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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

hmmm can vampires get sick? maybe sick vampire chris thinking Jake is gonna pull out or file down his fangs? or just thinking Jake’s gonna hurt him?

CW: Sick whumpee, vampire whumpee, blood drinking, vague implications of past sadistic/creepy whumper, dehumanization, vague tooth/mouth whump (nothing direct, but aftermath)

Sort of a sequel to this piece, part of the Vampire Chris AU

"What hurts?" He keeps his voice low, and carefully doesn't hesitate before he lays a hand over the vampire's forehead. Of course it feels lukewarm, room temperature, but he still goes through the motions of feeling for a fever. It's muscle-memory, instinct, and he keeps forgetting Chris is dead.

He has been dead for a long time, if his occasional comments on what sounds like Prohibition are true.

"Bones," Chris whimpers, twisting where he lays in Jake's bed. There's a bright flush in his cheeks from the blood he'd drained from the two men who broke into the house. Those odd eyes glitter, overbright. "My... m'bones hurt, Jake."

His mouth opens, pulling air in over his tongue and down his throat in soft pants, and Jake is reminded that vampires don't sweat. Not the same way, anyway, although with enough blood they can, in thin sheens of pink-tinged liquid that are even more alarming than their tears.

His fangs are visible this way, razor-sharp canines that come down further than the rest of his teeth, a brighter white than all the others from being pulled and regrowing so many times.

Jake swallows against his nervousness, brushing hair away from the vampire's forehead. His slit pupils are dilated, taking up too much of the iris, and he tells himself that Chris is as scared as he is of the instincts that drive him, barely understands them.

Vampires aren't animals - but when they don't understand themselves, they act like it sometimes.

"Do you think maybe those guys were on something? Like, a drug maybe?" He pets through Chris's hair, fingercombing his hair, and watches Chris's eyes flutter closed.

It's hard not to feel more than a little reassured not having to look at them any longer. Which makes him feel guilty, considering this not-a-kid kid just beat up people for hurting him.

Killed them, his brain whispers. Killed them like he could kill you.

"May, maybe," Chris mumbles, and pants again.

His gums seem oddly dark, where normally they're pale, and Jake frowns. He wishes now he knew more about vampire physiology, that he'd paid more attention in class when they took the safety courses on how to avoid them.

There's not exactly a class on caring for one - not unless you can afford to purchase them outright.

"Well, when you were-... uh, before you found us... did you ever feel like this?"

Chris's eyes blink slowly back open and he nods. "Sometimes. My, my, my, my-... someone would, um, take something before, before the party, and I'd..." He groans and shudders. Jake can see the pain move through his body as he trembles nearly violently. "I'd feel like, like, like this after... for hours..."

"Okay. So... probably you just have to let this get worked out of your system, right? Or... is there a medicine?"

"No... just... just drink more." Chris looks up at him, eyes so wide and sad and scared and hurting, and grabs onto his wrist with one hand. Those cool fingers are never not a little startling, colder than the air around them, than the rest of his body.

Vampires have poor circulation, Jake knows, even when they're filled up on a fresh meal. He's seen Chris heal his own wounds before with his tongue, had him explain that they don't heal on their own with time if they're on hands or feet.

"Chris-"

"You, you, you, you-... can, um, you can take my teeth after. You can. I'll hold still. I'll, I'll be good." Chris's plea is barely a whisper.

His nails, which must have been a little too long when he was killed and turned, dig painfully into Jake's wrist in his desperation.

"I'll be so, so, so so so so good, Jake. So good for you, and then, you can, you you you can take my teeth-... Sir always liked it, it makes me me me cry, we we cry blood, Sir liked to take photos of it-"

"Sssshhhh. Hush, Chris." Jake's mind races. There are others in the house, but-... he can't ask them to give up blood to Chris. They've already taken over cleaning the blood up from the hardwood floor. Nat's already dealt with talking to the cops and the EMTs and the coroner before the bodies were taken away. They already handled hiding Chris in a false-backed closet while Jake was interviewed by police officers who looked interested and excited,, not disturbed.

It's not every day you see a vampire attack, after all.

Mostly they're under control, kept on leashes and muzzled like dangerous dogs, the property of rich celebrities looking for novelty in a world where they already have everything. The few ferals are killed pretty fast.

Or so everyone says.

Jake is starting to wonder if there are more vampires out there than he knows about.

The cops had even insisted on checking the attic, as if Chris was a bat they might find hanging upside down. That had been ridiculous, but it's not like Jake could say he knew better without being asked how he knew so much about them in the first place.

Oh, because we keep one like a stray fucking puppy. That wouldn't go over well.

He feels a little woozy from the adrenaline crash, and still aches from the bruised ribs where he was kicked around. His mouth aches from the duct tape they'd put over it, and he'd got a hell of a rash starting around his wrists. He's so exhausted he might collapse.

But... Chris really did show up right on time, and maybe saved his life.

Chris pulls Jake's wrist to his face, nuzzles into the inside of it against the pale blue veins that show through the thin skin. Jake shudders at the feeling, swallowing back a low-level disgust.

He wonders how old the teenager really is - he wonders that all the time.

"You c-can have my teeth, after," Chris whispers, lips moving against Jake's skin. "You can keep them. Sir used to, to, to keep them in a box and show m-me. Just, please, please help me feel better, Jake, please... It won't hurt."

Jake closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "If it'll help... fine. But I'm not taking your teeth. They're yours."

"Thank you," Chris breathes out. "That's, that's, that's okay. I can still fix it for you. Thank you, Jake." His fangs slip back into Jake's skin as easily as a heated knife through warm butter.

The venom hits his bloodstream before the pain hits his nerves, and Jake feels himself slump over, head falling onto Chris's shoulder as all his limbs go dead.

It almost feels good, as his ribs stop aching, and the bruises stop throbbing on his skin. He can see why rich people love it as a party drug. You could drift in this place of perfect no-pain for a long, long time.

He feels only the wet movement of Chris's tongue, the shift of his fangs, the soft pressure of the other teeth pushing down. Chris purrs softly, drinking his blood like a kitten lapping milk.

It goes on and on, and for one terrifying second Jake thinks he's not going to stop until he's dead.

"Ch-... Chris-"

Those fangs slip suddenly out of his skin, the wet cool tongue licks rough over his wounds - closing them instantly.

The venom slowly fades, the aches and pains settling back into his body. Jake groans, feeling weak and exhausted.

Chris has to push him up off his shoulder, with unnatural strength moving him to lay on his side on the bed. Jake can barely keep his eyes open.

Chris, leaning over him, could rip his throat out and he couldn't even raise a hand to try and defend himself right now. Jake sees the body of the first dead robber behind his eyelids, the expression of horror written in eternal rictus in his expression, the blood down his shirt and puddled beneath him on the floor. The other man, fighting until he stopped, slumping until Chris had drained him to death.

"I feel better," Chris whispers, kneading at Jake's shirt briefly. "I, I, I feel so much better. Go to, um, go to sleep, Jake. I'll fix it so you're safe."

Jake can't even begin to understand what that means before he's already slid into something more like unconsciousness than actual sleep. The world around him simply goes black, and the last thing he feels is Chris pulling a blanket up to his chin.

The last thing he hears is those soft padding footsteps leaving the room.

When he wakes, he finds two fangs, pristine white with bloodied roots, sitting in a washcloth next to where his head lays on the pillow. he finds a pair of small pliers on the bathroom sink, with droplets of red around them.

The sun is shining outside the window, a bird singing loud enough to drive a drillbit into his head, and Chris is curled up asleep in the dark at the back of a closet, mouth slightly open.

Jake stares down at the empty spots where his fangs should be, and wonders if he's grateful, or horrified.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

girls like you [don’t] run ‘round with guys like me | m

characters. popular!reader x shy!jimin

genre. college au. rich kids au. fwb au. eventual ceo au. eventual racer au.

words. 4k

warnings. 18+

note. this is a repost. tumblr messed up my exposure last time. this fic didn’t show up in search and it’s probably a third post of mine that ends up like this. this one probably won’t either but posting bc someone might see it and like it.

It’s easy to tell when Park Jimin is in love.

Unlike Kim Seokjin, his eccentric, dad joke-loving friend, Jimin would only wear the pastel pink when he’s feeling giggly and shy and mushy inside.

The source of said feelings being either the barista he goes to get his daily dose of coffee from, or the girl at the library he studies at during finals or well, right now it’s the girl he’s fucking almost every day of the week - you.

“What are you doing?” Seokjin looks at him like he just dumped a spoonful of salt in a broth that needs a little, teensy bit of sugar.

Or his face seems to say that as he goes on, “she’s a mean girl. She’s mean.”

Jimin isn’t sure if Seokjin’s aware that he’s just repeated the same thing twice.

“She calls you Chim!” The older man reiterates.

“Yeah, it’s…” Jimin trails off, the heartwarming image of you cuddling into him after yet another mindblowing sex, flashing at the back of his mind, “...her pet name for me.”

“Sounds to me like she can’t remember your actual name,” Min Yoongi interjects from the couch he’s claimed for himself ever since they got to their usual hangout.

It’s a penthouse Jimin’s parents bought him on his 18th birthday. Him and the boys would hang around there after they’re done with classes or just need a place to crash whenever they have problems with their girlfriends or boyfriends or parents or any sort of problem that renders their usual room not sleepable.

“I think we can just agree we have different wants,” Jeongguk - or the sanest of them all, as Jimin likes to call him - chirps in, taking a bite of the apple he got from the fridge.

“Exactly,” Jimin throws his hands up as if freed from his elder friends’ judge-filled eyes. The vibration of his phone in his lap gives him even more comfort to know that he finally has an excuse to slip away - he checks his phone, your name flashing in the bubble that says ‘hey, wyd?’

“I have to go, it’s ___.”

A series of groans and hollers equally erupts from the men in the room at the realization of what Jimin’s ‘having to go’ means.

And so it goes. Jimin finds himself under your blanket that smells like fresh laundry - it’s a nude green color compared to the pleated black and white from last time. Your head is on his chest and he’s caressing your hair like it’s the softest thing he’s ever laid his hands on.

Besides your boobs, that is.

“I was thinking… since we have Monday off… maybe we could-”

It’s the way you push yourself off him, eyes that are onto him gazing straight into his soul, “oh shoot, Monday’s a public holiday. I totally forgot! I have to meet my parents. My dad’s been nagging me to come back since I skipped Christmas and New Year.”

And there goes his chance to ask you out on a date.

“Oh yeah, what were you saying about Monday?”

Jimin wears the biggest fake smile he can muster, “just that… me and the boys are gonna hang out and we’re bringing our girlfriends and boyfriends and uh- doesn’t have to be someone you’re exclusively seeing,” he almost chokes at the almost-admittance that he has the fattest crush on you and wants to make it official by inviting you to a couple’s-only hang out, “but like, I don’t think I’m going, it’s boring anyway.”

He waves his hand dismissively, trying to play it cool.

You make a cooing sound, eyebrows knitting together as your lips pout cutely before a playful smile blooms on your face, “I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?” Jimin thinks he heard his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Yeah, you’re single and all the boys have someone special they’re gonna bring… it’s gonna be awkward as hell because they’re gonna act different because they’re around their special someone so you thought if I was there, it’d be more fun because at least you have a friend with you that’s not gonna act fake the whole time there but I can’t go so you decided you’re not going too like a minute ago.”

Silence lulls in after your analogy that you sound so sure of when, in fact, he has a whole list of things he’d do on the date which he may or may not have gone over a hundred times in his head.

Doesn’t matter now, since that date is a no-go.

He’s going to delete that list off his phone once he gets to his place and drink himself silly until he wipes it out of his mind.

“Yeah,” Jimin says a moment later, “yeah… I mean, girls in love are cute but boys in love are just… annoying.”

The week flies by without Jimin ever mentioning Monday and you’ve showed him the clothes you’re going to wear to visit your parents because apparently-

“It’s lunch at some five star Michelin restaurant and I think they’re gonna tell me they’re getting a divorce,” your voice drifts into the room from the open, walk-in closet.

“If they’re not in some long, dreadful battle on who gets the holiday house with the pool and the dogs - how do I look?” You step out, in a frilly creme sweater with a black ribbon tied around the collar of your white undershirt with a black pleated skirt that stops mid-thighs, just inches from your black stockings.

A glaring contrast to your collection of washed out skinny jeans, plain t-shirts and sneakers.

“You… look…” Jimin knows he should stop openly ogling at your never-before-seen drip but there’s just something about the creme colored sweater.

“Like a good girl?” You offer with a smile Jimin couldn’t quite put a name to. Somehow he notices a trace of sadness in your eyes, but you disappear into the closet too soon.

“I’ll think about what to wear the morning I need to wear it,” you’re in the middle of pulling off the sweater when Jimin comes up behind you, kissing your neck and grabbing your boobs like they’re his.

The sound of your giggle is music to his ears.

That is, until his boner brushes against your butt and you gasp, “Chim! We just did it.”

“I know but you look so cute in that sweater.” He sounds exactly like Jeongguk. Like a fuckboy.

Like one of the boys you got tired of before you finally noticed him, the quiet, shy guy who’s friends with the outgoing, baby-faced Jeon Jeongguk whom - Jimin hates to admit it but he thinks about this every once so often and gets jealous all on his own - you’ve humped and dumped.

How you and Jeongguk still manage to stay friends and tease each other about the other’s choice of partners, Jimin doesn’t know.

It’s like a twin calling the other ugly.

He wonders if you and him will still stay friends after…

Jimin pushes the thought out of his mind. It’s not hard to forget everything when he’s with you - when he’s kissing you on the mouth like you’re the only girl he’ll want to spend the rest of his college life with and maybe his old days with together too.

“Chim, I can’t get my shirt creased,” you say but you’re already dripping wet and laying down in said shirt that’s half ridden up from him sucking and biting on your nipples.

He stopped you when you tried to take off your clothes.

“I’ll wash it and iron it for you,” he negotiates just as he rolls the condom over his length.

The sound of your giggle makes his heart skip a beat. Or maybe that’s the libido?

Either way, your mouth clamps shut when he pulls you down against him by the dip of your waist.

A different kind of hymn leaves your lips as Jimin throws his head back, relishing in the feeling of you around him.

When Monday rolls around, Jimin’s lying on the bean bag with his two legs sprawled over the floor. The boys are all out with either their significant others, working part-time or at a party.

The worn out baseball Jimin’s been tossing in the air and catching with one hand finally hits him square in the face when he hears the doorbell, signaling the presence of someone at the door and that someone being none of the boys because they would just punch in the code and strut in like they own the place.

Jimin thought maybe it’s Yoongi - the guy couldn’t even remember what he had for dinner and actually forgot the passcode to his own rental room once.

So he didn’t think to check who it was.

When your bright smile and slightly puffy eyes flash in front of him, Jimin thinks his soul just yeeted itself out of his body.

“Hey!” You sing song, holding up two plastic bags of beers and snacks.

It takes a moment for him to snap out of his stupor and grab them from your hands and then stepping aside to let you in.

“Is… everyone late or am I just early?” You sound increasingly confused as you step further into the center of the room, standing right next to the bean bag he was laying in just a moment ago.

“Oh-” he says once before he opens his mouth the second time, ready to spurt out another lie, “oh yeah… we decided not to ‘cause why hang out in a group when you can hang out with your significant other… you know, just the two of you… doing what couples do…”

“Huh,” you say, nodding though not quite believing him but you being you, easily lets it slide, plopping on the bean bag and grabbing the closest thing to you which is the ball that hit Jimin in the face - he’s sure he has a circular mark smack dab in the area on the top of his nose bridge, in between his eyes.

The dress you end up wearing is creme colored and riding up your thighs - Jimin swallows thickly and give extra attention to the bottle opener.

“So… how did lunch go?” He pops two beers open and hands one to you, taking a seat on Yoongi’s favorite couch and admiring how your dress is taking the shape of your body as gravity pulls it down.

“Oh, you know, everyone was being fake and acting like the perfect role in the family,” you put the beer down a few inches above your head so as to not tip it over with the ball you’re waving around but not throwing in the air like Jimin did.

“Sounds suffocating,” Jimin repeats a similar answer he gives whenever you use that dismissive tone while talking about your family.

“...are you okay?” Then he asks - and he’s genuinely asking - about your state of mind while casually downing the beer and feeling the bitterness lessen with every gulp.

The silence that lapses in between you is familiar.

“If I say no, can I get a hug?” It’s the look in your eyes, glimmering like the lake he used to go to in summer.

“Always,” he sets his beer down on the table next to the couch and goes over to you, standing on his knees before bending down and engulfing you in his arm.

You’ve always had a knack for picking yourself up.

When he sees you the next time, which is on instagram and a post of you having lunch with your friends, Jimin could hardly believe that’s the girl who asked him for a hug as if she’s afraid she’ll be putting him in an uncomfortable spot by asking for too much.

But there’s something…

Like an invisible wall made of ice that he can’t thaw through nor can he climb over to get to the other side where you are. Where you keep the people you love the closest. Closer than he’ll ever be.

Jeon Jeongguk is one of them.

In the picture of five people huddled close to fit in the frame, Jeongguk has his arm over you with a peace sign while you lean your head on his neck but not actually resting on it - like it’s an unconscious action you’d do because you’ve done that plenty of times.

Is it when you two were together?

Everyone he knows, knows that you and Jeongguk used to be more than just friends at some point.

Sometimes he still hears people talking about you two in passing.

‘Did ___ and Jeongguk get back together? I saw in Jeongguk’s snapstory - they were in a club or something.’

‘No way. There goes my chance of getting close with Jeongguk.’

‘Girl, with ___ hanging around him 24/7, do you think he’d look at girls like us?’

‘A girl can dream though.’

Jimin wanted to open his mouth and tell them they deserve way better than Jeon Jeongguk - though they’re not prettier than you.

He thinks you’re the loveliest girl on planet earth and if there was another life form on another planet, he’s almost a hundred percent sure you’d still be prettiest being in the universe with your obsession for skinny jeans and the way you’d unconsciously pout when he talks about how things weren’t going his way that day as if you would’ve exchanged your abundance of luck with his shitty one just because you’ve got that big of a heart and how you’d be walking with your friends, laughing and giggling and when you see him, you’d wave at him like you’re good friends.

Second only to Jeongguk and your friend group that you’re always hanging out with.

“Oh, ___? We were childhood friends.”

“Hmm… Gguk and I became friends because our parents are friends.”

The two of them say at different times and settings when Jimin asked, trying to play it cool. Like he isn’t just brimming with jealousy. Like he’s not half-way to losing his mind because the girl of his dreams just went to a retreat with his friend-of-a-friend-turned-actual-friend together when everyone else in the group who was excitedly planning for the trip - couldn’t make it.

The rooms at the inn weren’t even pre-booked. It was owned by Jeongguk’s family and they didn’t deposit any money for the trip for them to rationalize going on that trip anyway despite everyone else not being to go.

“The trip? It was fun, if you want we can go together next time.”

Jimin isn’t sure if you even mean that when he asked how the trip went after you’re glistening with the glow of after sex and scrolling through instagram, liking posts of everyone you know.

But then three months later, on your break, Jimin is hit with a ‘keep your schedule free next week for a whole week!!!’

Then he finds himself at a five star hotel by the beach with the most breathtaking view of the sea.

It wasn’t the inn owned by the Jeon’s but Jimin liked the fact that you brought him to a place - and he hopes his assumptions are true - your friends have never been before. Especially Jeongguk.

“Woah, this place is better than I thought,” a king sized bed lies directly across from the balcony where you’re standing, hair flying behind your back as the seaside breeze blows into the room.

“We can watch the sun rise and set from our bed,” Jimin comments for the sake of saying something.

He’s not sure what this means. He’s not sure if he should be having a boner at the thought of the two of you being together for a whole week without any other person getting in the way. He’s not sure if his heart should be thumping this fast.

For the first time since he’s known you, Park Jimin is the most unsure he’s ever been.

“You know what I wanna watch?” Your hands slip in his as you stand between him and the open balcony door, “you under me, biting your lips because you’re still shy about the sound you make.”

So when you tug him back into the bedroom just minutes after checking in, naturally, Park Jimin follows like he’s been bewitched by your ungodly beauty.

Once the one week of nothing but heavenly morning wishes and passionate night kisses - oh, there was more than just kissing but Jimin remembers how your lips meld so perfectly together with his the most - Jimin is sure.

‘Something definitely changed.’

He thinks maybe it’s not impossible to dream of a future with you even after college.

“Jimin I-... I’m not at a point in life to be thinking about relationships,” you say, hand gripping your arm, head lowered as if your whole body is saying sorry.

“O-oh,” is all he says, he hearts his heart breaking and his chest caving.

All of a sudden, the lights in Gangnam city doesn’t seem so bright anymore.

You both live your last year pretending like the other doesn’t exist. He doesn’t look at you when he passes you and neither did you. Only talks to Jeongguk even though you’re right next to the aforementioned man - granted you were talking with your other friends like you didn’t even notice him there.

But Jimin’s never felt so invisible in his life than he does now.

Then, graduation rolls around and he thinks finally, he won’t have to walk through the hallway and pretend like he didn’t see you. Don't have to keep a five feet distance whenever you meet up for a group project.

Park Jimin doesn’t need to see your pretty face and starry eyes anymore.

“Jimin… do you have a minute?”

Or so he thought.

“So… congrats on surviving college,” you make small talk while standing just ten feet away from the boys whom he’s sure are speculating on what you’re talking about.

Jimin never got to prove to his friends that you’re not the mean, name-forgetting girl they all thought.

Jeongguk knows you’re not. He’s always backing Jimin up when Jimin’s debunking their passing accusations about you.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out between two people but doesn’t mean one of them is the bad guy.” Jeongguk's words put an end to their debate of whether Jimin deserved better than you or not.

For someone young, Jeongguk spoke his mind decidedly.

Jimin felt ashamed that he’d ever been jealous of Jeongguk’s relationship with you.

“I just… didn’t wanna leave things on a bad note. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said no but I really like spending time with you - whether it’s sex or just staying over and cuddling for hours… I like it all.” You say the word sex and cuddle like they’re used interchangeably and Jimin thinks his heart just fluttered.

And you’d said it in public where your everyone can see or possibly pick up on what you were saying, at that.

Well, one thing’s for sure, you’ve got bigger balls than he does.

“My feelings are the same as six months ago and call me crazy but I don’t think you dislike me either.” He finally says and it feels like a deadweight has been lifted off his shoulders.

There comes that pout, as if something is bothering you and you always ever pout like that when that something concerns him.

“You kidding me? I can never dislike you.”

The Jimin from six months ago would have stared at you with disbelief and a dust of pink on his cheeks. But the Jimin he is now simply smiles, heart thumping in his chest. He nods.

“Thanks for telling me that,” and Jimin knows that’s the closest to an ‘I like you’ he can get with the girl who builds an ice fortress around her heart.

A whole year passes by and Jimin finds himself in different shades of grey every day, working at his dad’s company and attending dinner meetings. Life comes to a standstill while time passes him by.

“So, like, you have a sports car, right? Why don’t you come over to the race circuit after dinner? Everyone’s gonna be there.”

Jeongguk tells him over the phone.

And by ‘everyone’ he means the sons and daughters in the corporate world. It’s networking at its finest.

When he’s there, three cars are already racing in the circuit. The smell of burnt rubber and the sound of tires screeching against asphalt isn’t exactly his favorite but they have cheap booze instead of fine wine and he knows the people here are in for the same thing as he is.

An escape.

Away from the grandeur of fine wine and dinner dresses and the elders breathing down their necks and having to act like the next heir to the legacy they were born to carry.

“That Chevrolet over there,” Jeongguk comes, hand on Jimin’s back as his other one that’s holding a bottle of beer points at a red car that looks like a racing fireball, “everyone’s betting on that one tonight.”

Jimin doesn’t know there’s a bet.

“I’ll skip the bet this time ‘round. Haven’t seen the driver yet,” he shrugs dismissively.

Even in stock investment, he’d learned to study the market first before placing his best bet.

Jeongguk leaves his side when his friends - he’s got new ones now - beckons him over. At the same time, the Chevrolet passes the finish line seconds before the Ford Mustang and McLaren 720s, making it the winner of the night.

The driver seems like a show off with the way the car rolls up to the audience, the sound of its engines revving into the night being met with cheers of half-drunk young adults.

Arrogance is a man’s downfall.

Jimin’s about to turn around and head for the exit when the door of the car gets pushed open. The driver steps out, decked in black and red leather jeans and jackets that seem to match the car.

But it’s the smooth, silken hair that cascades past the helmet that catches his eyes.

Park Jimin’s seen many arrogant men in his life but he’s only ever seen one woman with balls and looks good wearing them.

“___! ___! ___!” The crowd starts cheering as you pull off the helmet, holding it underneath your arm and waist.

Your eyes are as brilliant as the night sky full of stars. They’re tinged with shock and then recognition. And finally, you smile that gorgeous smile that gets you misunderstood often as a woman who doesn’t need anything or anyone but uses them as they come.

But Park Jimin knows better than anyone, how wholeheartedly happy that smile looks when you see him.

Like meeting a good friend after a long time.

Seven months down the road, Jimin finds himself with just a blanket draped over his waist while you’re taking a shower in his bathroom to get ready to head to Hong Kong for a business trip.

He hears the sound of the shower head being turned off. The tapping of your foot around his bedroom as you pick up your clothes that are strewn all over the floor.

Then the bed dips ever so gently under your weight as you climb over to him, the fresh scent of shower get filling his senses. Lips press a deep, lingering kiss on his. As if you don’t want to go to a place where he won’t be.

A few socials and midnight races after his first meeting with you after a long time, you asked him if he’s seeing someone.

“If I say yes, what will you do?” It’s playful at first, because Jimin didn’t want to get himself hurt the second time.

But it’s the way you tilted your head, a finger tapping on your chin as you pondered on his words, “that’s a problem because I don’t want to be that girl that steals another girl’s man,” then you looked at him like you know he’s the one you want to wake up to every morning and the last face you see when you sleep at night and if you can’t have that. then-

“Can you be mine… just for tonight?”

“I don’t think I can.” The crestfallen expression you wear makes his own heart break, even if it’s just for a split second-

“Because I’m not seeing anyone but I’m in that point in life where I want a serious relationship or nothing at all.”

But what he doesn’t tell you is how he doesn’t want a relationship if it’s not with the girl who still haunts his dreams even after all this time.

Just like how you’d turned him down because you weren’t looking to be in a relationship before, you’d courted Jimin like you’d want to spend your whole life with him now.

