn crawls onto her knees, facing the memorial. She clears her throat. “Caroline? Your boys picked out the most beautiful flowers for you.” Brynn grabs Mason’s hand. “You’d be so proud of them. Mason here is a straight-A student. Loves science, and is quite the little baker.” Brynn wraps an arm around Mickey. “And your first born here loves to play sports, and has a very vivid imagination.”

Brynn clears her throat. “It’s now your turn,” she gently rubs their backs. “Don’t worry; if she is anything like me, she’s dying to have you talk to her. Go ahead.”

Mason steps forward, placing a sincere hand on the headstone. “That’s Brynn, Mama--”

“And she’s a really great Mom,” chimes in Mickey, “she was originally our nanny--”

Brynn slowly backs away, allowing the twins to talk. She casually glances to the side, and notices a man out of the corner of her eye, taking swig from a flask: her husband.

Brynn casually walks up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She kisses the exposed skin of his chest, her lips crawling up his neck to his stiff chin.

“Please don’t be mad at me for this.”

Sam chuckles, avoiding eye-contact. “Some warning would’ve been nice--”

“So you could stop me?”

“Touché.” Sam takes another sip of bourbon, drifting back into a silent watch over the boys.

Brynn tightens her embrace around her husband. Breathing a sigh of satisfaction, she listens to the sweet bursts of giggles amongst the conversation being held by the twins in the distance.

Sam grips tightly to Brynn’s body, his mouth attempting to form words. “They haven’t been here since--” he swallows thickly, “since that day. I always wanted to keep her memory alive and bring them here, I just...” his voice begins to wander.

“Sam?”

“Hrmm?” he glances back down into Brynn’s sparkly blue eyes.

“You’re allowed to miss her, too--”

“Brynn... I--”

“It’s okay, baby--”

Sam caresses Brynn’s cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you--”

“That’s not what this is about,” she kisses his hand away from her face.

Sam clings tightly to his wife, rubbing his hands up and down her back. Painful tears that he had been holding back for over nine years spill down his cheeks as the floodgates of emotions wash over his body. “You truly are the best thing that has happened to this family,” he purrs in between sniffles.

After a few minutes of holding each other tenderly, Sam joins the boys at the graveside. Sharing sweet memories amongst each other, Mickey and Mason find solace in their father’s lap.

Brynn discovers a nearby bench to watch and wait. Humbled and satisfied by the day that had started so terribly, she smiles brightly as her beautiful family spends time, savoring the precious stories of the past.

A sudden gust of wind barrels across Brynn's face. Drying the rushing rivers from her cheeks, her hair dances carefree in the tumbling breeze. Her eyes flutter close as she lays her hands on her abdomen.

"It's okay, little one," she sweetly hums, "but if you like laughing, and if you like living... and if you like dancing and dreaming," Brynn cradles her abdomen tightly, "we'll be waiting."

The afternoon sun seeks refuge into darkness; the street begins to illuminate with the buzzing of lamps and lightning bugs. The laughter dies down and the conversation quietly stops. Sam slowly rounds up the boys, guiding them back to Brynn.

“I think we’re ready to head back,” Sam suggests, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Anymore surprises?” he chuckles, pecking his lips to hers.

The corners of her mouth curve. “You three go on ahead,” she playfully pats Sam’s rear. “I’ll be right behind you guys.”

Sam raises an eyebrow before nodding his head. Placing his hands on each boy's shoulder, they walk towards the car where Carter is dutifully waiting for them.

Brynn approaches Caroline’s tombstone, graciously sitting next to it. She casually traces over her name, imagining how excited she must’ve been the first time she signed her name 'Mrs. Dalton'--just like her. Brynn finally rests her hand on the cold stone, tears of joy recollecting in her eyes.

”You gave me everything I could’ve possibly wanted,” a sob hitches in her throat. “Thank you for making me a mom. It was never supposed to be like this,” she chuckles to herself. She looks over her shoulder, watching Sam load up their sons into the car. “God, it’s so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. I promise I'll take care of them--"

“Brynn?” Sam calls out from the distance. “Ready, baby?”

“--all three of them.”

***

"Goodnight, boys. We love you," Sam whispers to the boys as he closes their bedroom door.

Brynn's eyes twinkle at her handsome husband, his gaze falling deeply on hers. She effortlessly takes his hand, draping it around her shoulders, pressing her tired cheek against his chest. Kissing the top of her head, he escorts her to their room, switching off lamps along the way.

"I've got one more surprise for you," Sam growls as he shuts their door.

"Mmm…" Brynn begins to tug at his waistband. "I love these kind of surprises," her mouth gently presses into the side of his neck, her teeth gingerly nipping at his pulse point.

