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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

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The Perfect Pet

Shinobu Kochou x They/Them Reader AU

A/N: This could be considered a part two to You Cat to be Kitten Me, but you could totally read this without having read the other. I’ll just link the other fic in case you’re interested (LINK). Hope you enjoy! Word Count: 3,454

Shinobu knew when she had let herself be dragged to the animal shelter by (Y/n) that it wasn’t going to be a simple visit. ‘Just to look,’ they had promised, but now, here Shinobu was watching (Y/n) stare up at her from their crouched position on the floor as they rubbed the puppy’s belly with hopeful eyes.

“No.” Shinobu said, not unkindly.

“I didn’t even say anything yet.” (Y/n) pouted in return, scratching the soft puppy’s furry neck.

“It’s written all over your face. We are not getting a dog, (Y/n).” Shinobu hated to tell them no, but she really couldn’t stand such furry animals.

“How about a cat?” (Y/n) asked, looking just as hopeful.

“No.”

“A bunny.”

“No.”

“A ferret.”

“No.”

“A—“

“(Y/n), we’ve talked about this. I’m not living under the same roof as some slobbery, wiggly, furry beast. If you want to play with an animal so badly, you can always visit Mitsuri’s cat, or her new rabbit too for that matter. Is that what brought this on?”

“A little,” (Y/n) stood up, forgoing eye contact with Shinobu to scan the rows of animals.

“A little, hm?” Shinobu crossed her arms, “and whatever else could possibly be at play?”

“It’s nothing,” (Y/n) shook their head, “want to grab lunch now?”

Shinobu tilted her head and gave (Y/n) a questioning look. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t nothing. Still, she wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of this stuffy room and wash her hands. She could question them about it later.

“Lunch sounds wonderful.” She smiled, looping (Y/n)’s arm with her own.

They waved at the volunteers and thanked them before heading out of the shelter and back to their car. They drove to one of their favorite spots with outdoor seating that overlooked the river, talking casually and laughing together while they waited for their food to arrive.

“You remember I have been invited to be a guest speaker at Kyoto University next week, right?” Shinobu had asked between bites.

“Yeah, why? Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, nothing is wrong per se, I was also asked just recently if I could stay a few days more to oversee a new experiment. You don’t mind do you?”

“Of course I don’t mind, dear. I love how passionate you get about new projects. I hope you have fun.” (Y/n) smiled, though something seemed a bit forced about it from Shinobu’s perspective.

“Are you sure? I haven’t committed to it yet.” Shinobu tested.

“I’m sure, really. Why are you giving me that look?”

“What look?”

“The worried, suspicious kind of look.”

“It’s just that you have seemed kind of out of it since we left the animal shelter. You said it was nothing, but I’m not quite sure that’s true.”

“Shinobu, it’s fine, really,” (Y/n) assured as they paid for the meal, “do you want to go on the river walk trail before we head home or...?”

“What I’d really like to do is find out what’s bothering you.” Shinobu grumbled. Nevertheless, she took (Y/n) by the hand and led them down the path.

Plenty of people were out, enjoying the warmth the sun had to offer. Of course that meant a lot of people were out with their dogs as well. Shinobu took to using (Y/n) as a barrier whenever a dog veered too close to her, sniffing them with wagging tails. (Y/n) was all too happy to intercept the furry canines that they came across.

“This path should really be wider...” Shinobu would mumble, tugging (Y/n) along so they wouldn’t dwell for long.

“We’re almost back to the car. You’ll be okay, I’ll protect you.” (Y/n) teased, staring at Shinobu adoringly. Their hand was squeezed tightly while someone with a big St Bernard passed them by, its tail brushed against Shinobu’s thigh, making her shudder.

Shinobu heaved a huge sigh of relief when they got back into the car. As (Y/n) drove, Shinobu rolled down the window to send any little hair she found on her pants flying out on the wind.

“So, today was fun, right?” (Y/n) asked tentatively while taking the last turn to their house.

“Today was, something.” Shinobu shrugged. Yet she smiled sweetly and patted (Y/n)’s leg. “But any day I get to spend with you is a good day.”

“Aww, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The couple made the safe return to their house and lazed about for the rest of the day. When dinner came around they cooked together, spinning, teasing and brimming with cheer all the while. It was after they had gotten ready for bed and (Y/n) flopped into the covers beside Shinobu that the doctor decided to try her luck again.

“So what was on your mind today?” Shinobu asked while she turned on her side to observe her partner.

“You’re still on that?” (Y/n) poked Shinobu in the ribs, “let it go.”

“No, I want to know what’s wrong. I’m leaving for Kyoto soon and I want to get this all sorted out so it doesn’t fester while we’re apart. No matter how small a matter you think it is, anything that concerns you matters to me.” Shinobu spoke seriously.

(Y/n) was ready to deny Shinobu again up until she loomed above them on the bed with such stern eyes.

“I just miss you, you know. I guess I get kind of lonely when you’re away.” (Y/n) admitted.

“I miss you too. We always find time to text and facetime, that helps doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does. The house though, it just feels empty without you. Of course I’ve got work to do too, but when I’m done and you’re not around, I just feel kind of sad.”

“You could always invite my sisters over, you all get along so well and Mitsuri and Iguro or any of our other friends and family.” Shinobu suggested, mildly upset with herself for not noticing sooner.

“I have before, but I can’t commandeer everyone’s plans every time you’re gone for an extended period of time. You don’t have to worry though, I find ways to keep myself busy.” (Y/n) said, snuggling deeper into the covers.

“I won’t stay the extra days, I’ll email the professors right now.” Shinobu moved to get out of bed but (Y/n) pushed her back down and held her in place.

“No need for that. I don’t want you to skip out on opportunities to grow your research for me. See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“This is why you took me to the animal shelter, isn’t it? So you had something to keep you company whenever I’m away.” Shinobu asked despite already knowing the answer.

“I’ll admit that was kind of the idea. I just wanted to see if anything would catch your eye, but I didn’t keep any unrealistic expectations. I knew you wouldn’t like anything furry. I was kind of hoping to find a hairless cat or something.”

“(Y/n), you should have told me. I would have—“

“You would have settled on something just to make me happy. I wanted to find something we’d both like.” (Y/n) rested their head on the pillow just above Shinobu’s shoulder and nuzzled it with their nose, looping an arm over Shinobu they sighed pleasantly, “It’s really okay. I’d let you know if I thought otherwise. Good night, love you.”

“Love you.” Shinobu smiled, resting her head atop (Y/n)’s.

While (Y/n)’s breathing slowed and they drifted off into unconsciousness, Shinobu was wide awake. She gently drummed her fingers over (Y/n)’s side while she searched her mind for a solution that would leave them both satisfied. Shinobu had raised fish for a time, but you couldn’t really pick them up or interact with them like one would a more traditional pet.

Shinobu slowly scooted to lay upright against the headboard and took her phone off the charger, turning down the brightness a bit when the harsh light hit her eyes. She typed the shelter into her search bar and navigated through the site, trying to imagine herself getting along with any of the animals and failing miserably.

She was about to give up and go to sleep when curiosity got the best of her and she clicked the tag marked ‘miscellaneous’. She hadn’t realized the shelter cared for such unusual animals. Shinobu smiled down at her partner sleeping in oblivious bliss. Maybe this could work out after all.

The next morning, (Y/n) woke up to the smell of breakfast and lazily swiped their arm over the bed, searching in vain for the warmth of a body they knew couldn’t be there. With a tired whine, they resigned themself to getting up and stumbled into the kitchen.

“You’re up early.” (Y/n) yawned before giving Shinobu a quick peck on the cheek. “Something wrong at the pharmacy? The clinic? Leaving for Kyoto early?”

“Must there be something wrong in order for me to get up early?” Shinobu asked. To tell the truth, she hadn’t slept much at all; she was too busy researching to do so.

“No, it’s just that you prefer to sleep in when you don’t have plans.” (Y/n) said, moving to sit on top of the kitchen island.

“Oh, but I do have plans.” Shinobu cryptically corrected, standing between (Y/n)’s legs.

“You do, do you?” (Y/n) smiled, “do these plans involve me at all by chance?”

“In fact, they do.” Shinobu kissed (Y/n) before stepping back a bit to look them in the eyes. “So eat your breakfast and get dressed so we can head out.”

“Head out? Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

(Y/n) and Shinobu finished their breakfast, showered and got dressed. Shinobu started up the car and they went off on their way. (Y/n) asked her a few more times for even just a hint but Shinobu simply smirked, holding a finger to her sealed lips.

She couldn’t keep the secret forever however, especially not after (Y/n) realized what road they just turned on.

“Shinobu, what are you doing?”

“Just trust me.”

“I trust you, but what are we doing back at the shelter?”

“Come with me and you’ll see.” Shinobu said, already getting out of the car.

(Y/n) unbuckled their seatbelt and quickly followed behind their partner, wondering just what idea could have gotten into Shinobu’s head. They managed to catch up to her just as she greeted the volunteer working the front desk.

“Good morning, we’re here to see Puppy.”

(Y/n) gave Shinobu a weird look, but the doctor didn’t pay them much mind as the volunteer answered after a moment of confusion flashed in his eyes as well.

“Really? That’s wonderful! Come follow me to the back.” The young man said.

While the couple followed the volunteer to the back of the shelter, (Y/n) tried to figure out how they were going to dissuade Shinobu from picking out a dog just to please them. Shinobu couldn’t even remember to speak properly when thinking about it. I mean, ‘we’re here to see puppy’? Really? Not a puppy or the puppies just, puppy. She was really just going through the motions, wasn’t she?

“She’s right in there. She has her own little set up and everything. Poor thing was surrendered to us after her owner died of old age, but she seems to be adjusting well. Serve her up a nice big platter of salad and she’ll never forget it.” The jolly volunteer disclosed.

The previous owner died, had they? That was so sad. (Y/n) frowned at the thought. The salad comment got to them however. What kind of dog would want a salad of all things?

“May we go in?” Shinobu asked.

“Sure. Let me know if you’ve got any questions. I’ll be back at the desk if you need me.” The helpful man said before making his way back down the hall.

Shinobu wasted no time in gently pulling the door open and taking a step inside, much to (Y/n)’s surprise. Shinobu ducked her head back out and motioned (Y/n) forward with a curl of her finger. (Y/n) was so confused. Shinobu looked genuinely excited to show her this particular puppy. With a slight delay, (Y/n) followed her in and looked for the dog that had somehow managed to win over their Shinobu’s heart. Their eyes roamed around the room for a moment, they blinked, and nearly broke their neck with the force they used to turn their head back to the shape that had caught their eye.

“No way.” They breathed out.

“What do you think?” Shinobu asked, moving to crouch beside the large tortoise.

“That, that’s not a puppy.” (Y/n) stated dumbly, too shocked to say much else.

“Her name is Puppy. She’s a Sulcata, or an African Spurred Tortoise. Cute, isn’t she?” Shinobu softly stroke the tortoise’s head with her finger.

“She’s massive.” (Y/n) blinked. Perhaps they were still sleeping and this was all just a dream.

“Yes, the biography they had on the website said she’s a little over one-hundred-twenty pounds. She shouldn’t grow much more if at all though, she’s well over eighty years old. Your previous caretaker took really good care of you, huh?” Shinobu said, patting Puppy’s carapace as the giant reptile slowly scooted away.

“Eighty years... Shinobu, are you suggesting we adopt this grandma of a turtle?” (Y/n) watched attentively as Puppy scooted across the floor.

“Tortoise, (Y/n). And yes, I am. She may have more years than the two of us combined, but she could very easily live another sixty years with the proper care and attention.”

“Are we even equipped to give her that? I don’t think we could even pick her up? Like, how would we even get her home and where would we put her?”

“If we decide to adopt her, there plenty of ways to safely transport her. We can set up an enclosure in the back yard and let her roam around the house. We’ll have to keep an eye on her of course, but I’ve heard she’s quite well behaved.”

(Y/n) stared at Shinobu with awe. Never would they have thought Shinobu would speak so passionately about such an unusual animal unless it cultivated its own poison or was some kind of insect. They shook their head and smiled.

“You know,” they said, crouching down to stroke Puppy’s scaly leg, “an actual dog would be easier to take care of, relatively speaking.”

“Do you not like the idea?” Shinobu asked.

“Oh no, I was just wondering if we get divorced when we’re like, eighty, who gets Puppy?” (Y/n) laughed and rubbed their arm, Shinobu had punched it a little harder than she had meant to.

They took some time to get to know Puppy, feeding her some leafy greens from her veggie platter and petting her carapace. It didn’t take long for them to become completely enamored with the old gal.

They met up with the man at the front desk again and filled out an adoption form. It would take a couple days to be processed but Puppy was as good as theirs. They quickly made their way back home to continue their research and completed all the preparations to make the house and yard tortoise friendly.

A couple days later, and the adoption went through. The couple was elated and rushed to pick up the new addition of their family and bring her home. It was a bit tricky, but they made it without any complications.

They let Puppy settle in and explore the yard enclosure first before slowly guiding her to the house with collard greens and cabbage. As they sat in the middle of their living room with the foot and a half long tortoise, Shinobu found herself wishing she could just cancel her Kyoto trip altogether.

“This was a terrible idea. Now I never want to leave the house.” She sighed.

“Aww, it’s like Puppy is your baby. Your very old baby.” (Y/n) said, feeding Puppy another leaf.

“We never did discuss if we were going to give her a new name.” Shinobu thought suddenly. “Any thoughts?”

“Nah, I like Puppy. It’s cute. Besides, she’s had that name for almost a century, it doesn’t seem right to change it now.”

“Yeah, I can agree with that sentiment.” Shinobu nodded.

“You just want to tell Kanae we got a puppy and watch her face change as she realizes the truth, don’t you?”

“Perhaps.” Shinobu smiled mischievously.

***

When it came time for Shinobu to leave for Kyoto, she hugged (Y/n) close and kissed them sweetly.

“I’ll miss you.” She softly proclaimed.

“I’ll miss you too. I think Puppy will too.” (Y/n) said, looking down to watch Puppy step up to Shinobu’s foot. Most likely she was looking for a snack.

“I’ll miss you too, sweet girl!” Shinobu hummed, couching down to give Puppy a quick rubdown. “You and (Y/n) take good care of each other while I’m gone, okay?”

Puppy closed her eyes, enjoying the attention Shinobu gave. Shinobu returned to her full height and gave (Y/n) another kiss before grabbing her travel bag and heading for the front door. Before she was fully out of the house, she turned back and smiled at (Y/n).

“I almost forgot to tell you. I texted Kanae about Puppy. Expect her sometime today, she can’t wait to meet her,” Shinobu waved her phone at (Y/n), “try to catch her reaction and send it to me. I really wish I held off on telling her until after I got back.”

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Be safe.” (Y/n) waved in return, already well aware of what Shinobu had in mind for her unsuspecting sister.

“I will. I’ll call you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you,” (Y/n) watched Shinobu leave before looking back down at Puppy. “Come on, Puppy. Let’s go outside.”

They led Puppy to the backyard with some cabbage and set her up with some hay and other enrichment materials. It was maybe an hour later when (Y/n) heard movement from inside the house. Instead of panicking, they remembered what Shinobu had said and got their phone ready. Just as they hit record, Kanae slid the back door open and jogged over to (Y/n) with Kanao calmly closing the door behind her. Apparently Kanae had convinced her to tag along.

“I can’t believe you actually convinced her to get a puppy! How did you do it?” Kanae started in on (Y/n) immediately. “Where is the puppy? Shinobu wouldn’t send me any pictures.”

“Well...”

“...That’s not a puppy.”

(Y/n) and Kanae turned to Kanao who was staring down at Puppy as she snapped at some hay. (Y/n) turned their phone back just in time to catch Kanae’s double take and the journey of her expression from disbelief to acceptance.

“I should have known it wasn’t that simple!” She groaned, “(Y/n), what did you two do?”

“We got a sulcata tortoise from the animal shelter. Her name is Puppy,” (Y/n) noticed how mesmerized Kanao was by the reptile and grinned, “she’s really gentle, you can feed her some greens from that bucket if you’d like, Kanao.”

Kanao nodded, taking a big, leafy bok choy and offering it to the tortoise with bright, attentive eyes. The youngest sister did not seem the least bit disappointed by Shinobu’s farce.

“I can’t believe her! I should have seen this coming, Shinobu has detested furry things all her life, but this is like a literal dinosaur!” Kanae sighed and shook her head, “She really got me good.”

A moment later, and the eldest Kochou sibling realized (Y/n) had recorded the whole encounter.

“(Y/n), don’t send that! Don’t give her the satisfaction!” Kanae pouted, reaching for the phone.

“I’m sorry! She asked me to before she left.”

“You don’t need to do all of your partner’s dirty work. Come on, please?”

“Already sent.” (Y/n) said, a sympathetic smile tugged at their lips.

Kanae frowned and narrowed her eyes, reminding (Y/n) heavily of Shinobu. It was a look (Y/n) seldom saw on the usually cheery woman.

“Fine then. I’m going to pet that tortoise now, hopefully she’s more well mannered than her caretakers.” Kanae turned her nose up on (Y/n) and joined Kanao in gently patting Puppy.

(Y/n)’s phone buzzed and they looked down, Shinobu had answered quickly it seemed. A simple, ‘yes!’ with a couple variants of laughing emojis. But another message soon followed reading, ‘When I come back, we’re getting Mitsuri next.’

(Y/n) exhaled an amused sound and prepared themself for Shinobu to come back from her trip. They knew that once she returned, Shinobu would continue to pull the same joke about Puppy to all their friends and family until no one remained unaware.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oneshots #kny x reader #kny oneshots #shinobu kochou #shinobu kocho #shinobu x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #shinobu kocho x reader

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flowerwrites06 · 4 years

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break my mind’s eye VIII — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

Picturesque day framed by the window of the brightly lit clinic, cool air swirling around them aiding Belle’s anxiety in whatever slight way it could. Fingers gripped at her knitted lavender cardigan, pressing her legs together to somehow prevent more chill to flow through the white floral dress. She seemed to focus on every other little thing while the man in a white coat in front of quickly typed and clicked in his own time.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Jeon.” The doctor smiled as if he just confirmed the happiness of a new family.

Six weeks passed since Belle took the dozens of pregnancy tests haunting her with pink pluses until finally the doctor gave the final verdict. Thankfully with the Spring Line show coming in close to around a couple months, she was able to avoid any conversation of whether the ritual worked.

Ritual. Fucking hell what year was this?

Her silence caused a slight awkward confusion to grip the doctor’s face, almost as if he was inching close to a verdict that something was wrong.

Nothing should be wrong, Belle reminded herself. Happy relationship, remember?

The woman quickly adorned the perfect smile on her face using her glossy eyes as the sparkle of joy. “Sorry…it’s just all very exciting to take in.” She chuckled and thankfully the doctor was immediately convinced giving her a proper smile.

“Of course—very happy news though. I’m sure your entire family would be elated.” His grin stretched from ear to ear like he was related to her some way.

Then again anyone who so much as knew the Jeon family seemed to have that mindset.

“I’ll have your report prepared in just a few minutes, Mrs. Jeon.” He nodded in reassurance while Belle leaned back on the chair.

Gaze moved to the window looking out at the people strolling back and forth living their lives. She wondered how many were living by their own accord. Based on their own needs. Were they happy with where they were? Some rushing in suits trying not to drop their coffees, mothers and fathers pushing their strollers with toddlers skipping next to them and then couples walking calmly in casual clothing.

When she was younger, Belle told herself she would not end up in any of those situations. She would get a car, halt on marriage and kids while focusing on her career entirely until her thirties at the very least.

The naivety of dreams. Dreams of a life no one could ever control. Dreams that were already in the hands of fate.

“Mrs. Jeon?” The doctor addressed for the third time.

Belle finally realized that was her name now, stripping back to reality. Even her name was not under her control any more. Legally she had her original name but people wouldn’t care. Taking the husband’s name was more popular. So now she was officially Mrs. Jeon to society.

Quickly smiling she accepted the envelope handed to her and bowed slightly. “Thank you, doctor.”

Walking out of the clinic into the beautiful day, she spotted Yoongi leaning back against the side of the car with his arms folded over his chest. Raven hair a little longer now hovering over his eyes as he watched her taking a deep breath at the entrance stairs. “So?” He asked, squinting a little in the sunlight.

“What do you think?” Belle mumbled with the envelope heavy in her hand much like the twisted feeling in her stomach. Stepping down to the end of the stairs, she looked around every corner that was visible to her. Scanning for any movement.

“No peeping in the bushes, don’t worry.” The older male reassured, pushing off the car and opening the door for the new mob queen. Even though he would never use that term in front of her without risking a kick on his foot.

Strolling to the other side of the car, Yoongi couldn’t help but mimic Belle’s scanning and ended up seeing a figure lurking in one of the alleys. Not that he was proud of it but Yoongi pretended to reach into his coat for a gun which evidently caused the figure to rush out to the streets.

“Fucking reporters.” Yoongi muttered under his breath before climbing back into the car and driving them back to the mansion.

Being invited to Sangria House during the day had not been on Taehyung’s to-do list but here he was anyway being driven to the establishment, by Kim Seokjin’s personal request.

The establishment exuded a different aura during the day as they parked to a halt in front of it. Flowers adorned the entrance in an arch matching the blossom trees behind the building creating a beautiful frame, most of the angels strolling around with their customers linked in hand while a lot of the juniors were simply having picnics under on the ground like it was their own paradise rather than people who entered.

As he walked into the makeshift garden, white coats welcomed him with a bow and led him into the private room with a brief statement of having a full days’ appointment with the best angel in the House.

Full day. Seokjin seemed to know his way around apologizing, he supposed.

Even on the inside things were so much more different. Customers were eating food normally instead chortling the whole way through; they were genuinely having good conversations with the red and lavender coats as if it was not going to lead anywhere. Purple drapes were replaced with more floral arrangements in strings trailing across the walls and he could have sworn butterflies passed them a moment ago.

The white coats stopped down the hallway to a familiar door knocking politely first.

Taehyung already had an achingly strong hope of who to see on the other side of the door.

And thank god, luck was on his side today.

The door opened and gracing him with her presence stood Angel in a different attire. It was still golden but a more casual hanbok with intricate floral designs on the overcoat that shimmer in the light against the silk. Less extravagance but more quality. Taehyung could immediately recognize who designed the dress.

Angel’s heart swelled finally being able to see the man again especially after the horrid way he was dragged out. She could still remember all the things he told her…all the things that haunted him now slowly taunted her.

Once the door closed behind Taehyung, the golden lady padded closer to the male.

Eyes moved around his body before she took a leap to cup his cheeks. “You’re okay.” A bright grin spread across her lips but her forehead knitted like she was close to crying. “Come in.” Gently Angel took his hand and walked to the table.

Taehyung couldn’t help but feel his entire body relax into her touch, leaning slightly into her touch before happily holding her hand. “You did full day appointments too?” He would have asked for that package in a heartbeat.

Angel smiled as they sat next to each other this time, shoulders brushing together. “No this is not a normal thing. Mr. Kim just wanted to apologize for the inconvenience caused last time.” She reached out and gave him some rice cakes. “I know you probably don’t want our tea right now so…I asked them to make these.” She pulled apart one rice cake in half and took the first bite to ensure him that it was safe to eat.

Warmth spread across his chest watching how her cheeks puffed when she ate, hiding her mouth and smiling, trying to stay elegant but still enjoy the taste. Taehyung had the strongest urge to press little kisses on her adorable cheeks.

The golden lady held up the other half of the cake to his mouth, giving him a reassuring smile that it was okay to eat.

Taehyung was not proud to admit that it did not matter if she offered him literal poison, he would still drink it just so the last thing he saw was that fucking smile. Though the cake did smell heavenly. Opening his mouth slightly he waited until Angel brought the cake so close that it brushed against his lips before he took the treat into his mouth. As soon as Taehyung bit into the soft texture, a burst of warm sweetness burst through and he felt a small lump in his throat.

How long had it been since he was able to really taste something properly? The man could never tell whether he was healing or not in the process of vomiting, taking medications and other methods Taehyung deemed boring or painful. It was only now at this incredibly simple moment of recalling just how tasty a rice cake was. How much he loved it in the years before.

“Is it bad?” Angel noticed the smile faded from his face. “I could go get something else.” She tried to get up but Taehyung softly touched her arm.