Flowers got sent to his office everyday until it smells nothing short of floral. You’d be there, waving at him like he’s your savior in that dreadful social you were both attending. Every week, you’d plan dinner dates under the guise of catching up.

Before you race, you’d look over to where he’s standing, as if saying ‘this one’s for you’ before slipping into your car and coming out first every single time.

As if you were making up for every month of the year that you’d let life pass you by.

Now you’ve won a total of 36 races since he met you and the metal band you gifted him on the night of your 12th win feels warm against his skin. As if it’s absorbed all the love and adoration you poured into it.

And you’re wearing that ring he got you on your birthday on your finger that’s resting on his chest where his heart is as he kisses you back just as reluctant to let you leave.

But Park Jimin knows wherever you are, wherever you will be - you will always find your way back to each other.

Back home.

#bts smut #jimin smut #bts fics #jimin fic #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #bts x you #bts x reader #jimin x reader #jimin fics #bts fic #bts fanfics #jimin fanfics #jimin scenarios #bts scenarios

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davidlikesguys02 · 3 years

Text

On A Very Special Episode...

M/n= Male name

word count= 2,847

GIF not mine also just Imagine that's you and Vision.

You're pacing around the living room rocking Tommy “Sweet, sweet Tommy, don't you wanna sleep? Daddy wants to sleep.” you sigh “if you go to sleep, I promise you will be my favorite twin.” behind you Vision is coming down the stairs “oh, come on now, darling. You know we love them both equally.” “Well, don't tell him that” Vision chuckles. “No luck with Billy”

“Tried reading to him, but for some reason, Charles Darwin’s the descent of man made him crying even harder. Oh. care to dance, darling?” “oh” you both chuckle. “It's almost like we're on a date.” “mm! Keep it down, lads, I was about to get my leg over.” you chuckle. “Vis?” “Hmm” “would you mind grabbing their binkies?” “Oh of course not. Binkies all round, I think” you and Vision set the twins down in their cribs.

Vision walks towards the kitchen “Now, I know parents aren't supposed to take shortcuts, but I think this situation calls for one, don't you?” the babies continue crying “so, go to sleep, my babies.” you move your hand but nothing happens “and go to sleep” you try again. The twins begin giggling “well, I don't think its very funny. Why won't you do what I want?”

“What's that, dear?” the babies start to cry again, you turn to see Vision has the binkies in his ears “that is not where those go” you grab the binkies and clean them “noise cancellation is not their primary function?” you put the binkies on the babies mouth and they stop crying “look, I think it's..” the twins shoot them out and start crying again.

“Vis?” “Mm” “what are we doing wrong?” “Oh don't worry dear.” Vision kisses your forehead “well figure it out. Perhaps we all need more time to get to know one another.” “maybe. Or maybe we just need some help.” the doorbell rings. “Oh” Vision walks over to the sofa and grabs a pillow to cover himself. “Hiya, kids” Agnes entered through the door.

“Oh, Agnes!” “Agnes, I was just fluffing this pillow. With my face” “oh, I was on my way to Jazzercise when i heard your new little bundles of joy were on a sleep strike.” “oh? Who told you that?” Vision asked, “uh, my ears.” Agnes chuckles, “Anyway, Auntie Agnes is here and I've got a couple of tricks up my sleeve?” “oh Agnes you're a lifesaver.” “aw”

“Very well. But be careful of their belly buttons and remember to support their heads, and when was the last time you washed... Actually, you know what? It would be... Just... Maybe we better not.” the babies continue to cry, Agnes turns to you “um...uh… Do you want me to take that again?” you turn to look at Vision and turn back to look at Agnes “uh… I'm sorry?” “You want me to hold the babies. Should we just take it from the top?”

Vision chuckles awkwardly “what?” you chuckle “oh don't be silly. Vision, lets… let's let Agnes give it a try.” you chuckle nervously “fussy babies, meet buns of steel. We dare you to stay awake” Agnes and you both chuckle. “M/n” Vision motions for you to follow him “what was that about?” “what was what?” “what was what? That, that with Agnes just now.” you turn to look at Agnes and see that she's rocking the twins

“Well, I think she just got confused for a moment. She seems fine now.” you turn back to look at Vision “but what she said, the way she looked at you?” “how did she look at me?” “well, I dint… oh.” you turn back to look at Agnes she was spraying something over the twins “Lavender. It's supposed to have a calming effect. Ralph sprays it on me every night. But there's no taming this tiger..” she chuckles “it's so strange”

You start to whisper “that's not fair. It's not Agnes fault that she has an unusually high libido” “M/n did you really not see what I saw?” there's a thud behind you two “oh. Don't mind me. I'm just looking for your dark liquor.” “what?” “not for me. For the twins. What kind of babysitter do you think I am? I'm just gonna go and check in there”

You turn to Vision “Vision, the boys haven't slept in days. You and I both need a break and Agnes is just being neighborly, that's all.” the twin’s stopped crying “do you hear that?” “hear that?” “absolutely nothing” you gasp, Vision takes your hand and you two walk over to the cribs, “they finally fell asleep” “they're empty” “then where are the twins” “dad?, daddy?” you gasp “huh”

Agnes sighs “kids” she chuckles “you can't control em. No matter how hard you try” “well, hi” “hi” both you and Vision say “how are you doing, baby?” “aw”

You wander the world with a vision Of what life could be But then the years come and teach you To just wait and see Forces may try to pull us apart But nothing can phase me If you're in my heart Crossing our fingers, singing a song We're making it up as we go along Through the highs and the lows We'll be right, we'll be wrong We're making it up as we go along And there will be days We won't know which way to go But we'll take it higher You're all I desire When the going gets tough When push comes to shove We're making it up 'Cause we got love We got love We got love We got love Baby, we got... M/nVision

You walk around your house looking for Tommy and Billy. “Tommy, Billy?” you walk through the door and see Tommy and Billy standing in the kitchen “you know, I don't miss the crying, but jeez Louise, did you have to learn to walk? You two never stay put. Unless you're innocently forming a human wall in front of the kitchen sink.” someone sneezes “bless you” “Thank you” both Tommy and Billy say.

There's a soft bark “now tell me which one of you just barked? Scoot'' you gasp “oh, boy. waiter , what's this canine doing in my kitchen sink?” you turn to look at the twins “the doggy paddle?” “Can we keep him, daddy?” “Well, I'm sure his owners miss him very much. Come on.” you grab a towel and grab the dog and start to dry them “huh. There really is no collar?” “Can we keep him?”

“He was outside. Crying, alone.” “Now, boys, taking care of a living thing is a big responsibility. Dogs need food, exercise, training, belly rubs, and cuddles. And kisses between their little ears.” “morning, M/n. morning, boys.” you show Vision the dog “Good morning, unfamiliar wet animal.” you chuckle “who is this?” “we're not quite sure. Why so formal, honey?”

“Oh, it's just a precaution really. I had a hunch someone might pop over.” the back door opens and Agnes walks through “hi, kiddos” “with exactly the item we require” “my kitchen window told me someone got a new pooch.” the dog starts barking “did you name him yet?” the dog starts sniffing an outlet “how about sniffy” “oh” Agnes chuckles. Sparks start to come from the outlet causing the dog to yelp and run away. “How about sparky?”

You chuckle and hold out your hand “well, should we make it official?” you move your hand and a dog collar appears tommy takes the collar from you. “M/n” “hmm” “Agnes was right there!” “Well, she didn't notice. She didn't even notice when the boys went from babies to five-year-old's” “that's not what we agreed upon. You made no effort to conceal your abilities.”

“Well, I'm tired of hiding, Vis. and maybe you don't have to either.” you take your hand and start to crease his cheek “M/n, we are usually so much of the same mind. But right now… what aren't you telling me?” “so, is sparky our dog, daddy?” Tommy asks Vision “what?” Sparky starts to whimper.

“Boys, your father and I don't think you're ready to properly care for an animal until you're at least…” you turn to Vision “Ten” he coughs “Ten” “ten years old” you show them 10 fingers. The twins look at each other and smile “wait, now hang on there a minute…” “wait, no, no, no.” “...you young whippersnappers.” “no, no, no” you gasp as the twins age up. “Lets just hope this dog stays the same size.” Agnes chuckles “woof, woof”

You're in the living room with Tommy sitting next to you on the sofa “sit, Sparky. Now spin. Good boy” “oh bravo, Billy you weren't so bad either, Sparky” you and Tommy both clap “that's was radical. Where's dad? We gotta go show dad!” Tommy got up and walked towards the kitchen Billy followed behind him. “Oh, hes… hes at work” “huh?” “It's Saturday” the twins turn to look at you “no, it's not. It's Monday” “this morning was Saturday.”

“There was an emergency at the office and your father had to go in. end of story. look , he just… he needed a distraction.” “from what?” “from us?” “no! No way! No” you get up from the sofa and walk over to them “sometimes” you start to walk them over to the sofa so you can sit “your dad and I aren't on the same page, but that's just temporary. Like the two of you, you might fight over toys, but he's always going to be your brother. And he is always going to be yours. Because family is forever.”

“Do you have a brother dad?” “I do. Yeah he's far away from here. And it makes me sad sometimes.” Sparky begins to bark and he runs toward the door. “Hey , sparky, what's up boy?” sparky begins to growl “something scaring him” “stay here” you tell the twins and walk outside. You see a drone and you can hear a voice “M/n this is captain Monica Rambeau. Can you hear me? I just want to talk. That's it.” you look up at the drone and your eyes begin to glow red.

You use your powers to take the drone down and you grab it and start walking towards the outskirts of Westview. You can see the force field you put around the town and start to walk through it. You come out on the other side to see a camp of some sorts. “Is this yours?” you throw the drone at Haywards feet, you can still see your powers covering the drone. They have men and women armed around pointing their guns at you.

“The missile was just a precaution. You can hardly blame us. M/n” “oh, I think I can. This will be your only warning. Stay out of my home.” “I wish it could be that simple. You've taken an entire town hostage.” “Well, I'm not the one with the guns, Director.” “but you are the one in control.” “you're still here?” you start to see the red ball of energy around your hand.

“M/n, I didn't know the drones were armed. But you know that, don't you?” she begins to walk towards you “A town full of civilians. And you, a telepath, brought a S.W.O.R.D. Agent into your home. You trusted me to help deliver your babies. On some level, M/n, you know I am an ally. I wanna help you.” “how? What could you possibly have to offer me?”

“What do you want?” “I have what I want and no one” you look at Hayward “will ever take it from me again” you raise your arm and see the familiar red glow around the armed men. They all turn their guns at Hayward and you start to walk away. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa stand down!” “M/n” “Stand down”

you use your powers to change the force field you put around making it glow red you turn around one last time and walk through again.

“Sparky! Come on boy!” “sparky, sparky” you're walking around with the twins looking for sparky. “hey , what's the trouble little dudes?” “we can't find our dog” “ah, don't worry. He's sure to turn up. Your dad wont let him get far. Sir.” “I don't know where he could've gone” you tell the twins “here, boy, Sparky! Sparky!” you hear some rustling near some bushes “Sparky”

Agnes pops up holding something that appears to be wrapped “sparky”. Agnes sighs “I… I didn't wanna come until id wrapped him up.” “What happened to him?” you ask “found him in my azalea bushes. Don't know how many leaves he ate. I didn’t find him until it was too late. Oh…. Tommy. Billy, I'm so sorry.” you turn to look at the twins and see them looking at each other and nodding.

“Wait. Don't. Don’t” they look at you “don't what?” “don't age yourselves up. The urge to run from this feeling is powerful. I know.” “It's too sad” “you can fix anything, Dad. fix the dead.” “what? no” “you can do that?” you turn to look at Agnes and turn back to the twins “I am trying to tell you that there are rules in life, okay? We can't rush aging just because it's convenient.” you chuckle “And we can't reverse death. No matter how sad it makes us. Okay? Some things are forever.”

You can hear Agnes sigh behind you “you said family is forever.” “He is family. Bring him back, dad” “bring who back?” Vision looks over at Agnes “oh, boys. Come here” the twins walk over and hug Vision. Later you are picking up some toys and you turn to see Vision walk through the back door. “How are the boys?”

“A little heartbroken, but they'll be alright” “well, it's not often you get a dog and bury them the same day.” “Well, life moves pretty fast out in the suburbs.” you grab the basket of toys and take it over to the counter “I spoke with Norm” “Oh?” you look over at him confused. “I unearthed the man's suppressed personality and spoke to him free of your oversight. He was in pain, M/n”

“Vision…” you chuckle softly “listen, can we just…” “what? Watch tv? Turn in for the night so you can change everything over again? No, M/n. you can't control me the way you do to them” you look at him “Can’t I? I'm going to bed” “no! We're not done here. What is the Maximoff Anomaly?”

“The what?” “I have to believe that this, whatever this is, was subconsciousness at first and you only recently became aware of it.” “aware of what?” you walk out of the kitchen “Norm has a family, M/n” “he has a family, and he can't reach them because you won't let him reach them!” “I don't know what you're talking about” you turn to look at him. “Stop lying to me!” Vision begins to float.

The familiar red glow around your hand appears and you begin to float in front of him “This, all of this is for us. So let me handle it.” “What is outside of Westview?” “you don't wanna know, i promise you.” “you don't get to make that choice for me M/n” he points at you “you've never talked to me like this before” you start to slowly fall back to the ground.

“Before what?” Vision raises his Voice “before what? I can't remember my life before Westview. I don't know who I am! I'm scared!” you look up at him “you are my husband, you are Tommy and Billy’s father. Isn't that enough.” Vision slowly comes down “M/n, why are there no other children in Westview.” you walk over to the sofa and sit down “oh, god. There are just stop it.”

“No. no. the playground stands empty every morning I walk to work. Why? Tell me why?” “ Do you really think that I am controlling everything? That I am somehow in charge of everybody in Westview? I'm walking their dogs, mowing their lawns, getting them to dentist appointments on time? I mean, I…” you chuckle dryly ”I don't know how any of this started in the first place.”

“M/n, what you're doing here, it's wrong” he walks around and kneels in front of you “I…” “It's wrong” the doorbell rings, getting the attention of you and Vision “I didn't do that. I… you don't believe me.” “M/n, i want to, but at this point, I'm ignoring statistics entirely.” the doorbell rings a second time you get up and walk over to the door. You open the door, and are shocked “M/n who is this?”

“Long lost bro gets to squeeze his stinking brother to death or what?” “Pietro?” he nods, he opens his arms and you and hug him “who's the popsicle?” he points and Vision.

#marvel x male reader #Marvel x male!reader #WandaVision x male reader #WandaVision x male!reader #Vision x male reader #Vision x male!reader #Male reader #Male!reader

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another-fantasy-world · 4 years

Text

Strings Pt. 2

Pairing: Rosalie Hale x Fem!OC

Summary: in which the true queen of vampires found love when she least expected.

Warnings: ...Light Angst? Slowburn and mentions of death,trauma and depression

Timeline: Breaking Dawn - Post-Twilight

Word count: 4, 200 words

!Extra long chapter!

GIF isn’t mine

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The witch couple somehow got Rosalie to agree to their terms, much to her distaste. She still doesn’t know what it is that irks her about the couple, she does not trust them, at all but, she trusts Carlisle. Plus, right now, they have more important matters to attend to.

Various thoughts run through Rosalie’s head, as she stands in the vast snow covered field. She may not show it, but she worries for her adoptive sister as Alice strides through the field handing Aro her hand for him to go through her thoughts and visions.

“Now you know. That’s your future, unless you decide on another course.” Alice states when Aro dropped her hand in shock

Rosalie stands rigid, observing silently as she glares and snarls at their “Royalty”, eyes pitch black. She knows in herself that she would do everything for her family, even if it costs her, her life. She stands there, watching as another hybrid walks into the field, she watches as they question him, She watches as Bella sags slightly in relief knowing that Renesmee is immortal and finally, she smiles knowing that they’ve won as the red-coated vampires blurs into the distance.

Joyous screams of victory rips through the air as she joins her family as they rejoice, happy that they did not have to fight the Volturi today. Together, they walk back to their house where their witnesses say their farewells and leaving.

“We won!” Maggie squeals are she rushed into Rosalie’s arms with Emmett trailing behind her

“Yeah, Yeah. Now I have to suffer an immortal life with the smell of wet dog wafting through the air.” Rosalie smirks

“Hey! I heard that!” Jacob complains

“Tsk. You were supposed to.” She retorts as she walks to Carlisle who was holding Esme in his arms.

But as she was walking, she was suddenly thrown into a void, cold, dark, and starry? She was confused as she looks around, panicking when she couldn’t move.

“What the fuck is going on?!” She tries to move her body but she couldn't, she then feels her body get thrown around like a rag doll.

“This is worse than being forced to ride that death machine. What was is called? Rollie? Roller coaster?” She grumbles in her head as she wills herself to not puke. She didn't even think vampires could still be nauseous.

That went on for what seemed to be hours before she was finally dropped into the ground. Opening her golden eyes, her orbs seemed to hyper focus on the gigantic trees and the creatures that live in it. Her ears then pick up the sound of groaning, turning her head, she sees the rest of her family sprawled all over the forest floor.

“Oh my God! Amore! You didn't have to paralyze them that hard!” Veronica thumps Amore in the head.

“I sincerely apologize for what she has done. We needed to take you far away from Forks, The Volturi Coven changed their minds and decided to ambush you and your witnesses. Fear not, your witnesses have been teleported to their homes safe and sound.” Veronica explains while still glaring at the pouting Amore.

“What was that anyways?” Edward groans as he sits up'

“Teleportation. I needed to paralyze you, that lowers the chance of you losing a limb.” Amore explains while Veronica cast a cloud of blue upon them, seemingly healing their “injuries”

“Cooooool. Can we do it again?” Emmett brightens like a child getting a puppy for the first time.

“No.” They all deadpanned at him making Veronica and Amore chuckle.

“Well, I suggest we get going now, even with our speed, it's still a long way to run.” Veronica dusts herself off as she and Amore help the family up and the still dazed shifters.

“Long way to run where?” Jacob asks, utterly confused.

“To the palace of course.” Veronica smiles

“It's high time you guys meet the Queen.” Amore smirks and winks as she speeds off, followed by Veronica then the Cullens and then the Black Pack.

Anastasia pinched her temples in pure stress, the Cullens were coming to visit and everything was in utter chaos. Mud was smeared all over the walls, broken dishes and glass cluttered the floor as little children run past her, screaming her ears off.

“Lance, darling. Clean this up before I rip someone's head off. Make sure this place is spotless before the guests arrive. Get the pups back to their mothers, the children back to the village and contact Maxine, there's a few shifters accompanying the Cullens. I'll be in my lab.” She orders her personal butler who scrambles around trying to get people to help him.

Anastasia ventures down, down until she reaches her own personal laboratory where she herself develops her own type of blood. She's repulsed by the thought of drinking from a clueless human no matter how annoying they are and disgusted at the thought of killing an innocent animal just so she could satiate her desire of drinking blood. And because of this artificial blood, her eyes slowly turn into the rich dark violet that it is now.

As she works, combining different substances and powders that vary colors, her mind drifts to a certain blonde girl. Anastasia for the life of her, cannot even think of what she would do where she faces the blonde beauty, not when her heart if filled with guilt.

1932 Rochester, New York

Anastasia roamed the streets as she keeps her eyes trained on the single glowing golden string attached to her, amongst the other colors. She was born this way, even when she was just a little human, she could always see strings. Of course her feeble mind at that time didn't understand what it was, but now she could. As a vampire, she practiced and willed her strings to be more color coded, since the mere chaos of tangled strings give her a headache. The strings connected each creature in this world, once you make an acquaintance, a blue string connects the two of you and that soon escalates into different colors, However, one color lets her see soulmates, and that's green, which is why she's now following this glowing gold string to wherever it may go. She was tempted to just yank the string as hard as she could and let the creature on the other side find her but somehow, something was holding her back.

As she walked the streets of New York, head held high, she also ignored the stares that she got while walking. She knew why of course, her Italian clothing much different from the posh American clothing everyone around her has, not to mention she was wearing clothes meant for “men” but she never was the one to abide to gender constructs. She also couldn't, for the life of her, think about what she would do when she meets the creature on the other end of the string. Should she kill it? Should she keep it? Should she protect it? Should she-

Her thoughts were then interrupted when her eyes suddenly tunnel visioned. There 'it' was, the 'creature' on the other end of her string, 'it' was actually a woman. An insanely attractive human, being fawned over by boys as she walks by and she was smiling at the small group girls crowding her. Anastasia could suddenly feel the emotions of the said woman: Happiness, Pride, and a little twinge of loneliness and sadness. Anastasia's heart (despite being half-dead) tightened in her chest, she wanted to do everything and anything to make the woman happy. She didn't even care that she just saw her mere minutes ago, she wanted her and only her. And that's when she realized, this woman, no, this angel was meant to be hers. But then again, Anastasia knew that the woman was too good for her, she doesn't deserve this life of pain and eternal suffering, seeing the people you once loved grow old and eventually die, yet she also knew that she cannot live without her, so she settled with being her protector.

“Mr. Lombardi? Did I pronounce that right?” Mr. Hale questioned her, she had managed to manipulate her looks to make her look like a man.

“Yes sir.” Anastasia answered, she named herself Gioele for the sake of her facade.

“And why should I let you protect my daughter?” Mr. Hale raised his eyebrows, staring at the 'guy' infront of him.

“With The Great Depression still happening, I believe your daughter might be in danger. You and your success may make you a target for those who are below you, poor unfortunate...” She trailed off, her moral compass preventing her from saying derogatory words but she knew she had to play by his personality and rules

“We do not talk about them.” Mr. Hale deadpanned

“Yes sir.” 'Gioele' agreed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Very well then. You have piqued my interest. One wrong move and you'll find yourself hanging on a rope by your neck.” He threatened just as someone entered.

“Father? Mother requested your presence.” Anastasia's eyes widen when she hears the soft, melodic voice right behind her.

“Rosalie! Perfect timing. This is Gioele Lombardi, he will be protecting you from those awful lowlifes scattered around the streets.” Mr. Hale introduces Anastasia to Rosalie who in turn looked at her.

“Rosalie. Rosalie Hale.” She introduces her self while Anastasia promply goes down on one knee and kisses her hand.

“My Pleasure.” She smiled, seeing the faint blush on Rosalie's cheeks.

Anastasia stood up, offering her arm to Rosalie who accepted and they both followed Mr. Hale outside, Anastasia holding up an umbrella to shield Rosalie and herself from the sun. She didn't sparkle as much as other vampires do but it would have been really suspicious when people see her faint sparkle as her marble like skin hits the rays of the sun.

And in that afternoon alone, Rosalie Hale became more popular, people talked about the attractive guard and of course Rosalie's beauty. Anastasia was annoyed at how people spoke about her and her mate, while they were walking around the city. Rosalie noticed and distracted her by asking her questions and answering questions directed to her as well.

Anastasia just felt herself fall even more as days pass by, She would sit by Rosalie's side while she reads her books, She would accompany her on walks and would help her pick flowers as well. She knew all about Rosalie but Rosalie only knew things Anastasia want her to, that doesn't include the fact that she's a woman and not a man and also the fact that she's an actual vampire. And that proved to be in her disadvantage later on.

A year pass by quickly with Anastasia enjoying every single second she spends with her soulmate, she could feel Rosalie radiating happiness whenever she's around, but of course, Rosalie was getting suspicious as well. It may be because of that one time where they were caught in the rain and their umbrella was much too small for 2 persons so Anastasia insist on Rosalie using it, leaving her wet, making her clothes stick to her body, and even under the dim light, Rosalie could make out a feminine body, toned but still feminine and that left her thinking if she truly knew her guard as well as she thought she did.

One day, Rosalie was sent on an errand to deliver her father's 'forgotten' lunch, and Anastasia knew it was a bunch of shit. She heard the couple discussing their plans to hopefully attract the attention of Royce King II and they succeeded, she had to watch as Rosalie and Royce flirt with each other, with her silently seething, forgotten. She had to hide her growls and snarls whenever flowers would be delivered at the Hale Household, but she couldn't do anything, Rosalie deserved someone who could grow old with her, and not a half-ling abomination like her. So she accepted the fate she wished upon herself and made the hardest decision of her life.

The day Rosalie was engaged, she packed her bags and set to leave but unfortunately, Rosalie caught her. And what she did that day, she still regrets up until now.

“Gioele? You are leaving.” Rosalie states, stunned.

“Don't. Don't stop me Ms. Hale. Or should I say Mrs. King?” Anastasia spat out, and she internally flinched when she saw the pain in Rosalie's eyes.

“Where did this come from Gio?” Gio, Rosalie's nickname for her alter ego. She couldn't handle it anymore and looked around before gently dragging Rosalie into an empty room in their house.

“Look, my name's not Gioele.” Anastasia removes the glamour she placed on herself and watched as Rosalie stare at her in shock.

“It's Anastasia. And yes. I am leaving. You are to be married to Royce King II and I cannot get in between that.” She stares at Rosalie's eyes, hoping to relay her feelings, but Rosalie was still much too hurt from her best friend lying to her.

“You lied. You broke two of your promises Lombardi. Is that even your real surname? It is not, is it? God. Why must I be so stupid! Go! Leave! Find some other woman to lie to!” Rosalie walks away from her

“Rosalie! Wait!” She tried to chase after her but Rosalie just turned around and slapped her, she was shocked, not only because the love of her life slapped her, it's also because Rosalie managed to crack the base of her neck. She lifted her hand to cover the cracks that were covering the base of her marble like neck.

“Rose...” She stared at Rosalie.

“Leave.” Rosalie glared, and Anastasia knew that this was her chance... to let go of her soulmate... in the most painful way possible.

“Fine...” She growled out “...I never liked you anyways, You self-centered, smug woman who only lives to please her father and the people around you. I hope you and your cold heart enjoy your loveless marriage!” She grabs her bags and walks away, not bothering to turn back, knowing that if she sees Rosalie's face and the raw emotions in her eyes, she'll just turn back and beg for forgiveness.

But of course, she couldn't stay away, no matter how hard she tried, she just can't so she lingered, hiding herself in the shadows, watching as Rosalie walked the paths they used to walk on, with Royce accompanying her, his arm hooked on hers as they chatted happily. It took everything in Anastasia to not rip off Royce's head whenever she knew he was making Rosalie uncomfortable and It took everything in her to not steal Rosalie away from him.