"Baby," Sam chuckles, his wandering fingers combing through her golden waves. "I, um--" he clears his throat, "I actually do have something I want to talk with you about."

"Oh?" Brynn suddenly cups her hand over her mouth. "Oh!" she sighs, "I know, I know. I probably should've at least told you about my plan of going out to Caroline's grave--"

"Baby, I--"

"It just made sense in my mind at the time," she interrupts. "I don't want our boys forgetting they have two mothers that love them very much--"

Sam raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin growing.

"What? Is it about the tumbler? I swear, I'll replace--"

"Brynn baby?" Sam takes ahold of both of her hands. "I love you," he places a sweet peck on her lips, "but shut up--" they start laughing at his words before he continues. "--now, come with me."

She follows him into the bathroom where he hands her a bottle of water.

"Wh--what's this about?" she furrows her brow.

"I was taking out the trash this morning after breakfast, and noticed your test--"

"Sam--"

"Your test, baby," he steps closer to her, holding it in his hands. "The box says it expired two years ago. I know you stockpile these things and keep them hidden." Brynn crosses her arms as her neck flushed with embarrassment. "Isn't there supposed to be some kind of line on it to show that the test is still okay to take?"

"A control line, yes. What's your point?"

"Brynn," his eyes pierce into hers, "yours doesn't have one." A playful grin crawls across his face. "And-and-and according to Google, you need one for the test to be even considered valid."

Brynn looks at the test, and realizes it's completely blank from any and all lines. She appreciates her husband's passion and agrees this is peculiar, but the point he is trying to make sounds way too good to be true. This isn't a movie or a fairy tale. And those lines fade after a test has been performed. Or do they?

"Brynn? Did you hear me?"

Brynn nods her head, biting her lip in deep thought. She wants to feel his excitement, but she can't be let down, not even just one more time. It had been the absolute perfect day with the absolute perfect family to where she is mom. Can she just end Mother's day feeling, well, like a mom?

"C'mon," he steals her water, popping the cap. "I bought a new test today while we were at the market--one that wasn't expired. Let's try again."

"Sam, no," she refuses to take the water back. "Besides, it's best to take it first thing in the morning--"

"So, what you're saying is that you want me to wake you up in a few hours to pee--"

"No, I'm saying let's drop it." Growing irritated, Brynn brushes past her husband and back into the bedroom.

Sam drags his fingers down his face. He follows suit, chasing after her. He reaches for her shoulder, but she dodges his touch.

"Brynn baby--"

"No--"

"Answer me this then," he bites back, "why did you take a test in the first place?"

Brynn freezes for a moment, staring at the ground. She doesn't want to argue, and she knows that her husband's questions come from a good place. They had always been open with one another; why not now?

"I thought I was." Brynn crosses her arms, blinking away tears.

Sam sits on the bed in front of her, looking tenderly at his bride. He grazes his finger tips up and down her hips until she finally looks down at him, drying her eyes.

"You might be, baby," he whispers, smiling into her gaze. "That was one test, one test that I'm pretty sure was bad."

Brynn casually combs Sam's waves back with her fingers, curling around his ear. Sam presses his nose to forearm, inhaling deeply the remnants of her floral perfume.

"For me?" Sam grazes his lips up her arm, finally resting them on her bare abdomen.

Touching his chin, Brynn tenderly nods.

***

Sam sits on the side of the garden tub, his elbows resting on his nervously bouncing knees.

After what seems like an eternity, Brynn emerges from the closet bathroom. Uncontrollable tears drench her red, blotchy face.

"Sam--?" her voice panics, her body shaking as she reaches for Sam.

Without missing a beat, he lovingly captures her in his arms. His hands intimately stroke her back as she sobs into his chest.

"Shh... baby. It's okay." Sam presses his lips into her hair, holding her close. "It’s going to be okay--"

"Sam--?" Brynn pulls away from Sam's chest, offering him the test as she cups her mouth.

Sam inquisitively takes the test from Brynn. And his eyes widen, shaking his head in disbelief. And he smiles.

“Happy Mother’s day, baby.”

*****

TNA Tag List (please let me know if you would like to be added/removed): @ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @pixie88 @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @secretaryunpaid @thefrenchiemama

#the nanny affair #m!sam dalton #m!sam x mc #mickey and mason #choices tna #tna fanfic #mother's day

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miraculous-ninjabird · 3 years

Text

Posting this older work at the request of @rosiehunterwolf

No I don't have anything else context wise for you, sorry

No Working Title

Rating: T for swearing and tw

This is Angst.