“No I’m just—” Taehyung chuckled after swallowing, eyes a little glossy as he met her gaze. “I haven’t had rice cake in a long time. It was really nice.”

She relaxed once more sitting next to him allowing a comfortable silence to seep through the air for a few moments.

Eventually the curiosity peeked far too much for her to control. “So…how was the wedding?”

A boulder seemed to drop and crash onto the hope of relaxing in this session now the question lingered. Taehyung could not blame Angel for being curious as she probably had been working the whole time it was happening.

But now he was reminded of the things other than the actual ceremony. The fake vows and calculated kiss under the blossom trees was more for the press.

Taehyung learned the hard way that the real ceremony was behind closed doors. He only found out after it happened because every relative from the Jeon family wanted to chat with him giving him no time to go and check on his sister. Now he wished he just pushed past all of them and ran to her.

It was too late though. By the time Taehyung got the chance to see Belle in the early morning, she was already in tears and shaking beyond belief before jumping into his embrace. She did not say a word to him or anyone for that matter. The whole two nights they were there, his sister stayed quiet merely smiling to the people who didn’t matter. When he found out about the secret ceremony Taehyung did the same.

With Jungkook, he didn’t even bother smiling. Every time he came close his fingers automatically curled into a fist conjuring up all the ways he could just get rid of him.

Now more than ever Taehyung grew aware that his baby sister was going through pain beyond belief while he healed. Aside from the heart clenching sadness, he grew determined to see an end for Jeon Jungkook.

“Taehyung?” Angel placed a hand on his arm gently before pulling away quickly. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer.” Her fingers played with the fabric of her dress with her head hanging.

Taehyung jumped back to his current state and shook his head quickly. “No—” He shifted closer until his hand rested behind her. “No it’s okay. Please ask me anything you want.” He gave her a reassuring smile trying to meet her gaze again.

The golden lady’s eyes flickered up see him so close that the warmth of his body radiated onto her.

“The wedding—” He sighed. “The wedding was beautiful…in a sense, I suppose.” Taehyung spoke with bitterness touching his tongue, pursing his lips together. He wondered for a moment if it were too much to speak these things out. Were these walls thick enough the hold the dark thoughts in his head long enough? Was it worth it show a side of him to Angel that he despised? A side of him created as soon as Belle told him, holding a teary smile that she was going to marry a monster and bear his child for his own benefit.

It turns out that part of Taehyung didn’t care who saw or heard him. “Do you ever have that situation where—you despise someone so much—because they’ve hurt you or someone important to you?—a hatred that runs so deep, the mere thought of them—” He huffed out a breath to somehow to cool down the anger erupting inside him. “Makes you thinks things unimaginable.”

Angel’s chest rose and fell slightly as her eyes now grew glossy. In a rush of painful memory, she remembered those words rushing in her own mind at some point. “Yes.” She muttered immediately pressing her lips together. All the nights of hiding in a bathroom and covering her ears hoping that her ex-husband would just pass out drunk. The way she trained herself to zone out every time he climbed on top of her.

Eyes shining and vision blurring just a little but enough to see Taehyung’s welcoming features so she could feel at ease. “You end up stripping them down to being nothing but a human. Not someone powerful…or someone with status that you can’t touch…Just a human. Vulnerable…soft…if you just grabbed a knife and stuck it at the right place. They’re nothing but meat.”

Taehyung’s expression softened hearing such a composed woman speak out the unimaginable things in his mind already. “What if that powerful person is Jeon Jungkook?” It was not something he didn’t think about before. There were dark points in his time living in that place knowing the man was just sleeping soundly in the room with no one really watching over him.

“You can’t do that.” She shook her head.

“But you said—”

“No, Taehyung—your sister is now a Jeon.” Angel raised a hand to ensure that the man listens to her every word. “If you sister is widowed in the Jeon family, it won’t bode well on her. She’ll be tied down to the family until her death. If Jungkook is doing something then there needs to be a divorce.”

“How do you know all that?” His brows furrowed.

“Seok—Mr. Kim told me a story that Jeon Boyoung was a widow…she had to marry someone arranged by the family a day later. It’s a terrible life, Taehyung, remarried widows are not given any kind of respect in the family. The new husbands are allowed to be unfaithful to them or abusive to them without any consequence. The only reason Boyoung is doing somewhat well is because she is a Jeon by birth. Belle isn’t.” Concern riddled her expression hoping to the high heavens Taehyung understood what she was saying. “Jungkook cannot be killed while they’re still married.”

Taehyung shifted in his position feeling a slap of clarity right across his face. “Seokjin—how does he know all these things?” He shook his head. “And how does Belle get a divorce? That family controls everything.”

“Not everything.” Angel whispered so low, she had to lean closer to him. “Belle needs someone to support her alibi. Someone just as powerful as the Jeons. It’s not just them that controls everything, there are other influential people in the city.”

“How am I supposed to find someone just as powerful?”

Sighing shakily, she glanced around the room before moving to stand on her feet. A quick smile tugged at her lips almost as if this whole conversation never happened. “Would you like a take a stroll with me, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung nodded before trying to return her smile, standing up as his mind filled with nothing but confusion.

By the time they reached the mansion the envelope in Belles hand scrunched up as if it has been read a million times already. She tried smoothing it out a little when the car parked but it still look just about as messed up as her mind orientation. Crinkles mimicking a drought riddled land and light stains of foundation remnants from her fingers.

Yoongi climbed out of the car first as the two guards from the front walked a bit closer. Standing on her side now, he waited for her to take a break to breathe before opening the door and watching her step out. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be waiting just outside the room.” He muttered as they moved to enter the mansion.

Guards as usual welcomed them with a bow and Belle had the urge increase her pace towards the second living room, her heart racing at the same speed. Fingers shook, body burned from her toes to her head and her legs moved slower than normal at the lack of concentration. She hated wearing a lavender cardigan today because the colour looked far bright for her actual mood.

Looking over her shoulder, Belle saw Yoongi standing with his hands in his jacket, giving her a reassuring nod.

She couldn’t hide it for too long. At some point it was going to get difficult to avoid everyone on the truth. Especially Jungkook.

For a moment Belle paused again hearing muffled voices on the other side of the office door. A usual sound now for the past few weeks. Padding closer to the wooden barrier, only one voice stood out like a teacher scolding an empty classroom. It would be easy to just turn away with the excuse that Jungkook was too busy but no one should be too busy for this. At least in her mind.

She stood close to the door that someone might mistake her for kissing it. Closing her eyes, Belle knocked twice before opening the door just enough to walk inside.

“Move the surviving associates to the other dens, fucking fight back next time!” Jungkook growled slamming the phone down so hard that she heard a crack. He stepped away from the phone, rubbing his face with a frustrated sigh padding through him.

Belle stood inside the room, immediately regretting that she entered but it had be done now or the courage would never arrive again. “Jungkook?”

“Not now.” He muttered without even giving her sideways glance.

Anxiety faded a little; the same heat but it ignited a different kind of fire in her belly. “Yes now.” She spoke firmly, lips pursed together.

Slightly reddened eyes met Belle’s gaze as he padded over to the table once again more, leaning on the edge, dark curls falling over his face. Jungkook tried to control his heavy breathing but it only seemed to get worse when he started thinking about it. “Belle, I’m not in the mood for any more drama today, alright?” He shook his head slowly, hands nearly trembling with fury.

Belle sighed to calm the fire down somehow as the envelope grew so heavy in her hand, she worried her grip would relinquish without her knowing. “This is important.” She took a step forward but quickly jumped back.

Jungkook knocked the phone off the table with the back of his hand, harsh thuds and broken rings echoing throughout the room. “Important?! What could be so fucking important that you can’t give me a moment of peace?” He stomped across from the table almost leaving steam behind him.

“My entire goddamn empire is breaking apart into pieces!” He threw his hand towards the fallen phone as his feet nearly stepped over hers. “I’m sure whatever you have to say can fucking wait.” Hot breath brushed against her already warmed up face.

“It can’t fucking wait!” Belle shouted back despite her mouth feeling incredibly dry, the heat around them collecting and making her a little dizzy. “This—” She jabbed the envelope at his chest not really caring whether it caught or not as it dropped to the ground. “This is what your screwed up family wanted, you got it.”

Eyes burned with tears once again, stomach clenching and her head spinning abnormally. “You won.” She smiled sadly. “Congratulations.” She seethed turning on her heel and stomping out of the door, slamming it so hard that it echoed through the whole mansion.

Stomach twisted in such a way that it almost meant to give Belle as much pain as humanly possible making her wince while tears forcibly streamed down her face. She rushed across the second living room completely ignoring Yoongi who tried to call out her name.

It didn’t take a genius to see that breaking the news had been worse than he expected. The family wanted the damn baby so why did he have to see Belle running out with one of the most heartbreaking expression he had ever seen on the girl? And Yoongi had seen a lot, much to his own discontent.

Yoongi tried to open his mouth to say something but Belle already flashed past leaving the gust of wind behind with her speed. If he knew what happened then it would be easier, right now nothing but confusion and a little sadness gripped his face.

“Get my car ready, please.” Belle announced to one of the guards who immediately bowed and rushed off to do her bidding.

The older male lurked at the edge of the second living room and watched a young looked guards who he remembered was called Jongho. One of Belle’s regular guards who usually kept an eye on her the most. The amount of influence this woman had in the entire Jeon mansion honestly could frighten even Yoongi. Every guards seemed to lose their composure and give her a sad look as if wanting to comfort her in her time of need.

Jongho leaned in a little to hear her whisper, possibly about her location because it had to be known to someone just in case. The young guard nodded and opened the double doors for her.

Yoongi would have rushed to the girl and provided some comfort but if she purposely ignored him then it was clear that her intention was to be alone. All he knew was no woman should ever come out looking that fucking upset after trying to tell their husband she was having their baby.

Jungkook tightened his jaw as the sound of the door still rung in the air. Roughly raking his fingers through his hair as if he was pulling it from the roots, gaze flickered down to the discarded envelope. Crouching down Jungkook picked up the slightly crumpled paper and ripped it open letting the little pieces drip carelessly to the ground.

His heart began to race when he saw a doctor’s pregnancy test report details. Forehead knitted reading through the report until the word ‘results’ caught his eye.

Then in big capital letters, his mistake came crashing down harder than a bag of bricks to his head.

POSITIVE.

All the anger faded away quicker than Jungkook prepared for as it replaced with a painful clench in his chest and the whole world momentarily crashing down on him.

The ritual worked.

‘You won’ she said.

His family won.

The walls of his mind closed in on itself tightly not knowing whether to spread elation or guilt through his body. Instead a deadly mixture of both feelings pumped in his veins making his fingers tremble for a whole different reason.

Jungkooks’ biggest den had been infiltrated by the police, once again with the mayor’s direct orders and the speculations of his hand being involved grew stronger by the day. He knew with all his heart how important it was to keep his business and empire safe but now…

What was more important now?

Something wet dropped onto the paper soaking through the ‘I’ and ‘E’ of the word ‘positive’ bringing him back to reality. Jungkook sniffled quickly, wiping away the tiny trickles of tears escaping down his cheek before opening the door.

“Where is she?” The question posed and everyone’s eyes were on him now, even the maids paused in their tracks to look at him. Could they notice the tears gathering in his eyes? Once again Jungkook had to succumb to feeling like a lost boy who didn’t know what to do without the guidance of his family.

Hair over his face managed to cover most of his distress but Yoongi only had to glance down at the paper clasped tightly in the younger male’s hand to know why.

“She drove out.” He nodded towards the entrance.

Jungkook did not utter another word before practically rushing out of the second living room but immediately paused when Yoongi stood in front of him.

He raised his hands in defense seeing Jungkooks’ glossy eyes burning into him at the disrespectful action. “Sorry, sir but—I believe your wife wanted to be alone right now.” Yoongi attempted to explain in the most careful way possible. Though his mind conjured much more colorful words. The last person she wants to see is the dickhead who impregnated her against her will.

Anger burned to his very core seeing Yoongi speak to him so casually. “Do you even know where she went? What if she gets into danger?!” Jungkook growled making the maids jump back and frantically continue on with their work.

Fortunately Yoongi had been significantly numbed to acts of intimidation. “I know where she is and she’ll be as just as safe there as she would be here. You don’t have to worry.” He shook his head, trying to keep his voice calm and collected.

“But—” Jungkook held up the paper pathetically, sighing shakily.

“I know…I went to the clinic with her.” Yoongi nodded. “She’s okay. She just needs a little space, it’s completely normal.”

It’s not normal and she wasn’t okay but he really just needed to live right now.

Jungkook had the strongest want to keep fighting and just push past to find her but where would that even lead? Ever since that night, Belle couldn’t even look at him properly. Honestly he didn’t have the courage to look at himself either. All his life his parents taught him that the family customs existed for good reasons. Reasons which kept them alive for so long. As a naïve child he found himself never finding anything wrong with these customs.

Until he had to go through them. Along with dragging the woman he grew to care about into it.

Turning away from Yoongi, Jungkook dragged his feet towards one of the couches in the second living room and slumped down.

“I made her think it wasn’t important.” He stared at the paper, reading the same word over and over again. “My father would always tell me how happy he was when my mother told him she was pregnant.” Jungkook scoffed, his vision blurring a little. “He picked her up and twirled her around right in front of all his men not giving a care if he would look weak.”

Yoongi pursed his lips together leaning on the wall behind him.

“Family makes you stronger, he said. Nothing stronger than family.” Jungkook pressed down the inner corners of his eyes with his index finger and thumb, shutting his eyes tightly to stop any more tears from flowing.

“Anyone can pretend to be happy at first.” Yoongi spoke plainly. “It’s what you do for the next twenty years that actually counts.”

Jungkook licked his trembling lips not completely convinced but it wouldn’t be the first time he succumbed to the alluring beauty of a lie.

Clouds spread out to welcome the heavenly blue and golden warmth as Belle padded across the entrance gardens of the Sangria House. For a second, a few people stopped with their usual activities to stare at her, twist of recognition on their faces. With a sigh Belle hugged her cardigan again being the only comfort for today despite the colour being so harsh on her tired eyes.

Through the entrance doors, she looked around the area like a slightly lost puppy. The lobby used most of the natural light making it look like a beach hut of some sort as the warmth was now replaced with fresh cool air.

Belle hoped with all her soul that the person she wanted could just appear right here out of luck. Unfortunately luck was not a trustworthy friend in recent months.

More eyes now fixated on her presence and a figure even padded towards her; tall with lines adorning his face, tattoo peeking out from his shirt and a smirk playing on his lips.

“Are you open?” The man’s gaze trailed up and down her body. Waft of cologne and tobacco swirling around his aura as he moved closer.

“Excuse me?” Brows furrowed but before she could channel any more of her frustration, a red coat rushed over to her side.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jeon…” The red coat bowed in a meek tone even though it was not her fault in the slightest.

The rude customers’ smile immediately disappeared into a look of despair and fear, widened eyes staring back at Belle. “Mrs. Jeon…” He bowed so low that he almost vanished from her line of vision. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

“Would you have continued on with your shenanigans if I wasn’t Mrs. Jeon?” She glared down at the male.

He gripped at the fabric of his trousers tightly, still bent down as if ready to be flogged.

“I assumed too quickly, Mrs. Jeon. Please accept my deepest apologies.” His voice shook slightly knowing the smallest word to Jungkook about this behavior would end in a whole lot of limbs being lost.

Belle sighed lightly, averting her gaze. “It’s alright. Just make sure I don’t find you doing it again.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jeon…” The man smiled giving repeated bows as he backed away. “You are most kind.”

The man now led away by the red coat, Belle was being hosted by one of the white coats who asked what she needed today.

The previous aching in her stomach seemed to get worse despite getting the fresh air while even the mildest rush of heat from the day increased tenfold when it reached her skin.

Oh god…not now.

“Park Jimin, please. If he’s free.” Belle spoke, her strength wavering a little as every part tried to suppress the pain in her chest pushing something up to her throat.

Giving her another bow the white coat led her off to one of the private rooms.

Once again her feet seemed drag across the floor like the world moved too much to catch up properly. More swirling around in Belle’s head, the bitterness in her throat erupted with cruel strength, forcing her to grip on the edge of the door to steady herself.

“Mrs. Jeon? Are you okay?” The white coats’ hands hovered over her to prevent any dreaded fall but distant enough for manners.

Belle gave her a shaky smile through she still held onto the edge as if her life depended on it. “Just a little queasy…” Stomach clenched again and her mind grew stubborn, only thinking about something heavy being pushed up her throat almost choking her. “Is there a—” She tried to swallow it down but it seemed to get more violent. “Is there a bathroom anywhere?”

Her eyes widened before quickly nodding and gesturing towards the private room. “This has a bathroom, madam.” The younger girl tried to gently lead her inside where a small door stood closed.

Passing the little empty table, Belle felt saliva flooding inside her mouth until drool almost leaked out of the sides forcing her to burst open through the door without waiting for the girl and throwing herself in front of the toilet.

Knees ached against the cold wooden floor, chest lurching painfully as the contents of her stomach spewed out in the form of a burning liquid. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes struggling to breathe, a small part hoping it was over before her stomach lurched again.

She vaguely heard footsteps coming closer before her hair was being brushed back gently and her back soothingly rubbed.

Belle coughed feeling a harsh burn in her chest but finally being able to breathe easy as the nausea faded albeit taking its sweet time. As soon as she turned to the side, a hand towel gestured her way. She accepted it with a rush of gratitude as she wiped off her mouth still letting out small painful coughs.

Glossy reddened eyes flickered over to the side, seeing a familiar pair of sultry eyes and pouty lips look back at her with an expression of concern.

“You okay?” Jimin whispered, hand sliding from her back to her shoulder, squeezing it a little as a form of comfort.

Belle sighed before pursing her lips, more tears threatening to flood out if she continued to speak. So the woman merely shook her head, chin trembling and heart crumbling into pieces. The action alone held more truth than anything she ever forced herself to say.

His expression softened not needing any type of explanation as to why Belle looked so upset. Jimin saw the whole thing with his own eyes. No one could ever come out of that and still feel the same. All he could truly do was pull her close and wrap her into a warm embrace, allowing the woman to sob into his shoulder.

Fingers curled into the lavender fabric, sobs now pushing out of her as Jungkooks words replayed over and over again. All the smiles, laughter and kisses. All of them were fake. Nothing was real. Now more than ever Belle had been forced awake from the fantasy that began to thicken far too much. It stripped down to the harsh reality. When her whole future was taken away in one night.

They embraced until their legs fell asleep before eventually moving over to the main private room. Jimin’s hands still on Belle’s arms carefully guiding her to a seat.

Once the new air brushed in, the nausea slowly fizzled out allowing her to breathe in without feeling like a nasty potion being conjured in her throat.

As the pair sat across from one another a moment of silence lingered. Whether to consolidate the memory of their embrace or just time to adjust to their usual setting, both of them were not quite sure.

Then she spoke in a raspy and exhausted voice.

“I always thought I’d feel like the happiest woman in the world when I got pregnant.” Belle said with her head hanging, tears still freshly formed and a heart that could not seem to stop clenching into itself like it hid from something. “Every time I saw a baby smile…I’d always think…I’m going to have that one day with the man I love and he loved me.” She shook her head before scoffing at the naivety. All those stupid dreams of a happy life filled with love, loyalty and trust. Everything replaced by deceit and manipulation.

Jimins’ could feel the burning behind his eyes watching the broken shell of a strong woman speak out thoughts of a time when she was whole. Fingers twitched wanting to embrace her again but the moment for that passed. Now they both had to come to terms with speaking the truth. “You–you can still be happy…” He winced a little at his own words. “Arranged marriages can—” He swallowed hard. “—they can work out through time.”

Not this kind of arranged marriage. At least some arranged marriage gave the couple a chance to say agree or disagree on things. Here Jungkook merely took a fake girlfriend, then he and his family proceeded to do whatever they needed to her for their own benefit. All she had to was sit there, smile and take it.

Belle smiled at the lavender figure as if to reassure him that she appreciated his help. “It’s—complicated…” She chuckled, a small droplet trickling down her cheek. Averting her gaze, she wiped away her tears quickly with a light sniffle. “I supposed I shouldn’t complain. You probably have it worse.”

Jimin hummed in disagreement, shaking his head. “I feel safer here than anywhere else.” His brows furrowed lightly. “Seokjin—” He stammered a little accidentally calling Mr. Kim by his name. “I know he has a reputation but he’s a good man. Really. Never gets angry unless it’s at customers which is rare. He’s always keeps us safe.”

Eyes flickered to meet his, blinking slowly as her curiosity now peeked more than she ever felt it before. “But…what he did to Taehyung…” Belle gestured towards the table before them which had a half-drunken glass of water near her.

He leaned in and spoke in a whisper. “To protect Angel.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Taehyung didn’t do anything. Why would he get punished like that?” Belle kept her voice soft but loud enough for them to hear. As her words became consolidated in the air and in their memories, something struck in her mind that seemed to muffle everything out for a moment.

Jimin paused thinking over what to say before slowly taking a breath. “His… methods are little—”

Calculated. Planned.

For the first time in too fucking long, Belle could see past this thick veil of confusion. It wasn’t all just cruel fate. Her heart raced so hard it tried to crash through her ribcages and even her toes began shaking from the rush of adrenaline pumping in each vein.

Taehyung wasn’t drugged so Angel could be safe.

Tears dried up and a new rush of determination touched her broken form. Belle leaned in, gaze fixated on his, speaking in a firm tone. “Is there any way I could organize a meeting with Seokjin?”

Taehyung tried his best to suppress the intense heat on his cheeks feelings Angels’ soft hands interlock with his slightly rough ones. Through one of the backdoors, they were welcomed by the bright light of the beautiful day and the beautiful blossoms in all their glory.

Pink, red and purple petals falling to the green ground or continuing to fly through the wind to their own personal freedom. Subtle scent of jasmine and lemons touching his nostrils despite the actual plants being situated all the way at the end of the large backyard. A few angels both red and lavender wore more comfortable clothing rather than extravagant while entertaining their customers. Some of them danced in front of the picnic set up or simply sat with them engaged in light-hearted conversation.

He almost forgot the purpose of their visit to this slab of imaginary heaven as Angel led him past the laughing the patrons and towards the jasmines hanging on the fence just facing all the lemon trees. Taehyung wondered if this was what they used for their tea recipes. The small wonder momentarily halted when he felt himself being pulled under one of the lemon trees.

Subtle scent now became potent in his nose, the heavenly jasmine and citrus mixing with Angel’s sweet vanilla perfume. It would have been overwhelming if Taehyung had not lost his focus when meeting the golden ladys gaze.

Her grip on his hand loosened a little but a few fingers still struggled to depart from one another. “I wanted to say this to you in more privacy. The rooms are always watched.” Angel whispered with a light smile. “I’m so sorry…I was the one who put the drug in your tea.” She hung her head. “I didn’t know it was going to make you sick.” The usual composed walls around her once again opted to fade away when standing so close to Taehyung. “I—I thought it was going to make you feel more relaxed and calm—I didn’t…” Angel paused in her shaky words when she felt his hand cupping her cheek gently.

Taehyung watched her beautiful eyes getting glossier every second she continued speaking, each second his heart sunk deeper into a pit. “Did Seokjin ask you to do it?”

Angel pursed her lips, blinking frantically to get rid of the tears forming. “Yes.”

He scoffed averting his gaze, rush of heated fury erupting in his belly. “They’re all the same.”

“No…” She shook her head immediately holding onto his arms. “Taehyung, look at me.” The leaves rustled in a gust of wind causing her hair to flow over her lips a little. “Seokjin isn’t the man you think he is.”

Taehyungs’ brows furrowed searching her expression to find some sense of delusion or lack of surety but the woman looked collected as normal. “What kind of a man is he then? Who drugs their own customers for intimidation?” He seethed more so directed at Seokjin than the beauty before him.

Angel glanced quickly to the side ensuring that nobody was close to listen in. “The helping kind. Taehyung, if he was anything like Jungkook you’d be dead by now or he’d never allow you to see me ever again.” Her own heart jumped at the very mention of the idea. “Seokjin would never do what Jungkook did to your sister.”

He tightened his jaw as his stomach twisted and leaped causing an ache in abdomen. “What?”

