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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

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i’ll tell you i was wrong if you dance with me

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, slightly unhealthy relationship moment (lack of communication), mention of infidelity, cursing, alcohol consumption, a fair bit of angst

recommended listening: fred astaire | adam brock

a/n: communicate with your partners!!! also yeah this is the song from lady bird. it’s a banger

This seriously isn’t happening.

You never fight with Travis. Communication comes easy between the two of you, but you also make it a priority to talk about your feelings. It keeps things from boiling over; both of you are known to unleash wicked tempers on occasion and have found being direct stops issues from occuring. Arguments still occasionally happen, but they’re typically over trivial things like what movie to watch or where you’re spending the holidays. Travis apparently forgot about the fact you talk to each other about things.

He’d been upset when he came home from practice, but you were pretty sure he was fine after he woke up from his pre-game nap. Knowing he’s a superstitious person and has a lot of pressure on him to put up points, you had made the choice not to ask about what was bothering him. Throwing off his routine could have detrimental consequences. Tonight's game is tighter than it should have been, but the Flyers come out on top. Travis spends a bit more time in the penalty box than you would have liked, but everyone was getting chippy by the start of the third period. Claude tries to talk to him on the bench but he gets shut down. Whatever Travis was upset about before is still clearly bothering him, and it’s affecting his game.

You’re following Travis home from the game, and can tell he’s uptight from the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. As you wind through downtown Philadelphia you try and prepare yourself for any bomb that could drop. Chances are that when you reach your apartment things will explode. Maybe it’s nothing; Travis is fine and just wants to be a responsible driver for once. You pull into the free spot beside his car and see him walking towards the elevator, suit jacket balled up and tucked under his arm. This won’t be good. Trying to buy yourself some time, you take the stairs. Seven flights later you arrive outside your door; he left it unlocked, which gives you a sliver of hope things will be fine.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” you call into the darkness of the apartment. Your sneakers are left at the door and to retreat towards the bedroom, looking for a sign of life. You find one in the bathroom: the light is on. A gentle push on the door reveals your boyfriend is in the shower and ignoring you.

“Trav?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, words muffled by him tossing his head back to rinse the shampoo of his hair. Apparently the shower isn’t as relaxing as he had hoped.

You don’t bother to tread lightly, upset that he’s acting like a child. “You’re being an asshole. I get that you had a bad day, but you can’t take it out on me. I just want to help.”

Travis turns the water off suddenly. “Can’t help if you’re the problem,” he scoffs.

His statement doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing out of the ordinary the past couple of days; nothing that would warrant the behaviour you’re receiving. “What do you mean?”

Shouldering passed you to exit the room, Travis doesn’t bother to respond. You’re beyond frustrated: partners in healthy relationships communicate, not show emotions like grade schoolers. “You’re not giving me the fucking silent treatment Travis. You gotta talk to me.” The bedroom is dark when you enter and you flick the overhead light on to see better.

“You really don’t know?”

“Of course I don’t know,” you seethe. “If I did know we wouldn’t be in this predicament because we’d be solving the issue.”

The glare you receive is sharp enough to cut stone. He pulls on a t-shirt, anger clear in the aggression he does it with. “Why did I have to find out from Carter that you’ve been getting coffee with your TA?”

You’re shocked. In no way is it what he thinks it is. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you sigh, upset that Travis would take someone else’s words at face value and not talk to you about it.

“I’m dead fucking serious Y/N. You preach communication, but it looks as though you’re the one who hasn’t been doing enough talking.”

The room around you starts to spin. You can’t comprehend what he’s insinuating. “Wait, you think I’m cheating on you?” you ask. There has been a gross miscommunication error somewhere; never in a million years would you think of having an affair.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well what the fuck did you say?”

Travis tugs at the roots of his hair in frustration. He doesn’t answer immediately, pacing the length of the bed a few times. “I just–” he struggles to articulate his words. “I just said that you’re being a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? You’re standing here yelling at me because I didn’t voice my concerns, but you haven’t been talking to me about what’s going on in your life.” Travis’ tone is sharp, and it stings.

It’s your turn to show how upset you are. Your hands curl into fists at your side, and you squeeze your nails into your palms before releasing them. “I do tell you what goes on in my life Travis,” your breathing ragged as you try to not lose your cool. “I ran into my TA at the coffee shop yesterday, and he paid for my drink because my card wouldn’t work. Didn’t think it was breaking news, sorry I don’t send you every single fucking life update that happens. What’s gotten into you?”

“You could have been cheating!”

“But I wasn’t!” you scream, no longing caring about keeping up appearances. You can’t believe Travis would think that. It hurts. “And I never would! You know this”

He turns his back to you, like it pains him to look at you, but you don’t understand why. You're not the one suggesting infidelity. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” he seethes.

“That’s all there is to say! There’s nothing to explain, no secret to uncover. I’m not in the wrong here.”

“And you think I am?”

You look at Travis like he has three heads. “Are you serious? You’re the one who’s so fucking upset over a situation that could have happened to literally anyone.” Your tone suggests that you’re exhausted with the conversation, and Travis gets the hint.

He slinks towards the door, still visibly angry. “I’ll take the couch tonight,” he grits out before tightly gripping the doorknob and shutting the door with more force than needed.

The bed doesn’t look appealing, full of much happier memories, but fighting with Travis has knocked any and all energy out of you. You gingerly pull back the covers and slip underneath. Tears trickle down your cheek as you toss and turn, trying to fall into some sort of slumber. However, your mind has other ideas, replaying the blowout. You can’t begin to understand why Travis is so bothered by the instance, and more importantly why it caused him to disregard a fundamental part of your relationship. There’s little movement from beyond the door, but you can hear the faint noise of a Johnny Cash record playing from the speakers in the living room. After hours of staring at the ceiling your eyes close and a fitful sleep follows.

You might have gotten nine hours of sleep, but you wake up feeling exhausted. Fighting with anyone drains you, but fighting with Travis is especially terrible because it rarely happens. There doesn’t seem to be any movement from the other side of the door; maybe he’s still asleep. You refrain from heading into the kitchen, unsure of what will happen if you see him. After nearly twenty minutes you can’t wait any longer to start your day and pad into the main living space. It’s empty: no sign that Travis has been there for many hours. Guess you don’t have to immediately deal with the fallout of last night.

A post-it note is tacked onto the fridge handle and your heart skips a beat. In Travis’ chicken scratch it reads I’ll see you at the gala tonight. We’ve got media all day and I won’t be back in time for us to go together. There’s no mention of the fight, and you can’t judge from a two sentence note whether or not he’s still pissed off.