She was lingering around Vera's house, Rosalie was in there, cradling the baby boy in her arms as she cooed at him. Anastasia smiled as she saw her mate being all cute, she longed to have that with her, but alas she couldn't.

She was just enjoying herself when suddenly a body slammed into her, they fought for the upper hand as they kept tumbling around. Anastasia would straddle the man and he would flip her as well, she knew he was a vampire and didn't bother to pull her punches, cracking his marble like skin while he, in turn would also punch her face. The only difference they had was, Anastasia is actually bleeding. After what went on like hours, something snapped, Anastasia knew something was wrong with her mate so her eyes glowed a bright red, she threw the man off her and tied him with her strings. She growled at him before speeding off, following the slowly fading golden string. She ran as fast as she could, but she was too late.

“Rose?” she stared in horror as the body of her beloved, sprawled on the sidewalk, bleeding out.

“Stasia?” She turned her head and saw Carlisle standing behind her.

“Carlisle! I beg of you, Please save her. Turn her Carlisle please!” Anastasia begged Carlisle

“What happened? I smelt the blood.” Carlisle knelt beside the barely alive Rosalie.

“Turn her first then I'll explain.” Anastasia choked out as she closed her eyes just in time for Carlisle's teeth sinking into Rosalie's skin

She shook with anger and decided that she'll chase after whoever did this to her, her ears hyper focused, trying to find whoever did it. And that's when she heard it: Royce King II.

“I need to find a new fiancee now.” He laughed as his friends expressed their joy in letting them-

Anastasia let out a loud guttural growl as she prepared to speed away but Carlisle held her back.

“Don't. She needs you first.” Carlisle motioned to Rosalie who's writhing in pain. She immediately scooped her mate into her arms and followed Carlisle's mate string, which led her to a two floor house, she barged in with Carlisle hot on her heels.

“Lay her here.” He instructed the distressed Queen.

“Will she be okay Carlisle?” She asked the doctor as he kissed his mate in her forehead.

“Yes. Give it a couple of days, Your Highness.” Carlisle reassured her as she swallowed back her sobs.

“Very well. Uh. My apologies, I barged in without your permission. My name is Anastasia. You must be Carlisle's lover?” She offered her hand to the older woman who in turn just gave her a hug.

“It's fine. Really. You are welcome here. Carlisle told me all about you.” Esme smiled and Anastasia just smirked at Carlisle.

“Still thinking about me Cullen?” Anastasia teased, taking Rosalie's hand into hers and gripping it, calming her nerves.

“He talks about you everyday.” Esme smiled at her.

Anastasia was about to reply when the doors opened and in came...

“You.” Anastasia growled and lunged at the man. He dodged but she caught his arm and used her momentum to flip him over, throwing him through the wall and into the backyard, making him land flat on his back. The man coughed as Anastasia straddled him, planting her foot to the ground, her strings glowing a bright red as they wrap around him as she slowly ripped his head off.

“Anastasia! He's my son!” Carlisle cried out as Anastasia snapped at him, eyes widening in surprise.

“He's yours?” Anastasia's eyes glowed a bright red and Carlisle felt his entire body shiver.

“Y-Yes.” Carlisle stuttered, the murderous aura surrounding Anastasia triggering his fight or flight.

“He is the reason why I didn't get to my mate fast enough. He lunged at me for no reason, leaving my mate in a vulnerable position AND LOOK WHERE SHE IS RIGHT NOW! SHE'S FIGHTING FOR HER LIFE CARLISLE!” Anastasia's body shook in anger

Carlisle could see the cracks growing on Edward's skin, and he slowly approached the furious queen. He managed to calm Anastasia down by sending calming waves into his strings, decades of working alongside the queen was proven to be useful in this moment. The ropes that were once wrapped around Edward slowly loosened until they retreated back into her body.

Edward wheezed as he moved away from her while Anastasia composed herself.

“Teach your son better manner s, Carlisle or the next time we meet, you'll see his decapitated head decorating the Volturi Walls.” Anastasia threatened as she walks calmly back into the house through the wall that she made and sat beside her unconscious mate. She noticed the golden string slowly go back to it's natural glow, which made her sigh in relief.

A couple of hours pass by and Anastasia was feeling hungry, she asked for Carlisle's help in looking for food in the forest and he told her where the majority of the animals lived and she set off. While she was hunting, she couldn't help but feel like she failed Rosalie. She let her become something that she protected her from. A Vampire.

Once she had her fill, she slowly walked back to where Carlisle lives, delaying her arrival as much as possible, dreading the fact that she knew Rosalie was awake. She could feel it. She took a deep breath and opened the door, making everyone's head snap towards her. Her eyes caught Rosalie's and instantly, they connected, more so than before, which means that Anastasia feels what Rosalie feels 100 times more than before. Pain, Sadness, Longing and Hatred. And that's when she knew, she knew that Rosalie hated her. Her soulmate hated her. The thought weighed on top of her, slowly crushing her heart, she physically gasped for breath as she could feel Rosalie's anger increased tenfold.

“Rose. Let me-”

“Don't Anastasia. Do what you do best, leave.” Rosalie answered her, putting emphasis on her real name. She tried to move closer but Rosalie only moved and sped out of the house, with Carlisle trailing after the newborn.

She was about to follow as well when Edward stopped her.

“I apologize for my actions earlier, I truly believed that you were preying on them, that's why I attacked you, but you should really trust me when I say that you shouldn't follow her. She's angry.” Edward quickly explained

“And how do you know that?” She asked.

“I can read minds.” Edward simply states, nodding at her.

Anastasia nodded, defeated and sat on a chair with Esme right beside her.

“Give her some time.” Esme advises, rubbing the girl's back.

She gritted her teeth when she felt Rosalie's pain. Not physical, emotional. And she has the power to take it away. But with a great price. A price she was willing to take.

When the Cullen family was complete, with Rosalie, Anastasia quickly worked her gift. Wrapping her strings around them and re-writing their memories, without her in it. Except for Carlisle's, she left some memories of him working alongside her while in the Volturi. Once she finished, she quickly speeds away and forces herself to leave the memories and pain she just took into the back of her mind as she wiped her bleeding nose, her body collapsing under a big tree due to the exhaustion.

She was pulled back into reality when the beaker she was holding in her hand exploded, drenching her in artificial blood. She gritted her teeth, there were two things that could've happened. One, she mixed the wrong chemicals while day dreaming or two, Amore decided to switch the labels again.

She checked everything, and then found out the second one was the truth, she stormed out of her lab, blood dripping from every inch of her body. Her annoyance clouded her brain, forgetting that she sent Amore to pick up the Cullens and if she was here, then so were The Cullens.

She spotted Amore from afar and sped towards her, slamming her against the brick walls of her “castle” . She hated that term.

“What did I tell you about switching my labels Lewis?! Look at me! Blood is in every crevice in my body! There's blood in parts that I didn't even knew were exposed!” She growled out

“Well, to be f-fair, You aren't wearing your usual lab attire so that's partially your fault.” Amore choked out. Anastasia just growls in response.

“Stasia, calm yourself. First impressions are important.” Veronica waves her hand and Anastasia's clothes were back to normal, dry and there was no trace of blood anywhere.

First Impressions? Anastasia then mentally facepalmed herself. She had forgotten the Cullen Family. She releases Amore, then turned to the family, recalling her speech, she started to talk.

“Hello. Sorry you had to see that, but you should really get used to it. My name is Anastasia...” She drifted off as her violet orbs met golden ones. In her brief moment of surprise, she unknowingly let down her guard, causing her previously cast spell break. She knew that her mate would be there and she mentally prepared herself but turns out, she wasn’t prepared at all. When she recovered from her shock, she could feel that her spell had been broken. The entire coven looked at her with various emotions: Happiness, Confusion, Longing and Familiarity. She may or may not have met all the members before and also wiped their memories.

“Gio...” Rosalie whispered.

“Shit...” Anastasia cursed, she somehow knew this would happen, just not this soon.

“Rose...” She stared at her mate for what seemed like years before Rosalie glared at her with so much anger she didn't know it was possible, and stormed off. Again.

'She always does that.' Anastasia sighs.

“Well, that secret's out. I'll escort you to you ro-”

“We'll do it. Chase after her.” Veronica pats her back before escorting the Family to their respective chambers, but Carlisle stayed behind.

“That... was messed up Anastasiarine.” Carlisle expressed his disappointment before pulling the girl in a brief hug.

“I missed you too Cullen.” She whispered before letting go to chase after her mate.

“I'm sorry. Please forgive me.” She sent that thought to the Cullen Family, including Rosalie and went back to what she did 75 years ago.

She was once again, chasing the glowing gold string.

#rosalie hale #rosalie hale x oc #jasper hale x alice cullen #edward cullen x bella swan #carlisle x esme #olympic coven #cullen clan #the cullens #cullen family #the volturi #rosalie cullen #rosalie hale x fem oc #platonic carlisle x oc #The Cullens x OC #The Volturi x OC #rosalie twilight #rosalie #rosalie hale x reader #rosalie lillian hale

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pregnant-piggy · 4 years

Text

I’m having your baby - part IV

Sirius Black x reader

series masterlist, part one, part two, part three

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, food and pregnancy

Words: 2.7k

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

Hours pass, but Sirius doesn’t come home. Lily is gone by now and you are sitting in the living room, reading your book. Peter is watching something on TV and James is running in the park. You are deep in your book when Remus sits down next to you and pulls it away.

��Hey!’ you cry, but Remus places his finger over his mouth and gestures at Peter. He has fallen asleep with his mouth open. ‘What is it?’ you ask, on a more serious note.

‘Do you know where Sirius is?’ You sigh and avert your eyes.

‘No, isn’t he just in his room?’

‘Yes, he is in his room, that is why I am asking you,’ Remus snorts.

‘Oh, right.’

‘It doesn’t matter now. Have you spoken to him yet?’ Your face speaks for itself. ‘That is fine, but you do have to do it soon. I mean in a few days your period will be over, but you will feel just as miserable.’

‘Wow, thanks for the stimulant words!’ you say and push Remus away with your hand. Remus pushes you back and you fall off the sofa. You grab Remus’ arm in the panic and he falls on top of you. You start to laugh and Remus joins you.

Then you hear a shuffle across the room. From the corner of your eye you can see a flash of black hair and two seconds later the door slams shut. ‘Found him,’ you mutter as you try to get up as quick as possible. You run to the door and taking your coat you yell at Remus that you will get food on your way back.

Outside the wind blows in your face. You have to blink against the cold and you try to find Sirius. But there is no one left in the street. All you can see are the trees and a car every once in a while. You start to walk. You don’t know where to, but you just want to be away from your apartment. Away from all the problems. You take deep breath and walk to the park. James must have returned by now, you figure.

The brown leafs crunch under your shoes. There are very few people in the park. You see an old man walking his dog, a woman riding a bike, two adult men in long, black coats and a runner. You sit down on a bench and close your eyes for a second.

‘(Y/N)?’ You open your eyes and see James standing in front of you. He is panting. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Oh, I was running after Sirius but he disappeared and I didn’t want to go back home yet,’ you say like it is the most normal thing in the world. James sits down next to you. He looks funny with his sweaty head and his hair like he just walked through a storm.

‘(Y/N), are you really alright? I mean, for the past days you have been looking sad and you say you are just on your period, but I think you are really sick.’ You may smile at James, but your inside is breaking. A tear rolls down your cheek and you shake your head. James pulls you in a hug and gently strokes your back. ‘It’s fine. Everything will be alright. I am sure Sirius will get over whatever is going on in his head and you will-’

‘I’m pregnant.’

James immediately stops talking and freezes. He lets you go and stares at you with disbelieve on his face. He opens his mouth to say something but the words stay in his throat. ‘Please, don’t tell anyone, alright? I haven’t told…’ You keep silent. You don’t know if you want to tell James it is Sirius’ baby. But you don’t have to.

‘It is Sirius’, isn’t it?’ James guesses and you nod. ‘Yeah, I have seen you looking at him. And now the sickness makes a lot more sense.’ You giggle sadly. James gets up and offers you his hand. You gladly take it and let you being pulled up from the bench. ‘You’ll be fine,’ he says and puts his arm around you.

The wind has increased and little raindrops are falling down. Leafs are being blown off its twigs and fall on the ground. You and James are the only ones in the park now. It looks dark now it is abandoned and empty.

‘I have to get dinner,’ you say to James. You suddenly remembered you promised Remus you would take care of dinner. James says he will come with you. ‘Are you crazy? You will get sick if you stay out any longer in your shorts! And you stink!’ That is enough for James to leave you alone. He goes left to the apartment and you walk on, heading towards the shops. On your way there you see if Sirius is somewhere here, but you see no one.

- -- -

The door slams behind you. A head pops up from the kitchen. A body follows. Remus takes the bag with food from you so you can take off your coat.

‘Is he back?’ you ask, referring to Sirius. Remus shakes his head. ‘Fuck,’ you mumble.

While Remus sets the table with Peter and James is still in the shower, you try to call Sirius. He doesn’t answer. You place the bag, that Remus had left in the kitchen, on the table.

‘We think he turned off his phone,’ Peter says when you sit down. ‘We tried to call him too, but it went straight to voicemail.’ James enters the room with a smile, but his expression changes when he sees the worried faces at the table.

‘He still doesn’t answer?’ You shake your head. James takes place at the table and drops his head. ‘Maybe his phone is just dead,’ he mumbles. You feel terrible when you look at James. He looks defeated. You had hoped that maybe James knew where his best friend is. But no one heard from Sirius.

‘What are we having?’ Peter asks. You avert your eyes from James and look at the bag.

‘Thai food.’

- -- -

After dinner, James disappears into his room. Peter is taking out the trash and you are left with Remus in the kitchen, doing the dishes.

‘I told James,’ you say. Remus looks up from the mug he is holding. A reassuring smile appears on his face.

‘What did he say?’

‘Well, he knew immediately it was Sirius’ and he said that I’ll be fine.’ Remus turns back to his mug.

‘Sounds like approval to me,’ he mutters.

‘I feel sorry for him. Sirius being gone is killing him. He doesn’t deserve this,’ you say and stack the plates. A loud bang comes from the other room. ‘I’ll check on him,’ you say and rapidly walk to James’ room.

You knock on the door. ‘James? Can I come in?’ you ask. You get no answer and start to worry. You open the door and encounter James lying on his bed. His whole body is shocking from crying. On the floor you see a book and you figure that that is what you had heard. You walk over to James and sit down next to him. He looks up when he feels your hand on his back and you can see that his face is wet from the tears. James drags his body up and collapses against your chest.

‘Oh, Jamie,’ you say and stroke his back. His weight gets too much for you and you fall down on the bed. James’ head is just above your stomach and he puts his hand on it. You feel the warmth on your stomach and you smile softly.

‘I can’t believe there is growing a little person inside of you,’ James whispers with a watery voice. You sigh and close your eyes.

‘Me neither,’ you admit. James pokes your stomach.

‘A little person surrounded by Thai food.’ You laugh and James’ head bounces up and down. ‘Hello, little fella. How are you? Enjoying that Thai food? In eight months you will come out of your mommy and then she will rarely see you again, because she has to share you with Peter, Remus, your daddy and me. But she won’t mind, because she knows that we will take care of you.’ James stays silent for a minute and the tears are already running down your face; you should really find a way to stop crying. ‘You are going to be the prettiest and smartest baby ever. I know that, because you will have your daddy’s looks and your mommy’s cleverness and looks. Yeah, you heard it right; your mommy is pretty damn perfect. But she has a terrible taste in films though.’ You laugh and wipe the tears from your face.

James rolls over to his stomach and puts his head on his hands. He glances at you and smiles. With his finger he is drawing circles on your belly. ‘But that doesn’t matter, your daddy will show you the good films. If he ever returns.’ James’ face turns dark for a second. ‘Your uncle Peter will teach you how to cook and uncle Remus will learn you all about his books. And I will make you the best football player! But all the other things you will learn from your mommy and your daddy. Maybe for love-advice you shouldn’t go to them, they are terrible at that!’

‘Hey!’ you exclaim and you hit James. He laughs and turns back to you stomach.

‘I know that right now you are really tiny, but I will talk to you every day until you are out in this world! That way you can recognize my voice! I will talk to you about everything, you are yet too young to understand what I am talking about anyway. And sometimes I will sing! I will sing you a lullaby! I am not that grea-’

The door of James’ room opens and Peter is standing in the doorway. He is looking confused with open mouth at you, James and James’ hand on your stomach. Remus is standing behind him, looking guilty. He mouths he is sorry and you smile at him. You push yourself up and pat with your hand on an empty space of the bed.

‘Peter, I have to tell you something and I think it is better when you sit down,’ you say and Peter follows your instructions hesitantly. ‘Since everyone in this room now knows, I think you should too. But please don’t share it with anyone!’ Peter nods and you take a deep breath. ‘Okay here it goes: I am pregnant. With Sirius’ baby.’ Peter stares at the wall. You look at Remus and he gives you a reassuring smile. Slowly Peter moves again. He turns to you and is lost for words.

‘I am… Are you… That… Congratulations!’ he says. You smile and hug Peter. James puts his arms around you too and forces Remus to join too. After minutes Remus lets go again and the others follow. ‘So are you and Sirius, you know, together…?’ You shake your head.

‘No… Sirius doesn’t even know yet…’ you say and an awkward silence follows. You stare at your knees and think about everything. You feel so loved by your friends, just thinking about how they will help you with everything makes you melt inside.

The phone rings. James falls off the bed and Peter jumps up. Remus swiftly walks to the phone and answers it. You cannot hear him; he is too far away. Your hand slides into James’ and you stroke the back of his hand with your thumb. You try to smile at Peter, who is pacing around in the room, but you can’t. You feel nauseous, like the Thai food is about to come up any minute now. All you hear is James’ unsteady breathing and Peter’s feet on the wooden floor.

After five minutes Remus’ footsteps approach. The grip on your hand tightens. Peter has stopped walking and is now staring at the door. But when Remus is standing in the doorway, he shakes his head. James’ hand holds your hand even tighter, but then he lets it go. He falls back on his bed. Remus leaves the room and you gesture Peter to follow. You bend over to James and stroke his hair.

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ you whisper. James just shakes his head. ‘Well, if you want anything you know you can always come to me, Rem or Pete. I’ll leave you now.’ You get up and close the door behind you. In the living room Remus and Peter send you a questioning face. You shrug and drop down on the couch.

- -- - The rain on your window keeps you awake. No matter how you twist and turn, you can’t fall asleep. You have tried everything; you have used the meditating techniques Remus has taught you, tried to count sheep, sat in front of your window for an hour, just looking at the moon above you and the few cars underneath you. But every time you drift away, you hear a sound and you are awake again. You know James is awake too. He is walking around in the living room; you hear his footsteps. You have thought about going to him, but you think he just wants to be alone.

A door shuts. You sit up straight in bed and try to make no noise at all. Your breathing almost stops and you can hear everything in the apartment. The footsteps that come closer and closer to the living room. The ticking of James’ fingers on the dining table. The uneven breath of the person approaching the living room.

‘Where have you been?’ James asks after a minute of silence. A throat clears before the answer comes.

‘Just out.’

‘Out? You have been gone for the whole day! You didn’t let us know where you were. You didn’t react to our phone calls! We were worried sick about you!’

‘I just needed some time alone,’ Sirius says and you notice he is drunk. His voice is not the usual smooth voice, but a raspy, deep voice. Sirius always talks different when he is drunk. His behaviour changes too. He gets more larrikin, flirts with everyone around him and is loud. But when he is really drunk, he is silent. He doesn’t talk at all and he looks sad. You have only seen him like that once. It was the day he got a letter from his parents saying that he wasn’t considered family anymore and that he was cut off. No matter what you and your friends tried Sirius kept drinking and drinking. At first he was the jovial, usual, drunk Sirius, but later he just sat in the corner of the room, staring at his hands.

‘Why didn’t you tell us? You know we would have left you alone!’ James says angrily. You figure Sirius has shrugged because James snorts. ‘I’m done with you. I was so worried about you and you show up and all your excuse is you wanted some time alone? You should go to bed.’

‘I need to talk to (Y/N),’ Sirius grumbles and your heart beats in your throat. Your hands are clasped around your sheets and your whole body is tensed up.

‘You stay away from her. You hear me? You don’t make another step in her direction, alright?’ James says louder now. You drop your head to your chest and smile sadly. You can always count on James.

For a while you hear nothing and then footsteps, but they are in opposite direction of your bedroom. You lie back down and breathe out. You look at the time; it is four in the morning.

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

One more part to go!! Thank you so much for 100 followers! I really love all your sweet messages! I wish I could hug each one of you XXX

MASTERLIST

#sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x y/n #marauders x reader #harry potter x reader #marauders imagine #marauders #marauders x y/n #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #peter pettigrew x reader #lily evans x reader #jily #sirius x reader

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Text

Promised Part Five (The Great Mini-series, Arranged Marriage AU)

A/N: Here it finally is!!!! Sorry it took forever, life happens.

Word Count: 4K

Summary: When the Emperor’s behavior gets your families alliance with Russia in danger, you agree to marry his best friend Grigor in order to make sure the alliance does not fall apart. You’re tossed into the Russian court and into the arms and bed of a Russian count, dodging his jealous ex lover, trying to survive the unpredictability.... but...what about yuou two? Are you and Grigor finally...feeling something for each other?

Warnings: Swearing, drunkeness, mentions of sex and nudity, marriage, and an in universe reference I couldn’t resist.

“Come here Sonya! Come here!” Lady Svenska cooed, wiggling her fingers.

The puppy trotted to her and she squealed in delight.

Tatiana bent her knees, her lime green dress bunching below her like icing on a cake as she did.

“Sonya! Sonya come!” she gestured.

With a happy trot, Sonya waddled over. She reached up, her tiny tail wagging.

“Oooo, good girl! Good girl!”

You had been invited to a tea party with the other ladies. Although you had gotten closer to the empress, you feared if they would see you as an enemy. Especially hearing of Catherine’s last tea party with them. So walking in, you brought your secret weapon. And it worked.

The only woman it seemed who was not having the time of her life with what was happening was Georgiana. Dressed in her purple gown and largest wig, she sat a little slumped on the couch. She was sipping her tea every now and then but crossing her arms. She stared daggers at the dog and how it trotted. She preferred any small circle that came over to obsess over the latest scandalous affair, but even then she kept one eye on Sonya as if the dog was a wolf ready to attack. She didn’t dare say a word to you. And you didn’t say a word to her. But if there was nothing said, then nothing bad could happen.

Smiling, you helped yourself to a red macaroon, delighting in the crunch and cream of it’s taste. Lady Svenska walked over to you and asked.

“Can she do tricks?” she questioned.

“Almost. She’s getting better at walking. She used to pull and run a lot, but she’s better at being obedient.”

“And she doesn’t tear things up?” she asked.

“Only sometimes. I have to watch where my dresses are stored,” you answered.

“Ah! She’s such a good dog! How lovely of you to bring her here, Madame Dymov!”

Georgiana’s eyes went dark.

“Will you come to our ball throwing this evening! It is most fun! Mine might go another inch!”

“I’d be delighted to! And be sure to tell me more about that maid with the baron old enough to be her grandfather too! And with copous details!” you added on.

“Oh! I do like you! And what of the Empress?”

“Well, we read. And we chat…”

“But all that reading!? Isn’t it time consuming!”

“A little. Her books can take time. I reread pages over and over…but in the best way. I suppose. It keeps her happy.”

“If you have any gossip about her, please share!”

“I..I, uh, will!” you promise.

“First of all, have you any plans or gifts to give her on her birthday, it’s coming up in about a month!”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you mumbled.

At that moment your husband entered the room. He seemed a little uncomfortable with all of the flowers and pastel dresses, eyeing birds singing ditties in shiny cages and macaroons piled to his chest on platters.

“Oh, Y/N…where is Y/N?” he asked to one lady in a pink dress and grey wig.

She pointed in your direction and he smiled.

As he walked by, he passed the couch where Georgiana was sitting. Her shoe tapped his calf and he turned.

“Hello, Grigor…” she said with a faded grin.

“Hello, George,” he replied politely. Somehow, your blood felt hot. But yet, the marriage was over, so what if they even talked? He probably just enjoyed you talking with him and occasionally sleeping with him. But no, they had to be soulmates. And it was better not to disturb them. After all, despite the suddenness of the marriage, it would work. He would be happy.

“How is the party?” he asked, hands placed behind the back.

“Going perfect. We’re being introduced to the loud, hairy creature that lifts her leg when she pisses. Her dog is there too.” She quipped with a surprisingly relieved smile.

You froze. Little Sonya recognized Grigor and ran up to him, oblivious to how white his face was turning. A few fans were spread, and you barely heard feminine whispers of “…quite bitchy…” It got a little quiet. Even with the string quartet in the back was playing at a piano as if they wanted to hear what would happen next to.

Getting up, you turned around to leave them alone. Let them take it out. Let him laugh, Let her smile. Maybe even fuck against the wall like you noticed the odd couple doing on a night of reveling in the palace, no matter who might see or hear.

“George. I can’t control what you do on your own. But when you are with me, you will not speak about my wife in that matter.”

Pausing, you turned around. A couple quiet tears fell down your cheeks.

“You’re an esteemed lady of the court with the world at your fingertips. She’s a poor creature thrown into an arranged marriage, stolen from another country, and little to never to see any of her family or friends again while you just lay down and let Peter put fruit in your pussy and drink champagne.”

Wiping away tears with your hands, you stood still, not sure what to say. Grigor continued, truly angered and passionate.

“I didn’t marry her because of you. And she didn’t marry me so she could have my cock when you couldn’t. I did this so that we all- we all-“ he gestured to the people in the room “won’t be fucking ripped apart by Swede’s in a fortnight thanks to her families army. You will show her what little compassion you have in your tiny heart. You could even show her an ounce of gratitude for the sacrifice she and I made for the safety of everyone here, including yours. Or else I could have said no and let the swedes stab you in your tits when you’re asleep in the emperor’s bed. And I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it too. But I did.”

She froze. There was even a couple of gasps.

Scooping the tiny dog in his arms, he turned ot you promptly.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I…I am…” you answered. “But I’m tired, let’s go home and play cards.”

“I agree.”

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

A week later, Grigor had partied so much with the Emperor last night, wrestling and playing with some man named Leon or whoever. You peaked in the door, and yawning, retired to your own apartments to sleep even if alone.

Waking up briefly in the grey air, you felt him crawling into bed at four in the morning. So you let him sleep in as you took Sonya on her morning walk. Besides, she would pout and whine if you didn’t walk at her certain time.