“I know about the deal.” She whispered. “Seokjin told me as soon as you walked into Sangria House.” Angels’ bottom lip trembled moving one of her hands to caress his cheeks.

“How much did he tell you?” Taehyung swallowed down hard.

“Everything. He always does.” She smiled sadly, brushing her thumb over his temple. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Her smile quickly disappeared however as she halted her actions. “But your sister isn’t.”

“What can I do?” He muttered leaning in closer with the guise of being secretive but really he desperately wanted to close the distance between them. “Please tell me.”

Door opened gently by Jimin who quickly bowed as soon as they walked inside. A rush of cold air flowed through even Belles’ thick cardigan gushing from the air conditioner swirling with the soft linen waft of cologne. Seokjin sat at his table in the middle of writing something out on a paper before he peered through his glasses to see the two figures walk into the room. A calm expression across his handsome features as per usual despite clearly being disturbed in his work.

Belle padded further inside, fingers intertwined with each other and her posture at its perfect stature determined to look her most composed.

Seokjin quickly stretched a smile across his plump lips before standing up as a sign of respect. “Madame Belle, it’s always nice to see you.” He gave her a nod. Eyes flickered over to Jimin who stood politely in the corner looking a bit confused as to what he was supposed to do. “Thank you for escorting our prestige guest here, Jimin.”

It was a kind but clear sign that the lavender adorned male could leave the vicinity for their private conversation.

“Jimin can stay.” Belle glanced towards him before facing Seokjin. “I trust him if you do.”

Silence plunged into the room as both males still attempted to figure out just what Belle was trying to do or say. However Seokjin had to suppress a smirk at a few theories conjuring in his mind. He gestured for the two of them to sit at the vacant chairs.

Jimins’ confused gaze flickered from Belle to Seokjin before quickly closing the door of the office and following the woman to the chairs, sitting down as soon as she did.

Belle brushed away any creases on her dresses as she situated herself on the chair, the chill creating goosebumps on her bare skin.

Seokjin pushed away his blazer careful not to crease the ends as he sat down. Sighing happily, he smiled at the both of them leaning back on the chair. “What can I do for you, Madame Belle? Has Jimin been doing something inappropriate?”

The lavender males’ heart jumped frantically looking over at Belle with wide eyes.

“No. In fact the reason I wanted him here is to thank him…for helping me answer a question I could never wrap my head around.”

“And what question is that?”

Belle searched his expression, heavily impressed with how he could keep such a composure. Deep down she almost worried that her theory might sound silly at the end. “Why would a man with such a heavy security system in his facility—and security guards the size of buildings feel the need to drug a potential threat?” She squinted lightly.

Silence plunged into the room like a welcomed disease as Seokjins’ smile appeared back again even wider. “Well…I have less than glorious methods sometimes but it’s all to protect my beloved angels. Especially my wife.” He explained in the most rehearsed way possible even though they both knew it was merely a dialogue recited many times for people more gullible.

“Angel was never in danger.” The corner of her lip twitched as her goosebumps dialed down through the warmth radiating inside. “Your angels are always safe. At all times. The second something goes wrong, the guards are there in seconds.” Twitching turned into a steady smirk that for the first time Belle did not have to think about or force. “You knew that.”

“Knew what?” Seokjin asked, much to Jimins’ confusion, the man looked utterly pleased with the exchange.

“You knew Taehyung would never do anything to hurt Angel.” Belle shook her head. “You just needed an incident…the perfect incident to get anyone who could carry a simply vial to the Jeon mansion.” She chuckled softly at her own gullibility despite her cried out eyes burning in the harsh cold wind. “The most foolproof infiltration. Make Jungkook’s beloved girlfriend think her brother was terribly sick and sneak a police officer in to play the medic just at the right time.”

The older male grinned brighter than Belle or Jimin had ever seen it. Clearly this was not a dark secret he meant to keep from the woman otherwise the conversation would have turned into something a lot more different. “I must say, Ms. Belle…” Seokjin leaned in and rested his elbows on the table. “I’ve been at this for years now—possibly longer than Jungkook has been leader. Never once did anyone decide to question me or my involvement in traitorous behaviors. Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’re a powerful man.” Belles’ smile faded away for a moment. “They won’t question anything you do even if they know it’s wrong—because you can make them lose everything with a flick of your fingers.” She pursed her lips together. “I’ve already been one of them once…I’m not doing it again.”

Seokjin nodded slowly, noticing how her gaze mended from shattered shards to the woman who was ready to pick all the pieces up and mend herself together. “And who are you now? Mrs. Jeon Jungkook? Kim Taehyungs’ sister? Or Madame Belle?”

It always came down to this, didn’t it?

In a series of mind breaking and heart clenching events, one rushes out of the woods to find themselves wondering if they were the same person who entered in the first place. Was she still the same little sister who desperately wanted her brother to get better? Was she the perfect wife for Jungkook? Or was she the designer striving to be as successful as Saito herself?

Maybe Belle was all of them combined. Or none of them and this was all a sick dream playing out in her head but it couldn’t be.

The path in front of Belle now split into two; a fork awaiting her to step into to lead into a future that might make more sense than this one.

This felt too real. It didn’t feel good or satisfying nor did it make her feel relaxed.

This was real. It was time for her to wake up and draw the curtains on this fantasy.

Sun began moving over to the other side when Belle drove back to the mansion after feeling a significant brush of relief in her body.

For the first time she walked through the door with an air of both confidence and a little fear when her hand caressed her belly. You’re not going to be born in this mess. I promise. Padding across Belle smiled at Jongho who waited politely just at the entrance before returning a smile of his own with a nod.

Inside the main living room, Yoongi paced around biting down his fingernails mostly trying to stop himself from drinking something at the bar. Not that it would help since it was full with fucking apple juice. He wished he bought a coffee earlier but in his past experiences a boost of caffeine almost never helped with stress.

Footsteps made him pause in his tracks. A rush of calm pulsed through him when Yoongi saw Belle walking towards the male. “Jesus fucking Christ…” He whispered padding closer. “You okay?”

The woman stayed silent, completely dried out of tears and Jimin comforted more than enough. Now the only thing left was that feeling of exposure when the truth finally revealed itself. She felt naked in front of it but free from the lies. “I just went out to the Sangria House, I was safe.” Okay was a difficult word to associate with her right now.

Yoongi nodded fingers curling into themselves before he repeated the same action at the payphone.

“Taehyungs’ there too, I’m told.” Belle didn’t get a chance to catch him but she now knew that Seokjin had no intentions of hurting him in the first place. “Where’s Jungkook?”

He gulped, averting his gaze and gesturing towards the stairs. “He—read the report. Hasn’t come out of the room yet.”

Stomach started doing leaps again, fear rising that she might have another episode with her head over the toilet. Belle hummed mulling over her thoughts before leaning into his cheek and pressing a chaste kiss. One couldn’t even truly call it a kiss, just a light press of her soft lips against his burning skin. When she pulled away the woman smiled proceeding to cause more heat to bundle up inside him. “Thank you.”

Yoongi merely breathed out a sigh unable to speak as Belle gently walked past him up the stairs.

He felt the guards’ eyes on him, some of them judging his reddened cheeks while others smirking. Quickly clearing his throat Yoongi bolted towards the guestroom.

In the same gentleness Belle did earlier, opening the door with care peeking inside briefly before completely entering and closing the door behind her. Turning around Jungkook sat at the edge of the bed just as she was the first time they came into the mansion. His head hung, dark locks forming a slight curtain while his hands rubbed his face, light sniffling riddling the air mixing in with the strong stench of tobacco.

Gaze flickered over to the study table to see a few used cigarettes including one still exuding smoke almost halfway used.

The woman winced accidentally taking a big waft when she tried to breathe in causing her to cough and break the silence.

Jungkooks’ head shot up hearing the sound, quickly jumping off the bed and rushing to the study table. Picking the cigarette he roughly pressed it against the ashtray waving the smoke away from the woman. “I’m sorry.” He muttered in a slightly shaky voice.

“For what?” Belle padded towards the bed to her side, placing her bag on the nightstand before carefully sitting at the edge. Her legs melted into the soft surface finally being able to rest physically at least. Lazily she swung them over fully onto the bed after taking her shoes off, shifting back she rested her back on the headboard.

Jungkook leaned on the edges of the table before hanging his head again. “For everything.”

The vague answer was always the easiest.

Belle reached out for the throw blanket and placed it over the bare parts of her legs providing extra comfort and warmth. “You were stressed, I should’ve waited.” She replied simply.

“You shouldn’t have to wait to tell me something like that.” He shook his head finally turning around to face her. “Six weeks.”

“Six weeks.” Belle gulped, fingers beginning to tremble a little. “I had to make sure.”

Jungkook blinked slowly before nodding as he padded over to his side of the room, pushing off his shoes. Sitting against the headboard the male let out a small sigh as he unbuttoned one more button on his white shirt to feel less constricted. “How big would it be right now?”

“Probably the size of a peanut.” She looked down at her belly and instinctively caressed it.

He immediately flickered down at her belly, still unable truly to understand how a human was going to grow in there. Despite the things Jungkook had seen in his life this was going to be the most surreal of them all. “You’re important to me, Belle.” He reached out and placed a hand over her belly. “Both of you.”

Belle moved her fingers over his and caressing the back of his hand slowly.

“Everything’s a mess right now I can’t—” Jungkook sighed leaning on the side of his head against the headboard. “I can’t think straight.” With his biggest den taken down, one after the other like a cruel domino effect his empire seemed lose each of its pillars. At the same time he had to try and pick all the pieces while protecting the standing pillars making his mind curl up into itself. As if a survival mode to get away from extreme stress.

She shook her head, patting his hand. “It’s okay.” Belle whispered knowing the word lost all its meaning a long time ago.

Jungkook tilted his head to search her expression watching the dull sunlight shine onto her locks making them look golden. Like a sailor being allured to the siren, he leaned in and pressed a kiss on her cheek and another on just on the corner of her lips. “I want you to be happy.” Nose nudged against her cheek.

Belle closed her eyes momentarily feeling his hot kisses against her skin, heavy remnants of tobacco on his breath forcing her to breathe through her mouth for a while.

Pulling away, the male shifted to lay his head on Belle’s lap facing her belly and blanket covered thighs used as a pillow. Finger traced at the little creases on the dress from her sited position as Jungkook relished in the scent of her perfume hopefully masking his cigarette riddled one. “It doesn’t matter what happens to the empire.” He whispered, gaze fixated on her belly. “So long you’re both happy…I’d give everything else up.”

Her heart swelled for a brief moment as Belle allowed herself to succumb back into the comforts of his words. His beautiful lies. “Do you promise?” Shaky hand moved to brush through Jungkook’s hair.

His gaze flickered up to meet her glossy one, giving her a soft smile. “I promise.” Jungkook looked back down at her belly caressing her skin through the clothing. “I’ll always keep you happy.”

Belle bit down her bottom lip to suppress the sob being forced out of her, closing her eyes shut tightly to stop the tears but they merely created constellations on the womans’ lashes. Letting out a small sigh she relaxed into his touch, struggling to swallow down the lump in her throat.

Quickly for one of the final times Belle forced herself to stretch a smile across her lips.

I’m not happy.

Cheeks finally cooled down as Yoongi leaned back on the chair of his temporary bedroom, dark as the thick curtains perfectly shielded him from the sunlight. Fingers scratched at the fabric of the armrest not thinking of anything in particular but merely drowning in an empty zone away from reality just for a few moments. He grew accustomed to this feeling after seeing one too many dead bodies of children.

Two knocks rapped on the door before it opened to reveal the senior maid, Nana. “Hello, Master Osamu.” She smiled closing the door behind her and walking further inside to do her usual cleaning starting with fixing his bed up.

Yoongi made it himself but unfortunately not the way that it was usually designed to fit the aesthetic of the house since most of the fancy cushions were on the floor. “Sorry I’ll—” He tried to get up from the chair.

“No no it’s okay. This is my job after all.” Nana chuckled picked up all the cushions and threw them onto the bed to make it easier for her to organize them.

The younger male smiled and relaxed back onto the seat with a light sigh.

“You did well. Helping Mistress Belle like that.” She muttered placing all the bigger pillows close to the headboard then the medium ones just afterwards.

Yoongi chuckled nervously observing her actions and how effortlessly she put everything in place when it took his entire soul to neaten the blanket. “What’re friends for?” He pressed his lips together in a thin line.

Nana smirked, fluffing the larger pillows. “Just friends?”

Eyes widened at the sudden change of tone from the older female making him stammer a little as he spoke.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, boy.” She continued speaking casually while wiping off the collected on the side lamp. “This isn’t just an undercover mission anymore and you know it.”

Yoongi could have sworn his core shivered hearing those words so easily fall from Nana’s lips without a damn care in the world. Glancing over at the door of his bedroom, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “How did you—”

“I raised Jungkook, you think I wouldn’t be able to see a rat under my nose?” Nana continued to keep her gaze anywhere but the younger male pretending like they were either having a regular conversation or none at all since Yoongis’ tongue seemed to lose its purpose. “Don’t get so scared. I don’t rat police officers out, you’re doing the right thing.” She neatened up Yoongis’ things on the nightstand. “Every king needs to be taught that they can crumble just as easily as a servant.”

Once everything stood in order, Nana stood in front of the male with a bright smile. “And every servant knows when to help the right people. I clean Jungkooks’ office too.” She gave him a bow and turned on her heel to leave the room.

Needless to say Yoongi was heavily reminded of how Namjoon and him were not the only ones who wanted an end to Jungkooks’ reign.

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#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

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astro-rain · 4 years

Text

delicate; b.barnes

chapter three - “penny for your thoughts”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: reader runs into a familiar face at the lake near her quarters in wakanda and they get to know each other a bit (kinda meet cute)

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: not my photo

The sunrise in Wakanda was one of the most marvelous things (Y/N) had ever seen. It was truly divine. Magnificent shades of burnt orange and gold bled through the boundless canvas of clouds. The sun, rich and saturated, was the epicenter of these vivacious gradients. It was almost as though Odin himself was painting the sky.

Her windows, encompassing the space of an entire wall, opened her room effortlessly. They led directly to the outskirts of a small lake that perfectly reflected the sunrise. It almost felt like a vacation. Or a dream, whichever came first.

She had slept wonderfully, but woke up early all the same. The beginning of her morning consisted entirely of sitting right outside her room staring at the ascending sun. She supposed she could've stayed there all day as Shuri told her they wouldn't start working until tomorrow; something about settling in and adjusting. Although she thoroughly enjoyed her quiet, warm morning, wasting the whole day cramped up near and inside her room would be a very poor choice.

There's so much here, I might as well enjoy my mini vacation.

She slipped on her shoes, closed the glass door, and made her way to the very lake she was admiring so dearly. She sat at the edge of the lake, letting the smooth sound of the flowing water fill the air around her. It was so quiet, secluded. She was alone; it was lovely. Tranquile even. Being by herself brought a strange sort of comfort, like she was safe and-

"Hello."

She turned around, still sitting. "Oh. Hi Jame- I mean... Bucky."

He smiled, and gave a ghost of a laugh. "Thanks."

"Did you need something? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, it's good. I was just looking around. This place is beautiful."

"Tell me about it," she returned his smile. "I keep thinking like I'm on a vacation or something. It doesn't feel like I'm supposed to work tomorrow."

Bucky nodded his head in agreement. "If I was gonna be... fixed somewhere, I'm glad it's here."

"Yeah, no one's gonna bother us here. Except maybe Shuri when she shows you how much smarter she is than you."

"Kid's a genius," he chuckled. "I've only talked to her a bit and she's smarter than I'll ever be."

At this point he was still standing, his hands clasped politely in front of him. He was just standing next to (Y/N)’s sitting figure. It wasn't a problem until an awkward silence settled over them. She wasn't quite sure what to say.

She wasn't the best with people. She knew exactly how the brain worked and she knew how to analyze behavior, and when it came to her job she knew the right things to say at the right times. But her job has rules; if she's talking with someone, she's treating them. When doing so, there are specific sets of clinical terminology. There were guidelines to follow, scripts to recite. Talking to patients in a work setting was analytical and made sense. Talking to regular people was a bit difficult. There was so much grey area. Bucky was going to be a patient, but right then, in that moment, he was just another person.

"You can sit if you want," she offered, patting the spot next to her. "I feel weird, it seems like I'm making you stand."

He gingerly accepted such an offer. He sat next to her, but not too close. The respectful distance gave her comfort.

We both have our own space.

"Hey, can I say something?" he asked.

"Mhm."

"I just wanted to thank you, ya know, for coming all the way here. Steve told me about the whole situation - you and Sharon and everything. I'm just really grateful. You probably have a whole life of your own back home, but it means a lot that you came here to help out. I know it's not exactly easy."

Heartfelt. If she had to describe it in one word that's what it would be. It almost surprised her.

"Oh you don't have to thank me!" she sounded deflective. "It's my job. I'm just glad we have a chance to provide you with treatment after all the pain you've been through."

Was that too personal?

"I mean, after all this time, I think you're pretty deserving of a reprieve."

"Have you read my file?" he asked, a little quieter than before. He was staring intently at the lake in front of him.

(Y/N) rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah, I did."

"Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"That you had to read it. I know it's a lot."

He sounded guilty, like somehow what happened to him was his fault.

"That's alright," she said almost too quickly. "I've gone through plenty of abuse and trauma cases. To be fair, none of them are quite like yours, but I'm not in completely foreign waters here."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. I've heard you're more than highly qualified. It's just a lot of bad stuff."

"I can handle bad stuff," she replied, reassuringly. To her, it sounded more factual than reassuring. Unbeknownst to her, it gave Bucky some sort of comfort. Like he was in good hands.

Another awkward silence settled over them. Her eyes remained on the body of water in front of her; she wasn't sure what to say. Casual conversation was not her forte, and Bucky seemed rather shy himself. She felt responsible for any conversation that should take place, but to be fair, he wasn't talking either.

It was then when she subtly aimed her gaze towards him, getting a thorough impression of his features. He was, in all honesty, quite handsome. Objectively speaking of course. He was sharp features and soft edges at once, if you could consider that possible. And the bluest blue eyes she'd ever seen were luminescent in the direct sunlight. She reminded herself not to stare, and tore her line of vision away from the man next to her.

In lieu of this, she closed her eyes, leaned back on the palms of her hands, and relished in the warmth of the Wakandan sun. This lasted a few moments before she once again realized that not a word had been passed between them. She wondered what he was thinking about.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked softly.

"Hm?"

"You look pensive."

"'M just thinkin'"

"Well, that much I could tell," she snickered.

He flashed a bashful smile. "I'm just tryin' to grasp the fact that I'm actually here. Y'know, safe. Ready to be helped. It's been a while. I keep having to remind myself that it's real."

Makes sense. He probably thinks that any minute, this seemingly secure safe haven is going to be ripped out from under him. Like it was all a rouze and he'll have to return to pain and anguish.

"It's definitely real...well, last time I checked anyway. But who knows? Maybe we're in an alternate reality and any moment we'll see a woman in a red dress," she joked, trying to lighten his mood and simultaneously referencing The Matrix.

It worked. He laughed; a soft gentle chuckle, but a laugh all the same.

"Woman in a red dress?" he asked through a grin.

"Oh, you probably haven't seen The Matrix, have you?"

His face scrunched up in endearing confusion. "No...?"

She adamantly ignored when the word adorable entered her mind when she saw his expression. "It's a movie, a classic really. You'll have to see it at some point or I'll feel like an idiot for referencing it."

"Oh God," he shook his head, "I haven't seen a movie in... ages."

"I think that's a crime in and of itself. They've gotten infintely better than they were in the forties, I can promise you that."

"I got a lot to catch up on, don't I?"

"Maybe a little. But don't worry about it. I'll make you a list!"

"Man, didn't think I'd have homework," he quipped, a meek attempt at a joke.

It made her smile. There's some personality! She showed some of her own in return.

"Man, I didn't think I'd ever meet someone who doesn't like movies of all things. One of the best things ever created by mankind!"

He laughed and threw his hands up in mock surrender. "I never said that! I don't know if I deserve such slander."

What a wonderful laugh.

"Watch every movie on my list and I'll clear your name," she beamed.

He feigned annoyance. "Fine. You drive a hard bargain, Ms. (Y/L/N)."

"That's Dr. (Y/L/N), actually."

Before he could question whether or not he made a mistake, she continued. "I'm totally messing with you. (Y/N) is more than just fine. Dr. (Y/L/N) sounds too much like someone's pretending that I'm my dad anyway."

"Okay then," he smiled, "(Y/N).”

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bechloeislegit · 4 years

Text

25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2020

Day 22 - The Christmas Date

Prompt from Tumblr User Anonymous: This prompt was originally given to Tumblr User AnotherBechloeShipper (see the full prompt and an additional note from her at the end). I asked if I could use it for my 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases, and she was okay with that. I took it in a bit of a different direction than the prompt called for; I hope you like it.

Beca had just entered the Bellas House and noticed most of the girls were gone. She peeked into the living room to find Chloe sitting on the sofa, flipping through a magazine.

"So, um, Chloe?" Beca asked as she walked over to stand nervously in front of her best friend.

"Yes, Beca?" Chloe responded, not looking up from her magazine.

"I heard that you, uh, weren't going home for Christmas," Beca said.

"This is true," Chloe said, looking up at Beca. "I'm staying to work at the vet clinic to get some firsthand experience."

"Oh," Beca said. "That's cool. Cool, cool, cool."

"I agree," Chloe said with a wink. "I think it's cool, cool, cool, too."

Beca winced and looked around.

"Sack up, dude!" Beca mumbled to herself.

"Are you okay, Beca?" Chloe asked, reaching out and touching Beca's arm.

Beca's head jerked over to look at Chloe's hand on her arm.

"Oh, yeah," Beca said. "I'm fine. Everything is okey-dokey with me."

"Oh, God," Beca thought. "Why am I like this?"

"Did you want something else, Becs?" Chloe asked.

"What?" Beca shot a look at Chloe. "Why would you think I wanted anything?"

"Um," Chloe said, standing. "Never mind. I'm going to my room. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yep," Beca said. "Okay."

Beca watched Chloe start up the stairs. Chloe paused and looked back at Beca.

"Are you sure you're okay, Beca?" Chloe asked.

"Pffft," Beca said. "Yep. I'm fine. All's good in the Beca Hood."

Beca mentally face-palmed herself as she thought, "What the fuck was that?"

Chloe gave her a funny look and said, "Some of the girls went to pick up pizza for dinner. They should be back soon."

"Sounds good, Chlo," Beca said, and Chloe continued up the stairs.

Beca fell face first onto the sofa. She had been lying there for a few minutes when she heard the front door open. She lifted her head and looked over her shoulder to see the other Bellas coming in; she let her head drop back down to the sofa.

"Hey, Beca," Stacie said as she, Ashley, and Jessica entered the living room. "We brought pizza."

"Okay," Beca mumbled into the sofa cushion. "Somebody should tell Chloe you're back. She's in her room."

"I'll get her," Jessica said and went toward the stairs.

"What's up with you?" Stacie asked.

"Nothing," Beca mumbled. "I'm just a loser laying here waiting to eat pizza."

"Beca, you're not a loser," Ashley said. "What's got you all down in the dumps anyway?"

Beca sat up and sighed.

"You know how I have a thing for Chloe, right?" Beca asked.

"Yeah," Stacie and Ashley respond.

"I decided I was going to ask her out," Beca said. "But, I turned into awkward Beca and couldn't string together a coherent sentence to ask her."

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think," Ashley said.

"Not as bad as I think?" Beca scoffed, her voice raised an octave or two. "It's worse. She asked me if I was okay, and I said all's good in the Beca Hood."

"That's, uh, that's not so bad," Stacie said, grimacing slightly.

"You need to forget about that and try again," Ashley said. "You'll be sorry if you don't."

"She won't want to go out with a loser like me," Beca said.

"It's Chloe," Stacie said. "If she doesn't want to go on a date with you, she'll let you down easy. But you won't know if you don't sack up and ask her."

Chloe and Jessica returning to the living room kept Beca from saying anything more.

~~ Day 22 of the 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2020 ~~

Later that night, Beca doesn't know how it happened, but she and Chloe were suddenly alone in the living room. Beca took in a deep breath and looked at Chloe.