“Fuck,” you groan. “The gala.” Tonight’s the annual Flyers Give Back gala, and you’re expected to be in attendance. It’s not even a charity event; the organization is offering a chance for business men to chat up the players in hopes they continue to donate. You find things like these unbearable and tedious, but Travis does his best to make them enjoyable. Not knowing what page you’re on with him is going to be terrible. There’s a pretty good chance he’ll ignore you if he’s still upset.

As if someone is reading your mind, the better halves group chat starts to explode. Everyone is chattering excitedly about tonight, and under normal circumstances you’d be excited to see them in such a relaxed setting. It’s been a while you’ve all hung out, but you can’t find yourself to contribute to the conversation. You mute the notifications and do your best to move on with your day. The rest of the morning is spent working on your thesis; mind numbing work that almost makes you forget about everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Once you’ve hit an acceptable word count for the day you shutdown your computer and make lunch.

The grilled cheese sandwich you eat while watching a John Mulaney comedy special fulfills your appetite but doesn’t curb your dread. You decide to call your sister, hoping she can be a welcome distraction. Dialling her number you sink further into the couch cushions, wrapping yourself tightly with a blanket so that only your head is poking out. “What’s up?” she asks, and you hear her shuffle in the background, presumably to move somewhere more private. It isn’t normal for you to call her unannounced.

You hold it together for approximately two seconds. The tears start and they don’t stop. Every emotion you’ve felt since getting home last night comes to the surface, and before you know it you’re sobbing into the receiver.

“Woah, slow down,” she says. “Y/N, take some deep breaths.” When your breathing returns to a somewhat regular level she continues speaking. “What happened?”

It takes you nearly twenty minutes to tell the whole story because you’re so distraught. No detail is spared, and you go back much farther than is probably needed. You recount what happened after yesterday’s practice, pretty much the entire game, and the fight that followed. “I just don’t know what brought this on,” you sniffle. “We don’t fight, we talk about things. I’m not sure if I’m more upset at what he insinuated or at the fact he broke a cardinal rule.”

Your sister sighs, and you hear her breath fan in slight annoyance. You’re worked up about something kinda stupid, you know, but you can’t let it slide. “It’s probably a bit of both. So, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I know that we need to talk about what happened, but a public event is not the best place to do that. I also can’t not show up or ask Trav to ditch in order to figure this out. We have to be there.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out then.”

You really don’t. “What happens if he ignores me the entire night?”

She laughs and tells you to not to anything stupid, and to take your mind off of things tells you a story about your nephew eating dirt. It does the trick; you’re momentarily distracted and forget about Travis. You talk for a while longer before she has to go. “Miles is crying, will you be okay if I let you go?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. A glance at the clock tells you it’s time to start getting ready. “I’ve gotta shower and start the process. Beauty is time consuming you know.”

Against your better judgement you open your text messages to see if there’s anything from Travis. His text thread is the same as it was yesterday and you’re disappointed. You had hoped that maybe he’d get bored between interviews and check in. With no new notifications you exit out of the application and pull up a playlist you hope will brighten your mood. The steam from the shower relaxes your tense muscles and warms you up. It’s comforting in the way a cocoon is; you practically have to drag yourself out of the bathtub.

Your bedroom is cold and doesn’t offer the same respite as the bathroom. The music continues to float in from the hallway, and you allow yourself to get lost in it. It’s been a while since you danced around your room; it worked to cure sadness when you were a teenager. Hopefully the magic hasn’t worn off. You flail your arms, not caring how silly you look since no one is here to see you anyways, and scream along at the top of your lungs. After a few songs you feel better and return to the task at hand. The dress code is labelled as ‘black tie’ on the invitation, but that isn’t what you’re worried about. You own a million dresses for situations like this after being with Travis for so long. You don’t know what he packed to wear, and there’s a decent chance you’ll be pushed together for photos. Clashing colours will look terrible.

A quick glance through his side of the closest leaves you no clues, so you decide to be as literal as possible. Black is a flattering colour and works well with every colour combination. There’s a jumpsuit hanging in the back that catches your eye and you think it’s the perfect choice. After pulling it on you move back into the bathroom to do your hair and makeup. Everything is natural and relaxed; once again for the sake of potential photos. The clock strikes on the hour and you realize it’s time to leave. A pair of heels are slipped on and you order an Uber before locking the apartment and heading to the lobby. You had thought about driving yourself, but on the occasion that things don’t end well with Travis you’ll probably have more than a couple of drinks.

The entire way to the venue your leg bounces up and down. It’s been years since you’ve been this nervous about being around the team. You’ve been with Travis for a few seasons now, and the organization has become a second family to you. No one is going to know about the fight and you worry they’re going to talk about your solo arrival. The outside of the convention centre is sharply decorated, and your driver lets out a low whistle at the extravagance of it all. “Thank you so much,” you gush, and exit the car. Thankfully no photographers are set up outside, and you dart inside without being seen.

Once in the main event space, you scan for the bar. There’s no sign of Travis, which should make you more relaxed but doesn’t. What if there was an accident on the way to the venue? You have no idea where he was all or who he came with. Overthinking distracts you from your original goal, leaving you standing aimlessly in the middle of the room.

“You look like you might need one of these,” Ryanne chuckles, handing you a champagne flute. You gladly accept and down it in two gulps. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, eyes scanning to see if your boyfriend has made an appearance.

She sees right through your facade of calm and wraps you in a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

For a second time today you explain what happened last night. There’s no judgement from Ryanne as there might have been from your sister because she understands. Dating a professional athlete isn’t easy; things like this happen much more frequently than you’d expect. Perhaps it’s all the time spent apart that makes the occasional lapse in communication so apparent. She listens quietly, full attention on you. To your credit you don’t cry this time, slightly more numb to the situation to due more time passing. It still hurts a tremendous amount.

“He’ll come around,” Ryanne insists. “TK is a little moronic sometimes, but he’d never jeopardize his relationship with you. You’re quite literally the most important thing in his life.”

“I know. I’m just upset because the whole thing could have been avoided.”

She offers you a sympathetic smile. “I know.” Ryanne links her arm through yours. “Let’s go find something to snack on.”