TW for: panic attack, mentions of pain/injury, mentions of body modification

Word count: 1862

Summary: Lloyd wakes up after a dangerous showdown with his father that ended badly. Something isn't right, he knows it. He's just not sure what. It doesn't help he can't remember what happened

The first thing that Lloyd becomes aware of is the pleasant sound of singing. The melody is unfamiliar, but soothing. It reminds him of a memory he can’t quite fully grasp. Just a fuzzy feeling of warmth, and safety. It’s a feeling he feels the need to cling to with all his might. A large part of him wants nothing more than to stay just like this.

Another, smaller, part of him is telling him he should do...something. But he is tired. So incredibly tired. He would much rather stay as he is, comfortable and listening to the unfamiliar song.

If he had been in charge, he would have stayed as he was forever. Unfortunately, his mind was being incredibly uncooperative and it was becoming harder and harder to focus. There was still something… Lloyd tries desperately to remember what it is. His brain short circuits and in the end he gives up, allowing the music to lull him back to sleep.

When Lloyd comes to for the second time, he is more aware. Soft voices are arguing above him. A throbbing pain makes itself known to him, pressing behind his eye. He makes an attempt to blink, and instantly regrets the choice. Doing so causes the pain to morph from something moderately uncomfortable into a white hot searing sensation that, for a terrifying moment, completely overtakes him. It starts to fade quickly enough, but it leaves him uncomfortable and upset. In an effort to distract himself, he focuses on the conversation above him.

“Please. It’s been three days. You have to take care of yourself Kai,”

“It’s at least partially my fault this happened. I’m not leaving until I know he’s gonna be okay,”

“I’m not going to get into the fault argument since we’ve already been there. But we know he’s stable. I’ll be here the entire time. Nothing is going to happen. Just six hours. Sleep, eat, shower.”

“I can sleep and eat without having to leave,” Kai counters weakly. Even in his hazy state, Lloyd could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“We both know you won’t do either of those things.” Nya pushes gently. “I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve left that chair for something other than the bathroom in the last week. That’s not good for him or you. You won’t be any help to Lloyd, now or when he wakes up, if you can't at the very least take care of yourself. The last thing we need is both of you out of commission.”

There was a pause, followed by Kai grumbling his agreement. Lloyd struggles with himself, making an effort to do anything to let Kai know that he was here. A movement. A sound. Anything to reassure Kai that he is here. He feels himself slipping back into unconsciousness. He tries to fight it, but as the soft singing from before resumes, he knows he’s lost. Barely a moment passes before he sinks into the darkness once again.

When he comes around for the third time, he is actually able to open his eyes. He is once again met with a stabbing pain, but this time it is more bearable. Blinking slowly, his vision begins to come into focus. Something about it was off but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. All he knew is it was making it difficult to think and even harder to focus. The harsh lights do little to help.

The room he’s in is unfamiliar. Sparsely decorated with dull grey walls, there isn’t really much to look at. An empty chair is placed next to the bed with a blanket folded neatly across the back. There is a sink in one corner, and another door leading to what he assumes is a bathroom. He is alone.

As Lloyd struggles to push himself into a sitting position, the door slides open. Nya steps in, steaming mug gripped tightly in her hand. She looks up, starting in shock when she sees Lloyd. The mug slips from her grasp, shattering on the ground. She hardly seems to care as she rushes to his side.

“Lloyd!” She cries. “You’re awake? Since when? How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Urghhhhhhh,” He groans, not quite able to quite form a coherent thought. Nya pauses her questions, seemingly realizing Lloyd wasn’t ready for that yet. Strong arms reach out, helping to settle him into a comfortable upright position. The lights are still too bright. He presses his hands into his eyes in an attempt to relieve the pain. It feels wrong, in a way. The skin under his one hand feels far too cool and strangely...metallic? That couldn’t be right. He must be imagining things.

“Is something wrong?” Nya taps his hand gently, bringing his focus back to her.

“Lights,” he murmurs.

“Oh! Let me fix that…” she gasps. There is some shuffling and the lights dim to a more acceptable level. He lowers his hands and squints. This he could deal with.

“Better?” She asks, and Lloyd nods. Nya gives him a smile. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since...a minute or two ago?” He blinks rapidly as one half his vision blurs strangely, almost like tv static. “Something is wrong with my eye. I can’t quite...I don’t know. It’s all blurry and weird.”

Nya’s smile drops instantly. She reaches out, grabbing both of his hands, fixing him with an intensely worried look.

“Lloyd, how much do you remember?” She presses gently. Lloyd racks his brain.. He remembers going to visit his dad, but the events afterwards are a terrifying blank.