"Chloe?"

"Yes, Beca?"

"Would you, um, maybe want to go out with me over Winter Break? On, a, um, a date?"

"You mean a date date?" Chloe asked, looking at Beca.

"Yes," Beca said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'd love to," Chloe said with a big smile.

"You would?" Beca squeaked out, taken by surprise.

"Don't act so surprised, Beca," Chloe said, chuckling. "I like you, and I was trying to figure out a way to ask you out without sending you running for the hills."

"Really?" Beca asked, again taken by surprise.

"Yes, really," Chloe said. "I'll be working at the vet clinic almost every day, but I have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. Can we do it one of those nights?"

"Of course," Beca said. "I'll make a reservation for dinner on Christmas Eve if that's okay with you?"

"That sounds perfect," Chloe said.

Chloe stood and walked over to Beca. She bent over and kissed Beca on the cheek.

"I'm looking forward to it," Chloe said. "I'm going to bed, but I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Chloe," Beca said, grinning as she sat alone in the now empty living room.

~~ Day 22 of the 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2020 ~~

Beca was excited that Chloe agreed to go on a date with her. The next morning, the first thing she did was call and make a reservation at Chloe's favorite Mexican restaurant.

Beca told Stacie about the date and had her help pick out an outfit before Stacie left for the break.

"You've got almost a week, Beca," Stacie said. "No matter how much I tell you a certain outfit is perfect, you'll worry about it and change your mind thirty times. Just go with something nice but casual."

"Chloe's something nice?" Beca asked. "Or my something nice? Because they are definitely not the same."

"Do you still have that red dress you bought to wear on Valentine's Day last year?" Stacie asked.

"You mean the dress I never got to wear because Jesse dumped me just before Valentine's Day for some girl in his music score class?" Beca asked. "Yeah, I still have it."

"Forget about Jesse," Stacie said. "Wear that dress for your date with Chloe. It's festive, and Chloe will love it on you."

"That's a great idea," Beca said. "Thanks, Stacie."

"Don't worry about it," Stacie said. "And don't worry about the date. It will be fine. Just fill me in on everything later, okay?"

"Okay," Beca said.

~~ Day 22 of the 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2020 ~~

The girls were all gone, and Chloe and Beca were alone in the house. Chloe spent most of the day interning at the vet clinic, while Beca worked on her music and did her shifts at the radio station. They would meet up nearly every night and have dinner and watch some TV or a movie before Chloe would call it a night, citing having to be at the clinic early the next morning.

It was Christmas Eve, and Beca was excited about her date with Chloe. She spent most of the morning talking to Chloe about the Vet Clinic and her family. When lunchtime came around, Beca made a quick chicken Caesar salad for the two of them to share.

"I didn't want to make anything heavy," Beca said, setting a plate of salad and a bottle of water in front of Chloe. "I don't want to spoil our dinner."

"Do I get to know where we're going for dinner finally?" Chloe asked.

"I guess I can tell you now," Beca said. "We're going to that little Mexican place you love on the other side of campus. Our reservations are for six."

"La Taqueria?" Chloe asked excitedly. At Beca's nod, Chloe added, "I love that place. Are you trying to impress me, Miss Mitchell?"

"That's the plan, Miss Beale," Beca said, smirking.

They both dug into their salads as they laughed and talked. They were still sitting at the table a few hours later when Chloe said she was going to shower.

Beca cleaned their lunch dishes and made her way up to her room to get her stuff for a shower. She knew Chloe would be done quickly.

~~ Day 22 of the 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2020 ~~

Chloe was ready at 5:30 and was waiting in the living room for Beca. Her breath hitched a bit when Beca broke the threshold into the living room. Chloe admired the view of Beca in her red dress.

"Beca," Chloe said as she stood, looking Beca up and down. "You look amazing!"

"So do you," Beca said, admiring Chloe. "But, then again, you always do."

Chloe blushed slightly at the compliment. Beca grabbed their jackets and held Chloe's out for her to put on.

"Thank you," Chloe said as she pulled her hair out from under the back of her coat.

"Shall we?" Beca asked, holding out her arm out for Chloe to take.

Chloe giggled and took Beca's arm; she held onto it as they made their way out to Beca's car. Beca opened the car door and allowed Chloe to get situated before closing the door and hurrying around to the other side. She slid behind the wheel and smiled over at Chloe.

Chloe smiled back at Beca as Beca stuck the key in the ignition. She turned the key and. . .nothing happened. Beca's smile fell from her face.

"What the Hell?"

Beca turned the key again with the same result.

"Sounds like the battery might be dead," Chloe said.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Beca slammed her hands on the steering wheel as she cried out in frustration.

"Beca, calm down," Chloe said, reaching her hand across to stop Beca from slamming her hands on the steering wheel. "We can just take my car."

~~ Day 22 of the 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2020 ~~

Beca sat pouting in the passenger seat of Chloe's car as Chloe drove them to the restaurant. This night was starting out badly.

Chloe put on the turn signal to pull into the restaurant's parking lot mumbling, "Becs, are you sure this place was supposed to be open tonight?"

"What the fuck?" Beca mumbled as she found herself looking at an empty parking lot. She looked toward the restaurant, and it was dark. "Is it closed?!"

"Looks like it," Chloe said, driving over to the main door of the place.

"But, I made a reservation," Beca said. "And I have a confirmation number. How are they closed tonight, and I wasn't informed? Aren't they supposed to call and let people who made reservations know they aren't going to be open for whatever reason? Why didn't they let me know?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Beca," Chloe said with a sigh. "It looks like there's a sign on the door, but I can't see what it says from here."

"Wait here," Beca said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I'll check it out."

Chloe watched as Beca walked up to the door and stood, using the light from her phone to read the sign. She saw Beca run a hand through her hair and look back at Chloe's car. She took a moment before turning to walk back over to the car. She got in and sat staring at the restaurant.

"What did the sign say?" Chloe asked.

Beca slowly turned to look at Chloe. She let out a heavy sigh and replied, "It's been shut down by the Health Department for several health code violations."

"Oh," Chloe said.

"What are we going to do now?" Beca asked. "The whole night is ruined."

"No, it's not," Chloe said. "Let's just go to the diner. They're open, and I'm hungry."

"Okay," Beca said. "I guess it's better than nothing."

"Come on, Beca," Chloe said, gripping Beca's hand. "We can salvage this. Don't give up so easily."

"I just wanted our first real date to be memorable," Beca mumbled, looking down at her hands.

"It still can be," Chloe said, smiling as she put the car in drive and made her way out of the parking lot.

~~ Day 22 of the 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2020 ~~

Beca was so bummed about her date not turning out how she wanted that she sat across the table from Chloe, not saying anything.

Chloe looked at her and waited, but Beca still hadn't spoken after five minutes of silently sitting there.

"So, um," Chloe said, looking over the menu. "I think I'm going to get breakfast for dinner. How about you?"

"Sure, Chloe," Beca said, staring down at the table. "Sounds good."

Chloe slammed her menu down with a huff.

"If you don't really want to be here with me, we can just leave."

"What?" Beca said, looking at Chloe. "No, I want to be here."

"Then act like it!" Chloe responded.

"I'm sorry," Beca said. "I'm trying so hard to give you the date you deserve."

"Stop trying so hard," Chloe said, reaching across to cover Beca's hand with hers. "Just let whatever happens happen. I promise you that whatever you think is going wrong is not as bad as you're making it out to be."

"You're just saying that to be nice," Beca said.

"So, what if I am?" Chloe asked, releasing Beca's hand as she shrugged her shoulders. "It's better than sulking over things you have no control over."

Chloe took a deep breath and let it out. She looked at Beca.

"Relax, Beca, and let's just enjoy the rest of our date."

~~ Day 22 of the 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2020 ~~

The ride home was quiet. Chloe kept looking over at Beca, but Beca would not look at her; she just stared out the side window.

"I'm sorry about your dress," Beca mumbled, breaking the silence.

"What was that?" Chloe questioned. "I couldn't hear you."

"I said, I'm sorry about your dress," Beca said a bit louder so Chloe would hear her.

Beca still did not look at Chloe.

"The soda added a nice stickiness, but it's fine," Chloe said with a small smile toward Beca. "It will be as good as new once I wash it. "

Beca continued to stare out the window and would not look at Chloe. The only sounds made during the rest of the trip home were Chloe's heavy sighs.

Beca was out of the car and making her way to the front door before Chloe had unfastened her seatbelt. She hurried after Beca and caught up to her just as she reached the door. Beca made it through the door, and Chloe grabbed her by the arm.

"Go change into your pajamas," Chloe said. "I'll meet you in the living room in fifteen minutes."

"I'm going to bed," Beca said, jerking her arm out of Chloe's grasp.

"No, you're not," Chloe said, retaking Beca's arm and staring into her eyes to make sure she was paying attention. "If you're not back down here in fifteen minutes, I will come up and drag you down here. Don't test me on this because you will not win."

The look on Chloe's face let Beca know that Chloe meant business.

"Fine!" Beca said and stomped up the stairs.

Chloe followed behind Beca and went to her room. She quickly threw on her pajamas and rushed back downstairs. She went to the kitchen and grabbed a few things before going into the living room to set everything up.

Chloe waited the full fifteen minutes before going upstairs to get Beca. She had just made it to the second-floor landing when Beca came rushing out into the hallway from her room. Beca stopped short when she saw Chloe.

"You were really coming to get me?" Beca asked, eyes wide in astonishment.

"I told you I would," Chloe said. "Come on and don't make me drag you down the stairs. I have everything ready for us."

Beca meekly followed Chloe downstairs and into the living room.

"What's all this?" Beca asked, looking at the tub of ice cream and two spoons sitting on the coffee table.

"We're going to do what we always do when I get home from a date," Chloe said. "We're going to eat ice cream and talk about it."

"I get it, Chloe," Beca said angrily. "The date sucked. You don't have to tell me; I was there. Remember?"

"Of course, I remember, Beca," Chloe said sweetly. "Now sit."

Chloe sat cross-legged on the couch and pointed to the spot across from her. Beca huffed but sat cross-legged across from Chloe.

Chloe picked up the ice cream and the two spoons, holding one out toward Beca. Beca took the spoon and played with it. Chloe opened the ice cream and set it between them. She took up a scoop on her spoon and brought it to her mouth.

Beca watched but didn't say anything.

"Aren't you going to ask me how my date went?" Chloe asked.

"I already know how it went," Beca said, looking down at the spoon in her hand.

"You only know how you think it went," Chloe said, getting more ice cream but not adding anything more to the conversation.

Beca continued to look down. After a few minutes, her curiosity got the best of her, and she finally looked up at Chloe.

"How did your date go?"

"It sucked," Chloe said, laughing.

"I don't need to hear anymore," Beca said, moving to stand.

"Stop!" Chloe said. "And sit back down. Please?"

Beca huffed again but sat back down in her original position.

"Now, ask me why my date sucked."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. Now ask me."

"Fine," Beca said, spooning up some ice cream. "Why, um, why did your date suck?"

"It sucked because it started out fairly well," Chloe said. "I mean my date looked hot and she helped me with my jacket and opened doors for me. And then suddenly things went a little sideways and the Beca I thought I was going out with vanished and a different Beca took her place."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I thought I was going to be with the Beca that I've wanted to ask out for so long," Chloe responded. "Instead, I ended up with someone I don't even know. The Beca I wanted to be with is the girl who came home for the past five days and made dinner or she stopped and picked up my favorite takeout to make sure I got something to eat."

Chloe leaned toward Beca and whispered, "She's really special and knows that I miss lunch a lot of the time when I'm working."

Chloe winked as she sat back. "I wanted to be with that special girl. The one who would sit and watch a movie with me even though she doesn't like them so that I didn't have to watch them alone."

Beca shifted in her seat and took more ice cream onto her spoon, swallowing it down as Chloe continued.

"I want the Beca who gets up early every morning to make hot tea to help soothe my throat," Chloe said. "The one who fills a thermos so I could have hot tea to sip on at work. That's the girl I want to date. The real Beca who is sweet and caring, not the snarky, unsure Beca that I was with tonight."

Beca took a bite of ice cream and looked at Chloe.

"That was the real Beca," Beca mumbled. "The awkward unsure girl I've always been."

Chloe frowned and shoved her spoon into the ice cream.

"Did you do something to your car to make sure it didn't start?" Chloe asked.

"No."

"Did you do something to the restaurant that made the Health Department shut it down?"

"No, how could I have?"

"Did you purposely bump into that waitress to make her spill those drinks on me?"

"No, I would never do that!"

"Then why are you so bummed about the date?" Chloe asked, searching Beca's face. "None of those things were anything you had any control over. Your attitude is why the date sucked, not what happened on it."

"I wanted to make it perfect," Beca said, looking down at the spoon in her hand.

"There's no use trying to make a date perfect," Chloe responded, picking up her spoon and taking a bit of ice cream. "There’s no such thing as a perfect date."

Beca sat for a moment, watching Chloe eat her ice cream.

"It sounds like someone was trying way too hard to impress you."

"That's what I said," Chloe said. "And it was totes unnecessary. I'm already impressed by her, that's why I said yes when she asked me out."

"She's really impressed by you, too," Beca said a small smile on her face. "And, I know for a fact that she really, really likes you. So, do you think she'll get a second date?"

"It depends."

"On?"

"On which Beca asks me," Chloe said, grinning as she scooped up another bite of ice cream.

Beca smiled and moved the ice cream to the coffee table. Chloe watched her with furrowed brows which shot up when Beca leaned toward her. Chloe let out a surprised yelp when Beca surged forward and smashed her lips to Chloe's.

Chloe took a second but starting kissing Beca back. The kiss lasted less than a minute, and when Beca pulled away, Chloe chased after Beca's lips, capturing them for another kiss. This kiss was a bit more intense and was broken when Beca chuckled against Chloe's mouth.

"There's the confident, badass Beca I was looking for," Chloe said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Does that mean you'll go out with me again?"

"That's a definite yes," Chloe said, placing both hands on Beca's cheeks and pulling her closer. "But only if you kiss me like that again."

Beca happily obliged. They broke apart when breathing became an issue.

"And don't worry, I'll plan the next date," Chloe said, causing Beca to laugh again before leaning into another kiss.

"Merry Christmas to me," Beca mumbled against Chloe's lips.

Full prompt from Tumblr User Anonymous: Beca and Chloe finally go out on a date. But like...Beca's game is sooooo bad. Like Anakin Skywalker, Attack of the Clones bad, is Beca able to land a second date, or will Chloe be like "nah"? [I have never seen Attack of the Clones so I have no idea how bad it was (is?); I went with what came to me].

Note from AnotherBechloeShipper: Okay, I've tried to come up with something for this prompt, and I can't get a single word going. So, I'm going to just put this out here in hopes that maybe another writer can pick up the prompt. I will say I think Beca would land a second date because I see Chloe forgiving missteps, but I just can't come up with anything coherent to write for it.

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #Christmas 2020

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat - Chapter 9

Summary: Veterinarian Olivia Tran has zero time for bullshit. After becoming a mom at age twenty three, the one thing she wants is a good life for her daughter Vanessa. Her ex didn’t want anything to do with her nor the baby and she decided that man are officially banned out of her life. But then she meets Henry Cavill at her clinic and her ban slowly starts to crumble apart. Henry on the other hand is looking for one thing: a family. And when he meets Olivia Tran, he finds just that.

Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran (ofc)

Warnings: None (just that I nearly cried writing this, so yeah...)

Wordcount: 4.6k

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

It’s Sunday, November 12th and that means exactly seven years have passed since Vanessa was born. Seven whole years have flown by and I can’t believe my little girl is already seven. I crouch down in front of the picture that stands on the coffee table and I see every single day, but today it has such a different meaning and it nearly makes me want to cry.

Vanessa just turned one on this picture and we are eating the icing of the cake. She only fell face first into the cake and her face is smudged with icing and I’m dying of laughter in the picture.

‘So, all the presents are on the table,’ Henry says. ‘Do you want me to start on the pancakes?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ I say, though I barely registered what he said and with the picture in my hand, I stand up as I stare at the picture.

Henry’s arms snake around my waist and he gives me a kiss on my temple. ‘Are you okay?’

I shrug. ‘It’s just hard to believe that she turns seven already,’ I admit. ‘It seemed like yesterday that I found out I was pregnant with her, that she was born and scared the living shit out of me multiple times, making me completely doubt my parental skills. She shoved a bead up her nose, she fell out of her high chair and had a small concussion and even broke her leg when she fell down the stairs. Besides those accidents, she somehow still grew up to be the girl she is today.’

Henry chuckles. ‘That’s what little girls do, love. They grow up.’

I nod. ‘I know, I know and I want her to grow up, but… I feel like I’m not enjoying each moment enough and I blink with my eyes and she’ll turn sixteen.’

‘I know you are enjoying each moment enough.’

Since Vanessa came home from that sleepover, she really likes it when Henry sleeps over, so we can all cram up in my bed. Kal’s blanket has moved from the couch with us to my bedroom, so he can be there with us too. Sometimes Vanessa secretly ushers him on the bed, when she thinks Henry and I are already asleep. When we wake up the next morning, Henry tells me that we should buy a bigger bed.

Every single time.

‘Shall I start with the pancakes, love?’ Henry asks.

‘Yes, thank you.’

He nods, burying his face in the crook of my neck and pressing tons of kisses there. ‘I love you and I’m happy that we can spend this day together.’

‘Of course,’ I say, as we walk to the kitchen. ‘Why wouldn’t we want to spend it with you, honey?’

‘Well, for six years it has just been the two of you,’ he says, as he grabs the bowl filled with the batter that he already preparedy. He stirs a few times, before he adds: ‘And now I can be part of that too. I mean, we’re going to my parents in the afternoon to celebrate her birthday. It’s still surreal that you want me here, to be honest.’

I can’t help but chuckle and wrap my arms around his hips. ‘Henry, you are part of our little family now,’ I whisper. ‘Get yourself ready, because we are going to spend Christmas together, New Years Eve and all the other good stuff.’

He bites his lip and says: ‘Thank you, Olivia.’

I let him bake the pancakes, but I can’t help but be curious. ‘You really want us to meet your brothers today?’

He nods. ‘I talked to them, all four of them individually and the other day when we were at my parents and told them how they should behave. They can embarrass me, but they have to be nice to the two of you. I don’t want them to scare you away.’ He puts some butter in the pan and as that melts, he continues by saying: ‘They all bought a gift off of the list that Vanessa gave you, so that must go well.’

‘Are you nervous, Henry?’ I ask him. ‘For us meeting your brothers?’

‘Is it that obvious?’ he laughs and I can’t help but let out a chuckle. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just that I brought home girlfriends before, you know and they were always really nice to them, but they embarrassed the living daylights out of me, probably scaring the girlfriends a bit in the process. But I don’t want that to happen today.’

‘I think your parents will be on the look out too,’ I chuckle. The other day we were at his parents’ again and Marianne kept gushing about how she has never seen Henry like he is with us and that she is so happy that we are in their lives now. ‘Marianne and Colin very much like Vanessa and according to Colin, he likes my daughter more than he likes his own sons, so there is not much to worry about, sweetheart. However,’ I say, ‘I do think it’s adorable that you worry this much about us meeting your brothers. It shows us that you really care.’

Henry blushes and lets out a bit of a nervous chuckle. He continues to bake pancakes and when he finished up the last one, I hear tiny footsteps on the stairs, followed by the sound of dog nails hitting the carpet.

‘I’m seven years old, mommy,’ Vanessa yells, as she jumps in my arms.

‘I know, sweetheart. Happy birthday.’ I give her a big kiss and from the looks of it, she is really happy and hyper. ‘You feel like a big girl now?’

‘I do, I do, I do.’ She hugs me tightly and I let out a content sigh, as I press my nose in her hairs. ‘I love you, mommy,’ she says.

‘I love you too,’ I say with a smile. ‘Mommy is really proud of you, you know that?’

She smiles and gives me another kiss. ‘I know,’ she cheekily says and I put her down on the floor. ‘Superman, I’m seven now.’

‘I know, sunshine. You’re getting old.’

‘Not as old as you,’ she retorts and I’m so happy that I am raising a sassy little girl. She jumps in his arms and he kisses her cheek, before he says: ‘Happy birthday, Vanessa.’

‘You are making pancakes?’ she asks, wrapping her arms around his neck.

‘Not just pancakes. I made birthday pancakes, especially for you.’

Vanessa’s eyes grow wider. ‘Really?’

‘Of course,’ he says, nearly scoffing with a chuckle. ‘You only turn seven once and we have to celebrate that with special birthday pancakes. I put some chocolate in it, because I know how much you like that.’

Vanessa looks over her shoulder at me and says: ‘I love this birthday already.’

I lean against the doorway and blink my eyes a little faster. I don’t want to be emotional, but these past weeks have been such a rollercoaster and my feelings are trying to find a new normal again, but it’s not that easy. Especially if you are a professional in bottling up emotions like I am.

We eat our pancakes and I sit across from Vanessa, who sits on Henry’s lap, as he helps her rolling her pancakes. I take dozens of pictures, wanting to have physical evidence of this wonderful moment between them. They are surely getting attached to each other and I continued to think about what would happen if I broke up with Henry.

Would Vanessa still see him?

I forced myself to stop thinking about that, because it only made me sad. I mean, I already can’t imagine a life without Henry.

‘When can I open my presents?’ she asks.

‘When you finished your pancakes,’ I say. ‘After that, we’re going to get dressed go to Henry’s parents.’

‘We’re going to mrs. Marianne and mister Colin again?’ Vanessa claps her hands. ‘Are they going to give me gifts too?’

‘They are, sunshine,’ Henry says. ‘And there are going to be four other guests.’

‘Who?’ she asks, her eyes lighting up already.

‘My brothers.’

She smiles. ‘I like that. Are they going to give me presents?’

I try to hide a laugh, but I fail miserably. The most important things to Vanessa sure are quite something and totally relatable if I’m being honest. ‘They are, sweetheart,’ I say.

‘But, sunshine, I have to tell you something,’ Henry says. ‘If they do something you don’t like, you tell me, my parents or your mommy, okay? This is your birthday and I want you to be happy the entire time, okay?’

‘I can tell them myself,’ Vanessa says.

Henry smiles at her. ‘I know you can,’ he says. ‘But will you promise me that?’

She nods. ‘I promise, Superman.’ She presses her nose against his cheek and says: ‘You really are Superman.’

Henry films as Vanessa opens up all her presents and she is the happiest with the bike Henry and I bought her. It has bears on it and a flag on the back, also with a bear. She sits on it and says: ‘Now I really am a big girl.’

After unpacking the gifts, Vanessa and I go to the bathroom, where we get in the shower cabin and I help her with washing her hairs and getting all freshened up for the day. She keeps on babbling about how happy she is and excited that she is going to see mrs. Marianne and mister Colin again. I wrap her up in a towel after I done that for myself and since I can still carry her, I lift her up in my arms as we walk to the bedroom. ‘You go warm up in my bed, as I get dressed,’ I tell her, handing her my phone so she can play a game on it.

I decide to wear a black casual dress today, since I know that Vanessa always loves it when I wear dresses on her birthday. I slip on the Doctor Martens, tie them up and walk over to the big mirror that I have on the closet. I grab some hair products and comb my fingers through my hair.

Henry enters the bedroom and smiles when he looks at me. ‘Birthday girl,’ he says to Vanessa. ‘Did you tell your mom to wear this dress?’ He runs a hand through his slight out of control curls.

Vanessa nods. ‘Mommy has to wear dresses on my birthday, because I like that.’

He gives her a thumbs up, causing me to roll my eyes. ‘Did you pick this one out?’

She nods again. ‘And when I grow up, I want to wear that dress.’

‘You have excellent taste, sunshine.’ He walks over to me, gives me a kiss and says that he is going to take a shower now.

‘Henry, you have to wear something colorful,’ Vanessa says, before he can walk out of the room.

Henry leans against the wall and asks: ‘Like what?’

‘A pink shirt.’

He cocks an eyebrow. ‘I have to check my wardrobe to see if I have a pink shirt. How about before we go to my parents, we stop by at my house?’

‘Can I pick something out?’ she says, her face lighting up already. ‘Pretty please?’