“Here you go, I know, Papa can’t be there-but I will,” you assured the dog.

You made your way through the halls into the gardens. Sonya was already getting bigger. The collar and leash made for her a while ago was getting snug on her fluffy body.

Enjoying the forest, you heard the rhythmic crunch of the leaves and sticks beneath Sonya’s prancing paws. The cold air stung your lungs in the best way. The sky looked clear and crisp.

Sonya pointed her snout in one direction. She began pulling and barking.

“What is it? Some sort of creature!” you thought, walking forward.

It wasn’t a mouse of squirrel, there was a person slumped against a tree, sitting on the dirt. Walking closer, you made out a dark green skirt and a hat, but a head of dark, curly hair made loose. She reeked of vodka and beer. Her face was pale to where she seemed ill, rather than the lovely cream color of her skin. And beneath her eyes there were several bags.

“G..Georgiana…”

She turned her head to you, squinting.

“Yes…” she grunted.

“What are you doing here?”

She began to laugh a little, bitterly.

“I could ask the same…what are you doing here?”

“I’m walking Sonya…she needs to be exercised so she won’t get into trouble from being bored,” you explained, gripping the leash.

“Huh, I know sometimes…sometimes Grigor goes with you…” her voice was deep and throaty, far from her usual speaking tone. As if every word was choked up.

She seemed so pitiful you didn’t have the heart to chafe her.

“Yes, yes he does…”

Her exhausted eyes wandered forward into the grove of trees. She kept speaking to you.

“Sometimes we’d walk together. Only if it was nice. We did everything together. Walking. Eating. Dancing. Bathing together. Did you know…I even got my portrait painted and he kept it in his room! Right next to his bed…he…he cared for me so much to where I was right there with him every morning even when I wasn’t next to him and now…now he hates me…”

She began to sniffle, and a few tears worked up.

“No. No, I don’t think he hates you at all…”

“Why did he speak to me that way?”

“He just…he got emotional. And he has been emotional because he loves you. He’s every bit as sad as you are for not marrying…”

Sonya walked over to the crying woman. Alerted by the sounds, she walked over and sniffed at her wet face. She broke out a smile.

“But the truth is…in this court, there’s plenty of women who’ve fucked Peter. More than half. That’s just a fact of life. But I… I love it. I love having men want me, being worshipped, loved, is that wrong?”

“It’s normal,” you admitted. “it’s normal to want to be loved.”

“And the things it gives you. It’s not the least bad. I have all sorts of things. Dresses. Hats. A high position in court. Security. Comfort. Occasionally I can change laws and save lives with just a word-imagine that! And jewels. Jewels I used to dream of having. And I get to enjoy making love to a man who’s skilled at it. It might be the only way for a woman here to move up. That’s the way it is, is that wrong? Is it wrong to enjoy fucking and love a man too? For them to be separate men? They do it all the time and no one bats an eye bit when I do…”

She finally fell down into sobs.

“And he just...he couldn’t accept it. He claimed he loved me, and I… I love him, I still do, he just couldn’t accept me as I am and this world as it is…I thought he knew me…and that I knew him…”

She began to cry more; Sonya reached over and began to lick her face. She laughed at the ridiculous feeling of a dog’s tongue right on your nose and you began to laugh too.

“Georgiana…I’m so sorry I yelled at you that first day…I saw you as a threat and didn’t stop to think what you would feel. How I would feel if I was in your shoes…”

“Ugh, you’re…you’re as saccharine as…as…I don’t even know, Y/N. I’d put you in my…my mouth and my blood would rush, and they’d have to let it out with slugs.”

Taking out a handkerchief, you began to wipe her tears from her face.

“I’m not the one in tears…but…he used to keep a portrait of you…” you questioned.

“He did…is it there? Maybe….”

“Not anymore…” you explained flatly.

So that explained the circular area on the wall next to the bed.

“I know you really do love Grigor. And you care for him…but loving someone is hard. I love my family and friends back home, or unless I wanted to make all of them suffer or even get killed, I had to let them go to come here…sometimes, there are things you have to let go and move on from…” you assured her. You aren’t a bad person for wanting those things. You’re a smart person for figuring out how to get them. I admire you for it.”

“I just keep wondering…I keep wondering what would happen if he said yes…if he agreed to the terms…we’d be so happy…”

And he would see you with Peter and be miserable. Then god knows what would happen you thought.

You took her arm and helped her to her shaky legs.

“But there’s no use in that. Here, let’s get you back to the palace. I think after you get some water and some sleep, you might feel better…”

“But Y/N, Grigor I think…he’s in denial how Peter works here. If a woman needs anything in court, and if Peter picks you…he picks you. And, well, there’s nothing you can do about it…”

Your stomach lurched.

“Grigor might want a faithful wife. He might’ve thought he got that with you but…defying the Emperor is a risk. Too huge. Why say no? After all, he’s a genius at fucking so it could be worse…”

“You need water, Georgiana. And you need to clean up. Then you’ll feel better…” you interrupted, trying to mother her away and ignoring the fear in your gut.

But as you were strolling later in the week, returning from another one of the Empresses’s private discussions, you saw a few ladies eye down at the book. Perhaps they judged you. Perhaps they were jealous. But one bespecaled face saw you, smiled, and then hurried up.

“Orlo! How are you?”

“Y/N-er-Madame Dymov! Enough about me already- I heard the Empress gave you a copy of the Rousseau! What do you think!?” he asked excitedly.

His dark eyes glittered at the book in your hands. Holding it up to him you let him inspect it.

“I was…I was shocked at first. His ideas felt like…like a blast of cold wind. But I…he made good points. And I found myself agreeing after some time…” you explained with a shrug.

“He’s one of my favorites, and tehre’s so much…so much inside there. But I…I wish I could explain it all…”

“Let’s go to my place, I’ll call for a plate...” you offered with a shrug and a smile.

Introducing him to the drawing room, he settled down shyly on the seat in front of the fire. You brought in some tea with a strawberry cake and wound up talking for a straight hour. He got his own turn to pet on little Sonya as she licked his fingers from the cake crumbs. You discussed Rousseau, then he went on to talk about Voltaire, Plato, Paine. Ideas stretched you and you found yourself talking about things you could never imagine debating about with anyone. About people. Power. Faith. Life. Death. Purpose, if there was one at all. Your cup became cold and you had to reheat it by pouring some liquid into it.

Orlo glowed as he explained it all. He was not condescending. In fact, it felt like being in school with a good teacher. You understood and appreciated it even more. You were amazed with the depth of knowledge he had. Beneath his mousy exterior, there was a brilliant mind. Perhaps even genius. You were amazed in him. Strands of his hair loosened out and he smiled more, seeming relaxed and confident. Far more confident than you ever knew him to be in public.

“But out of all of them, I think my favorite is…”

The door creaked as it opened.

His head turned and you saw Grigor walking in. His face was pink, and his eyebrows crossed.

“Hello Orlo, what are you doing with my wife?” he asked, his lips tight and his voice firm.

“I, uh…” he found himself blubbering. His posture slouched and his hands retreated.

Standing at once, you walked up to Grigor with as much poise as you could.

“The empress gifted me with a book and Orlo was asking me about it over tea, nothing more…” you explained plainly.

“It’s fascinating. Isn’t it!” you added, throwing back a look.

Orlo nodded shyly, getting out of the seat like it had spikes.

“Very.”

“Oh, alright…” Grigor replied quietly.

Once Orlo thanked you for hosting him and shuffled out, Grigor’s eyes never left his steps.

He was quiet over dinner. You had to ask questions about his day and have Sonya’s begging fill the silence. Later, you changed into your nightgown to see Grigor was already in bed.

You saw him curl up to the other side. Not turning around, holding the blanket over his shoulders and leaving your side disproportionally cold.

With a huff, you placed your hands on your hips.

“What is it?” You had a guess, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong” he said in a tone that said something was definitely wrong.

“What is it…tell me…” you wheedled, sitting on the bed and leaning closer to him.

He turned around.

“I understand we agreed to follow orders to marry. Not for us. Our countries, the safety of your family and for their workers and tenets to not go hungry, for protection, the alliance, and for Russia to succeed against the Swedes… but I know you didn’t choose to marry me…if you…if you…are in love… then I guess it would make it easier…but you will at least be honest with me and not play around when you fall in love with some man!”

“In love? With Orlo?!” you added.

His head snapped back at the sound of his name.

“If you love the prick, then that’s fine! It will make you bear being here better- it’s all fine!” He if it will make you bear this, bear being married to me…”

“I’m not in love with Orlo!” you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched a little, but didn’t turn away.

“What…you aren’t? Both of you always talk together.”

“I always talk with the empress, and Tatyana and everyone else too. They’re my friends. He’s my friend as well… and…I…I promised you I won’t hurt you. That I will do my best not to hurt you…and you’re obviously hurt…” you reasoned.

The clock chimed the hour in the back.

“I…yes, I was…I had memories of when…you know…” he muttered out, looking down.

You folded your arms and turned away from him.

“Well, have you ever kissed Georgiana since our marriage? I guess you can run back to her, like I’m apparently running to Orlo. Should I be worried about her?”

“Uh-no! Not at all! We’ve barely talked since the betrothal! I talk more to Sonya than I do to her in a fortnight!” he said, pointing to the dog curled asleep on her pillow.

You crossed your arms and started to laugh a little. A smile cracked on his thin face as well.

“If I have no reason to suspect you of anything with George, you have no reason to suspect anything of me and Orlo!” you reasoned with a shrug.

Leaning forward, you pulled more of the cover to your side. He relented.

Both of you were tense. Words left your voice.

“Just dinner and drinks with your friend, nothing more. Perfectly normal.” You assured.

Even if it meant eating in his chambers with large portraits all over the wall and a big green bed on the other side. Peter stood up and greeted you both. His arms were wide, pearls dangling from his neck.

“Ah, hello! Join me!” Peter cheered. “Grigor-make yourself at home! There’s already some food.

You carefully walked in, placing yourself on the couch and folded your hands in front of your lap. Unsure of what to do or say. A finger nudged you.

“Here, Y/N…here’s the seat for you!” your husband said, taking his large hands around your waist and picking you up as you let out a smile.

Grigor placed you on his lap, like he did on your wedding. Smiling, you accepted the feeling of him nearby and settled your weight. The closeness far more natural than ever. Grigor’s arms were warm as they passed dishes around from one man to the Emperor. A serf poured a Kiev vdoka and you enjoyed yourselves.

“I tell you- fucked a horse! It’s just a rumor-but can you believe it!” he said.

Laughing in spite of yourself, you shook your head insisting “no, I don’t!”

Smiling. Laughing. Everything felt normal. You laughed so hard you almost snorted your drinkand covered your mouth, laughing more at the dirtier humor. Years ago, your mother would have become so uncomfortable at such words she would excuse herself and complain about it later. Laughs held back were finally released, you jaw uhrt and your cheeks felt hot.

“And that’s what hapoens when you use the duck whistle on the balcony-“Oh, Grigor! Have I fucked your wife yet?”

The drink you were sipping almost spat out of your mouth and you coughed it out. Both of you froze again. You felt Grigor tense up. His breath quickened. His face turned white and then red and then white again. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Turning your head back, you began to give a charming smile at the emperor, even giving the little half smile you noticed to do. You decided if the subject came up, you would be prepared.

“Your highness, of yes, of course we’ve fucked. Several times!” you said.

Where he couldn’t see, you kicked Grigor’s leg to alert him.

“Oh, really!” he said.

“Ah! What a Casanova you are, Emperor! Losing track! But…”

You circled the rim of your glass, and then added on.

“I have an eternally dry pussy, can’t suck cock to save my life, and an ass so tight that deflects any object near the hole so it’s been rather disappointing. It’s a miracle my husband tolerates me. He’s hardly been able to finish the job!”

He tilted his head, pondering it with a hmmmm. Glancing at Grigor, you quickly mouthed “play along.” His eyes bright, he nodded at you, and then to the Emperor in agreement.

“Yes! Fucking Y/N is a total disappointment. Remember her place? They’re boring, plain people even when fucking.”

Peter nodded in agreement, his eyes up to the sky as if thinking about the fake experience. Not that it was to think.

“Humph. I…I think you’re right. It was disappointing. Grigor, if you need me to order you a whore, let me know.”

You kept your hand on his and you saw his eyes dart in confusion and realization, his brain thinking a hundred thoughts.

“Please pour me another drink…” you said, holding your cup to a serf.

“Besdies, Catherine…she’s been having all these ideas about art. And I saw a portrait and I…I cried! I fucking cried-can you believe it? I never knew she could..could even make me feel like that!”

As you left the chambers, you squeezed his hand. Both of you let out a breath and continued some nervous laughter until you were both home.

“That was brilliant!” He praised, sinking in relief in the chair. There was already a fire crackling, drawing warmth into the chilly room.

“I knew he would bring it up, soon. So, I might as well. Now you don’t have to worry about anything…at least for now…” you said with a shrug.

“Oh, but the party tomorrow…you’ll be careful. I think people will be very merry and he might…get carried away…”

“Just give him a galloon a vodka then, he’ll won’t be able to stand.”

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

As the party the next night raged on, it struck you that it was Grigor who was well on his way to drinking a gallon of vodka. The rooms glowed yellow orange with all of the candles. Stringed guitars played out dancing tunes with throaty Russian lyrics where although the words were hard to understand, you had to tap your toes. Women walked by with snakes draped over their necks and you stared in frightened awe at the creature, as if in Eden. Your own gown was a pale pink with bows on the stomacher, a ruffled skirt beneath the first one, and you hair done up in flowers and feathers. You even agreed to wear a beauty mark of a small dog on your cheek. Girgor himself had a grey wig and his finest, deep green suit. He eyed plates of vodka, reaching for two small glasses and downing them…and supper would be served in an hour.

You noticed and Empress and Emperor dancing. She swished her pale pink skirt and he twirled in a black skirt, carefree. It was almost like watching a fight, how they were both powerful yet matched each other.”

“Come on, you sad bastards!? Why aren’t you dancing!? Dance! I command you!” Peter cried out in joy.

“Y/N! Y/N- we haven’t danced too much-let’s dance! Dance with me!” Grigor insisted, pulling you further down.

“Grigor, that’s the vodka talking!”

The musicians were warming up for the next piece in the corner.

“I…I don’t know the…” you mumbled in a panic as other couples filled the floor.

“Oh no-just follow me!” He said with a big smile and his face flushed.

Still you ran out with him, mimicking hand movements and your feet trying to keep up with the steps. If you felt him leading you somewhere, you followed. If you sepearted in lines, you kept an eye on him.

“Girgor…do the trick! The trick!” Peter insisted, running up in the middle.

Eyes wide, you saw your husband grab hold of your body.

“Here. Y/N! I can do it- hold on! Jump up.

He lifted you up in his arms and twirled you up, his arms adjusting to hold you up so that he held you up by your legs, your stomach to his face. You could hear him muffling beneath your clothes.

“We need smof practif…”

But Peter laughed and you heard loud applauding as faces turned to look at you. Even George’s own face had a smile, albeit a sad one.

He set you down.

“Let’s try it again, put your leg on my shoulder…now your other leg..ooof! Now, this one is better!”

He lifted you up so high, you realized you were on his shoulders, and emabarrasingly his head was near your crotch. The court applauhded and laughed and huzzahed. It was so fun you almost forgot your fear of being dropped. you laughed as you held onto his shoulders for deaer life, thrilled to see everyone smaller before you. As if they dhrunk or you became a giant. The chandeliers dripping with diamonds were easy to your touch, your fingertips grazed one as Grigor walked in a circle.

“Ha! I knew you could do it good chap!” Peter applauded before asking.

Grigor placed you down with a smile, he placed his hands on your cheeks and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, then his eyes wandered to some vodka and he took another shot.

He was singing as the party ended late in the night. You struggled to support him over your shoulders.

“Grigor…be careful…”

Once you got into the room, Sonya woke up from her nap and barked, jumping at your feet. Staggering, you brought him to your bedchambers.

“Let’s get your clothes off…” you said, pulling his coat off and placing it on the floor.

“You wish to see me naked, you could’ve asked, darling…”

Sighing, you poured the hot water into the golden tub.

“If you don’t bathe, then you’re sleeping with Sonya…”

He leaned down in his shift and breeches to the wagging tail beneath him.

“Oh….hello doggie, cute doggie…good doggie…”

“To bath, Grigor!”

Eventually, you got him to bathe enough to where he didn’t reek of alcohol. Once he dried off, you pushed his breeches onto him.

“None of that tonight with you drunk off your head!”

“Can’t I at least kiss you?” he complained childishly.

“Fine, but it stops at kissing!”

Once you finally settled within your own sheets, legs and feet sore from dancing, you barely put the blankets over you when you felt two large arms wrap themselves around you and hug you tight, pulling you close. He laughed a bit before kissing you on top of your head. You smirked and let him obloge. Then you felt him relax.

“Y/N, I love you….”

You froze solid, your stomach dropping.

“What?”

He took a hand and placed it on your cheek again, before it sloppily fell down.

“Y/N, my sweet angel…I love you…”

Shaking your head, you pulled the covers above you both.

“That’s the vodka talking, now go to sleep….”

He went back to holding you, turning you so that your back was turned to him, you felt and smelt his breath as he kept speaking.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m falling in love with you this minute and…I’m fucking terrified…”

You let his arms settle.

“Don’t wanna…get hurt, get shat on…but every day I’m….falling more in love with you…and it makes me both so happy and scared I could fucking scream…that was why Orlo fucking scared me, and Peter, that wonderful, bastard. I love him, but if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god…”

“Grigor…you need to sleep. You’re drunk. Only time will wear it off.”

Besides, it was better to not get your hopes up.

‘I can’t believe I’m fucking falling in fucking love all over again…never thought after George that I would….never would let myself…thought ”

“But Grigor…you….”

“I’d like to see you…see you happy. See your smiling face before I sleep.”

You gave him a small smile and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Grigor…do you…do you love me….do you really love me…”

You gave him a small smile. He then rolled on his belly, spread like a starfish. He was snoring deeply in minutes.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you too…” you wanted to say.

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thefreakydeaky · 4 years

Text

Call Out My Name

Chapter One Title: All I Know

Characters: Negan x Plus Size Reader, The Saviors, The Wives, Eugene

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Gore & Violence.

Word Count: 2,930

Careful to avoid making any noise, you pressed down on the stainless steel lever.As discreetly as you could manage, you peered into the communal living space.Sherri and a few of the other wives sat together on the large sectional speaking in hushed tones. Your prison guard however, was absent. You grinned. Dropping all pretense, you stood up straight and let the door swing shut behind you.

“Good Morning.” You called out cordially.

Her eyes gave you an appraising once over. They paused at the sight of the old flannel you had on over your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Negan’s first wife asked sternly.

“Where ever the wind takes me on this fine day, Miss Sherri.”

The remnants of a southern upbringing scolded you for being rude.You knew well that all of these girls had to put up with the boss man same as you,but you couldn’t risk getting caught just to be polite.

“He’ll be angry.” You heard her call after you, but Negan was always angry. So you didn’t let that stop you.

There was no way of knowing how long you had, but you intended to explore as much of the sanctuary as possible. You had been out of the room before, sure, but you had only seen flashes of the place as you ran past.Then there was the mini-mission you went on two months ago to find out what was making Joey late. Once you figured out what day of the week Pastry day was, it was simple.Third day of every week, Joey headed straight for the bakers and stood in line for a good half hour. You left when they handed him the sweet bread and found you could beat him back to the room.That was the most you had seen of the sanctuary since your arrival and was not the best way, you were convinced, to get to know and appreciate the beauty this place might hold.

The Sunlight felt nice for the first few seconds after you stepped out of your building, but soon enough the humidity ruined the moment.

You stayed on the greenery beside the road to avoid burning your feet, following the gravel path to the market place.Careful to avoid the baker’s side of the warehouse, you walked idly passed stall after stall of goods and services.

Your eyes caught on a table of battered shoes. You recognized the pasty ex-alexandrian running the table.Eugene, he was called.You knew this from the stories Tanya told you at dinner time.He was nothing but a blubbering wuss from the sound of it, so you figured you could handle him.You strode confidently to the front of the line and smiled.

“Excuse me?” You found yourself demanding not two minutes later.You glared at Eugene until he looked away.

“You don’t have credit.”

“The hell I don’t!”

“How many more times do you need me to say it?”Eugene repeated a smirk on his lips.

He leaned back in his chair looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“How fucking dare -” You started to shout, your voice ringing out through the warehouse.

Calling attention to yourself was the last thing you wanted to be doing you reminded yourself anxiously. You scrambled to come up with a different tactic.The corners of your mouth pulled up into a practiced grin that you never thought you would have cause to use again.

“My my,” Injecting sugar into your voice, you leaned across the table until you were nearly close enough to touch him.“Look at you! You’ve been runnin’ with the big dogs long enough to do a halfway decent impression, Eugene.”

Eugene’s shifty eyes widened. “You know my name?”

“Negan only ever talks about one genius with a mullet.”You lowered the volume of your voice conspiratorially, “How fortunate you are that my darling husband hasn’t seen through you yet.” You postured, taking a risk. “Maybe, I ought to help him see you for what you really are?”

“He will never believe you.”

“Why not? It wouldn’t make any sense for me to lie about a man I have never met. All i have to do is call into question your history with the people of Alexandria and make it seem like I feel concerned for his safety.”

Metal chair legs scraped against cement as Eugene pushed his seat back and stood.

“I’m g-going out for a smoke.Them shoes better be the only thing missin’ when I get back.” His trembling lower lip killed any affect his wrathful tone might have had on you.

You snickered at his retreat.

Your white dress fanned out behind you as you hurried away brown leather contraband on your feet, eager to begin your self guided tour.

Building after building of industrial rot, a few rusty tin shacks, and a sad row of herbs and spices later, you found yourself in front of the main building itself.

The Sanctuary’s weather beaten concrete face was made of cruel sharp angles. Her broken windows were yellowing jagged teeth.She stared brutally down at you until you couldn’t bare to meet her eyes anymore and turned, walking brusquely away from her frightening visage.

You turned the next corner only to freeze in your tracks.The wet raspy growling filled your ears before the smell hit you.

Walkers

Your eyes swept from left to right a few times trying to count, to keep track and then you realized, that they weren’t coming for you. There was a chain link fence separating them from you.Your brow knitted.They were tied down.They were, for the most part, stationary.Some chained up, some tied up, some stuck through with pipes. It took a twisted mind to come up with such a gruesome thing.

You wondered if Negan had come up with the idea himself.You shook the thought away. You didn't want to know. You made for the only corner of the god forsaken place you hadn’t yet visited.

The stolen too-big boots kicked up loose bits of gravel behind you as you headed for the backlot. Little did you know that you had an audience.Eyes followed your trek down the road from the loading dock behind you.

The field was inhabitted by broken wood pallets, a rusted up old mercury with bullet holes along the side, some old crates, a busted up head board, ruined tires, and tin sheeting. They lay rotting in the grass.Nearer the chain link fence, lay the final resting place for the few men who managed to stay on good terms with Negan until their last moments. Crude wooden headstones marked with paint stuck out in a bad attempt of making a row.

You slowed down as you reached the end of the pavement and waded into the living green sea of grass hoping not to encounter any snakes.The damp blades were staining the skirt of your dress, but it’d be worth the scolding. A long jagged claw snagged at your dress.You cursed. As you pulled it loose, you realized it was a foot and a half of wood that likely came off of one of the pallets.You tossed it aside and smirked.Now that you’d gone and torn the thing, he would be extra pissed. Hell if you were going to get him good and mad you had better do it well you thought, untieing the bright orange ribbon from around your wrist. Negan's latest gift to you. Each time you saw it, it reminded you of who you belonged to. You frowned as you let it flutter to the ground. It may as well have been a dog collar.

Negan was following you, keeping far enough away not to draw attention.He cursed Fat Joey for letting you out.That idiot was going to pay.He grit his teeth as he watched you wade into the tall grass.Flannel shirt or not you were ruining your dress.Where the fuck was he supposed to find you another dress as nice as the one you had on? The sight of you tugging on your skirt brought his eyes to your wrist. He saw you take off your bracelet and let it fall. Did you have any idea how hard it was to come by anything in bright colors these days?Of fucking course not!You were a spoiled selfish ungrateful untamable thing.He was not going to be taking it easy on you this time.He spotted you staring at the barbed wire topped fence and froze.

He didn’t have to imagine you attempting to clamber over the high fence, face full of determination fueled by spite.He would never forget it.Your last attempt to leave made it clear that you didn’t give a shit about your own well-being anymore.Negan cursed under his breath. God help you if you were stupid enough to pull another stunt like that.Yet he knew way down deep inside, somewhere primal, that you belonged to him.After three years and fifteen failed attempts to leave him, Negan had come to the conclusion that he had to do everything in his power to make you want to stay.

Despite the show and the accusations he had made, alternately burning and bashing some person or another, every time you fucked up Negan went easy on you.The second he’d laid eyes on you, he’d chucked his personal rule book out the window. He was afraid that this made him look soft and that burned his pride like nothing else could.

However, women with your body type had always been his preference and He knew, a figure like yours was a rare find these days. He wanted you. Negan wanted you badly. More than anything, he wanted you to want him to fuck you.It was a frustrating blue balls inducing shit show of a situation.Charming women had always come easy to him. It was his shit luck that you weren’t easily charmed. He followed you into the field. His eye caught the shine of the ribbon easily. As He pocketed the scrap of orange cloth, the memory of your first meeting came to mind.

Your hair pulled back into a braid, a lovely face, enough cleavage showing to catch his eye. Your faded jeans had holes in the thighs and your breathing was heavy from your attempt to out run The Saviors.

You looked so darn pretty kneeling before him.You’d had the audacity to meet his gaze. It pissed him off and turned him on in equal measure.Your eyes captivated him.They were burning with resentment, but no tears.Not his Y/n. You didn’t cry, didn’t beg, and didn’t flinch at the sight of Lucille.Not even after he’d dirtied her up a bit.Near the end of his speech,some traitorous switch inside him had flipped.

“Darlin’, You have got a look in your eyes that says you haven’t been fucked right in years.” He drawled smiling his slick easy smile.”Why don’t you come on home with me, I’ll show you how good it can be with a real man.”

“You expect me to believe that a bean pole like you can handle curves like mine? Honey, I would eat you alive.”

He laughed low and long.The genuine mirth startled everyone, but you.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.I just wanna love you right.”