You spend most of the night with Ryanne, and occasionally Claude when he can get away from the hot-shot businessmen. Travis eventually came in, flanked by Nolan, but was immediately pulled into the politics of the night. The two of you occasionally sneak glances at each other and you tell he’s uncomfortable. You can only hope it isn’t because of your presence. It’s nearing eleven; the party has become a much more relaxed affair, and the DJ is playing sappy love songs in an attempt to get the media team some good photo ops. An intern asks the Giroux’s if they’ll dance for an instagram story and they both look hesitant. “Go on guys, I’ll be fine,” you reassure. It’s the subtle push they need to enjoy a quiet moment together.

As if he can sense you’re lonely and feel out of place, Travis approaches you. It’s tentative, like he’s petrified you’ll turn him away, but he comes regardless. Drinks are in each of his hands and he extends one to you. When you don’t take it he sets it on the table behind you. “Hi,” he says sheepishly, fiddling with something in his pocket.

“Hi Travis.” You’re determined not to let his presence crack your resolve; last night illuminated a big issue and it needed to be dealt with. It’s proving to be difficult because he bumps a shoulder against yours and all you can think of is kissing him senseless.

The song changes to a Bruce Springsteen ballad, and you recognize it instantly. It played at the coffee shop on your first date with Travis all those years ago. One look at him tells you this isn’t an accident, that he had requested it specifically for the two of you. “Dance with me?”

You sigh deeply, looking him in the eyes. “Trav, this isn’t going to magically fix things.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he pleads. “I fucked up so bad last night because I was being an idiot. I wrote down everything I would do differently if I had a time machine, look.” A hand reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper filled with his nearly illegible print. “Just one dance, and then we can go home and talk about it like I should have suggested in the first place. Let me know we’re still okay.”

If you hadn’t been in public you’re sure Travis would have been in tears. It’s not necessarily a good look to cry in front of hundreds of sponsors. He has a reputation as the goofy boy who takes no shit to uphold. “You have a lot of talking ahead of you,” you say, and let him drag you onto the dance floor. Swaying in his arms you realize things are going to be just fine. Travis loves you and you love him; there’s nothing the two of you can’t work through.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales�� @kiedhara @tortito if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#travis konecny imagine #travis konecny x reader #travis konecny fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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greatbigbellies · 4 years ago

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The @wesoftupinhere oneshot... that turned into a fourshot... but hey it’s content right? Features wholesome preg content, light stuffing, rapid pregnancy, and heavy multiples. Hope you enjoy it!

Kyle lounged in his gamer chair, his full term pregnant belly resting in his lap. He Took a hand off of the mouse to rub small circles in the side of his distended tummy, soothing his little boy inside. Both Kyle and his baby had been restless lately, anxious to meet each other, and Kyle was particularly ready to be done with pregnancy. It wasn’t a bad gig, mind you, lots of food and attention. However, being so heavy and achy all the time was draining. He’d been going for 38 weeks now, and his 5’5” frame was growing weary of growing a baby. Almost there, he thought to himself. He returned his hand to his mouse to keep streaming. He was playing minecraft, half cause he enjoyed it, and half because it got donations. With the baby coming soon, he needed all the money he could get.

He shifted idly in his chair, struggling to get comfortable. “How far along are you?” asked one of his stream viewers. He got this question almost every day. “38 weeks, 3 days! Almost done!” he chirped. “Congrats!” said the viewer over chat. Kyle smiled. “You look so fatherly!” another chimed in. Kyle blushed a little, not sure how to take compliments. “Aww, thanks guys!” he replied.

“Can we see the tummy?” asked one particularly brave viewer. “Ooooh, I dunno guys, it’s kind of hard to move at this size,” he replied. A minute or so passed, Kyle idly harvesting his crops, when a donation rolled in. “Oh! Thanks for the twenty bucks! Wow! Let’s see…” he waited for the bit donation message to scroll by. “If I give you $20 will you show us the baby bump?” it asked. Kyle rolled his eyes and smiled. “You guys drive a hard bargain, but ooookay,” he grunted as he got to his feet, his hefty body trying to weigh him down. He turned to the side and rolled up his shirt to show his smooth, large belly to the facecam. His baby visibly kicked from the inside, much do the delight of the twitch chat.

“Pog!” “Pog baby!” “Pogchamp!” “Pogchamp!” “Pog baby!!” “He’s our little pogchamp!”... his chat exploded. Kyle laughed at the reaction, causing his tummy to bounce slightly. “Hahaha! Yeah, I guess he is our little pogchamp huh?” he said, half genuinely, half ironically. Twitch slang felt weird sometimes, but Kyle had to admit, it got results. He held his belly from below and gave it a little bounce as about $55 in donations rolled in, all saying variations of “pog baby”. Kyle smiled to himself as he heard Tyler come home. “Oop! My lunch is here! BRB!” he said as he paused the stream and put up his “returning soon” screen. He yanked his shirt down over his huge belly and waddled into the kitchen where Tyler sat, groaning and cradling his massive gut.

“Are you okay?” asked Kyle, thinking Tyler just overate again. “Oooohhh… too many burgers…” Tyler moaned. “Why didn’t you wait until you got home to eat?” asked Kyle. “I was gonna… but they smelled so good… and pregnancy cravings won out…” he explained between breaths. “Dude, feel my belly...! It’s so full!” Kyle shrugged. He’d felt Tyler’s tummy a million times over his pregnancy, he didn’t expect this to be any different. He was wrong. “Whoa… dude, how much did you eat?” he asked, prodding his best friend’s massively overstuffed belly. It felt insanely firm, especially on the lower hemisphere. Tyler’s belly was already huge, what with triplets crammed in there, and he had a habit of gorging himself now and again. “For the babies” he’d always say. This felt different though. It was like he was… more pregnant than before…

“Uuuh, just like… two burgers, fries, a side of onion rings, and a large shake… a normal lunch!” said Tyler. Kyle would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t concerned. He compared the firmness of hIs own belly with his friend’s. Both were very full, sure, and had little give, but Tyler’s… his felt downright overfilled. Kyle rolled up his friend’s shirt to inspect the belly. It all looked fine as far as he could tell. More tightly stretched, sure, but no harsh blemishes or warning signs. “Soooo much pressure!...” complained Tyler. “Do you need to go to a doctor?” Tyler shook his head at Kyles question. “Nah dude, I’ll be fine… I just need some tummy rubs and time to digest…” he paused… “Wow, I must have overdone it more than I thought. I swear the burger just kicked…”

Kyle gave his friend a skeptical look. “Where did you get these? Burger King?” he asked. Tyler shook his head, placing both hands on his distended bare belly. “Nah bro… some new place that popped up next door. Nice portions…. I didn’t get the name though…” Kyle smiled at his friend. It’s just like him to order and eat from a place without knowing what it’s called. He glanced at the plain, brown paper bag the food came in, and grabbed his burger to examine the wrapping. “McPreggo? What kind of name is McPreggo?” he asked Tyler, who was zoned out rubbing his belly. “I dunno man… but the babies sure liked it and I did too… maybe too much, ough,” he let out a dainty little belch.