I already know that he us unable to say no to Vanessa. ‘Of course you can.’ He chuckles and looks at me again. ‘You look really beautiful, love,’ he says to me.

‘Thank you.’ I don’t want to blush, but I feel my face heat up.

Henry sends me a wink, before he walks out of the room. After I’m done with my make-up and hair, I turn around and ask Vanessa: ‘You want to wear that pink dress with the bears on it, sweetheart?’

≫≫≪≪

‘Mommy, why is Henry nervous?’ Vanessa asks. We just stopped by Henry’s place, hoping to find something pink, but we came to the conclusion that he doesn’t have anything pink. After going through his closet at least three times, she found a baby blue sweater instead and it looks beautiful on him. It hugs his tight arms and I have my hand wrapped around the bulk of muscles.

We are on our way to his parents house, but he keeps drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and he hums. Now, he usually hums when we’re not really talking in the car, usually in a light tone, causing Vanessa to recognize the song, but today it’s in a nervous tone.

‘Because he is scared that his brothers will embarrass him.’

‘Why?’ Vanessa asks.

I turn around in my seat and say: ‘Because siblings tend to embarrass each other and Henry knows that when we are there to meet them, they will say and do stuff, hoping to get a sort of a reaction out of him.’

‘Isn’t that bullying?’

I shake my head. ‘No, because they are siblings, it’s more like teasing. Like when you want a cookie and I hold the jar over your head…. It’s not necessarily bullying, but I’m teasing you a bit, right?’

She nods. ‘But if Henry doesn’t like it, he should say it to his mother.’

Vanessa is adorable.

‘And otherwise he should tell me. I can tell his brothers they shouldn’t be mean to him. I mean, Henry told me that I should tell him if they do something I don’t like, right?’

‘Very good, sunshine,’ he says with an adoring smile as he looks in his rearview mirror.

We get out of the car, Vanessa holding her Kal’s leash in her hand as she frisks towards the already open front door. ‘Mrs. Marianne!’ she yells, Kal following her close by. For a second I’m afraid Vanessa is going to jump in her arms, but she doesn’t—thankfully—and wraps her arms around her waist. ‘It’s my birthday today.’

‘I know, doll,’ Marianne says. ‘And happy birthday to you. I bought a nice birthday cake for you.’

‘For me?’ Vanessa looks over her shoulder and holds my hand. ‘Mommy, mrs. Marianne bought a birthday cake for me.’

‘No way,’ I say, ‘that is so thoughtful of her.’

Marianne pulls me in a hug. ‘She looks so beautiful,’ she whispers, ‘as do you.’

‘Thank you.’

After she hugged her son too, we all walk into the house and the fact that Vanessa completely ignores the four insanely tall Cavill men, to go and hug mr. Colin, says something about their bond. ‘I missed you,’ she says.

‘I missed the birthday girl too,’ he laughs and from the looks of it, he begins to tell her the newest jokes he looked up, because she bursts into a fit of giggles after a few seconds already.

‘Olivia, these are my brothers,’ Henry says, placing a hand on the small of my back. I don’t know if he does that because he feels like he needs to support me or the other way around. ‘Simon, Charlie, Niki and Piers.’

I am amazed by the Cavill genetics. ‘Wow,’ is the first thing that leaves my lips and I nearly want to throw myself out of a window. ‘I’m sorry, that was creepy.’

All of his brothers start to laugh and I shake their hands to introduce myself, with my cheeks in a full on blush. ‘Nice to meet you, guys.’

‘No, no, no, it’s nice to meet you, Olivia,’ Piers says.

Niki nods. ‘We couldn’t wait to meet the woman that has our Henry all blushy and giggly.’

‘And just wondering, but why him?’ Charlie says. ‘I mean, sure, he is handsome, but have you seen the rest of us?’

Simon holds back a laugh and says: ‘Guys, look at that clenched fist. This man is about to throw in some punches.’

I look up and see not only his fist is clenched, but also his jaw. He is really working himself up and I nearly feel sorry for him. To cut Henry some slack, I say to Vanessa: ‘Sweetheart, come over and meet Henry’s brothers.’

She walks over and stands in front of me and I watch as all of his brothers crouch down, so they don’t seem that intimidating to my daughter.

I already love them.

Vanessa looks up, ignoring them a bit and asks: ‘Have they been mean to Henry already?’

‘No, sunshine, they haven’t,’ Henry says with a smile on his face.

‘So, I can be nice to them?’

I can see the looks on his brothers faces, already melting at the sight of my daughter being quite protective over my boyfriend. ‘Yes, sweetheart, you can be nice to them.’

Vanessa looks at Piers and holds out her hand. ‘My name is Vanessa Tran,’ she says.

‘Nice to meet you, Vanessa and happy birthday.’

She smiles. ‘I’m seven now.’

‘So I heard.’

All of Henry’s brothers seem to be impressed with Vanessa and when she reaches Charlie, he jokingly asks: ‘What does your mom see in Henry anyways? Do you know?’

Vanessa rolls her eyes like the sassy little thing she is. ‘Because he is Superman, of course.’

‘Yeah, I can’t compete with that,’ Charlie admits.

‘You want to see the gifts we bought you?’ Simon suggests and she nods. She holds onto Charlie’s hand and I watch them go to the living room.

‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ I ask Henry.

‘No, it wasn’t.’ He lets out a big sigh and says: ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

He smiles and holds my hand, as we go to the living room as well. Vanessa is sitting on Marianne’s lap, as she unwraps the other gifts. She is happy every single time, no matter what she gets. She asks whose gift it is, so she can hug the specific person as a thank you.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that Vanessa has wrapped the entire Cavill household around her finger.

While I watch them all interact with my daughter, I can’t help but notice the light in Vanessa’s eyes. I know she accepted that she didn’t have a large family and she told me that she was happy that she had me, but I knew that deep down she wanted to have a dad, grandparents and aunts or uncles. I mean, sure, she has Belle and she loves Belle with all her heart, but this is different.

This is one whole family that fell in love with her and she knows it.

‘Mommy, look, a coloring book filled with bears,’ she chuckles, as she walks over to me.

I pull her on my lap and wrap my arm around her waist. ‘So pretty,’ I say to her. ‘Did you say thank you?’

She nods. ‘I’m really happy.’

‘I know you are.’

‘Is this our new family?’ she asks, loud enough for the others to hear her. ‘Because I like them a lot.’

Don’t you dare start crying now, Olivia Tran. I look over at Henry, who sits next to me on a chair. He slides his arm from the back of the chair on my shoulders, giving me a little bit of comfort. ‘You should ask them.’

She looks at the Cavill family and asks: ‘Are you my new family?’

They unanimously start to nod. ‘We are, doll,’ Marianne says, her voice cracking a bit.

Vanessa turns around in my lap, so she can look at Henry as well. She ushers him closer and asks him: ‘Do they mean it?’

‘They do, sunshine.’ He places his hand on her leg and says: ‘We are all very happy that both you and your mom are part of our family now.’

‘I loved all the presents I got,’ she says, ‘but having a family is the best present I could ask for. Who do I say thank you to for that, mommy?’

I’m unable to answer something, as all sorts of things run through my mind. Have I finally given her everything I simply can? Is the life that I wanted for my daughter, finally happening? I simply press a kiss on her cheek and hear Henry say: ‘You should thank your mom for that.’

Vanessa tilts her head. ‘Why?’

‘Because your mom allowed me in your life,’ he says, ‘and because of that you not only got me, but also got the rest of them.’

Vanessa looks at me and says: ‘Thank you, mommy. For finding the best family for me.’

≫≫≪≪

The entire day I hold my tears back, but when I watch the Cavill men, including Kal run around in the backyard, throwing around a ball with Vanessa, I can’t help but let out a shaky breath.

This is all I ever wanted for my little girl. I wanted her to have a big loving family and now on her seventh birthday, she has that.

After she thanked me for finding the best family for her, I could barely look at someone else anymore. Henry knew something was up, but he couldn’t get it out of me.

I sit on the porch with Marianne. ‘I’m just going to say it once again,’ Marianne says. ‘You have raised an extraordinary girl and the both of you made my son a very happy man.’

I chuckle, as I watch Henry picking up Vanessa and as an answer, she pushes her nose against his cheek, before she bursts out in giggles. ‘Well, he makes me very happy too,’ I say.

Marianne places a hand on my knee and says: ‘From one mother to another, it’s always hard when you think you’re not giving your kids what they deserve, but you are doing an excellent job.’

I blink away some tears. ‘It’s just that… I always feel so guilty when I think about Vanessa and how desperately she wants to have a family, and I’m not able to give her that, but… I never knew how much I missed having a family around me, who cares about me like you all do. I think I forgot how it felt to be welcomed like I am here.’

Marianne nods. ‘Always remember: you don’t have to do it alone anymore. You are welcome here in our entire family and we would love to help you out.’

‘Thank you.’

‘They might make fun of Henry,’ she continues, ‘but his brothers know how happy he is with you. Piers just told me that he never seen Henry like this. Charlie said that you are by far the greatest woman he has ever met and both Simon and Niki are impressed by the way you raised your daughter. You two are truly to best that could ever happen to Henry, but also to us.’

I clear my throat and I stare at Henry, who holds Vanessa above his head, so she can throw the ball through the hoop. ‘Excuse me,’ I say, as I stand up and walk inside the house. I don’t know where I end, but somewhere where people can’t see me from outside.

I bury my face in my hands, as I let out a small sob, followed by many more. I shouldn’t be sad, I should be grateful. I am welcomed in a family with both arms wide open. But it all hits extra hard today. My little girl turned seven today. My boyfriend brought me to his family. Vanessa thanked me for finding her a new family.

‘Is everything alright, love?’ I hear Henry ask me.

I look up, wiping my tears away, but I can’t stop crying. Henry walks over to me and pulls me in a tight and safe hug. ‘It’s nothing,’ I whisper.

‘Don’t,’ he says. ‘Don’t do that. You can tell me what’s wrong.’

‘I’m just a bit emotional, that’s all,’ I say.

Henry gives me a kiss on my forehead and says: ‘Come with me for a second.’ He holds onto my hand, as I follow him through the house. We walk into a bedroom that is obviously his old one and I can’t help but smile, seeing the light blue walls and how neatly it’s all cleaned. We plop on his bed and he pulls me on his lap. ‘Tell me what is going on inside your head, sweetheart.’

‘I think it’s a combination,’ I whisper, looking at my hands. ‘First Vanessa turns seven, then not only does she gain a whole family, but I do too. Every year on her birthday, I kind of wish that we get a card from my family, or a text, you know. Now your brothers bought a lot of Vanessa’s birthday wish list, without ever meeting her.’

Henry pulls me closer to his body. ‘You deserve it,’ he says. ‘Both you and Vanessa. My family loves you, Olivia. Niki and Charlie are already trying to persuade me into bringing you two to our Christmas dinner. I actually think they love you two more than they love me.’

I chuckle, as I roll my eyes.

‘And I have to thank you too,’ he says. ‘Vanessa thanked you for finding her a family, but I have to thank you for allowing me in your own little family. You made me the happiest man on earth.’

I look at him again, wrap my arms around his neck and press a kiss on his cheek. ‘God, I love you like crazy,’ I whisper to him.

‘I love you too.’ His fingers play with the hem of my dress, before he slides his hand underneath the thin fabric. ‘You have to go to work tomorrow?’

‘I don’t actually,’ I say with a smile. I raise an eyebrow. ‘Why?’

‘It’s good to know when I can show you how much I love you.’ He buries his face in the crook of my neck and presses a wet kiss on the sensitive skin. ‘Maybe we should head back again,’ he says, even though we both want something else. It was thrilling to have sex under your parents roof when you were sixteen, but it’s not so cute and daring anymore once you’re nearing thirty and you have a kid.

We walk back downstairs and when we are back in the living room again, Vanessa rushes towards us. ‘Mommy, why are your eyes red? Did you cry?’

Great job, sweetheart, if you can repeat that once again, only louder this time, maybe the neighbors can hear it too. All the Cavills look at me and I clear my throat, feeling a bit self conscious now. ‘I was a little, but they were happy tears.’

Vanessa nods. ‘Henry, do you cry happy tears?’

He lifts her up when she is close enough and says: ‘Sometimes.’

‘When was the last time?’

‘A while ago,’ he says. ‘It was when you gave me that drawing,’ he says. ‘I cried a little bit when I was alone at my place again, because I finally knew for sure that you liked me.’

She chuckles. ‘Silly Henry, I don’t just like you. I love you a lot.’

There is an audible gasp in the living room and I know that I was part of that gasp, but from the looks of it, Marianne took part in it as well. Henry is at a loss for words, but his eyes do fill up with tears.

‘Are those happy tears?’ she asks him, tilting her head.

‘They certainly are, sunshine,’ Henry says, as he wraps an arm around my shoulders too. ‘And you know what’s such a coincidence? I love you a lot too.’ He presses his nose against her cheek. She holds his face in her tiny hands and rubs her nose against his, a little eskimo kiss. ‘I’m never letting you or your mom go,’ he says to her.

Vanessa chuckles. ‘Well, I wasn’t going to let you go,’ she tells him. ‘Because you make my mommy happy and when she’s happy, I am too.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #mister cavill your dog is kinda fat #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x Olivia Tran

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nomanwalksalone · 3 years

Photo

PIECES OF SELF

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

On a tip from the Instagram stories of my friend Paul Fournier, I picked up Nishiguchi Essentials 100, a bilingual compendium of the 100 articles of clothing and accessories that totemically compose the intrepid Shuhei Nishiguchi, the photogenic men’s fashion director of Japan’s directional department store, Beams. It is the sort of thing I love, a diverse collection of objects, each with their own particular stories and their own particular uniqueness. It reminded me of my old favorite Einstein’s Watch, which juxtaposed the most interesting items put up for sale in 2009 (from Einstein’s own Swiss watch to a Barbie version of the DC comics superhero Black Canary). It also put me in mind of Taryn Simon’s An American Index of the Hidden and Unfamiliar, out of whose catalog of hymen restoration clinics, corpse farms and Braille editions of Playboy rose a strange, yet familiarly offbeat, Americana.

Nishiguchi-san has been a stalwart of the hashtag-menswear scene for years, a fixture at the Pitti Uomo trade fairs (which he attends in a professional, rather than parasocial, capacity), and a popular enough phenomenon that menswear blogger Simon Crompton marketed a previous book of his, Nishiguchi’s Closet, which purported to show readers how to use just ten articles of clothing to create a hundred different outfits.

As its title suggests, Nishiguchi Essentials 100 features ten times the pieces of clothing as that earlier book, for a very different philosophy of dress. Why, at least three different raincoats are Essentials. Rather than pretend to any minimal rigor, or to the particular multifarious use of basics, the very number of these Essentials seems to beggar the meaning of the word. At last, a clothing book that does not lie about practicality, but instead exults in an overwhelming plenty of carefully sourced vintage trenchcoats, one-off briefcases specially created for him by a firm that specializes in gun cases, patinated prototype suede blazers, 1950s French army pants and… buffalo skin cowboy boots.

As the above list suggests, Nishiguchi is a polyvalent dresser not captive to any particular menswear style. His choices of Essentials is not just diverse, it is variegated like the motley plumage of an exotic bird. While his choice of vintage Brooks Brothers button-down-collar shirts would delight a Trad, his taste for vintage Ralph Lauren (a certain 1990s trenchcoat, baggy 1990s Polo trousers, and old American-made Polo oxford-cloth shirts) would put them off. The ‘Lo-Heads who might be impressed by those would be nonplussed by Nishiguchi’s 1980s Metallica T-shirts, French berets, or Hermès silver bangle hand-beaten by Touareg tribesmen like a Paul Bowles character. And each Essential has its own story: a tale of how each item had a connection to a person from his life, or how it is special in every detail, in ways the casual reader or consumer could not have imagined.

For every item in Nishiguchi Essentials 100 is special, and not just by its significance to its owner: even the Levi’s 501s Nishiguchi includes are specifically those from the 1950s to the 1990s, when Levi’s ceased making them in the United States. His Aquascutum trenchcoat was not one of its usual English production, but a version made in Canada for the North American market with natural shoulders. His handkerchieves are no ordinary bits of limp chambray, but by the infamous Simonnot-Godard, and came not only from Florence’s hallowed haberdashery Tie Your Tie, but from Tie Your Tie back before it changed ownership and, by implication, became just a bit more… well-known? Accessible? Viable? The implication is that experiences unavailable in the current day made many Essentials more precious, more covetable.

Even in purported catalogs like the other books I list above, a certain ghostly narrative detaches itself from the pretty (or unsettling) pictures and makes its presence felt. Nishiguchi is more explicit, writing even before his table of contents that he has “carefully selected” 100 items from his wardrobe that he cherishes and that are “indispensable” to his style and way of life… indissociable, it seems, from his sense of identity. Each item and its story seem like infinitesimally thin sample slices of self, specimens for us to pore over as if through a scanning microscope, and over a hundred of them to piece together a sense of Nishiguchi-san.

The recent pandemic, NIshiguchi-san writes, triggered a meditation that led to this book, In a way, it has catalyzed a sort of behavior of which Nishiguchi Essentials 100 is only the most brilliant version: the exhibition of self through visual and temporal fillets, consumerist fillets, pieces of self that each have their own narrative in our new world of social encounters, that of the distanced virtual interaction of Instagram and its ilk where so many of us have taken to including bits and pieces of what we wish to exhibit of our stuff… our latest kops, our latest drinks, talismans and fetish objects that have latterly become proxies, in our safety-minded physical stasis, for personality and identity.

How often have I thought, in recent months, of this exercise, this attempt to assert identity to faraway acquaintances (while we go bonkers with strain in our own real abodes), as a bit of body horror straight our of a Cronenberg film, our virtual attempts to maintain some sense of identity as we feel our real lives fall apart, like Brundle-Fly carefully, obscenely, gathering and storing the human pieces of him that fall off… What we store, what we catalog, what we display sometimes no longer aligns with who we actually are, and we have less control over the latter. What a fun exercise it would be, being able to show and write about the hundred or so things that we think compose us, or how we wish to be seen. But the Nishiguchi’s Essentials are actual talismans of his life, lifestyle and daily dress. This display is indeed inherent of him, for he actually is a fashion director for a famously eclectic luxury store, and a fashion icon, unlike most of the rest of us whose Instagram displays, whether self-conscious and ironical or not, are manifestations of aspiration, even if the act of display, the construction of images of our drinks, accessories, kops, and so on, can in effort feel like we are indeed parting with a piece of ourselves. As we are not Nishiguchi-san, let us pause to think about what remains, inside us, as well.

#rjman #reginaldjeromedemans #features #bookreviews

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stevenbasic · 4 years

Photo

“Ow!” I recoiled, my whole body wincing.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Vida joked, pushing the plunger on the syringe, the first of three I’d have to weather. I’d asked her to do this for me, late this Friday afternoon, because I knew I couldn’t do it myself.

This was so embarrassing...

“I know, I’m sorry,” I apologized, closing my eyes rather than watch the needle penetrating the flesh of my upper left arm, “I just-“

“...hate needles, I know,” she said, smiling patiently as she withdrew the first syringe and started to prepare the second. Vida Mendes was a Nurse Practitioner, had joined our practice fresh out of school several years ago, and was currently giving me the first of what would be three injections. We’d be doing this twice this first week, then once a week afterwards, treatment I’d prescribed for myself. Earlier today Marisela had brought me the results of the bloods I’d had Lakshmi draw for me on Tuesday, and I was relieved - I guess - that nothing seemed to be too wrong. I had lost height over time, but at least I wasn’t dying. Just some vitamin deficiencies, it showed. And the bone density test I did on was pretty normal...so I figured I could treat myself. Thus the-

“B12 next?” Vida asked, showing me the syringe filled with neon red liquid. She was obviously trying to hold back a smile.

“Sure,” I breathed, starting to steel myself for the next shot, “and please: you don’t have to enjoy this so much.”

At that she chuckled, a full, womanly laugh that stirred my blood. There’s no doubt that Vida was an attractive woman, with full thick hair of dark raven, sparkling eyes and a great smile. Always dressed professionally, even on our “casual Fridays” like today, her standard long white lab jacket generally hid her nicely trim but pleasantly curvy figure. End of the day as it was, though, with patients all gone, she’d hung her jacket up behind the door. I’m loathe to say it now, but her fantastic hips are admittedly why I’d hired her a few years ago when there were several older, more experienced candidates.

Seeing a pattern here?

“Ready?” she asked, leaning in once again with the new syringe. She also smelled really nice.

“No but yes,” I said, as I once more prepared to be assaulted by the horrible pointy thing and tensed even further.

“So tell me - sorry,” she said, as the second needle punctured my skin, dove into my deltoid, “tell me about this study we’re doing…”

Owww..!

My eyes watered.

“W-w-word…” I began, recovering once again. She knew about that already, huh? That I’d agreed to do the clinical trial for Evolution Pharmaceuticals new product? “...word travels fast…”

Vida was the closest thing I had to a colleague here at Far Horizons, a nurse practitioner who had her own schedule, treated her own patients, but was still an employee of mine. We had a nice professional relationship, though. She lightened my workload, for sure, and though I was there to help with the challenging patients, she managed pretty well on her own. Vida hadn’t, as far as I knew, gotten close socially with the new young office girls, probably (understandably) feeling it better to keep some distance. She seemed to have a pretty full, busy life outside work. She liked to travel, dance, and skydive.

“How’d you hear?” I asked. I hadn’t yet quite figured out how I was going to present the study to the staff...it was just so weird. I’d planned on thinking it over that weekend, and make some announcement the following week. But, apparently-

“It showed up on the company Facebook page, and Melissa’s talking about it on Instagram,” Vida told me, setting aside the empty syringe, beginning to prepare the next. I’d been lucky I had each of these here in the office - ampules of Vitamin D, B12 and K. I gave them to my patients all the time, knew right where they were. “She seems pretty proud of the whole thing.”

“Yeah, she’s good friends with one of the sales reps,” I explained - though this was all likely common knowledge, at this point, “so this was important to her.”

I was a little upset that Melissa had leaked the news of the trial, but then I got another whiff of Vida’s perfume and my annoyance faded. She was obviously trying out the sample Abby had handed out in little swag-bags to all the girls at her visit yesterday. Click pens, an “Evolution Pharmaceuticals” logo water bottle, some fancy chocolate, and perfume. So the whole office smelled like it now, in fact. Not unpleasant - quite the contrary - but strong.

“Ow!” I yelped, as she stuck me - by surprise - with the last shot.

“I guess what Melissa wants Melissa gets,” Vida said plainly, as she pushed the final injection into me.

“What do you mean?” I asked, perhaps a bit obtusely.

And to that Vida just laughed.

#Growing Into the Job

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years

Note

Mysme, Jumin x MC with 38 28 and 26? From the songs lyric please? Congrats!!

Hiii! I only use one song per request, so I decided to go with #38~ Hope you like it, I could see myself writing about this scenario again <3

series: 500 followers event

pairing: Jumin x MC [Mystic Messenger]

song: Crowded Room - Selena Gomez

Baby, it’s just me and you, just us two, even in a crowded room, baby it’s just me and you

Being a heiress in Korea was tiring. Once MC turned eighteen, her mother started introducing her to other wealthy young man, whose families owned companies that could benefits hers. Even if at first she hadn't been in board with the idea of her mother choosing her husband, a vain hope of actually falling in love with one of those men crossed her mind, so she agreed to the first date.

The blonde young man had been a true gentleman, paying for dinner and holding her chair for her. She went on to a second and third date with him where she only managed to fall even deeper for him. Maybe her mother was right, maybe she knew what was best for her.

A few weeks later, while on a drive, she lowered the car windows and managed to see him getting out from a motel. He was alone, but MC knew there was no way he was by himself in a motel room. That same night, she confronted him. Instead of denying it, he agreed he actually had a girlfriend that he met regularly. While he apologized for letting himself be seen getting out of that place and promised be would be more careful the next time.

That was the first time MC got her heart broken.

She gave it two more tries. Third time's the charm, she repeated herself. But between the automobile company heir who pulled her arm harshly just because she refused to go to his place and the heir of an airline company that was gay and needed a cover up, MC decided love wasn't made for an heiress and that she would have to settle for a lonely life. She would maybe adopt later in life as she did want to be a mother, but she got tired of finding decent men in her social circle. MC once thought about going to a bar and meeting someone normal, but the warning her mother gave her about normal people taking advantage of her money and social position scared her off.