“Well, I am sorry, Mister Real Man, but your pick up lines are bad jokes at best and that mouth of yours...” You shook your head in disapproval. “So dirty.”

You were meant to be his. No doubt about it.

“Mmm, there are plenty of good things I can do with this dirty mouth and you are curious to find out, I can tell.”

Negan’s big strong hand had fisted into the collar of your flannel pulling you toward him. You stumbled onto your feet to keep from being dragged. Before you could catch your balance, his lips were on yours.

Unbeknownst to Negan, unlike his bat and savior show, the heated kiss he gave you impressed you.

He nipped at your lower lip and turned back to what was left of your group.

“We are gonna do just fine, Dollface. As for the rest of you sorry shits, You are going to bring me my stuff and then go out and get me something nice.”

His hazel eyes gleamed down at you. “We’ll consider it a wedding present.”

Your exclamation was drowned out by the saviors’ hearty laughter as you were forcefully led to his truck.

From the moment Negan made you a wife, you vowed that you would get away from him even if you died trying. After three years and fifteen failed escape attempts, you had come to the conclusion that making him hate you was the only way out of the wives club.

You rummaged through the crates and found quite a few empty glass bottles. They would do. You put them all in the same crate and carried it with you as you counted your steps. You waited until you were at least two yards away to throw the first one.

Thunk

Wading further into the tall weeds and grass he frowned at the unfamiliar sound.

“Well I’ll be damned.” You murmured to yourself as you bent to pick up another bottle.

You glared at the Mercury, closed your fist around the neck of the bottle, and swung. It grazed the roof, but landed on the other side of the car.

“Have you lost your freaking mind?”

Your shoulders tensed at the familiar deep baritone of your husband’s voice. You stood there clenching your teeth, frustrated with the intrusion.You schooled your features before turning to face him.

“Hey there, Sugar. What are you doin’ out here?”

Negan came to stand before you, but he didn’t ask the questions you had expected him to ask.Perhaps, Where in the hell did you get shoes? or How in the hell did you manage to escape a locked room with a savior standing watch?Instead, Negan swallowed his anger and made himself the very picture of patience.

“I could ask you the same question, Darlin’.” He replied.

You stared at him, curiosity battling the wrath within you.

“Well?” Negan prompted after a minute or two of your silence.

Your thoughts raced.

What the fuck?!Why was he being nice?!He should be letting you have it right now! He should be cussing up a storm!

“Just... keepin’ busy.”You said lamely.

“In the junkyard? Playing with glass? That’s a hell of a thing for a Queen to do.” He murmured.”You could have hurt yourself.”

You were disgusted by how genuinely concerned he sounded and cringed at him calling you “Queen”.For weeks now, you had been working on him, from picking fights, to ruining belongings, to giving him the cold shoulder.Until finally you’d been able to break out again.You wanted him good and mad and Negan was not cooperating.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Actually, I haven’t been here long.I walked the whole Sanctuary first then ended up here.”You shrugged and made to pick up another bottle.”It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Who do you think you are?”

You should have known his anger couldn’t stay contained for long.

“Beg your pardon?” You snapped.

“I said,” Negan growled pulling you toward him by your shirt collar, “Just who, in the fuck, do you think you are?” His eyes glowered down at you.

“Y/F/N Fucking Y/L/N.” You declared and kicked him.

The shock on his face turned to fury. Familiar though the expression was, Negan had never turned it on you.Adrenaline spurred you into action.You yanked out of his grasp and tore through the field.

“Y/n!” He bellowed.

You didn’t dare look behind you as you pushed yourself to run.

#Negan #negan x plus sized reader #negan x reader #the walking dead #twd x reader #jeffrey dean morgan #jdm x reader

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oumaheroes · 3 years

Text

Earthbound: Matthew’s Story

Context:

Hundreds of years after the fall of Earth, mankind is slowly starting to return. Some people have a stronger urge to return than others, confused by fragments of memories from a life already lived.

Full fic can be found here.

Arthur’s story can be found here.

-----

Matthew is four. His family have got their first dog and it’s a large, fluffy creature, all flank and tail and teeth. Matthew is horrified, at first, at this large thing that has suddenly appeared in his house, and he cries and tries to get away from it when it approaches him in the living room.

‘Just come say hello,’ Daddy says, hoisting him up to sit on his knees and taking his small hand in his larger one. His father’s body curls around him and, enveloped in arms, Matthew feels safe. His daddy reaches out his hand, thus, Matthew’s hand, giant thumb in the middle of his palm so that it is pinned there, and holds it aloft in front of the creature.

A large wet nose immediately descends and Matthew squeals because it is cold and strange and scary and Daddy shushes him, bouncing him on a knee. ‘He won’t bite’, Daddy says, ‘I won’t let him hurt you. He’s just trying to say hello; doggies say hello a little differently, is all.’

He kisses Matthew’s temple and rocks him, gently. ‘Want to try again?’

He is not but he nods and says yes because he wants to be brave and strong and he trusts Daddy, he does, or he really really wants to. At his reply, Daddy holds out their hands again, in front of the thing’s mouth, and whispers soothing nothings in Matthew’s ear- he’s not paying attention, too focused on the mouth with the teeth.

The creature snuffles their hands before giving them a lick, pink rough tongue and slobber; Matthew gasps, surprised, and then laughs. Daddy chuckles, and Matthew feels the vibrations rumble through him. ‘See? I told you; he only wants to be your friend. He’s called Kumajirou.’

The name doesn’t quite stick, too long and cumbersome for Matthew’s tentative tongue and he becomes Kuma, instead. It fits.

Matthew is eleven and wishes people could be more like dogs, open and friendly and honest about all that they are. He finds people too quick, children especially: too sly and fast and always with something hidden behind their smile. He’s figured out that he isn’t really a people person, anyway- it’s not that he doesn’t like people, exactly, but he doesn’t really know how to act around them; doesn’t know what to say or how to read them properly and now the whole process of opening his mouth to speak to someone feels daunting, like standing on the roof of his house and forcing himself to step off.

Matthew likes to sit on his thoughts, chew them about in his mouth a bit and be sure of the shape they will form before he lets them go. This means that he takes too long, is silent more often than not because kids his age don’t have the patience to stop and wait for him to get himself ready, lining up his words like soldiers about to march.

He’s known as the silent one at school, blending into the environment like a piece of furniture. Whether it’s in lessons, in sports, in games, or anything in between, his classmate’s eyes glaze past him and he knows that they’ve forgotten he’s there, forgotten that he’s an option to speak to. They’re not mean to him, they just don’t think about him, anymore. Even adults are not immune, more used to handling the demands of the louder kids, dazzled by the brightness of the smarter ones, fond of the affectionate children. Matthew is only half there, he supposes, sitting in the background with a mouthful of words that won’t come out when he wants them to.

Sometimes he wonders if he’s even really there at all, because that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Memories of things and people and places and conversations- moments you share with other people that plant you in time, leaving a mark of your life like a footprint in their existence. He feels like a ghost of a person, a shade of parts that resemble someone else and it leaves him more tongue tied than ever.

But if Kuma is there, wherever he is, it’s instantly better because Matthew can be himself, can feel something loosen inside him and let him act like a person because Kuma loves him no matter what. Dogs act the same to everyone as long as you’re good to them- love them even a little. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew doesn’t want to talk, or doesn’t know how he properly wants to say something. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew struggles to find his words, tripping and stumbling over them as they clog his mind, clumping awkwardly on his tongue.

Kuma will sit there, patient and still, as Matthew whispers his day into his fur, words clear and strong and unsullied by fear in a way they never are with people. He will lick him on the nose and shove his head onto his lap when Matthew has curled himself into a ball in his room, replaying his day over and over so much that his mistakes blur together like paint, colouring everything with a smear of shame.

Matthew is fourteen and he feels as though he finally understands something. It starts as a small something, creeping and pattering through him and leaving tiny tracks in his mind, but now it’s growing larger and stronger, moving within him and sending his thoughts racing.

Kuma died a few months ago. This is what started it, Matthew knows, seeing Kuma slow and slow, more so each year, before, towards the end, it took all he had left to just lift his head. Matthew had felt terrible, of course- at a loss and helpless sitting there with him, stroking Kuma’s head and whispering final goodbyes. His father had joined him on the floor, both of them cocooned by a companionable silence in a way they couldn’t be at any other time, and Matthew felt truly heard, to the bottom of everything he was, in the depths of his grief. This was a moment that needed no words, was a thing that could not be named- only felt and experienced.

His father is a research scientist at some big lab in the heart of the colony and is more used to theory and hypothetical than practical application, but he had found some e-tab journals on dogs, about how their bodies worked and how to fix them, and used his skills to pour over them with Matthew on the floor, studying the miniscule entries as much as he could to provide some help. Matthew watched, days lit by the flash of the e-tab as story after journal after analysis was checked and rechecked by his father beside him. There was no medicine that could save Kuma, no special cure for age, but there was some information about helping it, easing it- gentling death until it was as soft as sleep and Matthew’s father tried each and every one that he found. Kuma left them with a shift and a sigh and Matthew was surprised at death’s kindness, how easy it could be.

His father, haggard, tired, and sad, had given something of himself for Kuma, and Matthew felt so proud of him, thankful for the benefit it had given his oldest friend. Kuma is gone, but Matthew thinks of that shared peaceful end, of those journals filled with age old accounts from long dead men. He realises that there must be many of these e-tab entries about so many other animals, the few that are left and the thousands that there were before and he flicks onto one, in passing, just to see.

That’s all it takes. One leads to another, which leads to another and another and another and then Matthew can’t stop himself from drinking up as many as he can sync to, allowing himself to be pulled down through trees of evolution, skipping through the classifications of mammals to haunt reptiles and glide past the wingspan of birds. There used to be so many animals, more than he can ever name, more than he can ever conceive being possible- in the seas and the skies and the land and all at once. In, out, around- a planet teeming with things besides humans, living alongside the hulking toxic growth known as mankind and breathing life into the skies.

When earth fell they were lost, all apart from the few that the survivors managed to cling to, stolen away in their bags and clutched under an arm. Small animals and creatures that could be carried and fed easily with scraps that weren’t needed by another fleeing human life, or domesticated food that was herded and pushed, clueless, into a slaughterhouse of spaceships. It is redundant, of course- a pointless skill for him to nurture but Matthew is hungry for all of it; drawn in and hooked to something beyond his control he syncs file after file, strange creatures taking shape in his mind to migrate the past into his waking day.

Matthew’s colony is one of those ones where they like to push people, like to specialise their children early and drive them to great things. They’re good at what they do, structurally organised to churn out success and Matthew see the benefit of this, finally. He hadn’t really taken part before, hadn’t really shown an interest in pushing himself into a single category, but now, all of a sudden, he wants to do what his dad does.

Well, not exactly what his dad does, numbers and figures and study of physics, but the process of it. The breaking down of information, the mythological categorising of data; the calm soothing expectation of silent contemplation. So, he picks to try to become a research scientist too, selects classes that will give him access to greater libraries and archives and locked journals for deeper study, searching for fur and teeth and claws amongst them.

Matthew is eighteen. He managed to find a uni that taught a few classes in veterinary studies, the medical beginnings for those wanting to specialise as a vet. Matthew doesn’t want to do this, exactly -he’s more interested in how animals work and what they’re like, what colours they come in and how big they are- but if he becomes a vet it will allow him to work with animals all day and this, small as it is, could be enough. He isn’t sure, really; doesn’t really know exactly what he wants other than to learn but he hopes that if he takes enough classes, he’ll eventually figure something out.

The bell rings and he stands, gathering his things and heading out of class -anatomy of canines, his favourite- and turns a corner, slinging his bag over a shoulder and aiming for the canteen where he hopes they’re serving pancakes. He keeps missing them, never making the queue in time, but today he’s hoping that maybe he can manage to push his way through. Suddenly, as he turns a corner someone bumps into him, not seeing him at all, it seems, and everything crashes to the floor, e-tab skidding away out of sight.

There’s a mumbled ‘watch it!’ from someone whom Matthew doesn’t see, just a mouthless shout from a sea of strangers, and then he’s left scrabbling on the floor, parting students like a boulder in a river. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glint of metallic grey and a flash of Kuma’s tail across the hallway by a wall. He sighs in relief and scoots his way over, bending to snatch his tab up before it can get trodden on and straightening to come face to face with an e-board, notice shining bright and loud.

Matthew blinks at it, then shakes his head and blinks again when the advert doesn’t change, displaying something he never thought possible. It’s Earth, there and large and green and Matthew can’t read the words properly because, out of nowhere, his eyes are filled with tears and he’s crying- great shuddering breaths that turn heads and rip his voice from out of him.

Earth. Earth, there, open. Looking for people. He’s crying, crying so hard he can’t breathe, just gasp and choke and cry and people stop to stare at him because all of a sudden he’s the centre of attention, the loudest thing there is. He can’t control himself, can’t reign it in because at the top, under a heading for ‘Looking for skills in:’ he sees-

Animal care.

He doesn’t need to think, doesn’t need to read any further, doesn’t even stop to feel shame for his outburst; class forgotten, lunch forgotten, life forgotten he sprints home, avoiding the shuttles and cars he runs as fast as his legs can carry him, pounding on the electric walkways that shoot through town and feeling himself grow lighter and lighter with each step.

His mother and father don’t want him to go, mother clinging to him with arms wrapped tight around his neck. They feel, briefly, like a noose and Matthew chokes to think of listening to them- at the thought of staying here.

He loves them, he loves them- they’re his parents and he loves them so fucking much but this is something he needs to do, has to do and as he pulls away from his mother and meets his father’s eyes he can see that his father knows this too.

‘You may not get to work with animals,’ he says seriously, ‘at least not the ones you want.’ Matthew’s mother steps back to look at his father in horror, betrayal raw on her face as she realises that his father isn’t saying no Matthew can’t go, that he must stay. She reads the acceptance there, understands the truth of it and leaves the room to compose herself, Matthew staring after her sad but determined.

Matthew nods. ‘I know.’

His father steps forwards and puts a large land on his shoulder, rooting him in this moment. ‘If you’re not happy, will you come home?’

Matthew feels his eyes begin to burn, throat tighten, and thinks of the birds he’ll see even if he works in a lab, the insects he will find and small animals he can watch from a window; life spilling over the edges to bleed into buildings. ‘I’ll be happy.’

#my writing #matthew Williams #aph canada #hws canada #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #APH England #hws #Oops oh no here we go #These are good little snippest if people don't fancy reading the whole thing #but sorry to anyone out there who already has!#(i love you)

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kisskunimi · 4 years

Text

𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢

kunimi akira wordc; 8k+ cw; 1970s!au, post-war!au, soldier!au, mention of unrelated violence, mature and degrading language, suggestive moments, reader is a sex worker, !shinjū - love deaths!

if you are not familiar with the story, please take the warnings seriously. based on the short story Kamāra shinjū by Sueko Yoshida.

Ⅰ

In the dead of night, from somewhere across the river, a clarinet. It fills the silence that is left behind the steps of men in uniform, lately outings solidly cemented in it’s rhythm. With your hands wrung tight in your jacket, vice like, you soak in the cold. The cobbled paths of Osaka are covered in a light layer of powdered white, crackling softly under the feet of a passerby. Your fingers are red, numb, with only your hard bones to peek through the hardened skin, and with these clumsy touches you drop open your jacket to fall around your elbows.

This way your shoulders and chest are almost entirely bare, and though you should be used to it by now, there’s a part of you, small and evergreen, that probably will never. Another set of soldiers passes under the lowly light of the theater building, trampling the last remains of cherry blossom with little care. The men are warm as they pass you by, stern in the face but with the playful smell of tobacco and whiskey to carry behind them.

You smile, as you look up at one of them, taking his slowed steps as a certain involvement. “Good evening, Sirs. Can I help you tonight?” The blond with a mustache, broadly built and towering above you, looks you up and down once, then twice, his eyes shaped with a hardness that most men have. The jazzy music seems to blend into the distance until is merged with the silence. You try to get rid of the shivers of your body, and give your most charming smile. “One night is only 20$ for soldiers.” Lies. One night is a fifty for any other girl here, soldier or not. But you don’t get to be picky, working so far outside the professional district.

“You speak English quite well for a foreign whore,” the other smiles, teeth bared with a viciousness resembling a rabid animal, “but not tonight, little mouse.” His dark brown hair is shiny with pomade, slacks held up by tan suspenders. His words don’t sting anymore.

You just pout and blink from under your lashes, hiding your shaky hands between your thighs in hope for a little bit of warmth. The blond soldier stares for a little longer, blatant eyes gliding over your chest and legs, before he slides his hand into his pocket. From out of the black uniform appears an old, red box.

“Would you like a smoke?” he asks, placing a cigarette between his own lips smoothly. His voice is heavy, thick with some kind of European accent, you’re not sure which one. In the last years, many a countries have deployed their soldiers here, though most of them American. They carry stories of cities bigger than life, buildings higher than the sky itself and though you know you won’t, you wish to see them some day. His rough fingers reach over to you, taking your hand in his.

“No, Sir,” you reply quickly though, tracing the cobbles of the road with the tip of your foot. His grip on your hand tightens slightly, calling for attention. The skin rough on your own.

“You should head farther up the street, girl. That’s where all the lovely ladies hang out. And that’s where all the soldiers get out of the bars.” He drops your hand to squeeze your shoulder instead, and puffs a cloud of white smoke into the dark night sky. With some more gazes at your thinly veiled body, he takes a step back. You know this, of course, it’s hardly your first time out here. But lately, the men have been getting both more scarce and pickier, forcing you to drop your prices lower and lower.

“Come on, François. We’re going to be late if we don’t keep going. I won’t have Nakayama show us up on yet another thing,” a swift grimace your way, “definitely not for the cheap price of a twenty.” He smacks the blond’s shoulder, and laughs then. “Move out, Sergeant.” The taller man gives a short nod at his friend in reply, waves you a slight goodbye, and turns on his heel.

The two saunter down the street with obnoxious story telling of the brunet ringing behind them. The lights twinkle in the darkness, bright to dim over and over. You huff and roll your eyes when they disappear behind the corner, watching the warm air from your lungs warp into clouds. Your jacket is pulled closed again, shaking like a reed as you look around. The streets are too lonely here, tonight.

It’s not your night, you feel it already. You glance behind you to peek at the clock in the facade of the building, and take a breath. A quarter past three already. Shit. Deciding swiftly, you wrap your jacket tightly around your body, and start walking the opposite way. Your heels tap on the street, mixing up the music in the background. You run the back of your hand under your eyes swiftly, before crossing the street, as a car speeds by on the next lane.

You pass some civilians and another set of soldiers, drunk and jovial, and come to a halt at the tram stop. The old faces of the houses here have their charm, you think, wishing just a second that you could see them from the eyes of just a visitor. Someday, maybe.

The tram makes a blaring, rattling noise at it comes to a stop. You get on quickly, ignoring the blatant looks of men and women alike. You could probably try in Naha today, hoping there’s more people there on a cold day like this. You take a seat, settling as the vehicle starts moving again, metal cold against your thigh. You only have a couple thousand yen left. Hopefully you’ll make it through tonight, and make at least a little bit of money. Otherwise, it’ll seem like a very cold, long winter.

You pass by men in business suits at a swift pace, almost blowing the top hats off their heads, which makes you smile. It might be a sad, lowly night, but at least the blurred streaks of lights in the distance are pretty.

You arrive in the next district quicker than you expected, and jump out to cross the street with a giggle, ignoring the honking of an angry driver. The smell of hot dogs fills the street here, a few people lining up on the sidewalk.

group of a dozen soldiers mingle under the roof of the bar. But your eyes instead glide to the man standing a little bit outside the group instead, taking him in as he chugs the last of his beer, and leaves his bottle on the windowsill of a neighboring house. His black hair is slightly wet from the snow, and his uniform hangs open to reveal a white undershirt.

You’ve always found it easier to approach men when they are alone. The cold wind sends you on your way, heels tapping on the smooth stone, under the gazes from the few other strangers. At least you’re still being noticed. That’s a good sign. As you take a deep breath, a memory wraps around your mind like a warm scarf.

It was a night like this one indeed, when you met him. When you get close enough, the stranger’s eyes flick up to you, eyebrows rising slightly. Though you wish to drift away into thought, you’ve got more important things to do. So you push any memories to the back of your head, and drop your jacket open as you come to stand next to him. “Evenin’,” the black-haired, young man mumbles, turning his head to look at you better. You smile, and nod at him, before leaning into the wall.

“Good evening indeed.” His mouth twitches with a smile, as you purse your lips. “Want to go somewhere with me, soldier?” He waits for a second, until another late car passes and after he’s glanced at the men further up the street. You wonder if he’s sober enough to understand why you came up to him in particular. It’s not like he’s that handsome. His hand is stuffed into the pocket of his creased slacks.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks, dark eyes gliding down your neck to your chest.

You giggle, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “To make love.” A few years ago, these words would have made you a blushing, stuttering mess. But sadly, you’re not a few years ago now, and life isn’t as easy as you prayed it would be. When you look over your shoulder at him, you can see his slight clumsiness of movements, the slight slowness that alcohol delivers you after three o’clock.

“I’m broke,” the soldier admits, and for one, you believe. It seems everyone is, these days.

You sigh, but lean into him a little, grabbing his arm softly. This is the tricky part, you know this from experience. If you’re too eager, you’ll scare him away. But if you’re too slow, he might just slip through your fingers. His muscles are hard, proof of a hard day of work. “Twenty dollars,” you bring out, hoping with every fiber this man realizes what that number even means. It’s less than half of what most girls on the street are used to asking. A steal, in his eyes. And for you, well, what choice do you have? You’re broke.

And indeed, the man’s eyes glide up to yours at that, his eyes shining with sudden interest. “Twenty?” he repeats, slightly disbelieving.

With another look at the men to your left, catching the eyes of one of them, who gives you a sleazy grin, you nod. “Yes. Let’s go get warm, come on. Wherever you want to go, we’ll go.” You pull on his arm a little, feeling relief fill you as he moves from the wall without any more asking. You were already fearing this night would be totally wasted. And you really didn’t have the money to waste. “What’s your name, soldier?” you prompt, ignoring his cold hand as it travels into your shirt and up your back.

“Peter,” he mumbles, “Peter O’Sullivan.” You hum softly, and cross the littered street with him, under the soft music of the bar.

Ⅱ

You’re awoken by a soft thump next to the bed. When you open your eyes, the soft light of the sun peeks through the curtains onto your face, ceiling covered with the slight swirling of the incense smoke that burns on the bedside table. You glance to your side, at the slowly moving shape that takes up the rest of your bed. Kunimi is already looking at you, probably has been for a little while judging by his expression.

With a quick swallow, you turn on your other side, and pull the blankets up to your neck. In the light of morning, he can see your every flaw, and you’re not ready to lay that openly in front of him. You probably never will be.

His soft breath fills the silence, as you shut your eyes tightly. Kunimi wants to leave. You know this. You see it in his eyebrows, laced together with frustration that fills him top to bottom, in the fearful look he gives you when he thinks you’re not looking. The sadness in his motions, every second of every day. His eyes, though deep as the night sky, are those of someone with doubt in their heart and soul. You wish you didn’t care to pay enough attention to see it.

He wants back to his unit. He has the darkness of a person who’s suffering under the weight of the world, a man who’s fading with the time and the pathetically boring reality that is the life of a deserter. And it comes out in his brisk walk, and the sharpness of glass when it’s late. He’s started to loathe being near you, since you have become the only face of his life. Day in and day out, and you can watch it seep out of his seams when he’s around you. He’s tired of running, you know this.

The Military Police isn’t even looking for him. The patrol and police cars have been sent out in mass numbers just as little, leaving him with the blank reality that people don’t care. There’s no excitement left in being a fugitive, and so there’s no excitement left in being with you, either. And pretty soon after this, he came to the conclusion that being a deserter is painfully, sadly unmemorable.

The boredom is twisting up his insides. It is easy to read it on his face, easy to imagine that any day now, he’ll get up and he won’t come back to you by the time evening comes. Any second now, he’ll get up and walk all the way to Camp Courtney, with the ugly, chipped, green gate that separates it from the street. ‘It’s me’, he will admit, ‘I’m the fugitive.’ And the MP will arrest him and throw him in a cold, lonely jail.

But no matter what— you’re sure he’ll go. It could be tomorrow, or today, or in a week, that much you can’t predict just yet. But one day he will get up and walk all the way to that ugly, green gate with the aluminum roof and there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

You hear him climb out of the bed, feel the slight movement of the mattress at the lack of his weight, and listen as he opens the windows. With one smooth move, he slides open the curtain further, dousing the room in a light too bright for a cold morning like this. You pull the blanket over your head entirely, turning the other way again so you can look at him through a thin sliver of unobstructed view.

He takes a deep breath, and sits down on the rickety chair on your balcony. The breeze plays with his fluffy hair this way, tossing and turning it in all kinds of fun shapes. You let your eyes travel from his dark hair down, his ears peeking out cutely, following the thin lines of his neck to a broad, muscular back that flexes slightly as he leans forward to watch the cars drive past.

And though the light annoys you, this is Akira at his finest. After getting up, he travels to the kitchen to get a glass of water, stretches out, walks over to the window and watches the world awaken. Always. If you’re lucky, he crawls back into bed with you for a little longer after that, because he can.

Lately he’s been avoiding it, avoiding you and though you want to be mad for it, you don’t think you are. The man is tired. Of this apartment. Of you. Of life. You understand that feeling better than most. When a bird chirps from the rain gutter of the house across the street, he takes a deep breath, and turns to look at you. You, a lump under the thick blankets.

You lower the blankets a little to expose your eyes to him, and yawn. “Nimi?” Your voice is quite thick, most likely an oncoming cold from any of the nights you’ve spent outside lately.

He nods, and brings his eyes to connect with yours, attentive and kind, though the lazy lilt of his head says enough. “Hm?”

“Please close the window and the curtain if you’re done, the light is too bright.” Without saying anything, he does. The windows are shut, the curtains closed, making your home feel dim, and you almost immediately feel bad calling him back. Kunimi puts the old chair back in it’s place, and comes to sit at the edge of the bed, his side.

“Come here,” you breathe, opening the warm blankets for him in the hope that it’s enough to keep him settled for just this little while. He runs his slender, soft fingers through his hair, brushes it out of his way a bit, and slides into the blankets like you ask, his warm hands finding your sides almost immediately.

“You were out last night,” you note, melting into the bed more as you tilt your head back a bit to look at his visage. It’s not much of a question, at this point. The young man hums in response, and lets his hand travel to the small of your back, his lips opening and closing over and over as he thinks.