Kyle shrugged. It did smell amazing. He unwrapped his burger, and took a bite. “Oh my god…” he trailed off with a mouth full. “W-what?” asked Tyler. ��This… is the tastiest thing I’ve ever eaten!” Kyle beamed. This was like eating his favorite food, while sating a craving for a different favorite food, while discovering a NEW favorite food all at once. The patty was grilled to perfection, the bun was fluffy, the veggies were moist and crisp, and whatever that reddish sauce was was simply astonishing.

“I can see why you would overdo it on this food Tyler, THIS… IS… AMAZING!” Tyler smirked at his friend. “And you doubted by tastes…” he said jokingly, patting his overfilled belly. Kyle continued to demolish the burger at a frightening pace. “Dude… I once saw you dip sweet potato fries in cake icing… your tastes are bizarre,” pointed out Kyle between bites. “Eeny, and Meeny wanted the fries and Miney wanted the icing!” Tyler defended himself, referring to his triplets by their nicknames.

Kyle felt the weight of his pregnant tummy tug downward, his sore back reminding him that standing for too long wasn’t a good idea in his state. He waddled over and took a seat between Tyler and the table of food. “Speaking of fries… you didn’t eat them all, did you?” he asked. Tyler shook his head, “Nah man, I specifically left yours alone. They’re in the bag, you gotta try them. They put some garlic salt or something on ‘em,” Uncannily, Kyle found himself craving garlic at the mere mention of it. He took the last bite of his burger, and stuck his arm down the bag to fish out his prize.

Tyler rubbed large circles on the distended sides of his massive belly, soothing both his overfilled stomach and his aching womb. He felt Eeny, Meeny, and Miney all snuggled in his gut… and he could SWEAR he felt three other bodies in there too, but that was impossible. He was just overfed, surely. He turned to watch Kyle basically drink the fries out of the carton. He hadn’t seen his friend put away food like this since his second trimester… dude must’ve been starving. He thought to himself.

Tyler furrowed his brow at the sight of Kyle’s tummy slowly pushing outward, his shirt visibly riding up as he ate. Kyle seemed too enamored with the food to notice. “And you got me onion rings?! God I love you Ty, you know how to treat a guy,” Kyle laughed as he found the second side hidden in the bag. “Y-yeah, no problem…” Tyler trailed off, still focusing on his friend’s tummy. “How are you feeling?” he asked. Kyle crunched on a perfectly seasoned onion ring, “Like I’m in heaven!” he replied, an adorable grin on his face.

Tyler felt his own tummy again, really taking the time to feel it. He felt for where most of the pressure in his belly was coming from. His stomach? Check. His womb? Also check… He felt around, outlining the tiny bodies in his head. 1… 2… 3… his eyes widened. He reached over and felt Kyles belly, a sizable crescent of bare skin showing as his shirt continued to ride up. Kyle was too busy enjoying onion rings to care. They felt each other’s babies all the time, so this wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Tyler concentrated on the movement under Kyle’s skin, feeling where the kicks and rolls where coming from. Kyle’s baby was really active in there… almost too active… “Hey Kyle…?” “Mhmmm?” Kyle finished off the last two onion rings in one bite. Tyler looked at him, and with the most uncharacteristically serious tone he could muster, said “Show me where your little pogchamp is,” Kyle snorted out a giggle. “You were just feeling him! He’s right there!” Kyle guided Tyler’s hand to his lower belly, right below his now exposed navel, where a tiny foot was pressed against his palm.

Tyler nodded. He felt movement stir in his own belly, and squinted in concentration. As if on cue, a stong kick pushed its way up into the top shelf of Kyle’s tummy, distending it. That made Kyle jump a little, “Wow okay… guess he’s up there…” Kyle paused. “Wait that’s not right…” he rolled up his shirt, now much tighter than it was this morning, and placed his hands on the top and bottom of his belly, Tyler’s hands taking up the front. They made eye contact as they both came to the realization that this felt familiar… on Tyler.

“Am I… carrying TRIPLETS?!?!” Kyle yelled in surprise. “I...I think so?” replied Tyler. “And I think I’ve got six… I think… the food…” he stared at the empty brown paper bag in the table. “Nononono… wait that’s not right…” Kyle explored his own expanded belly. His midriff was now undoubtedly larger than before and he felt three distinct bodies inside… “How does that work?” asked Tyler, drumming the top of his own sextuplet belly in thought. Kyle shook his head in bewilderment. “It’ll be okay… we’ll get Sarah, Bree, and Brook on the phone. They do this stuff for a living, they’ll be able to help us!” said Kyle, half to himself in an effort to stay calm. “Yeah! If anyone will understand spontaneous babies, it’ll be them!” said Tyler with a cautiously optimistic smile. “Problem solved!”

Kyle tried to stand up, but found himself stuck to his seat due to the new weight. He tried again, making little progress. “Uh… problem not quite solved,” he looked sheepishly at Tyler. “Will you… help me up?” he asked. Tyler jokingly leaned back, causing his truly massive tummy to stick out just that little bit father. “I dunno bro… I’m like… SUPER pregnant right now,” he grinned, his sextuplets visibly moving in his overburdened belly. Kyle crossed his arms and pouted. “Well I’M super pregnant and super SHORT so I need help,” he replied. Tyler laughed, “Well, you got me there dude, gimme a sec,”

Tyler scooted forward and spread his knees apart to make room for his pendulous belly, then he leaned forward, taking the weight off of his butt and onto his feet, before slowly straightening his legs. He pressed his hands into his lower back to help guide his torso into a vertical position, his mammoth belly sticking out far in front of him. The sudden change of position did not sit well with his cargo, and they roiled around in his overstretched gut. “Oof, guys, come on…” he pleaded with his babies, but they didn’t relent. He took his steps slowly, movement difficult at that size, and approached Kyle. “Alright dude, gimme your hands,” Tyler reached out, his belly reaching almost as far as his arms.