She was twenty three the last time she got her heart broken. It had been six years since then and she had refused to date again. Her mother had protested at first, but after all those years, she had finally accepted her daughter wasn't getting married at all.

"Men don't like powerful women. They react better to a wife than a heiress that rules her own company" she had reminded MC.

"Well, I'll make them respect me" MC had answered.

She was a natural at doing business. MC used the perfect balance between flirty mannerisms and strong arguments to close deals. Knowing it wasn't enough, she studied a MBA which helped her take her family's company to a whole other level.

Even if she had lost all hope in meeting someone, MC loved social gatherings. She used them to meet new business partners, positioning herself and her company as a new and interesting investment option. She was an extrovert by default, so she could always be found laughing or posing for the paparazzi as she left the venue for her car.

One night, she was invited to a small event in a penthouse. She knew the owner, as she had done business with him before, so she was happy to attend. She had introduced herself to a good amount of new people and laughed at their jokes, so she felt she had met her goal for the night. Excusing herself, she went to the bar and asked for a drink. As MC waited, she felt a hand on her shoulder. When she turned around, she saw Jihyun Kim smiling softly at her. She hugged him, a a huge smile on her face.

"I hadn't seen you in ages! I think last time I saw you was in this bar mitzvah when we were thirteen" MC remembered, returning to her spot by the bar. Jihyun laughed softly.

"I remember. I stopped going to these events shortly after"

"Yeah, can’t say I’ve seen you in these gatherings recently. Oh, I stopped by your exhibition the other day, actually. I really liked it. Maybe you'll hear from my assistant in regard of buying one of your pictures" she said, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Now you're just flattering me"

"Am not"

"Well then, thank y--- wow" he suddenly set his eyes to the side, focusing on a couple on the other side of the room. "I think my friend needs me".

MC turned around and saw a tall man with dark hair and gray eyes, accompanying an equally tall blonde woman. They looked like one of those rich, successful couples her mother always wanted her to be a part of.

"He seems fine. That's Jumin Han, right?" she asked. Jihyun nodded.

"He's not fine" Jihyun corrected her with a chuckle. "He doesn't really like when women try to seduce him at these events"

"Yeah, I can get that" she agreed with a shrug. The bartender handed her a martini and she thanked him with a smile before taking a sip. "So, you're just going to barge in and rescue him?"

"Do you have a better plan?" Jihyun asked. MC pursed her lips, her mind going through different options.

"Can I try?" she asked.

"I don't think he remembers you. You two didn't really talk back then"

"That just makes it more fun" she grinned as she gave her glass to Jihyun. MC fixed her hair and walked towards Jumin with a slight away on her hips, shoulders back and emanating confidence, just as she had been doing her whole life.

She put her hand softly on Jumin's arm, making him turn and look at her with a questioning look.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry to interrupt but you asked me to remind you about the Mr. Kim's proposal?" she innocently asked. Jumin looked at her confused, so she tilted her head towards Jihyun, who waved at Jumin from the bar. He visibly relaxed. "I'm sure you don't mind I take him away for a second" she smiled at the woman, who looked like she wanted to hit her. MC kept faking her smile, not expecting to enjoy this. She just wanted to have some fun now that she had met with Jihyun after all those years, but it was like she couldn't stop herself anymore. "Thank you for keeping him company" MC added as she linked her arm with Jumin and guided him towards Jihyun.

Once they reached Jihyun, MC let Jumin's arm go and laughed softly. She positioned herself on Jihyun’s right side as Jumin took his left.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but tease her" MC apologized as she let out her hand for Jumin to take. "I'm MC Belmont, from Belmont Enterprises"

"Ah, the ones that have all those clinics and medical equipment, yes. I'm Jumin Han---"

"From C&R, yeah, I know" MC interrupted him with a smile. She shook his hand firmly and then went back to her drink.

"Oh, you know about us then. Did she want to make a deal?" he asked Jihyun.

Before he could reply, MC chided in. "No, I don't really like C&R"

Jumin's neck turned to her direction so fast he was surprised when didn't get whiplash.

"I'm sorry?"

"I don't like its seriousness. We've currently working with a more organic and creative mood to our workplace and I've seen great results. The employees are really happy. I'm not saying C&R is a bad company, I really admire your work; it's clearly distinctive from your father's. I just rather not do business with your company as I can’t see your company working in sync with mine" she explained.

Jumin looked at MC with an arched eyebrow.

"So, which studies have proven your kind of work environment--"

"Mr. Han, please, I'm not here to discuss business" MC excused herself. "But please, have a drink with us. I was just telling Jihyun how it has been ages since I last saw him at one of these events.

It took a while before Jumin could rejoin the conversation. He ordered a glass of wine and then listened to their friend’s conversation with MC. While he did his best to not let his mind wander, he couldn't stop thinking about what MC had said. While he knew other companies made their employees wear casual clothes, had tennis tables, and all that jazz, he had always avoided that line of thought. He thought it was nothing but an excuse to slack off. He clearly must have been misguided, because in front of her was this woman, who he had seen in events before, and she had managed to make her company crawl to the top while using that method.

The waiter gave him his drink and he took a sip. Impressive.

"Also, let me say sorry again for introducing myself that way back there" MC said, making him put his attention on her. "But I know how stressful it can be to deal with people that are on the lookout of relationships and marriages just for the sake of business".

MC pulled out the tip of her tongue, making an disgusted face. Jumin couldn't help but chuckle, finding her facial expression adorable.

"I assume you've had experiences of your own"

"Yes" she sighed, twirling the contents of her glass as she pouted. "It's a cruel world out there, Mr. Han. There is very little hope in finding a suitable partner that doesn't have their eyes on your company"

"Now, that's a very sad way of looking at it, isn't it?" Jihyun commented with a concerned look.

"But she's right" Jumin said, nodding. "You know what I've been through, Jihyun. Also..." he looked at the woman, for the first time taking notice of her pearl necklace. It gave her a nice, classy look. "Jumin is fine" he said.

MC smiled at him, a sharp contrast of the hopeless words that had just fallen from her mouth.

"Thank you, Jumin. You can call me MC as well"

Once they had that exchange, their conversation flowed naturally. They didn't intend to exclude Jihyun, but suddenly it seemed they were the only ones in the penthouse the gathering was at. They shared stories, debated about recent political events and even took part in a little bit of gossip. Jumin couldn't help but be fascinated at how sophisticated that woman looked. She was wearing an off shoulder black dress that made some men turn their heads when they passed by, yet her eyes were fixated on his as he talked. She commented on everything he said, challenged him to find an argument for his opinions and even managed to laugh at one of the jokes he cracked.

After an hour of chatting, Jihyun cleared his throat, making both of them notice how he hadn't been participating before.

"I'm sorry, I got riled up with Jumin's anecdote" MC apologized. Jihyun shook his head with a kind smile.

"It's okay. I'm glad you both get along. I actually should get going, I promised Haneul I wouldn't be home late"

"Haneul?" she asked.

"Jihyun's girlfriend" Jumin clarified. "She's an opera singer". MC opened her mouth in surprise.

"That's amazing! Please, don't let us stop you. Go be with her" she encouraged him.

Jihyun smiled and said his goodbyes. After he left the penthouse, both MC and Jumin kept their eyes on the door in silence, a small smile playing on their lips.

"He seems happy" MC commented, looking at Jumin.

"He is" he agreed. "I don't want to share more than I should, but I'm sure you already know about his ex fiancée"

MC pursed her lips and nodded. She knew about her. Gossips travelled fast in her social circles and even if Jihyun didn't make his presence known in the past years, his father still did, so it was understandable people still talked about him. MC had heard about Jihyun falling into depression after ending his engagement. She didn't know the details but figured they weren't important. She was happy he was feeling better already and had met someone new. It gave her a little bit of hope. That maybe... maybe her love life wasn't doomed at all.

She looked at Jumin from the corner of her eye. It had been years since she had felt a true connection with someone else. Jumin was ravishingly handsome, smart, and had a sense of humour that stroke her as funny. He had made pretty clear he wasn't interested in relationships based on economic interest or deals in between companies. Even if there was a chance he might have been lying, MC would have lied if she didn't slightly hope he was telling the truth.

It would be complicated, that she was sure of. He could be afraid of the same thing, he could think her actions from that night were nothing but an act to get him to trust her. And MC wouldn't blame him. It was sadly natural to get paranoid when you had a background like theirs.

"I should get going too" MC suddenly said. She cursed herself for letting her fears take over her mouth. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay a little longer getting to know him. She would hate herself if Jumin ended under the impression she was only talking to him because he was an acquaintance of Jihyun.

"Sure, then have a g--"

"Wait" MC interrupted him. Taking up courage, she opened her purse and took out one of her contact cards and a pen. She put them on the bar and quickly scribbled down something. Before Jumin could ask, she handed the card to him. "Uhm... this is my personal number. So, if you ever want to talk… you know, anything but business, call me. I... I'd like to talk again".

Jumin looked at her blushed cheeks and her tense position as she held a white card between her fingers. He was surprised to say the least, as he was half expecting her to say goodbye and never look back. He nodded as he took the card and put it in his pocket.

"I will" Jumin said, and he really meant it. MC gave him a final smile before she put her pen back in her purse and turned around to leave.

As he watched her go away, he felt the strangest of feelings on his chest. Is this what Jihyun always talked about? He wasn’t sure. The only thing Jumin Han knew was that he was definitely calling her the next day.

--------

a/n: Did Jumin ever text MC? You can look at MC’s phone here.

#mystic messenger #jumin han #mysme jumin #jumin han x mc #jumin x mc #mysme jumin han #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger imagines #mystic messenger scenarios #500 event #i can't believe i wrote this all on my notes app what #but i think it's cute

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debu-neko-kun · 4 years

Text

Brand New Moo

A brand new story, idea courtesy of the ever-excellent commissioner (https://www.deviantart.com/doom7951) I really really liked working on this for ideas that may be obvious! Stay tuned for more flubby boys soon-ish! Contains: male weight gain, ssbhm, male lactation, human to boy-cow, cute fat gay stuff

James slumped down in the seat. It felt so wrong to be waiting here, he thought, thinking about what his boss would say if he saw him sitting here… he tapped his foot on the floor, hoping that would make him feel busy, but it just earned him a dirty look from the receptionist, so he opted to just slump deeper into his chair.

“James Rode?”

He sat up, smoothing out his button-up shirt. “Yes?”

“The doctor is available to see you now. Please enter the door to the left.”

James entered the office, expecting to see a sterile hospital room with gurneys and little jars of tongue depressors… Instead, he found himself in a carpeted room, the walls all wood paneling and decorated with diplomas and woodsy paraphernalia like bundles of herbs and wooden carvings.

Perhaps he knew less about this therapy stuff than he thought.

“Hello, Mr. Rode. I’m pleased to see you’ve made it; have a seat, if you’d like.”

James hesitated by the door. ‘I would *like* to go home…’ he mumbled, but stepped his way to the wide couch situated in front of the desk. He gently lowered himself into it, feeling more than a little small with his slender frame surrounded by so much empty seat.

“A little introduction, if I may.” the therapist smiled, tapping the plaque on his desk. “Dr. Maxwell Sweet. I used to own Sweet Farm Dairy, if you can believe it.”

“Never heard of it.” James spoke.

“Ah, well, can’t impress every time.” he chuckled, continuing on about his schooling, but James was already zoning out, sizing him up in his head. Dr. Sweet was slim, pale, well-dressed… probably didn’t spend too much time outside anymore, if the dairy story was to be believed. He wore glasses, making him seem bookish, and the clean-shaven face and well-kempt part in his smoothly combed brown hair made him seem concerned with appearances… not much to go on yet, but James felt like he’d make a respectable adversary in the boardroom regardless.

“…but I felt genetics wasn’t as fulfilling by itself. Are you okay, Mr. Rode?”

“Hmm?” James snapped out of his focused expression, taking a moment to rub his sharp blue eyes. “Sorry, a little tired. Late meeting yesterday…”

“Do you have a lot of late meetings, Mr. Rode?”

“James,” he corrected, “But yeah, I suppose I do. It’s the only way to stay ahead out there, you know?”

“I understand.” Dr. Sweet smiled, scribbling something on a pad on his desk. “Would you say this is the main source of your stress? The pressure to succeed, that is.”

“I, uh-” James stammered. “Are we starting already? I thought you would say when we were starting.”

“Just building a picture, that’s all. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to let you know when we get into the real stuff, if you’d like.”

“Okay, well… thanks.” James wilted a little. He wasn’t used to this, showing his cards so openly…

“Stress is the main reason you’re here, correct?”

“Yes… I mean, well, I’m here because of my boyfriend… I didn’t notice anything, but my boyfriend Kriss says I’ve been acting stressed.”

“Stressed in what way?”

“Distant… angry, sad, stuff like that. He says I haven’t been eating either, but I mean, when do I have the time? There’s just a lot to do, and nobody gets that. Nobody understands how hard it is to keep doing the same damn thing day after day, never getting a moment to just stop and relax. It’s not my fault I have to stay a few hours over every day, it’s not my fault I miss the train, it’s not my fault I have to stay with this job or else-”

James stopped, noticing the psychologist watching him intently, a furrowed-brow intensity in his expression.

“Sorry.” James sighed, folding his arms over his ribs, his gaze drifting back to the dried lavender on the wall. “Yeah. Just stressed.”

“I see,” Dr. Sweet said, underlining something on the pad with a quick scratch. “Well, I’m very glad you came to see us, James. I think this treatment will be very helpful in getting you into a better state of mind.”

“Yeah… that’s what Kriss said, too. What is this treatment, anyway? Are you just going to ask me about my past and… give advice, or something?”

“Oh, nothing like that, no. You see, I specialize in a sort of blended treatment. It’s quite ahead of its field, really. Good for people with a lot of stress and little time on their hands.”

Dr. Sweet drew a pile of papers out of his desk, dozens of forms and documents all neatly compiled into a novella of legalese. He set it gently on the desk, in front of James, and extended a pen out for him.

“…Provided you’re willing to participate, that is.”

James took the pen and the papers, sitting back to read over the front page. It was mostly filled out with his insurance information and medical history, employment information from his company, current address… everything except his name. He flipped it over, just finding more information about liability and “understanding patient responsibilities.” Just thinking about pouring over fifty sheets of legal information outside of the office, and for free, made him flip back to the front.

“Alright… well, whatever gets me out of here faster, I guess.” he murmured, scribbling his name at the bottom of the paper.

“Excellent! If you don’t mind, I’d like to get started immediately.”

Dr. Sweet’s drawer slid open, and out he pulled a small bottle of milky white fluid and a syringe.

“W-What is that for?” James asked, shocked at the sudden development. The therapy scenes in movies certainly hadn’t mentioned needles.

“Just something to help you become a little more pliable. We need you like putty for the hypnotherapy to take hold; don’t worry, it only lasts for a few minutes, and it’ll keep you relaxed for the rest of the day. That’s not so bad, is it? I promise you won’t have to keep up with any medication from here on out.”

Despite the cold sweat forming on his brow, James rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. Dr. Sweet drew some of the liquid from the bottle with a casual precision, stood up, and slowly approached the nervous patient.

“Hold still, and…” James felt a small pinch, followed by the dull ache of the injection. “That’s it. You’ve done wonderfully already, James.”

“Hmm… thank you, I guess.” he grumbled, letting out a heavy sigh.

“The medication should activate momentarily. While we wait, why don’t we pass the time with a bit of word association?”

The room around them was already starting to feel a bit… warmer. Familiar, even. He adjusted his collar a bit, leaning back against the couch.

“Do you know how this works, James?”

“I just say the first thing that comes to my head?” he asked, stifling a yawn with his palm.

“Correct. Alright now… your first word is “barn.””

“Tractor.”

“Good.” Sweet smiled. “Your second word is ‘pasture.’”

“Uh… grass. No, hay.” He muttered hazily. He felt like laying himself down on a soft patch of land, sunlight warming his pale flesh,,,

“Very good, James. Don’t think too hard about them. Now, your third word… ‘milk’.”

“Moo…” he spoke dreamily, still thinking about the sunlight and the field. A bubble of lucidity popped to the surface suddenly, bringing a blush to his face. “N-No, I, uh, I mean cow. Cow, that’s it.”

“Excellent.” Dr. Sweet continued, scribbling more notes on his pad. “And when you think of cows, what are some words you think of?”

“Big… u-uh, soft? I don’t really know…”

“That’s fine, James. Imagine a cow standing in a field… what do you think it’s thinking about?”

A warm, electric tingle trickled down from the top of his head, flowing into his spine and down his back. He tried to focus on the words… what does a cow really think about?

“Uhm… eating? How nice the sun is on its back?…”

“And how do you think it feels when it’s warm and fed? Do you think that would make a cow happy, James?”

The tingle turned into an odd, pulsing sensation, coming from somewhere in his core… or maybe deeper than that. A warmth in his cells.

“Y-Yeah… doctor, this feels… weird…”

“The medication can be a little strong, especially the first time. But just focus on my words… would that make you happy, James? Softness, warmth, food… nothing to think about but being tended to? I like to think so.”

“Hmf… y-yeah, that’d be nice…”

Soft… warm… hungry…

“Good,” Sweet began, suddenly dropping his pen. James jolted upright, forced free from his mental drift as quickly as the pen hit the desk. “That’ll conclude our session. Remember what we’ve talked about today; it’s always good to stay in touch with that simple, wholesome part of yourself. Try and slow down a little, and indulge it; I think you’ll be feeling a lot better if you do. See you again in a week?”

“Y-Yeah… yes, that’d be fine.”

“I look forward to it. Be well, James.”

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

The sun was just beginning to set by the time James arrived home. Warm wafts of sweet and savory air swept around him as he shuffled through the threshold, inviting him straight through the living room and into the kitchen. There, a tall, clean-shaven man with swept back blonde hair stood, whistling to himself. The creak of the floor alerted him to James’s entrance, the apron-clad gentlemen turning to greet him.

“Oh, hey! I thought for sure you’d be running a little late, I’m not totally done with dinner yet. How did your appointment go?”

“Mm, that smells wonderful…” James murmured, slumping into one of the dining chairs. “God, I’m starving….”

“Here,” Kriss, his boyfriend of two years, spoke, setting a dish of buttered buns in front of him. “But don’t fill up before you get to the ham. I worked really hard on it as a nice reward for you finally going to that clinic. Speaking of…”

Kriss sat down in front of him as he stuffed a bun into his mouth, propping his face up on his hand. “You didn’t say how it went.”

“The appointment? Right, sorry… it was okay. Good, actually. It was good. It was kind of weird, and I didn’t think I’d need a shot for psychotherapy, but… it was nice. I feel all calm and… gooey? I can’t really explain it… really hungry, too. Mostly hungry, actually.”

James reached for another bun, nibbling on it gently.

“Well, I guess it’s working already. I haven’t seen you eat like that in… well, ever. It’s nice, honestly.”

The oven alarm beeped as James polished off a third bun, absentmindedly chewing while Kriss got up to retrieve the ham.

Soft… warm… hungry… the words bounced around his brainstem, burying themselves somewhere in the middle of sub and thoughtful consciousness. He remembered saying them, but the meaning was mostly detached… regardless, they just sounded so right.

His ruminations were interrupted by a loaded plate being placed in front of him, also interrupting his roll supply. He breathed in the delicious scents of brown sugar in the ham, cinnamon in sweet potatoes. It was like nothing he’d ever smelled before; it was comfort, it was calm. It was… “Mmf, Kriss, this is incredible. Is this a new recipe? I could eat this forever!” he lit up, happily nibbling on the ham slice with gusto.

“Oh, uh… we had it last week, actually. Whatever they gave you sure made you hungry, huh?” he chuckled, looking a little confused, but relieved at the new development. After all, it was healthier than watching him starve himself on coffee and the occasional stick of gum. In only a few moments, James had the entire plate polished off, and returned to munching on bread rolls. “Want some more? I made extra in case you wanted to take some to work, but-” “There’s more?”

Kriss hadn’t seen him this happy since he’d said yes to their first date.

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

“A-Ah, Kriss-!”

“Shh, we’re almost there.” Kriss cooed, shouldering the bedroom door open, his boyfriend carried bridal-style in his arms. Normally, this would be like carrying a bag of flour, but after his uncharacteristic gorging, James felt more like a sack of potatoes. Or, perhaps, one large sack filled with one very large, round, painfully full potato in the center.

“I’ve never eaten so much in my life…” James whispered as he laid out on the bed. He immediately curled onto his side, holding his stomach in his hands. “I can tell… are you sure you’re okay, babe? You can tell me anything, you know.” “I-I’m fine, honestly… just ate too much.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” A familiar silence crept out of the dark now, cutting into the dim room between them. Finally, James spoke, “Kriss, I just- well, I’m not good at this, I haven’t… been there, like I should have. We’ve been together for a long time now and I still haven’t really… opened up.” Kriss sat down on the bed next to him, looking at the sheets next to James. James reached out, grabbing Kriss by the hand. “I’m sorry. Really. I’ve been too into my job and I want to spend more time with moo-”

He hiccupped, covering his mouth in sudden embarrassment. “You! God, I’ve had cows on the brain lately…”

“You certainly eat like one.” Kriss smiled gently, poking his stomach. “H-Heh… so, uhm,” James said, “Will you give me another chance? To show you the real me… not the work me. Actually me?” Kriss leaned over, brushing the tousled hair out of James’s face. “Of course, sweetpea. You know I’ll give you all the time you need to get back in your own head again. And while you’re still trying…”

Kriss cupped his cheek, and leaned in to plant a little kiss on his soft lips. “Maybe I can do something to keep you motivated.”

“C-Careful, my belly’s still sensitive…!”

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

Kriss woke before James-- given his “work early, work late” schedule, this was an uncommon occurrence, but not an unwelcome one. He liked the way James looked peacefully slumbering; it reminded him that he could still stop and relax, that at least he wasn’t hard-wired to run until he dropped. That the hamster wheel didn’t spin forever. He snuggled up closer to his slumbering partner’s back, looping his arm around his side in a gentle embrace. Kriss’s fingers brushed his chest, expecting to feel cool, taut flesh on ribs… instead, his hand touched soft, plush breast.

“H-Huh?” he muttered, startled, his hand recoiling instantly. He knew James, and had never known him to be any more than twiggy at best. Panic rising, he threw off the sheets and flipped on the bedside lamp, exposing the tubby imposter. There, on the bed, was James-- or, at least, he thought it was… same messy black hair, same little blotchy brown birthmark on his shoulder, same pink underwear. This James would have been a perfect replica, if it weren’t for one big thing:

This James was fat.

Well, fat was pushing it, but he definitely had a lot more of it than when he went to bed. His back, once a bony map of shoulder blades and ribs, was now a padded mat of pale pudge, the vaguest hint of love handles forming at his sides. Butt fat pulled his briefs tight, the waistband receding back to squish the tops of his cheeks into two blubbery cupcake tops. His thighs, once slender and toned from his constant jogging around the office building, smooshed together like gently dimpled bags of thick jelly.

“Mmmn?...” he stirred, sitting up. His round face squinted against the harsh light, and he raised a chubby hand to shield himself from it. Kriss’s green eyes darted up to his rounded arm, down to his puffy chest, back up to his cutely dimpled chin, back down to the subtle dome of his belly.

“Kriss?... Oh no, did I oversleep?”

The words clogged in Kriss’s head; what could he say? James was nervous, prone to panic at the slightest change… “You’re… you-” he choked quietly, staring in disbelief. James, following his line of sight to his belly, let out a little yelp of surprise.

“W-What happened to me? I-I didn’t eat that much, did I?...” he stammered, poking the peachy flesh of his abdomen gingerly.

“Impossible…” Kriss whispered, stepping back towards his boyfriend. “Maybe it’s just… water weight? Temporary swelling? Are you allergic to anything?”

Pressing the gentle swell of his arm, it was impossible to think this could just be temporary. “I don’t think so…”

“Well, in any case, I think we should call a doctor.” Kriss said, stepping over to the dresser. “If I can find my phone…”

“Just… use mine.” It took a moment to tear his eyes away from his freshly-plush body long enough to reach for his cell, thumb tapping the home screen. The time-- 5:55 am-- appeared on the screen.