It makes the image of a fish out of water flash in front of your eyes, darting around desperately. You can’t help but think it fits the situation perfectly, fits him perfectly. “What time did you come back?”

“Uhm,” Kunimi frowns a little and looks up to the ceiling as if thinking about an answer, before letting out a sharp breath through his nose. “One, maybe? It could have been two, I’m not sure.” You know he came in at five last night, you don’t mention it. Instead you bring up your hand, and brush your thumb from his chin to his cheekbone, resting it there with tiny circles.

He’s young still, for a soldier, you think. And knowing that he already served for a while, means that he was much too young when he started. He’s also too pretty to be a soldier. Now, you know that the army doesn’t make exceptions like that, but he could have been anything he wanted to be, back home.

You never asked, but every reason escapes you when you think of why he could have possibly joined. A gorgeous thing like him, who hates the army more than anything. It seems backwards in many ways, but then again, that too— is Akira at his finest.

You decide not to think of it, since it won’t make a difference in the long run. He takes a few breaths with closed eyes, pulling his nose into an adorable little scrunch every few seconds. “You went to sleep with your pants on?” you ask, feeling the rough fabric on your skin when your legs tangle together.

“Yeah,” the brunet sighs, scooting a bit closer so he can lay his head above yours on the pillow, “too much work to take it off.” His warmth so close, smell so unmistakably Kunimi that it almost makes you homesick, in a way. Because even when he’s right here, under your fingertips and holding onto you, you know he’s so far away from you and your dull, boring apartment that any tenderness serves no use.

So you don’t respond, and press your body as close to his as it can get, nodding your head with the smallest movements you can make. Your lips press to the base of his throat a couple of times, letting your forehead rest against his skin.

“Where did you go?” you breathe.

With the soft words again, he pulls back a little and gives you a look, staring so openly at your face that you feel yourself getting red. “To Iwa’s. Iwaizumi Hajime, you know? I told you about him, that friend from the same division I left from. He lives nearby. I went to visit for a while.”

You now hum, listening to the little bird from earlier as it sings through the silence. You drop your hand from his face, and roll to your back, watching the last wisps of smoke floating by the eggshell ceiling, and at the tea pot that stands steaming on the counter. You hate the emptiness you feel when his hands travel over your thighs, brushing over your underwear.

“As long as you stay in a friend’s house, okay. But if you walk around too much during the day, the MP will find you and lock you up. You should be careful.” You don’t understand the army, honestly. It’s been six months since Kunimi left his unit in a hurry and ran off into the city, yet nothing— no one seems to be so much as looking for him in the slightest. He doesn’t behave like a deserter, and basically runs around day and night without a care in the world.

If you hadn’t read it in the paper yourself, you’d never even believed that he was on the run. Kunimi doesn’t respond to this, so you look back at him, sitting up on the plush. “Take off your pants,” you mumble, ignoring the coldness when it travels over every inch of your skin. Your entire top half breaks out in goosebumps. With a slight pause, the brunet follows your request, and tosses the piece of fabric on the floor.

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth when you settle over his body, leaning down to his tummy. Your hands travel down his ribs and waist, squeezing with gentle touches in his soft skin. You press kisses down his navel towards his crotch, as you pull his last layer of clothing down his legs. Kunimi shakes a little when your nails dig into his muscular thighs.

His beautiful hands settle on both sides of your face as you go to work, breath heavier than normal. He cocks his head back in pleasure. You can’t drag your eyes away from him for a second. He’s so pretty, he really is.

His skin warm, like running honey, in stark contrast with his dark head of hair. Dark, calculating eyes that would put the blade of a sword to shame, and the kisses of sun that are littered across his cheeks and nose with a gentleness only heaven can give. God must have worked hard on this one, you think, as you watch the fluttering of his lashes.

Ⅲ

As you walk down Gate street, small snowflakes start coming down from the clouds, landing on the tip of your nose and the length of your lashes. You pull your woolen hat down further, and hold your hand up to protect your eyes a bit more. Can’t have your make-up running. You pull your empty shopping bag closer to your thigh, and speed up your steps a tad.

It wasn’t a day like this, but it was right here, you recall. You were waiting for some soldiers to finish their drink, walking over to them with a little smile. However, they were both far past drunk, so you quickly steered away. It was only midnight, and a figure came out of another bar, clothed in dark clothes but with slightly too long hair peeking from under an ocean blue newsy cap.

“Hey,” you call as he passes you by on the sidewalk, trying to catch his eyes in the process. You are just about to give up on him too, when he stops walking. He takes two steps backwards to send you an intrigued look without flinching for a second. You noticed he still looked younger, then too. Unmarked by the crows feet and stubble your other clients are so easily recognized by.

You clear your voice and lift one of your brows at his expression. “Twenty dollars,” you say.

The young man responds without hesitating, dropping his narrowed gaze for a slight twitch of his lips. “Ten dollars.” This makes you scoff, shaking your head at the ground in disbelief. Does he really think that he can get a woman for a pathetic two thousand yen? No one in their right mind would sell that body for that price.

Your first instinct is to get mad, at the ridiculous offer that dares cross his lips. But when you look up, possibly to cuss him out, you catch his eyes again. His face still has the certain go-lucky calmness most people have lost through the years, and surprisingly, it calms the fire in your chest almost instantly.

You notice truly how handsome he is as you try to form a response, bright in the night light. Unbelievably so. And you— you’ve always had the bad habit of leaving a soft spot open for good-looking men. He looks lost, you have to admit, like he dropped a piece of himself earlier and is desperately looking for it.

Though his handsome face isn’t what eventually makes you agree. You’ve been out in the shadow for almost three hours already, and you’re exhausted. At this point, you just wanted to sit down. Preferably with a warm body pressed to your own on a soft bed, free of charge if you must. Kunimi appears in a moment of emotional weakness of your heart, and stays there for the days to come. He’s alone, soldiers are hardly ever alone at this hour.

You walk straight past the hotels of B.C. Street and take him to your apartment in Kamara. When you enter the living room, where your bed also stands, you put out your hand and wet your lips. “Ten dollars.” He takes a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and smooths it out in your palm, giving you a small, crooked smile. “Do you really have nothing more?” you ask, fighting the frown on your forehead.

“I swear,” he nods, pursing his lips cutely, as he rocks on his feet, back and forth over and over. “It’s all I have left.”

You close the door with a sigh, and loosen your ponytail to let your hair spill out over your shoulders, sitting down on the bed. “If that’s true, how are you going to pay a taxi to get back to the base?” you ask, cocking your head sideways a little. What an interesting person, you think, the blush on his cheeks from the cold painting him in contrast with your dim home.

His black jacket is missing one of it’s gold painted buttons. So it’s true. You raise your arms to take off your sweater, and toss it onto some of your other clothes, as Kunimi averts his eyes to the floor. “Well?”

“I’m not going back,” he admits.

Now, your curiosity is definitely peaked. “What do you mean, you’re not going back?”

The brunet takes off his cap, and lifts his shoulders with a lost expression. “I ran away.” You just respond a quiet ‘oh’, and swing your feet close over the floor for a moment, thinking it over. Though you know that many soldiers leave before their time is done, you’ve never actually met one.

After a few seconds, you look up to study the face of the boy—man, really now. His face is clear, with well-sized features and wild hair that rests over his eyebrows and is pulled behind his ears without much care. He frowns, slightly unsure, as he leans against your counter.

“Whereabouts were you?”

He taps his fingers on the wood as he answers, warming up slowly but surely in the confinements of your small home. “Camp Courtney.”

“So you were a marine?” you fire back. Kunimi nods, looking out the window for a second, until you talk again. “What are you going to do next, now you’ve run away?” This seems to puzzle him for a second, like he didn’t expect your interest in his story. Honestly, neither did you. But you’ve never seen a soldier quite like him. He doesn’t seem to have the same self-importance most of them have when they walk your streets.

“I hope to find a way to get enough money to cross to Honshu. From there I wanna get to Korea or the Soviet Union if I have to.”

“Christ!” you respond in surprise, lifting your brows in doubt. You’ve never deserted. Is that really what a person must do to escape the army? Kunimi just shrugs again, nonchalant with the words. The slightly wet paper you twirl between your fingers stills for a moment. But well, same here. You don’t hand him back the money.

The young soldier, thick blankets pulled up to his chin, stares at you when you walk out the shower and towards the bed. Your gazes cross, and he quickly looks away, which amuses you more than you expect it to. But the longer you look, the colder you feel. You feel a devouring sadness for him, and you don’t know why. It drives you without your own will, wanting to wrap him up in your arms and to press a kiss to his forehead, to make him believe it’s going to be okay.

Maybe it’s the warm light of the lamp in the corner of the room, but his face is filled with a certain loveliness. Despite the calmness he seems to spread, his dark eyes are fearful. You don’t bother putting on your lace panties before you crawl into bed. You lean forward gently, and press a kiss to his cold lips, before taking his hand and placing it on your body.

Kunimi has nowhere else to go that night, and you let him stay over in your apartment. In the morning he leaves, without knowing where to. The next morning, there’s a little something in the paper about him. You read it when going to the top apartment to get your hair done, letting your eyes travel the grayed paper.

‘Marine from Camp Courtney stabs multiple people and runs.’ it says. It’s a short, little article, but you immediately understand it’s about him.

‘On the 7th, a marine of first class (20), stationed in Camp Courtney, got into an altercation over a trinket with his superior sergeant John W. Anderson, on the exercise field of Camp Hansen. He stabbed the sergeant in the gut with the bayonet he had on hand and ran away from the camp. Sergeant Anderson is heavily wounded, and will need a month of recovery. With the aid from the Japanese police the marine is doing everything in their power to track down the young man.’

That you’d slept with someone who stabbed a person, doesn’t scare you. You guess he must have been pretty ruthlessly bullied like all those men in the army are by their superiors. He must have lost his self control at a point. In the last couple of years, you’d seen enough bloody fights between soldiers. Once, you’d even seen a person shot in front of you. A simple stabbing doesn’t scare you in this regard.

When you travel back all the way down, back home, Kunimi sits patiently waiting on the stairs to your flat. When he spots you, he sends you a tiny nod, face carrying the distinct marks of exhaustion. “Hi,” he breathes. You respond with the same, and come to sit next to him on the stairs, putting down your groceries at your feet. His uniform has the distinct smell of sweat, most likely because he’d have to put the same clothes on when he left.

“Where’d you go?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him, and the way his skin glows in the light of the sun. Even in a moment like this, he looks bright. Huh.

“Isabama,” the brunet responds carefully, lacing his hands together between his knees. “That’s where a friend of mine lives, he’s from the same place I’m from. I was at his place, but he tossed me out.” You nod, understanding. Harboring a deserter probably isn’t appreciated in the marine corps.

“You were in the paper,” you admit, figuring he hasn’t had the chance to check. Akira’s lips pull into a tight line, so you guess you’re right. “They say you stabbed a sergeant in the gut.”

“Stabbed lightly,” Kunimi immediately claps back, glancing at you with wide eyes, “just a little, he’s not going to die.”

“He’s going to need a month of recovery,” you point out, picking at the remnants of your nail polish mindlessly. Baekhyun’s dark eyes catch yours again, as he lets out a breath through his nose, and ruffles his hair to calm his nerves.

“He deserves it. I—” You interrupt him though, taking his hand in yours, feeling the cold digits shake in your hold.

“Don’t bother, you don’t need to give me a reason for your actions. But if you stay out here like this, they’ll catch you in the next hour, though.”

Kunimi nods, and looks at the speckled cement under his feet again, clearing his throat. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He flushes a bit pinker, and gives you a look of uncertainty. “Could I please stay in your flat for a little while? Even if it’s just two, three days?” He takes a deep breath, before continuing a little more.

“Just until the money from my mother arrives at my friend’s house.” To your surprise, an image of the night before crosses your mind. His gentle touches, the honest adoration with which he held onto your skin like you’re the only woman he’s ever had. And you hate to admit how much it warms your heart. Maybe you’re really getting emotionally weak here.

You’ve never been so happy to accept so little money. That’s the only reason he sits here, on your staircase now. And if you could do your life over three times again, you know for a fact that you’d never get the chance to breathe the same air as a man like Kunimi again. So you sigh, and stand up from the cold stone to look at him, picking up your groceries in the process. “All right. You can’t stay here forever, but for now you can come in.”

The next morning you awake late, which Kunimi by your side. You get up, brush your teeth and walk back to the bed to pick up a darling dress that you put on over your white lace, when an impatient knock comes to your door. When you look through the peephole, there’s a policeman in front of your apartment.

There it is, already. You rush to his side and shake him awake, helping him leave through the window. You open the door.

“Oh, hello,” the officer says, taking off his uniform cap to give you a slight bow. You return it.

“Can I help you, Sir?” With your toothbrush still in hand, you look the young officer up and down.

The officer nods, and takes out a little notebook from his pocket. “Probably, Miss. Do you mind answering a few questions?” he asks, and you hum in response. The man starts his speech immediately at that.

“Well, we are looking for a deserted marine. Do you have any idea where he could be? An employee at Pinocchio Hamburger told us he saw a soldier who matches the descriptions. As you know, many soldiers collect there. This employee says he saw you and the soldier leave in the direction of Kamara. Does this sound familiar, Miss?”

You pout though, and lift your shoulders. “When was this, exactly?”

“Three nights ago, Miss.”

You put your hands on your hips, and look at the floor in thought, before giving the officer a lost look. “And what did the soldier look like?”

“A young man, quite tall. His hair is dark and longer than is in style. A marine first class…” The man gives you a short description, along with the note that he’s committed a terrible crime, something you’d never expect from someone that age. You nod, feigning understanding.

“Well, I did meet a soldier near Pinocchio that night, but the description is off. The man I met was a foreign soldier, and he was about twenty nine or thirty. Maybe you can ask the man at Pinocchio again— the employee?” you prompt.

The officer waves his hand in dismissal, and puts his notebook away swiftly. “Ah, this will suffice, miss. I know enough. He’ll show up around B.C. Street eventually. Those guys don’t have anywhere to run, you see. We’ll definitely catch him.”

With that, he excuses himself again, and leaves the building swiftly after. You watch the officer through the window until he gets into his car and drives off down the narrow street of your home, lights disappearing in the distance. Kunimi comes back when night falls.

After that day, the police don’t show themselves again, and for all you know, the MP couldn’t care less about him or where he could be hiding. Though he has hope for a few days, the money of his mother never comes, and instead of getting the rest of your pay, you’re the one feeding him and clothing him for the next six months.

After about two months you had fought up the courage to ask him for your money, but Kunimi simply didn’t have any to give, and he could hardly look for a job being a fugitive. The situation changed ever so slowly. Because more and more, you started feeling grateful that you even had him in your life.

He was a quiet, soft-handed man, who did enough to help whenever you needed it. You weren’t as lonely anymore. And you started to realize that you were sleeping with a man that seemed carved from marble, and the price you paid seemed little for it in comparison. In what world would you be allowed to hold an angel in your arms for only a twenty thousand yen a month? You started feeling heavy of heart, because you really, really didn’t want him to leave.

Ⅳ

When you round the corner at the paint store, you can see the light burning in your apartment. You speed up your walk, stuffing the fifty dollars you made into your jacket pocket and hurrying up the stairs of the apartment. White light beams through the small window next to the door. You turn the doorknob and sigh, kicking off your shoes easily as you enter the heated room.

“Nimi,” you call, lifting the bag of French wine in your hand higher in case he looks over at you. There’s no answer. “Hey,” you call again, looking around the small room with a frown. In the living room, there’s no Kunimi to be found. His jacket, his shoes are all gone, leaving you nailed to your spot in the middle of the room with a heavy feeling creeping into your belly.

The silence feels thick, surprising you with the weight of it. You put the plastic bag on your counters, and look around once more to be sure, before frowning. Had he really gone back to his unit? Had he given up on trying to cross to Honshu or Kyushu so suddenly, without a word to you? Where could he possibly have gone?

You grab your bag and rush back to the door, jamming your feet into your shoes painfully tight, already slamming the door behind you again. You run the opposite way you came from, looking left and right every few seconds in hope for the familiar face, adrenaline rushing through your exhausted body with a feverish pace.

You rush back towards B.C. Street, past the bar the Caravan, towards the house of Mr. Irihata, a man Kunimi has befriended not too long ago. Maybe he’d gone there. You start walking even faster when you arrive at the beginning of the crowded street, wrapping your scarf around your neck and covering your nose.

You suddenly feel the urge to sob, overwhelmed with the idea of it that you preemptively brush your hands under your eyes. When you get at the house, you walk around the side, and call out towards the window there. “Corporal Irihata?” The window opens almost instantly, revealing the face of the older man with his thick, bushy eyebrows and a stern face.

“Oh, it’s you,” he sighs.

“Is Kunimi not here?” Your voice is slightly shaky, eyes wide as you watch his expression change, but just barely.

“Oh, that deserter?” he asks, slightly surprised.

“He came here quite often, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” the older man sighs, “but not today. Is everything okay?” You nod his worries away, too shaky to give into your sadness for now.

“Yes, I’m fine. He’s probably in a bar here somewhere.” You rush out of the street and past the bars along the street, peering inside quickly. No Kunimi to be found anywhere. You arrive on Goya Boulevard, and rush past that too. One by one, you check the windows for his familiar shape, without success. Where would he possibly have gone? Did he really go back to his unit, after all?

Your legs are shaky, knees weak. You’ve heard that deserters are arrested and brought to Kawasaki right away, and brought back home to be sent out again. Did he give himself in knowing that he’d be sent back all the way home, even as a criminal? You can’t even grasp the idea of that. No, that can’t be right. He probably went back to the flat already, he just went out for a walk.

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you back towards Kamara, up the windy, asphalt road to your building. Eyes stinging from the cold breeze and the heaviness in your stomach. When you look up, you notice through the window that the light is on. You’re pretty sure you turned the lights off when you left, so you rush up even more quickly than before, hands shaky. Your heart feels like it’s dancing, but you’re not sure if it’s a happy or unhappy one.

The door opens without any effort, the room bathing in the bright, white light. Kunimi is not here.

With a deep sigh, you shut the door behind you, and drop backwards onto the bed. You must have ran out with the lights still on then. For a long while, you don’t even move. You’re barely breathing, you think, staring at the imperfections on the ceiling like they are the reason for all your misery. If Kunimi went back to his unit, you wouldn’t see him ever again. You stand back up and walk over to the window, pressing your hands against it with a thick, heavy swallow.

He couldn’t have just left like that, he wouldn’t. But where could he possibly be at a time like this, with no money to his name? Suddenly, as with a hard gust of wind, the door blows open and Akira walks in. His dark hair is messy, tucked under a finely woven hat you bought him. And everything that was suspended so delicately in mid air in your mind crashes to the floor.

Your shoulders drop in relief, tears welling up in your eyes where you can’t stop them. “Where did you go?” you bring out. Your voice is shaky, bottom lip pulled harshly between your lips.

“I went out to Gate street for a while,” Kunimi mumbles, eyes slightly concerned at your tone.

He walks over to you as he unbuttons his jacket, and lays his hands on your shoulders, pulling you closer than you’ve been used to the last few weeks. “If you walk around too much outside, the MP will find you,” you whisper, catching his eyes in the process. The young man presses a kiss on your forehead, and walks past you to drape his jacket across the second chair in the room. He drops back in the bed like you had done not too long ago, and lays there, unmoving.

“Don’t think about it anymore,” he calls, closing his eyes against the bright light, “it’s all over anyway.” He doesn’t speak after that, and so neither do you. The silence lasts for a while, as you stare at the man you’ve grown hopelessly attached to over the past months.

Kunimi sounds so sad, so defeated. Like every bit of energy has been sucked out of him, and you hate that you’re left in limbo trying to help him. When he suddenly speaks again his voice is grated, pretty lips forming a slight pout. “Is there any beer?”

You move from the counter to sit on the rickety, wooden chair. “No,” you truthfully admit. “Would you like me to go get some? I got paid.” He takes a deep breath before shaking his head, and spreading his limbs out like a starfish. ‘Never mind’ he mouths. The silence that follows is even longer than the first, and by the time either of you move the sun has lowered behind the horizon so far the sky colors red.

The next time he speaks, you already know what will follow. It’s a cold feeling, piercing through bones and keeping you in place, though you’d rather run away yourself right now. “You know I called, right?” he breathes, and you hum in response. Your fingers are still ice cold, your legs still tingly from the back and forth earlier. “I decided to turn myself in tomorrow, at ten o’clock.”

It feels as if someone has hit you over the head with a pipe of lead, echoing around your mind like the bells of a church. And you try to smile, for him, but your face feels so tense that you’re not sure if it comes across. You lay down next to him and sigh deeply, closing your eyes against an onslaught of tears. Kunimi’s cold fingers brush over your thigh, but you feel like slapping them away. Your body seems to sink through the springs of the bed, so ridiculously heavy.

You swallow, and turn into his arms, fisting your hands into his shirt and your nose into the crook of his neck. “Run away with me, Akira. We can go to my hometown, where I was born. No one will look for you there. And there’s a bunch of abandoned houses,” you say, trying your best to keep yourself from begging, but at this point you know you’re not above it anyway.

“It’s almost fully uninhabited. The houses are old, but they have a garden and a lot of ground. I’ll plant grass in our yard, and cook us something better than eggs for breakfast. And you can fix the floor tiles.” It stays quiet again, you can feel his slow heartbeat against your cheek. But then he shakes his head, and you want to scream until your voice breaks. “If they arrest you, you’ll get sent back home. And you don’t want that, right? That’s what you told me.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he responds just as quick, swallowing. “I’m tired.” And for one, you believe him. It seems everyone is tired these days.

After your shower, you walk around the room on tiptoes. Kunimi lays in bed, his face peaceful in his sleep, twitching slightly as he dreams. You smile at him for a few seconds, before putting on your favorite lace underwear, and your favorite summer dress. You drink a cup of tea, and a second one, and stare out the window mindlessly for what feels like an hour, but you’ve always been bad at keeping track of time.

Your lover’s dark hair stands up straight, in crazy spikes on his head, making him look ever so small. You move to sit in front of your mirror for a while too, putting on your favorite chap-stick. It’s sweet, like cherry. He once told you he loved the taste of it, and so you loved to kiss him with it in return.

And then you lock the door, and shut the window tight, squeezing the lock until it’s almost impossible to open. You walk to the kitchen, bending to turn open the propane gas. You turn all three gas taps open fully, leaving open the door from the kitchen to the living room and bedroom.

You lie down, and the bed creaks softly under you as well. Like the cry of a child, or the weeping of a loved one missing a lover. You know it well.

Kunimi turns on his other side in his sleep, facing you now. He’s beautiful, every inch of him, head to to. Eternal, in a way. It’s easy to believe in someone like that, isn’t it?

You close your eyes, and decide to count to a thousand.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five...

You take the lighter that always lays on your bedside table, the one to light the incense, and turn to lay on your belly. Face down in the pillows.

The clock ticks easily in the quiet of the room. Heavy breaths.

And you reach a thousand.

And you, with full determination, push your thumb against the spark wheel.

♡ fin.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kunimi #haikyuu angst #kunimi fluff #kunimi angst #kunimi akira #haikyuu kunimi #kunimi x reader #fluff #angst #haikyuu x you #oneshot #hq x you #hq!!

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the-final-sif · 5 years

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Per the anons in my inbox’s requests, I give you my sad ‘Katsuki is a dog person headcanon. Fair warning, this is a sad headcanon about Katsuki having a childhood dog. You know where this is going.

Now if you’ve been following me for any length of time, you probably know about my Katsuki getting kidnapped headcanon. Basically, the story goes that Katsuki was kidnapped and/or had multiple groups try to kidnap him for his quirk throughout his childhood, he just managed to escape and then never told anyone, because he's Katsuki and the day he willingly volunteers information about himself and/or the problems he’s struggling with is never.

At some point, someone in class 1-A asks Izuku whether Katsuki is a cat person or a dog person, because a group of them had been arguing about it. By this point most people have learned that it's much easier to ask Izuku for information about Katsuki than it is to ask Katsuki for information about Katsuki.

Lucky them, Izuku knows the answer! Kacchan's a dog person. Or at least, he was when they were growing up. He's not so sure that Kacchan's still a dog person. Kacchan doesn't like to talk about his dog or any dogs these days. Everyone is intrigued by that and asks for details, but turns out that surprisingly, Izuku doesn't know what happened. Not the whole story anyways. He does remember some stuff though.

Kacchan's dog was a big Tibetan Mastiff named Mamoru. Izuku can only remember three things about him.

First and foremost, Mamoru was mean as hell to almost everyone. He barely put up with Izuku, he didn't like either of Kacchan's parents, he hated strangers. If they were alive odds are this dog hated them. Mamoru wasn't afraid to show that he hated someone either. He would get bitey/growly the moment someone got in his space and given his size and appearance, most people would back off quick.

Second, Mamoru loved Kacchan with all his heart. Even if he was a jerk to almost everyone else, this dog adored Kacchan. Every time he was around Kacchan's his tail was wagging like he was a puppy. While he basically never listened to anyone else's commands, he'd follow Kacchan's in an instant and picked up new tricks like it was nothing. When they were little he would even let Kacchan ride on his back. Kacchan was why that Mamoru put up with Izuku (or anyone for that matter), and also probably the only reason Mamoru wasn't put down.

The last thing Izuku knew about Mamoru was that passed away very suddenly when Izuku was 10 years old. He never found out how the dog died. Kacchan didn't want to talk about it at all, and his parents dodged the subject when it was brought up. Not even Izuku’s mom could get the story out of them. Mamoru was an older dog when he passed away, but he'd been fairly healthy, so it must’ve been something bad.

After telling them this, Izuku warns his classmates not to bring it up. Whatever happened is a sore subject for Katsuki. All of them can understand pet's death being hard, particularly such a sudden one, so they leave it alone.

They think that's that... only at some point, there's someone with a weird quirk that the class meets while out on a field trip. The person can let you speak to a loved one that passed away for a short period, although it only works once for each person. You can't pick who you speak to/see, it's whoever you miss most.

Most of the class is excited and gets some heartfelt words from their dead relatives, but Katsuki wants nothing to do with it. The person accidentally activates their quirk on him anyways, and everyone is expecting a relative or someone similar to show up.