“I...I don’t know,” he whispers. “I can’t remember anything from after I got there.”

Nya lets out a soft ‘oh’. The look on her face tells him there is something he should be remembering.

“Not to scare you or anything but…” She steps away, retrieving a hand mirror from the sink and handing it to him. Lloyd takes it, looks, and immediately drops it. He stares at the wall for a moment before hesitantly picking the mirror back up, studying the reflection.

“What the fuck. What is that? Nya. Tell me right now that I’m imagining things. Fuck. This can’t be real,” Instead of two completely normal matching human eyes, he has...whatever this is supposed to be. His left eye is now entirely black except the iris, which glows an eerie green color. Matching green lines etch the side of his face, extending up into his hairline and across his cheek. WHY DOES HIS EYE LOOK LIKE THAT? What the fuck happend to him?

As he stares, his vision once again starts to blur. Panic surges through him as he realizes what he is looking at. He has a robot eye. An honest to god robot eye that he has no memory of whatsoever. Someone had cut his eye out and replaced it with this monstrosity. Why can’t he REMEMBER?! Desperately he tries to recall something. Anything really. He comes back with nothing. Just one giant empty blank. There had to be something. You don’t just wake up one day with a robot eye and not remember it.

Out of nowhere, a thought strikes him. His eye. It looks just like Zane’s had. The lines carved across his face look just like the ones running up and down Skylor’s arm. The glowed the same shade as everything in his father’s stupid base. Did that mean…?

An uncomfortable constricting feeling takes root in his chest and he lets out a strangled gasp. No no nonononononono this couldn’t be happening. Stupid stupid stupid! He would never...but his dad. His thoughts begin to spiral as he desperately tries to stop himself from piecing things together. He no longer wants to know. Don’t think. Don’t remember. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

“Lloyd. Breath,” Nya’s voice cuts through his panicked haze. As she speaks, he becomes aware of the fact he has not, in fact, been breathing. He takes a gasping, shuddering breath. His lungs don’t like that and he devolves into a fit of coughing. The mirror is plucked from his grasp and firm hands squeeze his arms with just enough force to drag his mind back to the real world. Nya speaks again.

“Look at me.” He obeys, turning his gaze on her. She opens her arms, a silent gesture. Lloyd doesn’t hesitate, flinging himself at her with what limited strength he has left and pressing into her. With a start, he realizes that he is crying.

“You’re scared. I would be too. I wish I could tell you it was all a dream,” She murmurs softly. “This is undoubtedly strange and scary for you. There’s no avoiding it.”

Strange and scary? Life altering and utterly terrifying seemed more appropriate terms. Waking up missing part of his memories wasn’t a thing he really knew how to handle. Unexpectedly becoming part android was not something he was equipped to handle. Theorizing his father was responsible was NOT something he wanted to even think about handling. Not in the slightest. How was he supposed to move on from this?

Nya seemed to sense he was spiraling. Maybe the fact he has started to tremble uncontrollably had given it away

“Hey, hey. I wasn’t finished. You may be experiencing something horrible, but you aren’t alone. I’m here. Kai is here. The others are all here. Whatever happens. We are here to support you.” Nya pulls him tighter, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.

Lloyd doesn’t really know what to say. There isn’t really anything he can say. He finds himself clinging to her like she is a lifeline. His head is throbbing, and he finds himself feeling drained. Nya’s arms are warm and comfortable, but it’s not enough to drive off the fear. It clings to him, worming its way into every dark corner of his mind. He wants to scream, but the best he can get is a choked sob.

In response, Nya starts to hum. Lloyd recognizes the tune immediately. It was the same one from before. He latches onto the sound with everything he has. The effect was almost instantaneous. When focused on the soft notes, the panic fades to the background. It was still there, but more manageable than before. Slowly but surely, he starts to feel like he can breathe again. His whole body relaxes into Nya’s embrace. Maybe if they could just stay like this...

It’s only a few minutes before Nya hears the soft sound of snoring. Looking down, she sees that exhaustion has won out and Lloyd has once again slipped into unconsciousness. That was a relief. She’d screwed that up big time. Next time he woke, she would make sure to tread more carefully. And when Kai came in to relieve her, she would have to make sure to update him on the situation. He would undoubtedly be mad, but she wasn’t about to leave a panicking Lloyd to go wake him up. Looks like things were going to be far more complicated than they’d originally thought...

#Ninjago #Lloyd garmadon #Nya smith #Malcolm's writing #Tw mentions of body modification #tw panic attack #tw injury #uneditied #as of right now this is complete

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