“Oh! No no no, I’m going to be late!”

“James, the doctor-”

“I’ll go after work! I need to get ready; how did I forget the early meeting? I never forget!”

James scrambled to his feet, butt bouncing in his underwear as he bounded into the bathroom, the door shutting quickly behind him. “Kriss, can you find a white shirt for me, please? And my good watch!”

“If they still fit…” Kriss mumbled with a sigh, shuffling to find his clothes. So much for the fast-track relaxation therapy.

‘Give it time,’ he thought, ‘Nobody changes overnight.’

But as he pulled out the obviously too-small button-up from the closet, he suddenly began to doubt these words.

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

James rushed into the office, speed-walking his way through the lobby to the elevator. He barely managed to squeeze by in time for the doors to shut, his belly bumping against the metal as he slipped in.

“Ouch…” he murmured, regarding his sensitive new softness with a little rub. It was only with this did he notice how stressed the buttons were on the shirt, or how a thin sliver of belly fat was drooping out of the bottom. He quickly pulled his pants higher to disguise it, tucking in the shirt like he wasn’t covering for a freak medical condition. Not like it helped much… the fabric was still ungodly tight against his chest, outlining his newly-blossomed moobs like half-filled water balloons in cloth, and similarly highlighted the uncharacteristically pudgy belly beneath. At least his pants had always been a little big for him… they, at least, did a little better at preserving his modesty.

He waited impatiently for the ding, and squeezed through the doors before they’d fully opened, managing to narrowly avoid two coworkers on his way to the meeting room. They said something he didn’t quite hear, but he heard the word “wide”, which was enough to make him flush gently. No time for that, he thought, walking as fast as he could muster with what felt like fifty extra pounds bouncing on his frame. Sweating lightly, he finally arrived at the meeting room, slipping in just before the last coworker. They scoffed at his speedy entrance, but upon seeing his unusually rounded face, decided that it wasn’t worth starting a fight over-- he was clearly suffering enough if he looked like *that* after just one day.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen…” James’s boss began, addressing the crowd. And so it was, James thought, letting the voices around him whisper out into the back of his mind. He’d wait until his name was called, he’d give his report, and then he’d be back to hammering out the numbers until home time. The daily routine… though, there was nothing ‘routine’ about today, as the chair was quick to remind him. Where he used to sit at the edge of the seat, he now filled it out plentifully; so much so that the chair arms touched his sides if he fidgeted an inch or so in either direction. It was an alien feeling, being so plump- he couldn’t even bring himself to say it, but the words hung there in his mind.

Round. Chubby. Soft. Thick. *Fat.*

He grabbed his thigh amidst his anxious ruminating, fingers squishing pliable blubber beneath the trouser fabric. The sensation sent warm, pleasing tingles across his flesh, rumbling deep into his core. It felt… nice?

He scanned the room, making sure nobody could read the feelings passing through his mind and body, but everyone else seemed to be knee-deep in their own happy places too; zoning out to cope was half of the job, after all. A sudden, deep gurgle bubbled in his belly, his hand shooting up to grab at his belly. Where his thigh had been plush, his belly was absolutely pillowy… the silky smooth glob of fat oozed around his fingers where he pressed, sending out another wave of delight across his body. As if to respond to his pressing, another gurgle rumbled against his palm, and he could feel his stomach rising like slow baked dough with his breaths. In, out… warm, soft. He couldn’t help but smile, sucked into the world of squishy comfort. Even as his belly rose in the *out* breath. Even as the chair began to press into his sides ever so softly. Even as the buttons stressed and strained, struggling to keep up with his widening form until-

*PING* The first button on his shirt reflected off a steel mug, snapping everybody out of their stupor with a jolt.

“What was that?” the boss asked. Everybody looked around, but thankfully James’s airy belly was covered by the desk.

“Hmm… well, in any case, that’s the long and short of it.” the boss shrugged, shuffling some papers in his hands. “James, you’re up.”

James looked up, half-lidded in a relaxed daze. “Huh?...”

“Your numbers. You *do* have your report, don’t you?”

Like an apple in a cauldron of caramel, the thought of the report slowly bobbed back to the top of his focus.

“O-Oh, right, yes sir, I uh…”

He reached for his briefcase, grasping at air beneath the desk.

“Is everything alright, James?”

Everybody in the room shuffled, slumped, retreated back to the comfort of the sounds and sights of desert islands and snowy cabins. Meanwhile, he was out in the open, and floundering.

“They’re, uh… late. Late client.” he smiled nervously. The boss looked at him, eyes narrowed in confusion, but simply shook it off.

“Just have them on my desk by tomorrow, okay? Now, who’s next?”

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

Back at his desk, (and with his pants hiked higher than ever) James let out a deep sigh, wincing as his buckle pinched sensitive belly fat.

“Just keep it together, James....” he whispered to himself. He tried to bounce his leg, but found that it just made the rest of him bounce too, and stopped. He logged into his computer with one hand, the other squeezing the stress ball on his desk, but it only reminded him of how much softer he was…

Throwing the ball in the trash can by his foot, he decided his best bet was to focus on his work. Not on the fat ass threatening to blow out the seat of his pants, not on the small overhang his belly would surely be creating if he wore his pants correctly. And not on the strange warmth rushing to his head… just financial information, market watches, and emails.

Five minutes later, and he was still staring at his home screen, unable to bring himself to start working. There was just something at the back of his mind, something creeping up on him; a deep hunger that swelled up inside of him like a consumptive balloon.

“That’s it… just hungry is all…” he assured himself, pushing away from his desk. All he needed was an early lunch, and it would be back to work as usual. Something light…

Before he knew it, he was sitting down at the cafeteria with three hefty cheeseburgers and a heaping plate of thin fries drowned in cheese.

James took a thick, mouth-filling bite of a burger, losing himself in bliss.

“Mmf, so good…” he moaned to himself, prompting a blushing intern to speedwalk to the exit. One hefty gulp down, he sucked down a glob of sugary vanilla milkshake, chasing it with a handful of fries and another bite of burger. Not only did it chip away at the hunger, but his worry too. Suddenly he felt okay; eating like this felt *right*. He absentmindedly rubbed his belly, the gentle touch enough to rip away another button and rub cheese onto his shirt. He didn’t care; why should he? The belly beneath his hand was soft, fat, and jiggly, and it was fun to pat and wobble. And the more he ate, the more he was able to wobble it. One burger down-- and another button popped-- he felt twice as comfortable. Arm fat billowed out in his shirt, small rips forming that pushed dollops of fat through. Pant fibre finally reached capacity, pulling back from his pudgy calves as his thighs claimed ever more real estate within them. Fingers and toes chubbed into cute little sausages. Wrists, ankles, and neck slowly became less defined. Cheeks chubbed, chin flubbed; his masculinity was smudged by the heaps of fat, androgyny taking the wheel.

But still he munched, a happy grin on his face as he grazed the haystack of fries. The warm feeling in his head turned hot, two points burning the warmest… but two points on his chest gained his attention the most. His chest-- rather, his breasts-- ached terribly, prompting a whine from the freshly cherubic gentleman. Pudgy fingers pawed at the last button left on his shirt, but it was simply too tight to be undone. Instead, he opted to just rub at his moobs beneath the fabric, gulping his shake heartily. Finally, the button popped, and he let out a sigh of relief as his fat breasts plapped onto his belly. The sudden motion forced milk out of the little pink nipples in small rivulets, drops running down the curve of the swollen mounds and dripping onto his belly.

“G-Guh…” he groaned, scooping the last of the food into his maw just as his belt buckle burst off. He was exhausted, but sated… for now. Already, his mind was feeling clearer, and already he was starting to regret the sudden gorging… he was huge! And was that… milk?! “Sir, if you’re going to be in here, you need to put on some clothes-”

The security guard looked taken aback as James turned and unsteadily rose, his pants open and his shirt hanging free. His ass fat rose behind him like two fat pumpkins squeezed into a pair of briefs, rising up with plentiful flesh visible.

“A-Are you okay?...”

James huffed, wobbling on his feet as he attempted to center himself. “I’m- *bruuuarp* o-oh, sorry…”

The guard just stood, watching him slowly lumber out of the cafeteria and off towards the elevator.

“They don’t pay me enough for this…”

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

The slow drive was filled with a quiet anxiety, wondering if Kriss was right: what if he had just gone to the doctor in the first place? Why didn’t he just go to a real hospital to see why he was dripping milk all over the upholstery? That was it, though. He knew why he was like this… where else could it have come from?

Doctor Sweet.

Sweat dripped from his apron of a belly as he squeezed in through the front door. The receptionist simply buzzed him through, and he waddled straight into the pastoral office.

“Aha, James! Right on schedule. Please, have a seat.”

James panted heavily, taking the time to rest on the doorway before he entered.

“What… did you do?” he huffed, continuing on towards the desk. “Look at me! This… has to be some kind of reaction… to that medicine!”

The doctor smiled, unfazed by his bloated appearance. “I’ll say. I’d be more than willing to explain it, if you’d just have a seat.”

James stopped, the exhaustion he felt quickly overtaking his urges towards aggression. “F-Fine…”

The massive boy collapsed in the seat like a falling boulder, nearly taking up the whole couch with his bulk.

“Excellent. Now then… you said there was a reaction, yes?”

James gestured to his body.

“So… chills, fever…?”

“I’m fat! I’m huge! I’m… l-leaking!” he burst out, wobbling in anger. Try as he might to seem imposing, he felt like a bowl of pudding.

“Oh. Oh dear, I see the problem… you must’ve skipped the waiver.” Dr. Sweet sighed, shaking his head. “Well, too late for take backs now, I’m afraid.”

James put his hands on his belly in worry. “W-What do you mean?”

“Well, if you’d read the waiver… you’d see that this therapy involves a permanent genetic alteration.”

“G-Genetic?...”

“Yes. We force a mutation-- I won’t get too deep into it now, there’s really no use-- to shave off the rough edges, essentially. I felt it would be important in your case to emphasize the potential for softness, and it seems your body agreed. Surround yourself with soft, and become soft.”

“That… that’s-” James struggled, trailing away quietly.

The doctor continued. “You see, I was like you at a time. Angry, frustrated, stressed, upset at life… but my time as a dairy worker gave me new insight. Being surrounded by gentle docility at all hours of the day taught me to be gentle and caring myself. But this process took years... once I started in medicine, I spent endless hours trying to find how to distill this process into a formula, to turn the experience into a chemical.”

James watched him with confusion, hands gently kneading his fat to keep himself calm.

“Well, I discovered it alright. It’s a bit unwieldy, but with a little guided thinking, it works wonders. Really brings the farm experience home, wouldn't you agree?”

James looked down at his belly, at his nipples streaming milk onto his bellybutton. “Y-You’re saying I’m turning into…”

“A cow, yes. You’re well on your way, in fact. Here, take a look.”

The doctor withdrew a handheld mirror from his desk, and held it up for James to see. He felt like he was staring into a barber mirror, only instead of finding himself with a new haircut, it was fuzzy cow ears and a set of tiny, nubby horns on his head. And somehow, it didn’t feel wrong… in fact, he felt pretty cute.

“Oh… woah…” he murmured, poking the ear gently.

“See? Nothing to worry about! And just as stated in the forms, you’ll be paid a weekly sum for participating in this new therapy. I doubt a cow would be acceptable in an office building, aha.”

James patted his cheeks, a smile forming on his face.

“And if you’ll allow me…”

The doctor set down the mirror, and withdrew a familiar milky white bottle.

“...I’d like to finish what we started.”

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

Kriss waited in the kitchen, checking his watch every few minutes, waiting for James to get off of work so he could take him to the hospital. He shouldn’t have even let him go to work… what if he was more sick than he thought? What if it wasn’t just swelling? What if-

*Thud* The front door shut, and Kriss sprang up from his chair, scrambling into the living room.

“James-”

The breath caught in his chest as he took in the full scope of his boyfriend. The 200-and-change chubster who had left that morning had blossomed into a wide, easily 600 lb. wall of blubber. He stared up at his polished, nubby horns, at his furry ears, down at his absolutely shirt-shredding tits… blood rushed into his face so fast he stumbled, nearly falling forward.

“Oh no, are you okay?” James asked, bright blue eyes full of worry. He waddled forward, belly rippling against the front of each knee as he slowly walked like he was wading through waist-high waters. His chest swayed back and forth, barely contained by a tiny stretched-out tee. Despite being more than three inches taller than him, Kriss suddenly found himself pressed face first into warm boy cleavage, peachy flesh enveloping him. James’s flabby, pillowy arms pressed around his back as he cuddled him in an embrace.

“What… happened?” he breathed, head spinning as he tried to process the changes in his boyfriend.

“O-Oh! Right… it’s part of the therapy! Dr. Sweet made me into a big cuddly cow, and I really like it!” he smiled, clasping his chubby hands together. “Though, we may need to get some new clothes… these shorts are kinda tight on my butt.”

For added emphasis, he slowly turned around, revealing the skin-tight shorts had all but retreated into his huge, bare ass, the rolls of his back flab sagging down to nearly meet the top of them.

“A-Aha... “ Kriss said, woozy once more. He clutched the wall to keep from falling over.

“Do… do you not like it?” James asked, timidly pushing his fat thighs together. His ears twitched gently, sending an arrow straight through Kriss’s heart.

“When I read the waiver, I didn’t expect it to be like, well… all of this. Babe… you’re so adorable my head is going to explode. ”

A happy smile brightened his face once more, and James let out a little laugh. “G-Gosh, don’t scare me like that!”

Headrush fleeting, Kriss managed to push off the wall and back into the arms of his lover. He pecked at his blubbery neck, giving him gentle kisses up and across his cheek.

“O-Ooh, these are nice…” Kriss murmured, squeezing his arms around his chest. “You’re like a big stress ball, I love it.”

“H-Hey, careful, they’re still a little full…”

Kriss moved in for a kiss on the lips, pulling away to give his chest another little squeeze. “Full? Like… with milk?”

James nodded. “You’ll have to milk me until the pump arrives, otherwise they’ll get too full and I’ll start to ache… that is, if you want to. I can still just go to the clinic-”

Kriss tugged at his shirt, freeing one of his blubbery boobs. His thumb traced the nipple gently, practically melting James into a puddle.

“A-Ah, god, have you done this before?...”

“No…” Kriss said, bringing the breast to his mouth. Sweet, creamy milk flowed onto his tongue, which he swallowed down. “But I can learn.”

#male weight gain #fat male #male lactation #ssbhm #boycow #moo

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loudsuitlover · 4 years

Text

Doctor Harry

A/N: I feel like I forgot how to write but I guess the best way to overcome that is trying to write again. I’m still trying to write Lawyer Harry and Ohana but I’m struggling I don’t know why. Also this on first person POV. Thought I’d try something different too. Anyway, sorry for this annoying intro I don’t even know who I’m writing this for haha if after all this ranting you still decided to read, thank you and happy reading! xxx

INDIE’S POV

This skirt fitted me better last spring. I look at my profile on the mirror and focus on my belly and my lips frown at the muffin top I got during the winter. I really need to get back with the abs routine Sergio had made for me. I guess it would help if I didn’t hate abs with a passion. I’d be so fit if I didn’t hate abs and then it would be over for all of them skinny bitches.

“Indie?” Jason barely whispers my name outside the door.

“Coming.”

I open the door fast as soon as I get my white coat on, getting my braid out of it as I walk with Jason towards the doctors’ offices. I have yet to meet my mentor, doctor Hill, since yesterday he didn’t work. That’s something I’ll never understand. If he’s not working then how can he have a medical student assigned for hospital practice? That’s beyond me. Thank God for young doctors who still remember what it was like to be an ignored Med student and help you out and take care of you. God bless them.

“You look cute today.” Jason points out but I know he means it more like a suspicion than a compliment so I just roll my eyes and check I have my notepad on the pocket of my coat. “Hoping to see Mario again, are we?”

I chuckle.

“You know some of us don’t want to jump the bones of every nice guy we meet.” I tease him.

“You’re telling me. You haven’t been with anyone in fourteen months.”

“You’re counting?” I can feel my face contorting in desbelief. “That’s sick.”

“I mean I don’t know if it’s been fourteen or fifteen or what but more than a year.”

I look into his brown eyes and hold his stare for long enough so that he undertands I do not necessarily want to discuss this here and now where any professor could walk past us any minute and he rolls his eyes so I know he’ll drop it.

“Anyway, our paths part here.” He announces right before he knocks on an office’s door and moves his mouth so that it looks like the voice of his mentor is his own.

I chuckle again as I make my way to office 32, where I read doctor Hill should be today in the doctor’s planning. A patient stops me on the way there and asks me where the digestive doctors hall is and I give him the directions with the smile that comes naturally to my face. I’ve been told that a lot, that I’m always smiling, even my grandad used to call me toothy when I was little for how much he would see my teeth when I smiled.

I’ve been studying medicine for four years and I’ve been dressing up as a doctor for hospital practice for two but it’s still exciting when some patient actually mistakes me with a real doctor because well, it’s so clear to me that I’m not, but it’s encouraging to see that people think I could be.

The office door is opened and I hear two male voices casually chatting on the inside. I don’t want to eavesdrop, especially because the probability of getting caught is rather high so I knock on the opened door and wait for them to give me permission to enter. They just stop talking so I take another step and stand on their sight. Mario, the nice young doctor that helped me yesterday, is looking at me with raised eyebrows. It’s almost hard to recognize him without the surgery gown so I reckon it might be the same for him but then he smiles and I give him a smile back.

“Hi, Mario.”

“Hi. Looking for doctor Hill?”

I nod at his question and he nods back as if telling me I’m on the right place but before he can speak the other doctor interrupts him.

“Here it is, Mario. D’you want me to print it fo you?”

Mario moves to the side so I can see the man who owns that voice and I know I must look stunned because I am. Doctors don’t usually look like that and I have never been this lucky. Usually our mentors are doctors over 50 and when they’re male they’re usually fat or bald, sometimes both, but he looks like a movie star or like a singer or someone from Olympus and I try to save the way he looks on my mind as if I already know no one is ever going to look like him ever.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here for or if any of them has said anything to me but by the way his green eyes stare into mine, amused, I feel like it’s been too long. How did he even manage to be a mentor? I don’t think he’s even a full doctor yet, he looks to young for that.

“You’re so unlucky, Harry. You got the most annoying student, always asking questions...” Mario jokes.

I chuckle, finding it funny that he would remember how I apologized the day before for making so many questions. He was really nice yesterday and he’s being very nice now saving me from my embarrassingly staring at Harry. He then stands up from his chair on the other side of the desk.

“Hi, I’m Harry. Nice to meet you.”

And much to my surprise, not that I’m complaining though, he approaches me and places one hand on my elbow, leaning in and pressing his cheek against mine in the way I would greet a friend. But he’s not a friend. No doctor has ever greeted me like that. And he just introduced himself as Harry, didn’t he? Does that mean he wants me to call him Harry? No doctor Hill anymore?

“I’m Indigo.” I tell him.

“Indigo.” He smiles and I think I’ve forgotten how to speak. “That’s such a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” I look at my feet because I’m gonna fangirl if he keeps smiling at me. “My mum’s a painter and a hippy.”

He laughs and I feel my breath getting caught on my throat. I think I’m having a tachicardia. I feel stupid. It’s not like I’ve never seen a handsome man before. But I’ve certainly never been this close to one and I’ve never had his attention.

“Well, I’m on my way to the operating room.” Mario announces. “See you, mate.”

He gives Harry a warning look before he goes but Harry chuckles and shakes his head, dismissing his friend’s look and my nerves only grow stronger on my belly.

“Well, Indigo, sit here next to me.” He grabs the chair next to his and brings it closer to his until they’re touching and then he looks at me so I take a seat. “We usually check the list of the patients who are coming and read their clinical record before the visits begin, to be a little ahead, you know.” He smiles again.

If he keeps smiling at me like that I might faint at some point today. He then turns towards the laptop and starts telling me about the patients, even though sometimes it feels like he’s more thinking out loud than talking to me. I should really listen, especially in case he feels like asking me questions during the day because I really do not want to look like an idiot but I could stare at him all I want now and he wouldn’t notice and I can’t let this chance go so if I have to look like an idiot I will.

I let my eyes travel freely across his features. His hair is brown and is a little too long for a male who normally works on a surgery room. It’s not like it’s inappropriate or anything and it looks incredible on him and something tells me he knows that but it’s not usual that someone from his status wears their hair that long and that tousled. He asks something out loud but I know he’s not waiting for an answer because as soon as he asks it he searchs on the browser- and it’s not like I could have answered anyway. My mind is busy and the moment my eyes drop to his arm, flexed, elbow resting on the table, I could gulp just imagining those arms holding me against this very same desk and- what the fuck am I doing?

I know he can’t hear what I think but I still have to remind myself that and I pray to God he does not turn around because I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. He’s wearing the hospital uniform, with the baby blue button up and the baby blue pants, but I entertain my mind trying to picture his naked torso. This is so wrong for the love of God, he’s my professor. I really need to chill. I feel like a dog in season. But this is just extraordinary, I am not usually around men this hot, and what’s the harm in daydreaming anyway?

The moment my eyes move back up they stare into his amused ones and I feel my cheeks heating up so I get afraid I’m blushing.

“You were awfully quiet.” He states, a somewhat smug grin on his face but I am not judging, I made it pretty easy for him to make fun of me. “Did you understand?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly, huh?” He smirks. “If there’s something I say that you don’t understand you just stop me, alright? Now, can you read an electrocardiogram?”

“I should be able to.”

He chuckles and places it one in front of me. I am getting embarrassingly exciting that he finds me funny but I have to bite back a smile of my own at his friendly attitude.

“Go on then.”

“Okay, first thing we need to look for P on II and V1.” I speak very slow so that I have time to think while I do so and judging by the way he’s smirking, he’s noticing. “And we see that we have indeed P waves, which is good, no auricular fibrilation then. And then we look for QRS and we check the frequency by counting and multiplying” I do the calculations on my mind “and it’s 75 hearbeats per minute, a little high but nothing to worry about, people tend to get nervous when we do electrocardiograms on them. And we check the dimensions of the waves, the height, the width... And I don’t know this looks pretty normal to me.”

I dare to look at him and he’s smirking but it doesn’t look cocky to me, it’s more like a proud smile so I smile back, happy with myself.

“Very good.” He smiles. “Just a little, tiny detail but you obviously don’t need to know that so don’t worry.” He stands up from his chair and stands right behind me and places his left hand on the desk in front of me so I can his chest hovering over me. His finger points a random P wave. “If you look closely at the P wave, does it look normal to you?”

I swallow, quite frankly I don’t know if the P wave looks normal or not. I guess it doesn’t because otherwise he wouldn’t be asking that but why does he smell so good? And why is his arm hovering over my chest? This could be the moment I faint.

“I know it’s not because that’s why you’re asking but I don’t see it.”

He laughs again and even though it’s silly, I can’t help but wonder if he laughs this much with everyone.

“It’s a little higher than normal, but it’s very subtle, it’s okay if you don’t see it yet and anyway it’s not that important.” He laughs again. “But it might indicate a right atrium hypertrophy. That’s for an A+ in cardiology.” He smiles before taking his seat back and opening a new record.

“What year are you in?” He’s not looking at me while he asks that.

“Fourth.”

He nods his head but keeps quiet after that and I’m not sure why he even asked that but for some reason- it might be because his scent still lingers on my nostrils or because he just hovered over me or because he indirectly asked my age- I feel a strange tension over my shoulders so I ask him something I genuinely don’t know anyway about the patient’s record and he even grabs a paper to draw some shit and for some reason that’s turning me on. The way he speaks, so slow but without hesitation, he’s got a very calming voice, and how many things he knows and how smart he seems to be... I’ve always had a thing for intelligent guys and the fact that he’s also so close and smells so good is only adding to that.

“Hi there.”

A very tall man with a white hospital uniform walks in and gives us both a look before he takes a seat on the counter next to the stretcher. He must be the nurse.

“So” He says, giving us his back as he types something on his laptop “who are you?” He turns to look at me.

I find it a little rude, but I don’t know this man at all. He might just be one of those people who come out strong so I give him a smile.

“I’m a fourth year med student. I have practice here today.” I explain.

“I know that, I’m your mentor, doctor Hill, but what’s your name?”