Kyle took his hands and, with a heave and some backwards motion from Tyler, got up to a standing position. “Whooo, okay,” said Kyle breathlessly. “God… how do you do this all the time?” he asked, cradling his triplet heavy belly. Tyler smiled, holding his own tummy in his hands, “Lots of food, lots of sleep, and lots of belly rubs,” Kyle smirked at the wholesomeness that was Tyler, and waddled over to his phone. “Alright… lets hope the girls aren’t busy…”

About an hour later, there was a firm knock at the door, no doubt from Brook. “Door’s unlocked!” called Kyle, resting on the couch, laying lengthwise to take up all three cushions. Tyler sat in the recliner, the footrest put up to support his legs, and his huge belly, which rested between them. The door swung open to reveal Sarah and Brook, Sarah herself sporting a solidly second trimester belly. “Sorry we were so slow, had to meet with a client,” apologized Sarah, patting her tummy for emphasis. “So what’s this about a ‘baby emergency’? If you’re in labor just to go the hospital!” said Brook, reading something on her phone. The two stepped inside, closing the door behind them, and Sarah was the first to see the thoroughly expanded boys.

“Uh, Brook, I think they have the opposite problem,” said Sarah. Brook glanced up from her phone to take in the sight of Tyler carrying six babies. “Oh my god did you go to a buffet?” she asked. Tyler shook his head, “Nope, just McPreggo!” he grinned, showing the cute gap between his teeth. “McWhat-now?” Sarah asked. “Some new restaurant Ty found, we think the food spontaneously fills your womb!” explained Kyle. “In fairness, the food IS amazing and almost worth it,” Tyler interjected. Sarah grimaced a little. She knew Tyler was a foodie, but was it really worth all THIS?

“Where’s Bree?” asked Kyle. “She’s, uh, getting us lunch. We were going to cook, but when we got the call from you we rushed over,” Sarah explained. Kyle nodded, “thanks for that, by the way,” he smiled. Sarah grinned sympathetically back, “so, uh, how many do you guys have now?” she asked. “Kyle’s got three now, and I’ve got six!” Tyler drummed the top shelf of his belly, stirring the occupants inside. “Yikes,” said Brook monotonously to no one in particular, back to looking at her phone.

Sarah looked at the table, covered in McPreggo wrappers and pursed her lips in thought. Maybe the packaging had a clue? She walked over to the dining area and looked over the fry cartons and burger wrappers. She wished Brook would help, but she seemed too busy on her phone. Sarah examined the label on the wrapper and saw tiny font that read “Quantum Noms LLC” in the corner. As she puzzled over what it could mean, Brook put her phone in her pocket and sighed. “Sarah, I love you, but you’re doing it the hard way. I already figured it out,”

Everyone looked at Brook in surprise. “You did?” asked Kyle. “Yeah, dude, I googled ‘McPreggo’ and read like… half a news article. Did you guys forget you could look things up on the internet?” she asked sarcastically. “Yeah, kinda,” shrugged Tyler from his seat. Brook rolled her eyes. “It’s a marketing thing. McPreggo food is designed to taste amazing to pregnant people, so they make food that uses some quantum physics BS to get their customers pregnant with, like, I dunno… copies of babies from the multiverse or some shit. Then they come back, eat more food, get more pregnant, and McPreggo rolls in the profits. It’s all harmless and temporary, you’ll be fine…” Brook trailed off. “...In 24 hours,” Tyler sighed happily and leaned back, causing his torpedo belly to agle up slightly.

“Oh good, so Eeny, Meeny, Miney, and Pogchamp are all safe, and we don't have to birth and care for extra babies,” said Tyler. “Problem solved… and now I can eat there again guilt free!” he grinned. “No!” everyone shouted. Tyler pouted, “but… it was so yummy…” Kyle sighed. “Okay… ONE burger every 24 hours… and you don’t get to complain about being too pregnant to do things!” he offered. Tyler laughed, causing his belly to bounce a tad. “Yeah, I’m already there BEFORE the food! Ha!” his mouth curled into a shit eating grin. Then, there was a shuffling at the door.

“Guys…? I need some help!” called Bree. Brook rolled her eyes and went over to the door, Sarah joining the boys in the living area. Brook opened the door and her jaw dropped. Bree stood there, her arms full of fast food bags, and her belly jutting out farther than Tyler’s, bare and sporting a popped belly button. “Thanks! I couldn’t reach the door past my tummy!” Bree slowly waddled past Brook and into the kitchen, garnering stares from everyone else. “I found this new restaurant! It’s really really good! I wasn’t sure what you guys wanted so I bought one of everything, though I might’ve eaten a bunch of it on the way here!” she said, a smile in her voice. “It’s soooo good though, I couldn’t help myself! I went after picking up Mrs. Buck’s twins, and I ate so much, now the twins have a bunch of friends! Isn’t it great!? It’s like a party in my belly!”

Tyler smiled a huge, toothy grin, “one of everything you say?” Sarah shook her head, but caught a whiff of the food and immediately understood why Tyler wanted more. Kyle eyed the pile of food on the table and felt his mouth water. He looked down at his triplet heavy belly… surely one more wouldn’t hurt? Brook, the only non-pregnant person there, grasped the bridge of her nose as she felt a headache building. This was about to get messy.

Bree sat down in the wooden chair next to the table full of food, causing it to creak under her septuplet pregnancy weight. Her tummy stuck out past her knees, and forced her legs apart from its sheer size. She grabbed a double bacon burger and offered it out to Brook. “Come on Brook! I know you’re hungry!” she smiled, genuinely not seeing the problem with her offer. Brook shook her head. “No way. I’m going to have to take on enough brats from all of you, I don’t need to start brewing my own!” she said. Bree shrugged. “More for meeee!” as she was about unwrap the sandwich, Brook stepped forward and snatched it out of her hands. “Are you kidding me? Look at you?! You’ll pop if you eat this!”

Sarah eyed the table of amazing smelling fast food and considered her options… she considered how much Bree must have spent on all of this… considered how awful it would be for this delectable feast to go to waste. “Um… Brook, it’d be a shame if we threw all of this away…” she said meekly. Brook gave an electric glare and threw her hands up in exasperation. “FINE! You all stuff yourselves and get huge with a bunch of quantum babies! I’m not taking any off of your hands when you’re all to big to move!” “Too late,” Tyler chipped in. “Aw, c’mon Tyler! I’m bigger than you! Surely you can still walk?” Bree bubbled. “Well yeah, but I don’t want to…” Tyler eyed the burger in Brook’s hand. “Hey Brook, you eatin’ that or what?”