Instead, in bounds in a giant, overjoyed dog; tail wagging, eyes shining and tongue out. Katsuki is totally frozen up. Everyone expects him to be happy, but he's not. He stares at the dog for a solid 4-5 seconds as the dog wanders over to him, whining for attention and trying to play. Then Katsuki turns on his heel and runs.

None of them are supposed to be out on their own, so his classmates try to follow him only to lose Katsuki, who doesn't seem to be able to hear them in his upset state.The whole class is super freaked out, and the ghost dog is getting really aggressive and upset at the class as they search.

Aizawa is called over, and now he's panicking because his kid whose been kidnapped before is off on his own and not answering his cell phone. Lucky him, when he starts trying to figure out how to find Katsuki, Ghost Mamoru barks at him, runs off a little ways, then runs back. He's been hostile towards everyone else, but he seems okay with Aizawa. He also seems increasingly agitated about something.

Taking the hint, Aizawa tells the rest of the class to head back to their meeting point and follows Mamoru, who leads him to Katsuki. Katsuki's curled himself into a small hiding spot, which was why he was so hard to find. Mamoru obviously wants to go comfort his kid, everything about him is drooping and he lets out a whine, but seems to think better of it. Instead, he takes a long look at Katsuki, and then shoots a pleading look towards Aizawa before he lets out a quiet huff and fades away.

That leaves Aizawa alone with Katsuki, a kid whose hard to understand on the best of days, and who is currently having a panic attack.

There's not much else he can do, so Aizawa waits it out. He sits beside Katsuki's hiding place and keeps things calm and quiet, waving off the rest of the class, and letting the other teachers know Katsuki's been found.

It takes quite awhile, but finally Katsuki recovers enough to speak. He still doesn't want to come out of his hiding spot though, and Aizawa doesn't ask him to. At this point it's obvious something serious happened, he just wants to know what.

Katsuki takes several tries to start, this story is hard for him to tell, but eventually he manages to force out a "It was my fault." and after that, everything comes tumbling out.

He'd been heading back to his house all alone in the early evening one day. He was 10 years old, and he hadn't been paying attention to the people around him. He should've been paying more attention. He should've known better. But he didn't, and some goons got the jump on him. There hadn't been time for him to do anything. The men had been on him too quickly and gotten his hands locked behind him. Katsuki had tried to fight, but he hadn't been strong enough.

It was only a block or two from his house and if he'd just walked faster or not stopped to look at things, everything would've been fine. But he hadn't, so the men caught him. He was pretty sure he'd been attacked by those guys before too, so he should've recognized them. They'd already gotten his hands restrained, and they'd stuck him with a needle.

There was nobody else around, and Katsuki thought that was it. This was the time that they got him.

The men thought so too, he couldn't remember their exact words, but they were gloating. Going slower than they probably should've. They hadn't been expecting anyone to come help Katsuki. They hadn't expected anyone to care enough to help him. And they were sort of right, there weren't any people coming to help Katsuki, but there was a very loyal dog who heard Katsuki's muffled cries.

Mamoru didn't hesitate for even one goddamn second; he was on the man holding Katsuki like in flash, dagger like teeth digging deep into the man's shoulder. He went for the goddamn throat of the other one, the one who had some of Katsuki's blood on him.

Despite his best efforts, the dog didn't manage to kill either man, but he drove both of them off. He fought like a goddamn hell hound, as if he was made of nothing but of fury and muscle. Maybe in that moment he was.

Mamoru was so vicious and strong, that Katsuki didn't even realize the dog was hurt in the fight. Not until he'd managed to wiggle his way out of the cuffs and thrown his arms around his dog, only to jerk back at the wet feeling of blood soaking through his shirt.

The injury was bad. One of the men had had a knife and must've caught the edge of it on Mamoru's throat. Katsuki was drugged out, but he knew he needed to do something. Mamoru was somehow still on his feet, so he helped Katsuki get home, his condition getting worse and worse as they pressed on.

When Katsuki got home, there was nobody there, but he was able to call his father and through his sobs communicate the important parts of what happened. That some guys had bothered him and they'd hurt Mamoru. His dad said he'd be home as soon as he could, and to put pressure on the wound until then.

And here's the thing. That's good advice. Stopping the blood loss is really important when you have an injured animal.

But Katsuki was a 10 year old, he was on drugs, he was completely panicked and distraught.

And he forgot what was always coming out of his hands.

Nitroglycerin is toxic under the best of circumstances, but when an animal is already bleeding out, it's a death sentence.

The veterinarian tried to tell him afterwards that it probably wouldn't have changed anything. Mamoru was heavily injured and he would've bled out no matter what. He hadn't known, he'd been trying his best to help. It wasn't his fault. But Katsuki knew better, and his mother reminded him of that much.

On the drive back from the vet's office, his mother told him they weren't getting another goddamn dog to replace Mamoru because he'd probably kill that one too.

Katsuki didn't want another dog. He was too scared that someone would try to kidnap him again, and the dog would die again. Or he'd forget himself and end up killing the dog more directly. After that, he didn't even let himself go near animals. He wouldn't be near them, and he wouldn't touch them at all. Hell, he hardly even let himself touch other people after that.

When Katsuki finishes up his story, he looks ashamed and Aizawa is silent out of pure shock for several long seconds. First and foremost, he cannot believe that this was just something that happened that he had no idea about. Katsuki mentioned getting attacked by strangers at least once before he was 10 years old?? What the hell had happened in his student's childhood??? All of the implications of all of this are concerning him.

But in that same moment, he's suddenly rethinking Katsuki with this new information. Awhile ago Mic had made a joke about how Izuku follows Katsuki around like a puppy and all the teachers had laughed about it. Katsuki had gotten strangely angry about it, and suddenly it seems a whole lot less funny. Not only that, but how Katsuki reacted to All-Might's downfall after his kidnapping has a whole new light to it now. As do so many other little things.

It's hard for him to get any words out, but he manages a strangled "Kid..." and gently coaxes Katsuki out of his hiding place so Aizawa can just give him a goddamn hug for once in his life. And Katsuki is confused by this because he was expecting Aizawa to agree that he fucked up, but instead he's getting hugged and he really doesn't want to cry again but he's not sure he has a choice.

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blankdblank · 4 years

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Acorn Castles

Ok, here is the Firebender series. I know! I finally finished it after having been swamped with ideas for other series. :D

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor

@bun-bun-the-rabbit

Bruised and bloody you sat by the stream waiting on the Dwarves to finish bathing for your turn. None of the Dwarves wished to see you in pain or so badly afflicted by training. Dwalin out of all of them bore the weight the hardest, silently wringing the blood stain from his knee on his pants from a move ending with his leg hitting you in the nose. There was little faith when Gandalf showed up with your shivering wide eyed self to BagEnd after having wrangled another innocent bystander into the mix of his Journey claiming you would be the perfect Dragon Slayer.

A life of isolation on a tiny island with nothing but snow, snow and more snow a prank from the other young adults in the village ended with your being sent out to sea on a patch of ice. Another world where you should have been raised from firmer stuff but you were a scientist, a dreamer child of the two top researchers in protection of whales and all Arctic life leaving you less than popular for their impressions of the villagers who had been there forever holding less than factual impressions of each creature you came across.

It was decided to train you up as you couldn’t be left alone and no matter how hard you were hit even by accident you always got up and even once made Dwalin impressively scoot back half a foot in a full body slam at his urging leaving you groaning on your back in the collapse after. A rousing round of claps and cheers sure didn’t help your dislocated shoulder Oin was less than gentle in twisting back into place triggering a three day death of your arm unable to be rotated at all issuing warnings to him not to mend your dislocations that way again, because they knew it would occur again.

You were never greatly overweight, but in the surface of the water it was as if you were looking at a stranger. Thin and lean with dips and curves tracing each burning torn muscle throbbing to warn you of its injuries through each movement. Even in drying you could feel the silhouette of your figure had altered beyond what you had assumed possible. Not that you lacked motivation, you had scores to any task you wished to take on, merely when it came to fitness you preferred having a trainer or workout buddy, something severely lacking back home where you had no friends except for your giant fluffy bear dog now splashing through the lake following Thorin’s raven Roac. He loves to run and so the treadmill was your go to for cardio, something now helping at least to keep you from a heart attack through the body morphing wrestling and weapon training bouts.

Using your severely blistered hands bundled in sturdy unforgiving bandages small smooth stones were gathered up and in a circle you began to build the first house. Always while the men bathed or hunted for supper once you had been guarded through gathering wood or water on your own you would be found creating tiny villages with stones, clover, moss, twigs, leaves or any other items you might find around camp. Each day growing more extravagant with crude shovels from sticks used to carve out little lakes or streams through the town stirring soft grins onto your face. The act itself childish from the days of their youth stirring memories from each Dwarf of their own building blocks from days long gone, yet the act all the more admirable to them as it showed along with your adamant resolve that there were similarities between your races and upon that you might just find comfort in Erebor.

“Uncle, she’s doing it again.” Kili murmured in Khuzdul using his arm in a faked scrub of his face and hair to block the movement of his mouth.

“I see that,” Balin replied while Thorin wrung out his hair on the bank slowing himself to dry a bit more before pulling on his pants. Always as the leader he had to inspect his Company, even the ever unwelcoming Bilbo who did all he could to puff up and make certain it was known he did not take kindly to stares. You had shared that back home you would often wake up with small bruises without source. But the truth was far from comforting as through training they could find hand prints and large swollen bruised chunks of your body often leading to one or more of them to have to excuse and re-gather themselves from bursting into tears for the pain them in their stronger physiques had put upon you.

He hated this, but you would never survive if you were not trained, even in speaking often found to be too shy to meet the eye of those who spoke to you around the dinner fire. Gaze forward making certain not to impose. Not to be a hindrance. Not to create extra work for the Dwarves who made note of every accomplishment. Including the first time you could lift the saddle of your horse on your own halting Bofur and Bifur from assisting you on dressing him every day that stirred a wide smile from yourself to the ground in a silent moment of self pride bolstering the mood of the men on the beginnings of that gusty unpleasant day.

“Ah, a fine village, is that your former home?” Bilbo asked, the Hobbit’s arrival at your side had the Dwarves’ beards bristling as they didn’t notice his departure and from irritation on the chance you might be hindered from your silent hobby of assumed he was ridiculing you.

“Oh, no. There’s a game, back home, where you get to build your village and there are these houses with animals in them and you can go through the island fishing and collecting fruit and digging up treasure. I usually just recreate the layouts from the different versions I saw in a book on the game.”

Bilbo grinned inching closer on his knees helping to secure a tiny fence you secured the end of by winding another blade of grass to bind it to the twigs around it. “Well a fine job you are doing if I might say so. Built many a fairy dwelling myself in my Fauntling days.”

“Well, way I see it, if I build a Kingdom a day from here to Erebor I might be strong enough to face a Dragon.”

Bilbo patted your arm, “That is a marvelous plan. Perhaps I might take up building myself to practice planning on burgling a hoard. Confidence is half the effort, well concluded.”

Smirking to yourself as the words sank into the hearts of the hushed Dwarves you said, “Or at the very least I could fib and say I have experience in building to make it on a work crew. Lord knows there will be plenty to rebuild if it’s how I picture it. Dragons aren’t very slender creatures, all tail and wings bound to knocked a wall or two.”

Bilbo asked, “Any clue on how to face him yet?”

“Well, one would hope he has just left when we arrive, but fill a hand with dirt the other with wishes, which fills faster. What my Dad always said.” It wasn’t pride in your tone but pain, they could all feel the pain those words inflicted on you, how harshly they resonated and now they all had a deep ache to ensure any wish of yours possible to fulfill they would ensure came true. “Truth is, our Lords and Princes slew our Dragons to the last one proving their might. There isn’t much known about them to the public past they are gone now.”

Bilbo wet his lips seeing your melancholy gaze to the moss roof you were adding to a little bridge with a road underneath to help with rainwater collection, “Why does that make you sad?”

Glancing up you shook your head saying, “It seems you can’t throw a stone without hitting someone or a people with a terrible tale to tell about the Fire Nation, where I came from. Nothing but cinders and burnt bloody paths to bring about our glorious empire.” His hand extended to land on your knee drawing your eyes to his, “We’re not all bad. Some of us are just trying to make it day to day while our soldiers are out ruining our honor. We used to be so great, so good, that’s why the dragons gave us their fire in the beginning. And we repayed them by hunting them down and mounting their heads on our temple walls.”

Bilbo shook his head while the Dwarves just about were ready to cry for this truth they were just learning, “You are not bad. Farthest thing from it. There is no Fire Nation here, you are from the Shire.” He said nodding his head, “Consider yourself an honorary Baggins. I’m certain together we can see the end of that greedy old dragon, hopefully he’s long to bones when we get there, but in these lands our Dragons from what I’m told give naught but grief and destruction, no fire givers here. Two separate buckets entirely.” That drew a weak try for a chuckle from you and he wet his lips asking the question burning at him, “How did you end up all alone where Gandalf found you?”

“Oh,” you sighed out, “My father angered the Fire Lord so he banished us to a Northern Water Colony in the middle of a tundra of an island. The other children despised me, for where I came from, what they thought I was. But my parents were scientists, studied the animals and plants, what little there was. One day they must have snuck in unhitching my wagon from the trailer and left me and my dog out on a block of ice not realizing it’d break off and send me out to sea.”

“Varmints!” Dwalin growled drawing your eye a moment luring mutters of his try to not rant about how they didn’t deserve your company or presence on their island at all for treating you as such.

“Wasn’t all bad, I got big Bo out of the move. He doesn’t mind my company.”

“Trolls have the ponies,” Fili whispered to Kili only to have them flinch when you whispered behind them.

“What are trolls?” They both looked at you and you asked, “Like live under bridges, Trolls? We only have those in stories. How do you fight them?”

Kili, “Best way is daylight, but that’s hours off yet.”

“Boggins!” The pair said and rushed off to fetch Bilbo.

Under furrowed brows your eyes narrowed finding the ponies and from behind a tree you eyed a giant bubbling cauldron for a stew. All at once Bilbo was suddenly upside down gripped by a hand without a source and in the moment of deliberation whether or not to disarm to the order of the invisible Troll the men all seemed to be looking up at. Hard and fast you raced out and slammed your feet into the cauldron sending it onto the now screaming trio you caught faint slivers of from the scalding liquid sliding down their bodies. While the Company had gathered to catch Bilbo, who was sent flying your eyes scanned over the clearing to your quickening breaths asking, “Where are they?!”

The last of the liquid had lessened to where you could barely make it out in the campfire aiding in shadows to blot out their heavy steps in the grass, “What does she mean?” Gloin asked stirring questioning mutters from the Dwarves.

A swing of an arm straight for your head had Thorin shouting, “Down!”

You complied and Bifur asked, “You can’t see them? At all?”

“Sunlight,” you muttered, “Turn around! Cover your eyes!” A hand back to the campfire through a deep inhale spurred on a stunning back flip away from the invisible trio and in a wave of arms to a pausing position with hands joined outstretched in front of you the Dwarves’ mouths dropped to the wave of fire flying from the wood to your palms. A circle of your hands and a wave like motion of your arm to your right to a lift of your leg to ease it back close to a lunge began the circle of the brightening flames behind your back. The swing of your left arm came with a pendulum spin with your leg kicking up as your torso dropped to rise again, a quarter of a pirouette motion with your leg came before another dropping spin with arms guiding the flames to spark up. Fingertips gliding through the wall of flames stirring up blips of lightning while the Trolls shielded their eyes and the Dwarves turned while Bilbo hid himself behind Bombur.

Brighter and brighter in the distance the Elves on guard took notice of the sunlit bubble just hours to midnight. Deep breaths to the dimming of the light had the group peeking out to watch your final paused pose with palms sliding together in front of your chest through the drop of your foot to plant beside your other foot. Bilbo asked in his inching step out, “Fire Nation? You, didn’t mean, literal fire the Dragons gave you?”

“Well,” you said then wet your lips that only stayed dry like the rest of your mouth. “We have an internal flame, I’m only self trained. Dad hated benders, having worked so long under them.”

Dwalin, “benders?”

“Those in the Fire Nation who can control fire. My parent’s were non-benders I couldn’t tell them. But there was no shortage of books to sneak from the library on bending techniques.”

Thorin just about hummed out, “You can control fire? Does Gandalf know of this?”

“No.” A whine from Bo turned your head to find him dragging a sack of potatoes you claimed and opened, “Potatoes?” That had the search for treasure on lit by a torch from the campfire you had sent the flames back to. Inside the hoard from the food you followed Thorin’s call to bring you over.

“Miss Pear, here,” your eyes fell to the twin blades and bow with a quiver he packed for you with arrows from several other half packed quivers found within the hoard. “These are more suited for someone your height, Elven made by the looks of it, light and sturdy. Might not trust the lot, but the forest dwellers can smith a fine blade.”

“Thank you,” to your braid hanging frayed over your chest his eyes sank making yours as well, “Something on me?”

Catching those same silver flecked purple eyes looking down at him he shook his head stealing another glance to your dusty dirtied wild curls normally in a shimmering white with speckles of tiny hues of colors temptingly close to opals under direct moon or sunlight nearly driving the Company to requesting a lock of it to treasure always. “Just, your braid has seen better days. I must ask though, did your parents have hair similar to yours?”

“Oh, no. Mother had the curls, but she went into labor while a volcano erupted and sought shelter in a temple for the spirit of the magma. When I was born my eyes and hair were like this.” Down your gaze shifted and you added, “Part of why I was decided to wed my betrothed.”

Balin, “You we’re separated from your lover?”

Locking eyes on him you shook your head, “I’ve never met Turok, his father once in passing when I was a child. He was a General and spoke to the Fire Lord who proclaimed the match.”

Thorin’s brows furrowed, “The Fire Lord proclaimed your match?”

You nodded, “Anyone of standing in the Fire Nation weds who the Fire Lord chooses for us.”

“That’s absurd!” Came at once from the Company and Bombur said, “And terribly cruel. Did you find one you wished to marry but could not?”

“No, I was sent to an all girls school once my match was set and I was secluded from any males outside my bloodline. Until we got sent to the Water Tribe village that is. There was no risk of any trying to befriend me let alone try for a match with me.”

Thorin let out a growling breath and locked his eyes on yours to say, “There is a great deal of cruelty I wish to blow back onto your clan for what you have endured.”

Dwalin said, “We will ensure when we are toasting and feasting to our return you will have no shortage of dance partners.”

“Oh, well, you might have to teach me the dances. We weren’t allowed to dance until our wedding lessons for the ceremony.”

For a tense moment the group held back their comments and Bombur broke the silence, “We should load the wagon with the food we have found, what could be salvaged, then rest up for he night back at camp and move on ahead.”

Across your back Bo slept in his usual way covering most of your body comforting the Dwarves that while you had a thick fur coat too warm for the chilly front rolling in leaving you just to your bedroll and a thin blanket that you would be warm enough. Past the now statue Trolls and bunnies and foxes eating the veggies from the spilled cauldron Gandalf strolled curious of what had occurred through the night. The trunk spotted through the cover parted by his staff on the back of your wagon he had found you, Bo and your things inside of he eyed the gold and treasure that with a muttered enchantment would not be visible to any outside the Company while inside the wagon.

Drawing back his staff he continued past the wagon finding you again with the creeping sunrise seated upright on your own a bit of distance from the camp giving off a faint shimmer through your morning meditations. Another odd trait the Dwarves tolerated once Gandalf had given his best guess it was a time for reflection to see if the Valar might send you guidance on your road ahead. A stick crunching underfoot opened your eyes and he could feel your return to the present next seeing your body turn and rise to grin in the usual way and welcome him back again.

Disbelieving Gandalf eyed you with Bofur and Bifur holding your hands a few moments into Thorin’s defense of you in that if Gandalf, who brought you into this Company, doubted your abilities then he did not deserve a demanded performance of said abilities. The dispute solidifying that there would be no trip to Rivendell souring Gandalf’s mood entirely to vanishing on the wind as soon as he had arrived to try and speak with Elrond to lure the Company there.

“Don’t you lower your eyes,” Gloin said as you helped to clear up camp in readying to head out. “Stubborn Wizard should have never thought he could demand a display, you were trembling after stoning those Trolls. No need to strain yourself without cause.”

Dwalin patted your back in passing you with his saddle resting on his shoulder in a subtle sign not to back up. “Listen to him Lass, not as if the wandering folk can control our Company. Barely a month all together that Wizard has traveled with us always off on the wind. You have seniority.”

Oin came over triple checking, “You are certain you are not burned?”

“Fire is more than heat, it’s light, a living thing. I can be burned but it would take some doing and I would have to be caught off guard.”

Oin nodded passing you a kerchief with a few berries in it, “A snack, last not scavenged by critters before the looming frost.”

He walked off with your thanks and the group made certain that you made it up onto your horse with ease as Nori and Dori secures their ponies behind Gandalf’s horse to pull the wagon they shared the front bench to. South you turned and for days stealing glances back when pausing for breaks distant echoes of more horses kept luring your attention to the empty distance even through the start of another deluge. Grumpy in the wagon Bo slept or moped looking through the front window lying on top of your bags while you sat under your rain cloak trying to keep from nodding off at your body’s urge to curl up when it rained. Another adorable trait for the Dwarves who ensured to have your tent ready upon camping on rainy days to grant you a mini nap before waking you for meals.

“I heard it that time,” Ori exclaimed as you turned for the end of the green pastures towards the distant mountains with slightly rockier ground around a well worn dirt path the men claimed their kin used often when they cross these ways.

“See! I’m not crazy!”

“No one said you were,” Bombur said patting his hand on your leg to his right unable to reach your knee on your tall horse.

Thorin stayed in a huff, “Probably those Elves Gandalf was so keen on visiting. We will lose them in the pass to the Mines.”

“What’s that like?”

Dwalin, “Dark,”

Fili, “Thousands of goblins,”

Kili, “Wargs too! One of the most winding forgetful paths our kin have laid to ward off intruders.”

“Sounds cozy,” Bilbo muttered and Thorin glanced back at you with a nod of his head, “If you feel up to it you could ride up with us up front.”

“I’m good back here out of your way. You know the path. Besides I have a habit of startling my horse friend here still.”

Lowly he chuckled and turned forward remembering the time a you had woken up from another rainy day nap and made your horse rear up sending you hard onto your back in the mud after your full body jerk to a leaf hitting your face. “Change your mind just trot on up.”

Dark and full of screeches the pass stretched on and on. When a glowing breath of a tiny flame behind your hand to peek at your pocket watch on your lap signaled for the night to camp in the pitch black cavern. A small cave was located and thanks to your flame between your palms it was lit up for all to sit inside once two axes were used to secure the cover for the entrance.

Between Bifur and Bofur you crept to the dark lapping river announcing its location even in the dark, another silent marker for their kin who unlike you and Bilbo had a clear view of the path with their eyes so tuned to the dark. Listening between shuddering breaths uncertain of when you had ever been in a place so dark stirring up a fear you didn’t want to admit their kind could not understand as the darkness was not debilitating to them. By feel alone each water skin was lowered into the frigid waters bubbling until full signaling your move to fill the next. “What is that?” You asked eyeing a glint in the distance to your right upstream.

By the sound of their collars shifting you knew they eyed the path to the right finding the odd glint you must be speaking of. Along the muddy ground under the surface it bumped and bobbed until wetting your lips you set the skins down to dunk your arm down nearly to your shoulder. Biting back a wince and gasp from the temperature you kept reaching seeing it was lower than your hand causing your knees on the edge of the river to slide. Onto your belt securing your over shirt the pair took hold to keep you on the shore watching your shift back as the slimy muddy mess with the glowing core came closer to the surface. “It’s slimy,” You muttered and from the hard rocky edge of the stream your other hand lowered to start scrubbing only brightening the area. Hastily Bifur removed his cloak to dangle around the water above your heads and hands blocking some of it. Above the surface the brightly glowing stone with a milky galaxy of glittering mist and waves in spectrums of colors shifted in your palms now fully cleaned narrowing the pupils of the awed Dwarves and yourself. Their focus shifted to returning to the cave as you asked, “What sort of stone is this?”

Bofur said, “Best take it inside.”

“Right,” You said hastily plopping it though the neck of your shirt darkening the world to you again for Bifur to re-secure his cloak around his neck. “Sorry.”

Bofur patted your back translating Bifur’s signing, “No apologies, we admired it as well. Quite a treasure you found there.”

Water skins were gathered up and to the cave the pair guided you to find the Dwarves smirking taking notice of your soaked sleeves. “Fall in?” Kili chortled out to Fili’s snickering.

Bifur however signed that you had found something and mouths dropped with Gloin saying, “Glowing stone? What stone?”

After ensuring the cover was secured behind you, awkwardly you dug into your outer shirt to bring out the lemon sized stone filling every crack of the cave with brilliant light. Dropping the jaws of the Dwarves who each tenderly took their chance to inspect it while Bilbo straightening up the blanket he had set down for your spot to keep a chill off you from the freezing stone similar to his spot. At his side you heard the debating Dwarves unable to come to a conclusive name for the stone that as Bilbo finally got his turn he asked noticing the tears in your eyes at another glance to the swirling colors inside that had quickened and slowed by how far it was from you. “Miss Pear, why are you crying?”

Post subtle sniffle you answered, “I don’t know why, but there’s something about it that makes me sad. Like an old memory.” Ori beside you patted your back and you said shaking your head, “Maybe it’s like something from an old story sparking up in my head.”

Ori, “I used to cry seeing gourds, took me a while before I remembered about this one scene of parted lovers from a tale our Amad told us when we were little. It will surface in time.” He smiled as you glanced his way, grinning to his, “You will see.”

Dwalin said, “Might be able to wrangle up something to help cover that if you like.”

“No, I have an idea.” The men got to fixing dinner while subtly you crept out to dig in the hoard from the Troll trunks. With a handful of copper cups full of white gold coins and a white gold chain the men smirked seeing you sit on the cold dirt by the ponies napping in the safe warm cave that with your hands you dug a hole just a bit larger than the stone lighting the activity.

Hot and hard into your palms you blew licks of flames until you felt the right temperature to lift the first coin you flattened to their awe to fill what they realized was a mold in the dirt. Steadily the hole was filled until the back was forged. Next the first cup was heated and using the dagger in your boot thin strips like wire were set aside then woven into a pair of trees. The trunk spiraled splitting into smaller groups of spiraled branches reaching to the edges matching the shorter roots. Then against the back you used your water skin to clean and polish smooth with more flames from between your lips and hard pressed of your sore but finally blister free fingers. Each motion skilled after years of trinket forging on your room while the other children played outside.