“Oh, sorry.” My tongue melts. “I mean Indigo, not sorry. My name’s not sorry.”

I hear Harry laughing out loud behind me and doctor Hill smiles as well. I totally looked like an idiot but at least they seemed to have found it endearing.

“Well, my name’s not sorry either.” Doctor Hill said. “You can call me Peter, Indigo.”

“Okay, Peter.”

“I see you’ve already met my resident doctor, doctor Styles.”

I nod my head.

“Cool, so now that we all know each other... Harry, who’s the first one?”

Like that we start visiting the patients and for the first time since I started my hospital practice, I actually have fun during one of them. Both Peter and Harry are quite funny, even though they do tease me a lot, but they also allow me to do a lot of things like weighting the patients, checking their blood pleasures and Harry even lets me do a clinical interview, under his watch obviously, but it was still exciting. The lady I did the interview to was so nice and I could feel Harry’s attentive stare with a proud, amused smile the entire time, even the lady smiled every time she looked at him.

After about three hours of visits, Peter stands up from his chair next to mine and stretches his back.

“So Harry, I think I’m gonna go to the surgery rooms to give a hand.” He states and my heart drops to my belly at the anticipation that he’s gonna make me go with him and my day with Harry is over. “What do you want to do, Indigo?” I hold my breath at the surprise. “Do you wanna come with me or stay here with Harry? Well, that’s if Harry doesn’t mind but I think he doesn’t.” He smirks.

“No, of course not. It’s actually nice to have a nurse around.” He smiles.

“I think I’m gonna stay then if that’s okay.”

Peter nods and smiles.

“Do you prefer visits over surgery room or you just prefer doctor Styles over me?”

I see Harry shaking his head from the corner of my eye and look down at my hands.

HARRY’S POV

“Sorry” I call Indigo with the nickname she gave herself and she raises her eyebrows “would you please call the next patient? Mrs Hope.”

“Good name.”

I cannot not smile. She stands up from her chair and I entertain my eyes with the laptop screen just to pretend I’m not watching her all the time. I think I’ve managed to rebuild my reputation from how much of a fool of myself I made when I introduced myself to her but it just took me off guard. I wasn’t expecing to have a student around at all, much less that the student was going to look like her.

I’m also done with feeling guilty for thinking about her that way, even though now I’m starting to feel guilty for not feeling guilty, but I can’t control my mind and I don’t think anyone who’s seen her could judge me. Plus, she can’t know what I’m thinking. Even Mario flirted with her this morning...

But no, I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable or to take advantage of my position at all. She came here to learn and I really need to stop looking at her thighs. She closes the door after Mr Copper and I feel the hair at the back of my neck bristle when I see the way he looks at her.

“Good morning, doctor.” He greets me. “You’re very lucky you have such a beautiful assistant.”

Sorry smiles but her shoulders have tensed and even though I’ve only known her for a few hours, I can tell when someone’s uncomfortable and I know she is. I don’t blame her either. I reckon I’d be uncomfortable too.

“She’s also very smart too. That’s why she’s here actually.”

I don’t want to be rude with my patient but for some reason I felt like I had to protect her. I catch her trying not to smile looking at her thighs and I try not to smile too. We do Mr Copper’s visit and she starts scribbling on her notepad and I have to help myself from peeking at the questions she’s going to make. I wonder if what she’s written down if that she has noticed Mr Copper jugular.

When Mr Copper walks out, I turn to look at her and smile. Again.

“Thank you.” She says.

“What for?” I frown.

“You know, for what you said.” Her eyes stare into mine and I try to figure out what is it about this girl that’s making me nervous. “Most guys don’t even understand why some compliments make us feel uncomfortable.”

I smile at her. I hope she knows she really is beautiful and I mean I can understand Mr Copper and had he said that any other way or had he not looked at her like he did right before, I wouldn’t have said anything and I’m sure she wouldn’t have felt uncomfortable but it was just inappropriate.

“It’s true though.”

I’m already a sucker for her smile. Thank God I am not going to see her again.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“Mmm...” She bites her bottom lip.

I’ve noticed she does that when she’s not sure of something. I like it. She has very beautiful lips too, so full and pink and moisturized. Look back into her eyes, Harry.

“I’ve seen you scribbling like crazy.” I encourage her.

I want her to ask me whatever it is that’s going through her mind.

“No, well, I was describing his jugular.”

I feel my dick as soon as she said that. So she noticed. She’s fucking smart and that’s a turn on.

“So that I would remember what I saw, you know?”

I nod.

“Do I have to give you a mark or just sign your assistance?”

“Just sign.” She shakes her head.

“Shit. Well, you got an A anyway.”

She grins excitedly and I want to ask her how old she is again but I turn around and open the next record. This is the last one left and it’s the first time since I started working I don’t want to finish visiting, but when we are done she’ll go and I’ll never see her again.

I swear I’m trying not to feel attracted to her. I know it’s wrong but if I’m not going to see her again, I mean if she’s just going to leave now and I’ll never have to supervise her practice again, I could ask for her phone number, right? I mean I’m not a professor like Danny. It’s not technically prohibited. But she would feel pressured. I can’t do that.

“Actually, Harry” her voice cracks a little and I want to look at her but I know she’s nervous so I don’t “I do have a question. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, Sorry.”

“It... It has nothing to do with the practice, though.”

“It doesn’t?” Now this is interesting.

I finally turn my body towards her so that I’m facing her and encourage her to ask me. If she asks for my number I’ll give it to her, but I don’t think she will.

“Mmm... Can I ask how old are you?”

I don’t want to tell her and that’s when I notice all my attempts at trying not to be attracted to her have failed. Her skin is so soft and she smells so good, like sweet vanilla, I bet she tastes sweet too. Fuck, I’m doing it again and I’m looking at her breasts. Fuck me.

“I’m 27.”

She smiles and I don’t know what that means. I want to ask her but we need to call the last patient.

“Miss Asvenson.” I smile.

She nods and stands up from her chair but before she opens the door I ask her.

“And you?”

We look into each other’s eyes and I think we both know why we’re asking. She smiles.

“21.”

I nod. She’s legal everywhere in the world.

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chromatic-lamina · 4 years

Text

rascal: law and robin brotp fanfic

I have a lot of brotp Law and Robin in my fics, and one fic with them as a couple. I like the brotp interaction. Two cynical and supportive friends, but the writing is mostly in my multi-chaptered works, which are dark or canon divergent or both.

Anyway, I’m going to include an excerpt below. Robin’s painting Law’s toenails while they both chat about current and past loss and love. It’s from a three-chapter work that I don’t think will make much sense without knowing the rest of the world that it comes from, but hopefully this interchange can be followed and strikes a chord with some. I know the LawBin fans are thirsty. Post canon with canon-verse history and elements. This is an older piece.

🐞

Law sat back in the garden recliner in Robin’s backyard, a book over his face. He wasn’t in danger of burning easily in the late morning sun, but had no intention of making himself prey to melanoma. Robin perched on the edge of the recliner, holding one of Law's feet.

He'd spent the night at Robin’s in anticipation of the tea-towel convention they'd be visiting today. She’d spent the night trying to share his enthusiasm as he sat, tattooed arms spread on the table, poring over catalogues. His inked hands pointed out designs featuring disproportionate tulip-ensconced windmills, and disembodied body parts that had less to do with Dali and more to do with morticians.

She assumed all the creators were outliers. Commemorative tea-towels hadn’t quite taken the art world by storm yet, but they did remind her a little of Ryuunosuke, the very cute but badly drawn dragon that had struggled and succeeded in taking them all to the top of Zou.

That was last night though and now, soon, they’d head off to gossip and gander with the convention organisers, the Dishcloth Dames, once she’d made Law pretty.

“These are so cute.” She pulled at the few black gnarly hairs curled on Law’s left big toe.

“Freak,” Law mumbled, moving his foot.

Robin laughed, righted Law’s foot and wiped the brush over the nail of his big toe.

“When did you last clip these?”

“What’s it to you? You’re the one who wanted to dress me up.”

“You’re the one who’s letting me. You’ve got old man’s feet, by the way.”

Law arched his bridge and Robin slapped it, held it down.

“The sexy surgeon’s pedes don’t please? You said they were cute?”

She studied languages. She had no difficulty with Law’s fancy Latin terms.

“Mmm. I wouldn’t go that far. But I guess you got those tattoos to distract from your tootsies.”

The ink on the bridges of his feet matched that on the back of his hands. She felt the arc of the bone against her palm as she admired the designs, although it was one of the more simple ones to adorn Law and, historically, definitely not his favourite.

“And yet, there you are, making them all presentable and shit.”

“Does Marco like them?”

“He’s got his kinks.”

“And . . . ?”

“They remain in the bedroom,” Law grinned. At times he thought the Phoenix liked every part of his body, though they’d never had a deep conversation about those particular extremities.

“Ah, you’re no fun.”

“I’ve been told.”

Law felt her move to the next digit.

“What colour are you painting them?”

“Tch.”

As if it could be anything but black.

“Well, you sent Chopper out for the colour once,” Law said to her silence.

Bubble gum. Robin snickered, remembering. Law peered at her from under his book, her shoulders rose and fell with laughter. He liked that violet t-shirt.

Law seemed so disinterested, and therefore, Robin guessed very trusting, when she or anyone else painted his nails. He usually paid little attention to the colour, or even the action. It was something that pleased those who found it amusing to decorate him. Just so long as they let him read whatever he was researching, he indulged them. A small compromise for a larger gain.

No way in hell could someone he didn’t trust do this, though it had been done. Robin knew that trust was hard won. Law told himself that he let them all think he was vain this way so he could go for their jugulars some other time. Plus, he liked giving the Dishcloth Dames even more to gossip about.

Thinking of Chopper, Law laughed as if the sound was rationed—a clipped exhalation. The tanuki reminded him of his navigator.

“Bepo. Lord, Bepo got it into his head once to paint me. Maybe he wanted to practice so he could surprise some lucky Mink in the future, and who better to be his chump than his ferocious captain?”

Robin turned to him for a second, curious, before proceeding to the next toe. Her extra hands manipulated Law’s foot for the best access. Law’s own hand kept the book in place. She liked that silver band he sometimes wore on his wrist—a solid link—a flash of sky reflected in the metal.

“His fine motor skills aren’t the best. You’ve seen his maps. Shachi and Penguin thought I’d amputated my own toes without the benefit of a Room.” A rumble lifted Law's chest and then dissolved. He smiled easily. The book didn’t cover all of his face. “He even dabbed a paw print on my heel.”

“He chose red?” She loved that flash of teeth.

“Mmm. So. I guess it’s black?”

Robin finished the last toenail and told him not to move his feet about for a while. She then drew up the recliner next to his, lay on it, leant on her side and looked across. Law could be asleep for all she knew.

“Oi, talk to me endling. Of course it’s black.”

Law’s lips twitched. Only Robin could get away with that.

“So needy, terminarch. How am I meant to do that without moving?”

They may as well have just called each other Flevance and Ohara. They did at times, but neither could be feeling too off-colour when they did, or the devil fruits would come out to play. The town names as nomenclatures were off-limits to anyone else.

“Take that book off your face at least. I know you can’t read it like that.”

“Your makeup bag’s not nearby, is it?”

“Just the toes today, Dr. Death.”

Good. He was only happy for modification to go so far. He sighed, grumbled, but lifted a hand and picked the book up by its spine, and rested it—still spreadeagled—on his chest. He blinked into the sun, then tipped his head her way. Not the most comfortable of positions.

“Can I sit up?”

The grey of Law’s irises were sometimes shot through with gold. She wondered what his parents had looked like. “Give it a few.”

He turned his face skyward again, his arm over his shut lids.

“How about Luffy?” she asked. Luffy was before island living, before Law’s casual feet days. If they’d ever played around with nail polish, she’d never seen the results.

Law groaned.

“He approached my nails as if they were made of seastone, his hand was that shaky.” The softness in tone betrayed the annoyance in his words. “For some reason he thought a pearly pink would suit? Maybe it reminded him of marbled steak or something? Of course, he had absolutely no patience.”

Law scratched at his sideburns with his spare hand.

“He slapped it on, forgot to cap the varnish, jumped on me, bringing the sheet with him, or whatever we were lying on, wherever we were. It smeared over everything; our clothes, or more accurately, my clothes. You know, Luffy somehow always escapes his own chaos—and then he declared the whole thing stupid and boring, as if I’d dreamt up the activity and forced it on him.” Incredulity hissed through the back of his teeth.

He tapped his earrings. "Somehow the polish even managed to get on these. Nami-ya probably talked him into the whole thing for a bet."

“And you let him?”

Law didn’t need to look at Robin to know her expression; amused and bemused.

“You choose your battles.”

“Mmm.” Her captain could be quite domineering. She wondered if they were the same earrings. It wouldn’t surprise her. She’d kept the same jewellery over the years, but added to her collection with each pirates' haul. The ones that Luffy didn’t somehow swap for food.

She sat up and twisted her neck. They needed to get going soon.

“Phoenix?”

“Still trying to unearth his kinks?”

“Now that you bring it up.”

Law’s smile, the one Robin and only a few others ever saw, made her lips curve.

“I paint for him at times. I mean, my own nails. He’s got a lapis grounding stone, and his flames are blue when he’s in Zoan form. I try to match those shades—a balance between the two. Other times, I paint for myself.”

“Does he notice?” Marco had a grounding stone? But then again, they all had their talismans.

“Sometimes.”

“You don’t tell him?”

“Not always. Other things are more pressing.”

“Does he know you’re a freak?”

“I thought that was you.”

Law paused for a second. He tipped his face Robin's way again, his hand still protecting his eyes. How come she got to sit up?

“The dogs have never liked it. And you know, all that waste. It’s not really hygienic in the clinic either.”

“You operate with your toes?”

Law laughed. “When I do my hands . . . It’s not hygienic.”

Robin cast a glance at her back yard – the trees that offered privacy from the neighbours, the small pond. She enjoyed life in the New World now Luffy was pirate king.

“The dogs don’t like it, but Bepo can handle it?”

“Well, he’s a freak, too. Minks wear makeup, right?”

Robin nodded. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Makeup?”

“Being a freak.”

“To the contrary, some of my best friends are freaks. You can’t all be Chopper.”

Law calls Robin a freak and gets away with it. heh. Perhaps. Anyway, I’ll put the link to the AO3 story as the source (just edited it in. This post has been up for long enough). It’s actually about dogs and links back to another story, and is kinda sad, and features Robin, but is about Law and Marco, and there’s plenty of humour too. If you want to read it, be my guest. It’s an older one, written a few years ago. T-rated.

#platonic lawbin #lawbin #one piece #one piece fanfic #opfanfic #marco/law mention #past lawlu mention #trafalgar law #nico robin #my writing #my stuff #one piece fanfiction

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fictionaffliction · 3 years

Text

Better Forgotten

Chapter One

Pairings: Loki/OC

Summary: Dr. Ingrid Hansen is a respected psychologist struggling with the aftermath of the Snap as well as her own trauma from an accident she endured many years ago. Her world is thrown into utter chaos when she meets a dangerous man posing as a client. Dr. Strange is reluctantly tasked with protecting her, but in order to do so, he must first help her recover who she truly is. While she is grateful for his help, she has to wonder, are some things better forgotten?

Rated M

Warnings: Canon typical violence, eventual mentions of suicide and domestic violence (which will be tagged in the chapters in which they occur), memory loss, chronic pain

September 21, 2012

The brightly lit conference room was lively with chattering voices. Hundreds of scholars, dressed in the grey and beige that business casual dictates, wound their way through the rows of scratchy linen padded chairs. Some exchanged business cards, networking like their livelihoods depended on it, and for many of them, it did. Others were on their phones or had pulled out laptops and started furiously typing away, no doubt responding to messages from their various offices in the little time they had before the keynote speaker took the stage.

Ingrid Hansen had just finished responding to an email of her own before setting her phone to silent and tucking it back into her purse, trading it for a small leather-bound notebook and a pencil. She wrote the name of the keynote, “Neurosurgery as Treatment for Psychiatric Disorders” as well as the name of the speaker. She had double-checked the name on the itinerary when she wrote it down, shrugging off the unusual name. Certainly, he would have gotten his fair share of teasing as a child.

According to the short biography under his name, he was no less than a certifiable genius. He had been published in multiple medical journals, gotten his MD and his Ph.D. concurrently, and was now one of the most respected neurosurgeons in the country if not the world. People had been looking forward to his keynote the entire conference and Ingrid had made sure to come fifteen minutes early to get a good seat. She managed to get a seat in the middle of the second row. An older man with grey hair and glasses stepped onto the stage as the rest of the attendees found their seats. The man waited for a moment before speaking.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said as a respectful hush fell over the room, “thank you all for attending this evening’s keynote address. We are, of course, very excited to welcome our guest speaker.” The old man licked his dry lips with a smacking noise in the completely self-unaware way that only old men seem to be able to achieve. “He is an accomplished surgeon with a true passion for medicine and an apparent talent for music trivia.” He chuckled and the conference room laughed with him. “Please welcome to the stage Dr. Stephen Strange.”

The room applauded as a tall, slim man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties took the stage. His dark hair was neatly coiffed to frame his high cheekbones. He looked out over the crowd with discerning eyes and gave a tight smile. As the room quieted, his lecture began.

“Thank you all for the warm welcome. If only everyone greeted surgeons with applause,” Dr. Strange said in a voice that was deeper than Ingrid would have thought. The crowd laughed politely. “In the last one hundred years, neurosurgery and psychology have grown up together like distant cousins. Connections between the two have been known and studied, but never truly explored to such an extent as they are now. Now, technology is finally reaching the point where the two can be intertwined as they always should have been.” He gestured in a practiced manner as his gaze swept over the faces in the room.

Ingrid’s pencil was poised over her notebook, ready to strike down the moment he said something she wanted to remember. He went on for a bit about the potential for technological advancements to change brain chemistry without the need for medication, though it would require dangerous procedures to place implants on the affected parts of the brain. She dutifully noted his points, though she found the idea of experimental treatments morally precarious at best.

“Imagine the benefits for those suffering from dementia and other brain disorders that so deeply affect patients and their loved ones,” he said, turning his gaze to Ingrid as she leaned forward in her seat, her hand continuously taking notes. She stared back at him as he continued after giving her a small smirk. “Later this year, clinical trials for a pacemaker-like device for deep brain stimulation in Alzheimer’s patients will begin. This is an incredibly exciting time in medical history…”

She wrote her short-hand in a hurried hand as he soldiered through the rest of his speech. ‘ Brain stimulation for dementia-- recovery for amnesia?’ It stood to reason, though the mechanical differences for traumatic brain injury and dementia were vastly different. Still, there was hope.

After about an hour, Dr. Strange’s speech concluded and Ingrid packed away her notebook and pencil, her mind still mulling over the possibilities that he had proposed. As this had been the last speaking engagement for the day, a large number of people made their way to the hotel’s restaurant and bar.

She felt a bit sorry for the servers, who had been posted at the hosts’ desk like soldiers ready to rush into battle. They escorted several groups to tables and the noise escalated as menus were set out and drinks poured from glass pitchers reflected the low, golden light. Ingrid herself was content to get a drink at the bar and order room service later to go over her notes and make sure they were actually legible. She had just taken a seat on the soft black leather barstool when there was a small clamor of voices over the restaurant’s generic jazz music as a few people began to spout compliments nearby.

Ingrid turned to see Dr. Strange shaking a few hands as he passed a table of excited colleagues. He thanked them, though Ingrid noticed that his movements seemed stiff and impatient. The doctor passed the table as Ingrid turned back to face the bar. He took the seat next to hers. Not wanting to bother him, she kept her eyes on the drink menu as he reached for his own.

“Well, what did you think?” he asked, glancing at the list of cocktails.

Ingrid looked up. “Me?” she replied.

“Yes, you,” he replied simply, meeting her eyes. “You were taking a lot of notes. I thought you might have some intelligent feedback.”

Ingrid set her menu down and shifted to face him, straightening her navy blue pencil skirt and crossing her ankles. Dr. Strange raised his eyebrows as he waited for her to gather her thoughts. “Frankly, Dr. Strange, psychiatric surgery still has a long way to go before it’s practical, let alone ethical.” His eyes narrowed as he took in a sharp breath between his lips, looking ready for an argument. “However,” she continued before he had a chance, “I do think that it is a possible and even probable treatment in the future. It’s simply a question of how near that future is.”

He nodded, considering her answer. “Well, that is certainly a...diplomatic response.”

She shrugged off his somewhat curt reply. “The dementia treatments are certainly exciting though.”

“You think so?” he asked.

“I do.”

He considered this like he was measuring whether the conversation was worth pursuing. He seemed to deem it worthy of his time, because he asked, “What was your name again?”

“Dr. Ingrid Hansen,” she said, holding out her hand. His large hand enveloped hers in a steady grip.

“Dr. Stephen Strange, but I guess you already knew that,” he replied, keeping his hand on hers. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She smiled and took her hand back, brushing a stray blond hair behind her ear. “I’d like that.”

He signaled the bartender, who came over quickly, having been eyeing them while he waited for them to decide on what they wanted.

“Scotch on the rocks for me,” Dr. Strange said, and then gestured to Ingrid.

“And a Moscato for me, please,” she said. The bartender turned to the back of the bar to fetch their drinks.

“White wine?” he asked, raising a skeptical brow.

“I have a sweet tooth,” she replied simply.

He chuckled. “So, you’re a doctor, you have a sweet tooth, and you are evidently British.”

“I am indeed, though I graduated here in New York,” she explained. The bartender placed their drinks in front of them and left without a word to attend to other patrons.

“And what are you a doctor of?” Dr. Strange asked, taking a sip of his scotch.

“Psychology,” she replied proudly.

The man heaved a sigh as he swallowed. “Of course,” he said with a somewhat disappointed tone.

Ingrid’s eyes narrowed, but she kept the corners of her mouth upturned in a practiced neutral smile. “‘Of course’?” she repeated.

He took another sip before answering. She didn’t break eye contact. “Well, it isn’t that psychology isn’t a worthy pursuit, but psychology is such a soft science it’s about as good as an English degree. I thought you were at least a psychiatrist.”

Her smile slipped from her face as suddenly as a bookshelf collapsing under its own weight. “I beg your pardon, but I am every bit a doctor as I would be if I were a psychiatrist. It’s not like I bought a certificate online,” she snapped.

He held his hands up. “Hey, you don’t need to explain it to me. But I do find it interesting that you were so intent on my speech if you’re not a psychiatrist.”

Ingrid rolled the stem of her glass between her fingers, trying to suppress the indignation that rose up in her chest. “It’s still relevant to my field, Dr. Strange.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” he conceded. Ingrid took a drink, letting the light flavors of the alcohol warm her chest. “So what is it that you do with that degree of yours?”

“Counseling,” she responded shortly.

“What kind?”

“All kinds, but mainly relationship and family counseling.”

He considered this for a moment. “And why the interest in dementia treatment?”

She paused mid-gulp of wine, watching him as his eyes traveled over her face. “Call it a personal interest,” she replied coldly.

“Alright,” he said, rolling his eyes, “no need to be touchy about it.”

Ingrid snorted. “God, you’re arrogant. Do you know that?”

He pursed his lips. “I’ve heard it once or twice. Is that your official diagnosis, Dr. Hansen? Arrogance?” He was baiting her and she knew it.

“No Dr. Strange,” she said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. She took in the sight of him carefully, making note of every small movement he made, the way he presented himself, and how his breathing remained steady despite the conflict. “I cannot officially diagnose you at the moment, of course. Though I might wonder at your ability to maintain a relationship given your clear egocentric attitude.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “Typical therapist. Non-committal answers and appeals to emotion. If you were a real doctor-”

The remainder of Ingrid’s wine doused his face. Sounds of surprise echoed about the bar area as she set her glass back down on the bar with a scowl and looked back at him with steely eyes. Dr. Strange didn’t say anything. He hardly looked phased as the wine dripped off of his long nose and down his cheeks.

“Thanks for the drink.” Ingrid turned to leave and a few sets of eyes looked between them curiously. Her black heels clicked against the tile as she strode out of the restaurant, fuming. Dr. Strange watched her go, assuring himself that he was not the least bit sorry for what he said as the bartender handed him a cloth napkin.

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