Brook rolled her eyes and tossed him the burger, eliciting a tongue click and a finger gun from Tyler. Kyle shifted on the couch and slowly stood up, his relatively small frame struggling with just three. He pushed his hands into his lower back, and his shirt rode up all the way, leaving every square inch of pregnant belly on display. He waddled over to the table to see what was left. Sarah quickly joined him, her singleton belly feeling somewhat empty. Brook sat on the now empty couch and gave everyone a scornful look in turn. She knew she was going to have to clean this up.

Kyle tentatively grabbed a mild chicken sandwich while Sarah scooped up the 4 sliders and a side of onions rings. Bree grabbed the spicy chicken sandwich and the last remaining food item, the double jalapeno burger. Kyle and Sarah each sitting on the floor in front of the couch, not wanting to get TOO close to the grumpy Brook, Tyler on his recliner and Bree in her kitchen chair, the crew got to work decimating the McPreggo.

Tyler unwrapped the double bacon burger and started in on it, taking large, heaping bites that required him to chew for a somewhat extended period of time. The lettuce, tomato, bacon, cheese, and patty all tasted so good together, the flavors melded perfectly into the exact thing he was craving in that moment. As far as Tyler was concerned, McPreggo had earned his business. It was hard to argue with food that tasted this good. One hand held the sandwich, and the other rested on the shelf of his belly. As he devoured the sandwich, he felt the skin of his tummy shift under his fingers. Was that kicking? No, he was very familiar with that feeling. This... was growth.

Kyle sat cross legged on the floor, his triplet heavy belly resting on his folded ankles, and began eating the chicken sandwich. The cheese was an unexpected but welcomed touch, and the sauce, whatever it was, went perfect with the breading on the chicken. He polished off the sandwich in record pace, and placed his hands on the sides of his pregnant tummy, feeling it swell up between them. He was about to be pregnant with quadruplets, and wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Next to him, Sarah was in a frenzy. The usually demure and subtle woman was downing sliders in two bites, and eating multiple onion rings in one chomp. This was amazing tasting food, and was totally worth whatever pregnant discomfort awaited her. At least, that’s what she thought before she felt her pants tighten up, and the button pop open on is own. She looked down at herself to see her 24 week singleton belly slowly expand outward in all directions, filling her lap with addition after addition to her womb.

Bree had somehow already completely consumed the spicy chicken sandwich, and was most of the way through the jalapeno burger. She was a strong girl, and big muscles needed a lot of fuel. Big bellies, as it turned out, also needed a lot of fuel, as two more quantum babies filled her womb. With nine babies now roiling around in her belly, even Bree was having a hard time feeling comfortable, and slowly rose to her feet to pace, hoping to stretch her legs. Each footfall was heavy as her gargantuan nonuplet belly swayed in front of her.

Bree waddled over to Tyler, who was back to groaning and rubbing big circles around his tummy. “Whyyyy did I do this? This bellyache and pressure isn’t worth the taste of delicious fooood…” he groaned. His 7 babies rumbled in his belly, resting on the recliner’s footrest. Bree tentatively placed a hand on her friend’s tanker of a tummy, and nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re really pregnant all right,” she said. “T-thanks Bree. I wasn’t sure there for a sec,” groaned Tyler, all in good humor, of course.

Kyle struggled to unfold his legs under the weight of his tum. He swore he’d never complain about carrying his singleton son after this experience. He ran his hands around the equators of his belly, and leaned back against the couch, considering just staying there and sleeping this off.

Next to him was Sarah, who was in the process of seeing if she could still reach her bellybutton past her quadruplet belly. She could, barely. What she couldn’t do was fit in this shirt and pants anymore. She needed to get home and changed soon, having a big pregnant belly like this just hanging out felt so unprofessional. She moved to get up, but found she was too heavy to get off the floor with any real speed. Was it worth it for those sliders? It was, she decided, but only barely. “We should… urp… get home and… and digest,” said Sarah. “You buys gonna be okay?” she asked. “Mhmmm…” moaned Kyle sleepily. Tyler leaned back into the cushions of the recliner and grinned. “This… yeah, I can vibe with this…”

Bree took her hand off of Tyler’s belly, and waddled over to Sarah, one burning question on her mind. She looked expectantly at her friend as she struggled to get her feet under her. Sensing what was about to be asked, Brooks eyes lit up with exasperation. “On the way home… could we stop… for a snack?”

#not bellies #wholesome kink content #writing #pregnancy #pregnant

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ravenadottir · 4 years ago

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Hear me out: headcannons about Bobby growing old with mc🥺 (I needed some fluff T-T)

no no no no no, you can’t just come in here and do this to me!! that’s so wholesome! i think i’m gonna have to divide this in decade marks, and maybe stop at the 30 year mark? i can do a part II later. 🤔

‘10 year mark’

the ‘mckenzie’ brand has expanded to restaurants, bars and bakeries all over the uk

the bars are considered a hot spots in the big cities. pictures of young ‘paisley cuddle’ are scattered on the walls, along with the pics from the villa’s parties, to set the theme

the restaurants have bobby and his experiences with famous chefs, like jake ‘sweetcheeks’ wilson, mary berry, gordon ramsey, wolfgang puck.

the bakeries however have the pictures from the time bobby went on the bake off show and won.

there’s small town models of the bakeries/restaurants that are seen as ‘family diners’

you and bobby already have two kids, 4 years apart from each other. in my head bobby is the type to have them earlier so they can live their best life together, have fun in the kitchen or in the backyard playing ball.

he loves throwing birthday parties every year, and of course, baking the cake. to which year is a different theme. “babe, you take care of the decorations and the details i’m definitely gonna forget, and me?” he puffs his chest holding a whisk. “i’m the cake guy.”

bobby is the reason why the kids love the parties so much. he’s the type of parent that goes on the slider with the kids, jumps with them in the bounce house, starts the water balloon wars…

the parents are so thankful for him since he’s pretty much the one who keeps an eye on them at all times.

usually, he’s waking up early every day because it became a habit since his hospital times. he never really shook that habit. so he prepared breakfast, takes the dog out, while you wake the kids up to eat and rush them to school

the dad that takes two different cameras and a phone to film and take pictures during his kids’ public presentations, games, recitals and science fairs “dad, one phone is enough” “yeah, but your dad needs backup! i’m from the 90′s darling. i can’t be any different” he says, shrugging with a grin.

you guys have a small house on the outskirts of glasgow or london, depending on who won the bet you had when you got married.

you’re pregnant again. entirely unplanned and now bobby can’t stop crying,. he always wanted three kids.