Actions luring the Dwarves into a trance the tree now heated was pressed into the white gold and set aside to cool. The other side of the stone would be covered with copper with the coins flattened and cut to weave another tree pressed into the front. That through the tiny holes they had noticed you wet your lips and with the tweezer kit Nori had passed you strips of both copper and white gold was woven into hinges and a hidden securing lock on the other side along with a harnessing loop to hook into the chain. In securing the stone inside your new locket you couldn’t help but giggle to the claps from the Dwarves who each took a turn inspecting the craftsmanship of the impressive bit of jewelry.

Balin, “You will make a fine jeweler, Miss Pear.”

“Perhaps for fun, I doubt I could make a living from lockets.”

The Dwarves scoffed and took to sharing the history of their kin surrounding jewels including shared bits of jewelry tucked on their persons that each had accomplished forging themselves for certain markers in their growth with the youngest trio showing woven bracelets yet to be old enough to be trusted alone to the forges just yet. Around your neck the chain settled and the locket rested surprisingly light to your chest as Thorin said, “Well maneuvered on the hinge as well, not a sliver of light to be found.”

“Well wouldn’t be a good way to pay you back if I got us killed out here by giving us away.”

His sentimental grin widened and he hummed, “I look forward to uncovering more of your hidden talents in Erebor.”

Pt 2

#Fallen to Middle Earth #Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr #Fire Bender

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clevernewdimension · 5 years

Text

Stress Relief (M)

Your best friend Minseok surprises you after a 'ruff' day at work with just a couple of friends.

Word Count: 5.7K

AN: So... anyone ordered an EXO/Reader train? Yes? Good.

Somehow I never expected my day to end like this. But let’s rewind a bit first. It was a semi typical day for me. My job as a veterinarian is never boring, after all. However, it seemed like the bad news just piled on and on and on. First my car wouldn’t start, so I ended up calling a cab which cost me more money than I wanted it to. Thankfully, a friend who is a mechanic worked on it after I had it towed to his shop. The bill was going to be a lot more than I wished, even after the ‘friends and family’ discount. That was just the beginning of my day, too. Before my shift started, I went to get a coffee from the coffee shop my best friend owns down the street only for some stranger to run into and spill his extremely hot coffee on me. Then got chewed out by the asshole who was watching his phone instead of where he was going. Thankfully my best friend was there to save me. Minseok looked annoyed as the man kept ranting as he left. He looked me over, shaking his head as he motioned me to follow him to his office where he had a spare tee for me to borrow. Faded and fairly old with a logo of a drive in theater that is, sadly, going out of business. The place he and I would spend our Friday nights after school.

We’ve been best friends since middle school. Dated in high school because we thought that’s what everyone wanted for us, so why not try. It just… felt a bit odd. There was the love of friendship but nothing deeper than that, but we dated for years just to see if it would ever click. It didn’t. Broke up but remained friends after graduating. Then, during university, became friends with benefits. That part of our relationship is still going. He’s even introduced me to some of his friends whom I’ve also taken into my bed on the regular.

No jealousy. No strings. Just fun. Though we both did say that if we’re single at the age of thirty-five we’ll get married for the benefits. We both could use those insurance discounts.

After the coffee, I had to take a call to a farm to check on a pregnant cow. Sad to say that the baby had died and we had to well… take it out before it started to rot in her. Very awful and gruesome, I’ll spare you the details because it makes me want to puke when I’m not actually having to help the poor animal. After I got back, took a shower at the office (Which they have for us to use, since this job can be very messy) and returned to see some bad news. A regular dog, Skip, had to be put down. He was old, and had a cancer that we tried to fight. His owner didn’t want him to suffer anymore after he would no longer eat any food. Skip left peacefully and surrounded by people who love him. I cried all thought lunch as I ate a pint of ice cream in sadness that I bought at the gas station down the road. Skip was the first animal I saw after getting the job. He meant a lot to me.

I unfortunately had to give some kittens some shots after that, and the crying broke my heart but it was for their own good. The loss of Skip weighing on my mind as I look at a text from Minseok.

‘Any plans tonight?’

I shake my head to myself, answering immediately.

‘No. Need something to take my mind off work. You offering?’

‘Yeah. Got something really special for you. You gotta work tomorrow? 🍎’

I smile, seeing the little apple emoji. That was our code for sex in text. Use to be the word apple in high school.

‘Nope. I’m free. Do your worst, and I mean it.’

All he sent me after that was a devil emoji. After that, I helped with the surgery to help a dog that was hit by a car. That took up the rest of my afternoon, but in the end the dog, Lilly Bean, will be fine. Weird name, but she was really cute and I was happy at least something went well today.

I left, went and ate a quick dinner at a small restaurant down the street. Pigged out because I fucking deserve it after this day. I smiled at the owner, thanking them for the meal before going to Minseok’s cafe. He drove me to his place, seeming nervous the whole time.

When he opened his door, what I saw made my eyes wide. Before he could even ask I said yes.

Which is how I’m here. My ankles tied to my thighs with them tied down to the table beneath me. My arms tied over my head and to the table so I can’t move them too. A ball gag in my mouth, clamps on my nipples and a vibrator tied to my clit so that no matter how much I try, I can’t escape the little vibrations from it as it was on the lowest setting.

I’m already completely wet, soaking as I was moaning, biting the ball gag in my mouth gently. Now, this would be pretty normal, which wouldn’t come close to what Minseok meant by ‘special’.

What was special was the fact that he and all our mutual friends I casually fuck are there, watching me. Their eyes hungry, some naked as they try to figure out who gets the pleasure of going first. Nine men playing rock paper scissors to see who fucks me first made me a little proud, not going to lie.

I wasn’t paying attention as they figured out the order. But smiled around the ball in my mouth seeing Chanyeol stepping up first. Chanyeol, the one who was the mechanic who worked on my car this morning. My first time with Chnayeol had been at an engagement part of one of our mutual friends. Everyone outside while we hid away in the laundry room. He bent me over the dryer and made me cum with a hand clamped down over my mouth. I see him smirk, the tattoos on his arm flexing as he takes off his shirt. Soon he was naked, two fingers dipping into my wet pussy as his hand moves up and down on his cock a bit.

He smirks, “God you’re so pretty like this. Legs open wide for the taking. You want my cock, hm?”

I try to yell yes, moaning as his fingers curled up. Those long fingers that I saw playing guitar at the party just minutes after having been in me. They felt good in the best possible way. It didn’t last as he smiles hearing me say yes, before he places the head of his cock right at my opening.

“You know what we’re doing, right,” He asks, fingers softly caressing the very peaks of my nipples, feeling so good. I whined at the sensation, the pain from the clamps makes me shiver. “We’re going to make you into a mess. We’re all gonna cum in you, fill you up completely.”

I nod enthusiastically. I’ve dreamed about doing this. Just the though of a line of men fucking me one after the other, fucking me though another mans cum made me so hot. I’ve mentioned it to Minseok, but never acted on it since it just seemed too out of reach.

He pressed into me, not slow but not quick either. My head falls back, feeling so full as he bottoms out. He leans forward, hand curling around my neck as he just groans. “God, Baby,” He says, “You feel so good without a condom.”

“Please,” I try to say, before I feel him pull his hips back and buck forward. The motion sent my eyes rolling back. I see him reach with one of his arms behind me. I feel him undo the gag, tossing it aside.

“I want to hear you,” He says, thrusting in hard and slow.

“Chanyeol,” I moan, looking him in the eyes as he tightens a hand around my neck, applying the right kind of pleasure. We’re lucky Minseok lives a bit out the city. Large house, no one around for a few miles to hear us. Perks of his trust fund baby life.

“Is it ok if I slap your face,” He asks, another hard thrust that sends me gasping.

“Yes,” I nod, looking at him with wide eyes.

The smack was loud, but not all that hard as I look at him. “Call me Daddy,” He commands me, his pace getting a bit faster.

“Daddy,” I whine, “Please fuck me harder, Daddy!”

“Is that what my baby wants,” He asks, another smack to the face, this time harder.

“Yes Daddy,” I yell, “I want you to fuck me hard! I want Daddy’s cum so badly!”

“Fuck,” Chanyeol says, groaning as I see him finally lose himself. He was thrusting wildly, not even giving a damn about my pleasure as he knows even if he doesn’t make me cum, one of the eight waiting will. The sound of skin slapping skin made me writhe as I just chanted Daddy. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to mine, tongue immediately in my mouth as he groaned, hips faltering.

I could feel the warmth of his release in me as he takes ragged breaths. He smiles at me, kissing me before looking behind him, “Get ready, I don’t want her losing any of it!”

He left, and immediately thrusting his dick into me was Jongdae.

Jongdae and I met at an event where his singing students were performing. My niece loved to sing and Minseok suggested his friend who teaches. She went from an above average singer to one going in competitions in just under a year. After her first performance under his tutelage, I went up to him and thanked him, offering to get him a drink since he did such a wonderful job with my niece. Somehow that lead to the two of us going to the closest motel and getting so loud people banged on the walls. I went home very satisfied with a few bruises from his teeth.

He leaned forward, lips kissing and biting at my chest as he starts thrusting hard. No time for soft and slow. His tongue brushing over my extremely sensitive nipples that were still in the clamps. “Jongdae,” I moaned, just as he bites harshly into the side of my breast.

One of his hands pushes the vibrator down on my clit, making my head go back with a yell. “Cum for me,” He says in my ear, “Let me feel you cum all around me.”

It was ripped from me, my body shaking and ever nerve feeling completely awake. He takes off one of the nipple clamps, making me cry of pain and pleasure as he licks and sucks it harshly. “Fuck,” I yell, my eyes watering as he bites again.

His hips speed up and soon, he was groaning and whining in my neck before one last long moan. He takes a moment to gather himself, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. He looks back, “You ready?”

I whine feeling him leave, but smile seeing Minseok there, a small smile on his face.

I still remember our first time. This was his family’s home and they let us stay here while they went off to their vacation home. It was just him and I and his family’s staff, who would leave right after dinner. Freshman year of high school, were we’re not children but not adults yet. We’d kiss and do other stuff, but we didn’t go all the way until that night. On the roof we had put a mattress since we both loved to look at the stars. The scene was romantic but what we did wasn’t. We were dating, just starting a week or so ago. It was nice and romantic from the outside, but with really no romantic interest, we just finally let the lust get to us. We both were not really that experienced, but it didn’t stop us. We learned about it together.

Now he’s a lot better. Absolutely incredible, really. As he pushes his cock in me I moan, smirking up at him, “Oh I bet I know why you did this, hm?”

“Well if I didn’t set this up you would have never tried it,” He says with a smirk. “Fuck you’re so filthy in there. So much cum in you already.”

“I fucking love it,” I say, moaning as he starts a steady and hard pace.

“Such a dirty little slut,” He groans, shaking his head as he reaches forward, hand reaching around and gripping my hair tightly. His other hand presses the button on the vibrator, making it stronger. I yell out, my back arching as I hear him say, “Tell me how much of a dirty slut you are.”

My heart was racing, as I see Minseok’s face watching me, mouth open and small groans coming out from time to time. “I’m a dirty slut, Minnie,” I moan, biting my lip.

“You’re damn right,” He mutters, lips close to my ear as he pulls on my hair. “You’d have to be after fucking all of my friends,” He growls, “You just can’t help yourself, huh? That addicted to cock that mine isn’t enough? You needed eight more?”

I smirk, “Don’t act like you haven’t fucked some of them too. You’re about as straight as a corkscrew.”

That made him laugh before he closes his eyes, pressing kisses into my neck. Minseok groans, “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Have some of them t-told you that too,” I ask, clutching my hands into fists, moving my hips as much as I could to aid in his orgasm.

He laughs, “I bet you’d love to know those details.” I hear him broan in my ear, hands gripping my hair and waist harder as I could feel him lose himself in the actions. A loud groan in my ear, his body going tense as he bit my neck, though not hard.

He takes a deep breath as I whined, wanting more. He presses a kiss to my forehead before pulling away.

Baekhyun’s smiling self grinned, pressing into my soaked heat instantly. He moans, practically whining in delight.

I remember the first time I met Baekhyun. Minseok invited me out to a bar to see his friend at a stand up show. Said that he was dared to go up there and perform. When I said that sounded like a disaster, Minsoek just laughed and said I would be surprised.

And I was. He was amazingly and shockingly funny. When Minseok introduced us, Baekhyun then had pink hair. I learned that he likes to change it often, and being a vocal coach at a very unconservative art school, it’s allowed. When he wasn’t doing that he was teaching improv classes. I went to one and he told me not to quit my day job. Ego hurt a little but I appreciate the honesty. After we went out for drinks and I learned that Baekhyun was very handsy when he was drunk, but only with people who are comfortable with him. After we were both a drunken mess having slow giggle filled sex on my living room floor. The next morning, we didn’t remember much so we ended up fucking again. Every now and then I’ll call him for drinks and sex.

His lips pressed to my lips, tongue sliding against mine. Baekhyun’s thrusts were not fast, but sensual. He lovingly pressed kisses to every inch of skin, hips making me tear up from the drastic difference between him and Minseok’s fucking. His hand reaches up, pressing his fingers to my lips. I open up, sucking on his and hear him groan.

“I’m not gonna last long,” He whines, “Fucking someone who’s completely full of cum is such a fucking turn on.”

I smile, “We’ll have to do this again.”

Baekhyun presses the vibrator to me, making he let out a yell of pleasure, his hips going faster, before I hear an even higher whine from him. His eyes squeezed shut as he bites his lip, pressing his hips completely flush to me.

Baekhyun was begin soft tonight, which was a nice break, honestly, as he pulled out.

Though, I could tell that was ending when I see Kyungsoo step up. We met after he opened a restaurant next to Minseok’s cafe. It was like fine dining quality but without having to spend an arm and a leg. One day he cocked something for me in his kitchen for dinner, inviting me in, so long as I wore a hair net and didn’t touch anything. There was something about watching him in the chaos, making something while barking orders and yelling at people slacking off. The food was divine, and watching him in his element was a bit of a turn on. I stayed and waited until he was closing, flirting a bit all the while. Apparently it had an effect as after everyone left, he pulled me into his office and fucked me against the wall. The whole time I flirted he would either not get it or look away like he was shy.

Now, though, that’s not the case. I couldn’t hide my smile as he reached up, gripping a fistful of my hair and pulled as he pushed in. Unlike everyone else in the room, he wasn’t really loud and moaning during sex. If you wanted to know if he was enjoying it, you have to see it in how he’s moving. Kyungsoo is a man of honesty. Either he’s into it or not. And right this very moment he was VERY into me, in more ways than one. His other hand came up and smacked my face. A lot harder than Chanyeol, but he knew that I was ok with it or else I’d say something. His hand that slapped me went to my chest as his lips and tongue went to my neck. I was shivering, on the edge again as his lips went to my ear.

“Don’t you dare,” He growls. “Not until I do.”

I whined, which resulted in another pull to my hair. I needed to cum so badly that I could barely hear the words he was whispering in my ear. Just for me to hear. All the names he calls me. Slut, bitch, cunt, whore, and so on as I feel his thrusts getting faster and stronger. My fingers were moving to try to grab on to anything but there was nothing as I hear his start to breathe harder. One last pull to my hair as he mutters “Cum, slut.” My eyes went back, my body shaking as we both finished together.

I didn’t get to mourn the loss of his body and his warmth for long as I see Sehun. I grin, as his fingers slide up my parted thighs. I met Sehun in college. We had a history class together Freshman year and were assigned to be partners for the three major projects all semester. We were very friendly, and both not great at the subject but made it work. The first time it crossed the line into sexual was at a party. A bit of a buzz later and Sehun and I were on the couch, half naked at four in the morning while all our closest friends were watching and cheering us on. Some people left and soon there was just three people. Two of Sehun’s friends and Minseok before we finally removed the last of the barriers and had sex. After college we’d meet occasionally. He has a night time radio show on Fridays and is a part of the morning shows the whole week minus weekends. Sometimes he’d put on a really long songs one after the other and leave the booth and meet me in my car so we could hook up while his co-workers are none the wiser.

Sex with Sehun was pretty vanilla other than he sometimes like people to watch. Other than that, it was just him liking to be praised. It’s a nice change from the many kinky people I’ve been with. I grin, looking at Sehun, “Please Sehun! I need it!”

I see him smile, a little bit of a blush. He leans forward, pressing in as he goes before his lips find mine. I moaned, feeling him go deeper and deeper before I pull away from the kiss, moaning. “Fuck, Sehun, you’re so perfect!”

“I haven’t even started,” He mutters, kissing my neck and leaving soft little bites. He smiles against my skin, before starting to move at a slower pace than before. His hands were sliding up my body slowly as I was moaning in his ear. “Sehun,” I moaned, biting his neck a little, “You fuck me so good Sehun. Your cock is so big and thick that anytime I see it I’m instantly wet.”

“Fuck,” He moans lightly.

“Your body is amazing, I wish I could wrap my arms around you and feel all of you,” I say, letting out a loud groan as his thumbs rub my nipples softly.

He started to speed up, “Tell me how much you want me.”

“Anytime I see you I want to lean back and spread my legs for you,” I whisper in his ear, “Let you go at me and fuck me until I can’t think about anything else.”

I hear him moan lightly in my ear. He was getting close.

“God sometimes I want to hide under your desk at your work and suck your cock while you’re live on air,” I say, feeling his hands move to my hips, gripping them.

“Y-yeah,” He asks, almost there.

“I imagine sucking your long cock while you’re live. Licking it like a lollipop and letting you cum on my face just before you have to come back on the air so you’re breathless as you introduce the next song or talk to a caller,” I say with a smirk.

I feel his body stiffen, as he lets out a muffled gasp. He pressed himself as close to me as possible, lips pressing against mine. I smile, giving his bottom lip a quick little bite with a wink.

I take a moment to try to catch my breath, the toy at my center fallen off a while ago from various men thrusting into me. I look forward, seeing Jongin there looking at me, a small look of worry.

“I’m ok,” I say, “Just needed a breather.”

Jongin, sweet Jongin was an absolute animal in bed in the best way possible. He works at a dance studio and helps out a lot at his family’s flower shop. One hot day during the summer I came in to place an order and he was the only one working, bare chest out to my view. I made a small little flirtatious comment about it. Perhaps it was my really short shorts or the fact that was was wearing a bathing suit top under a very thin shirt that seemed to get his interest. We had some small talk about how it was boiling hot and I made the comment that the AC was broken in my car. Jongin offered me a few minutes in the walk in refrigerator, though with a hint of something more. Soon, I was covered in almost freezing air as he set me naked in the small chair in there. Spread my legs and went to town before I put my hands against the wall, bending over as he fucked me in there. The sensation of the cool air and the burning hot of his skin was pretty intoxicating. After we got dressed, the refrigerator was being opened as I hid. It felt so naughty as his sister was talking to him, asking him about different flowers and my order. After she left, he helped me sneak out through the back door with one last slap to my ass.

He smirks, pressing into me quickly. The sound of him pushing in with the amount of cum in me was almost enough to make me drool it was so hot. His palm slapped my inner thigh, making me yelp out as he smirks, other hand tightly grabbing at my breast.

“I can feel all of their cum,” He moans, getting turned on by it. After a few hook ups Jongin told me he was Bi and really loved cum play. I was a bit shocked at first, but then nodded. It is who he is, after all. I figured if anything he would have wanted to be the last one. Jongin just looks at me and I nod. The pace was brutal. He looked on the verge of cumming already, but one hand gripped my breast as the other slapped my thigh, making me shout out in ecstasy. Jongin loved slapping. Not so much the face, but my ass, my thighs, my breasts.

“You’re so tights still,” He gasps, “After all of us, fucking you one after the other.”

“Jongin,” I say, feeling a slap to my chest.

“I’m not going to last long,” He says, “but I’ll make it up to you.”

“Cum in me Jongin,” I say, nodding after his statement, “Cum in me like all the others!”

He groaned before it turned almost into a whine as he thrusted through his orgasm. The rolling of his hips was fucking wonderful as he slows, pressing a kiss to my lips before pulling out.

Before I could say anything else, I hear a command. “Close your eyes.” The voice made me smile, as I let my eyes close, following his instructions.

Junmyeon was another trust fund baby who’s parents died very tragically when he was fifteen. He enjoys his money, gives a lot away and still works as a therapist. Enjoying talking to people, listening to their stories and gracefully will offer advice and insights into their life. He has only a few patients and is off more days than he works, but he enjoys it nonetheless. We met at a fancy party that Minseok dragged me to in order to have a plus one. They talked, knowing one another for a few years as they’re in the same social circles. Before Minseok and I left, Junmyeon slipped me his number. I texted him after, and he asked if Minseok and I were an item. When I said no, he replied with wonderful. I told him I wasn’t looking for anything serious and he said the same. After a few days to talking via text, we met up for dinner in order to talk. It went very well. Extremely well that after we went to his nice house and proceeded to not even make it to the bedroom, stopping on the steps instead. After a few more times Junmyeon let me in on a few of his kinks, which only made our sex that much more amazing.

I feel a hand grip my throat, squeezing the sides. I took a deep breath, feeling the thumping of my heartbeat before he let go.

“Baby girl you’re so full already, hm?”

“Yes Daddy,” I say.

I feel him slowly press into me. “You like it don’t you? Being so full of cum like such a little slut.”

“Yes Daddy, I love it so much,” I whine, wanting him to go faster.

I could hear him chuckle, “Do you want Daddy’s too?”

“Yes! Please let me have it Daddy,” I beg, feeling him finally bottoming out.

“You know Daddy loves to cum in your sweet little pussy,” He mutters, hand holding my throat again. Breath by my neck as he spoke again. “Feeling you so full of cum is so wonderful Baby, but god I wish it was all mine.”

He lets go, and I shiver as he starts to slowly, but with perfect power and precision thrusting. “Do you want that, hm? To be so full of my cum it would spill out of you?”

“Give it to me, please,” I say, moaning.

I feel him move, a quickly shark slap to my face.

“You have to behave, Baby,” He says, “This is your only warning. Do it again and I don’t care how much you beg to cum I’ll make sure no one else lets you.”

“Yes Daddy,” I say, nodding. “I was a bad girl talking back to you. I think I deserve another slap.”

“You do, hm,” He asks, hips pressing forward quickening, making me whine.

Another quick pain and loud sound before I could nod, “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re very welcome, Baby,” He says, pressing his lips into my neck, “now, Daddy has to hurry. I wish I could spend all night here, but you still have one more to go.”

“Please fill me up Daddy,” I mutter, “Give me more please! I want it so badly.”

“Your wish is my command,” He says, before his pace goes from slow and sensual to fast and brutal. My mouth was making sounds I didn’t know as his finger circled my clit. The other hand wrapping around my throat, not yet choking me before I could feel my peak growing and growing.

“Open your eyes,” He commanded, hand tightening around my neck.

I look, seeing him looking directly at me before his eyes close, the gasps and moans from his mouth filling the air as I feel even more cum soaked into me.

He let go of my throat and stopped rubbing my clit just as I was at the peak, making me whine.

“Sorry, Baby girl. But I think Yixing will give you what you want.”

Yixing. The owner of the dance studio and pretty well known choreographer for the stars. Music videos, tours, live television performances, he’s done it all. We met randomly in college. I was mourning my grandmother’s passing. The second anniversary was so hard as I missed her so much. I was crying, secluded to the roof of the Science building when he sat down next to me, and offered me someone to listen.

I just spilled. Everything my heart was feeling and he listened, and offered his condolences. After was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. And soon after, my second friends with benefits relationship in college. The thing I learned about Yixing is that he totally and completely puts your needs and desires above his own. He likes getting a blowjob, ut he’d rather be the one giving. Our first night was after midterms week ended. I was trying to relax. When I told him he offered to help. We spent the day at the beach close by before heading back to his apartment. The entire night he fucked me like he loved me and it was such a wonderful and magical thing. When I asked what brought that on he said he was friends with Minseok and knows how we are, saying he wouldn’t mind that too.

His fingers traced my body, as he sinks into me, the motion of his hips like a steady wave, hitting me where I needed it the most. I groaned, feeling his lips press kisses into every inch of skin he could. It was delightful, as he let his fingers massage my breasts, thumbs just barely going over the nipples.

“Watching them all with you was such a beautiful sight,” He mutters, kissing my shoulder. “You’re so beautiful, wrapped up like a little present for us all.”

“Yixing please,” I mutter, feeling his lips move to mine. Yixing’s kisses were always slower, taking the time to really feel it. He pulls away, “I got you, Baby.” One of his fingers presses into my clit, circling, “Let go.”

My body finally reached the peak and tumbled over, my shouts in the air, my body shuttering as I pulled on the ropes holding me. Yixing just muttered works to me, holding me and fucking me though it. My pure bliss lasted longer because of him, knowing exactly how to make me feel the most about of pleasure as possible.

Once my climax ended, Yixing allowed himself to start to move faster, letting himself fall into his desires and his needs. The rather high pitched wines of his was a tell tale sign he was falling, before I feel him still.

I sigh, looking around at the men before me. Most already dressed again. I see Jongin smirk, looking down between my legs and I finally start to let the cum within me out. He leans forward, tongue licking up my slit and moaned. I writhed, very sensitive as I watch him lick to his heart's content. He pulled away after a bit, a little bit of cum dripping from his lips. As Minseok walked forward, he pulled Jongin down, kissing him deeply and giving him a wink, making the younger blush. It was one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen.

Minseok and Chanyeol helps with the ropes, as I’m told Jongdae ran a bath for me. Minseok stayed behind, the other guys leaving the room talking about ordering food. Minseok massages my muscles, making sure the rope didn’t do any harm.

“Next time to text me about something special, I’ll know to say yes immediately,” I mutter, causing him to laugh.

“So, you liked it?”

I nod, “Not not all the time. I don’t want to have another dick in me for at least a week.”

“That can be arranged,” He says, smiling. “Next weekend. You, me and the stars?”

“Wanna pretend were virgins again,” I ask with a laugh. “Yes, sounds very nice, actually.”

He presses a kiss to my head before smiling, “I’m going to bring you a glass of wine.”

“That would be lovely,” I say, nodding as I watched him leave. I sink into the bubbles, letting the warm water ease my aches and stress.

What a wonderful end to the day.

#exo smut #jongin smut #sehun smut #kyungsoo smut #chanyeol smut #jongdae smut #baekhyun smut #yixing smut #junmyeon smut #minseok smut #kai smut #d.o. smut #chen smut #suho smut #xiumin smut #it's just a good ol' fashioned exo fucks the reader one after the other y'all

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