‘15 year mark’

a third child came three years ago, which made you consider a much more peaceful place to buy a house. and a bigger one for that matter.

bigger bakyeard means more people and their kids playing around the lawn, as bobby and gary grill sausages, making stupid jokes about it, and you and the girls have drinks shaking your heads.

you and bobby are gary’s kids’ godparents

ibrahim can’t come, he’s to busy making mad money on brand deals. noah is calming the kids down, by reading something in the living room, while bobby shakes a cocktail for the tired parents.

gary gives you a new couple of puppies, because the dog you had has unfortunately passed away. (sorry!)

your first kid is just turning 13 and being a little pain in the ass. but they like their uncles and aunties so they will actually raise their heads from *inser new device that will replace phones*

you guys travel in your car, to spend a week in cabins, fishing, playing ball, having picnics close to the lake

bobby always throws at least one of the kids in the water, before jumping in and splashing everyone. “bet you can’t do better than that, babe…” he says to you, raising his brows suggestively. “watch me, mckenzie.”

summer time and the lake became a tradition since it was the first place you and him spent a holiday alone

the employees that attend to you in hotels refer to you as “the mckenzie’s”

in the city, you have a trustworthy babysitter that will spend the night so you and bobby can have some time alone

he surprises you with dates and flowers out of nowhere

early nights are made for you and bobby to help the kids with homework

at this point, bobby is invited to be a special guest in cooking/baking competitions in the uk

and to have a “masterclass” of hiw own, where he mostly credits you for the idea of expanding, the execution of the administrative plans and how to actually expand a business. “i only do the cooking. she’s the genius behind the money.” he laughs while crossing his legs during his online course.

‘20 year mark’

kids’ sad times. graduations are happening. the youngest is entering third grade, the other one is in uni, far from home. “did you have to choose something so far from your old man?” “dad… of course! how else would i have a ‘paisley cuddle’ phase?” they respond, laughing. “i should’ve never told you thats story! now you’re having ideas!” “relax dad. everything is gonna be fine!” the middle one is entering high school and their rebellious phase.

bobby follows through with his part of the deal when you got married, by wearing something ridiculous to embarrass your kid at their graduation. “dad, you look like a hawaiian drug dealer.” “ i know,” “oh, so it wasn’t dark when you got dressed? mom!” “what can i say, your dad doesn’t care for blacks and blues.” “yeah, right…”

professionaly, bobby has a renowned signature dish, plenty of new ideas for the future, like school and courses.

the house is the same you bought five years ago, but now, it’s mostly parents getting together for barbecues, cocktails, movies and game nights

the younger children stay in the tv room upstairs

‘25 year mark’

your second child didn’t go to uni, and decided to help out on the family business. they always felt like this was the life for them and couldn’t wait to finish school to start.

bobby wanted them to go to school to learn everything they could “but dad, you didn’t, and you know so much.” “oof, they got you there, babe.”

you have a second wedding ceremony and a second honeymoon

bobby has a few grey hairs popping through his dreads

he’s still wearing colorful shirts and girls on social media call him ‘daddy’

he’s been invited to cook for the queen (yes, she’s still alive)

you see your friends a few times more a year now.

your third child is going to uni, to follow a career path you never imagined they would, but you’re proud of them

you decided to sell the house, that’s so big now, and find a smaller one that still has an extra bedroom for when your oldest comes to stay with their partner

bobby cracks dad jokes now, and according to gary, he picked them up from him “sure, gary, ‘cause you’re the only man on the planet who tells dad jokes” “stop bickering! you’re like an old married couple.” you say, slapping their arms playfully

‘30 year mark’

your first child just had their first child

“you’re a grandpa, bobs!” gary slaps him on the back, picking up a box of cigars that they will share with noah and ibrahim.

“can’t believe i’m this old.” “if you’re old, what am i?” you ask him, folding your arms on your chest. “beautiful?” he responds with a clear guilty expression.

‘things that would happen at all times during this entire journey’

bobby would sing to the kids every night

you would read them bedtime stories, taking turns to do the voices

it’s a tradition to cook together on special occasions, no matter what happens. the three kids, you and bobby would always spend the day listening to music, talking about life, slicing, sauteeing, mixing, measuring. it’s a tradition that will never die

when your grandkids come around, they will be the the ones resposible for measuring

drawings that your kids do in school akways have extra colors on bobby’s outfits. his name also has more than three colored letters

bobby has taught your kids how to play the guitar

rainy afternoons were known as “dad’s baking afternoons”

you and bobby had a hard time to find a compromise between being friends and parents.

open conversations with your kids, about everything. they knew what to expect in the world.

bobby’s parents would visit, to spend a whole weekend and share stories of his childhood, as yours would too

family vacation always had a ‘car trip and singing along to the radio’ type of tradition as well

your oldest now takes their child for family vacation in the same spot you and bobby used to

twice a year you guys rent a place for the family to have some bonding, even after they get married (or not)

“your dad is the finest pillow fort architect in the uk”

camping in the backyard when you had to cancel a trip

you’re in charge of coaching and playing sports in the back of the house while bobby relaxes under the sunlight “i was never very athletic”. he’s the empire

*these are the ones on the top of my head. i must’ve left dozens behind :/

#litg #love island the game #love island the game season 2 #litg s2 #litg season 2 #fusebox #fusebox games #bobby mckenzie #queue #submission #litg bobby

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hauntedbythefanficsofmypast · 5 years ago

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Daminette Rough Layout AU #1

Warning- This is a Salt AU, it contains Lila salt, Adrien Salt, Alya Salt and Class Salt. Some of the Salt is dramatized, pkease read at your own digression.

Note- Changing things up a bit-they are in high school now-Damian 16 and Marinette 15 and juniors, obviously things are different from canon. Gabriel gave up both miraculous after Adrien dies in one of the akuma fights, he has Nooroo and Duusu bring them to the guardian. Marinette helps heal Duusu so that if he is ever used again the holder will not start to die. Soon after Master Fu takes back Adrien's miraculous and names Marinette the guardian.

He doesnt lose his memories but he does pass away a week later. Marinette also deletes her original website and makes and entire new one under MDC designs after Lila threatens to leave bad reviews.(This happens before she meets Damian, right when they are entering high school.)

They met online after Damian got tired of his brothers making fun of him for talking like an old man. He found Marinette on Twitter, (She has a very popular Twitter blog where she Tweets in English and is considered a meme god.) and after reading her tweets decided that she'd be a good teacher.

After reaching out they agreed on how much she'll be paid and a time that works best for both of them. Every Monday & Wednesday the video chat when Damian has his lunch and study period. For Damian it is 12 to 1 pm, and for Marinette it is 7 to 8 pm. After two months Marinette has successfully made Damian her friend, and he has began opening up to her more. Meanwhile Damian begins to mess with his brothers using memes.

Tim to Jason- I will die if I don't get coffee soon.

Damian passing by the kitchen on his phone- Then perish.

Jason-...Did he just?

Tim- Impossible.

_____________

Dick over the coms while on patrol-I really want candy right now.

Damian drops down next to him and pulls a tidepod of of his belt giving it to Dick before continuing on.

Dick-What the fuck...

Tim having seen from a distance-What did Damian give you candy?

Dick- He gave me a tidepod.

Jason-Your shitting me Goldie.

______________

Jason-What are you eating Damian?

Damian taking a bite of a pop tart- Ravioli...

Jason-Im going fucking crazy.

Alfred-Language Master Jason.

They now text each other durning their free time, Marinette loves receiving pictures of Damian's pets and silly pictures of Damian's friend Jon. Damian loves seeing pictures of her newest designs and Paris at night.

Jon is the only person who knows about Marinette and thats because he crashed one of Damian's classes. He gushes over the fact that Damian is talking to his favorite person on Twitter, then full on fanboys a second later when she follows him back on Twitter. Soon after she becomes friends with Jon too, Lila comes back. After two weeks of fighting her she stops after both Damian and Jon point out that if her classmates were really her friends they wouldnt believe someone they just met over her. Marinette stops doing extra things for the class no more free pastries, banners, clothes or anything. She spends majority of her time on school work, her comissions and talking with Damian and Jon.

Madame Bustier at one point asks her to stay after class. She tells her she is disappointed that Marinette is distancing herself form the class so much. Marinette just tells her that she is done, that if she wants a perfect role model then she should use Lila instead and leaves. The next day she tells Madame Bustier she is stepping down as class president, everyone in the class except for Chloe and Marinette vote for Lila. Marinette has had more free time then she has had in a while and is thriving. She is able to take more and more commissions and even allows Jagged and Clara to give other celebrities access to her website. With a push from Jon she also sets up a Twitter and Instagram account under MDC Designs. With in no time everyone is trying to get an MDC original.

At one point she gets a call from Jon asking her how much it would cost for a MDC original for his mom. Marinette smiles softly telling him to just get his moms measurements for her. When he argues she finally agrees to accept payment but gives him a family discount. Jon agrees with a huff, a month later Jon sends her a video of his mom opening his gift.

Lois-Oh Jon love you know you didnt have to get me anything.

Jon-And let Connor out do me this year? No way.

Connor laughing-Oh shut it Jon!

Jon-cone on open it already mom!

Lois lauging before unwrapping the box- Is this? Jon is this a MDC box?

Connor looking at him with wide eyes.

Jon-open it and see!

Clark-So thats why you asked me for her measurements.

Lois pulls a beautiful knee length navy blue pencil dress. It had a classy V neck and flounce bell sleeves Jon is this and MDC original?

Jon-weeell if you look at the inside of the right sleeve your see her signature marking. Thats not all though mom theres another box!

Lois grabs the other box and unwraps it opening it quickly to find a pair of white lace up Oxford pumps with matching navy laces, MDC hand stitched on the back in navy.

Lois-How did you-how did you get MDC originals?

Jon laughing-I'll never tell!

Marinette saves the video on her phone and tells him he wants a photo of her in it for her website. A week later he send her pictures of his mom in the outfit posing with his dad and the next day he send pictures of her posing with Bruce Wayne on the red carpet. She quickly posts them on Instagram and Twitter tagging Lois, Clark, Bruce and Daily Planet.

'I knew Mrs. Lane would make this one of a kind outfit look beautiful! I was happy to make the dress and shoes as a surprise from her son! Mrs. Lane your son has my number, if you ever want another original talk to him! 💋'

Lois immediately responds to her tweet thank her for the amazing gift, while also asking how her son got in contact with MDC.

Marinette- ' 🤫🤫😘😘💋'

Jon-'You'll never know!!'

Lois, with her bosses approval, writes an article joking about the mystery that is MDC at also an interview where she grills her son on how he knows MDC.

Its a blows up and part of Jon's interview becomes a meme. This part;

Jon-Superman, please come save me from my mom!

Marinette being the meme godess she is decides to quote it on Twitter, but she messes up and posts it on MDC desgins.

MDC-Superman, please come save me from these deadlines!

Half an hour later

MDC-That was meant for my personal Twitter...

Now everyone is also talking about MDC memeing.

After talking with the Kwami Marinette decides to tell Damian and Jon about her time as Ladybug, and how she still goes out and patrols to stop muggers. In return one day Damian and Jon flies him and Damian to paris and they finally meet in person and they tell her their own identities. They leave Gotham at 7 am in Gotham and make it to Paris at 3 pm and wait for her outside of her parents bakery. Marinette flips out and practically tackles the both if them in a hug. She pulls them inside happily introducing her parents to her American friends. After they tell her they decide to spend the rest of the day together. Marinette also takes their measurements telling them its for a surprise. Damian tells her that his brothers are obsessed with MDC and how the wouldnt stop hounding Jon when they found out he had gotten in contact with her.

They go out and Marinette shows them Paris while Jon is slowly pushing them together. He is ecstatic when Marinette wraps one of her fingers around Damien's finger and he respond by grabbing and holding her hand. They are all immensly happy until they are passing by a park and notices her class having a party. At first she doesnt care and just shrugs it off, until the class notices them. Alya accuses Marinette of trying to start drama, she rolls her eyes telling Alya she didnt even know about the party and was just showing her friends around. Damian frowns glaring at the class when he feels Marinette hand start to shake and releases her hand wrapping an arm around her waist in support. Jon is also frowning but simply reminds Marinette that they were going out to eat. Marinette nods and begins telling them about the restaurant they were going to while leaning into Damian's side.

They turn leaving the class behind only for Adrien to hurry after them. Adrien tries to convince Marinette to return and spend time with the class saying he missed his friend. Marinette tells him that they arent friends anymore, that friends dont allow lies to be spread about their friends. She takes the boys and they finally make it to the restaurant.

Damian pays refusing to let Marinette or Jon touch the check. They spend the rest of their time at Marinette's house watching movies until they leave at 9pm wishing Marinette goodnight and making it back to Gotham at 3 pm. When they get back to the manor Bruce confronts Damian asking why he got notified that Damian's card had been used in Paris. Thats how Bruce finds out about Marinette.

Bruce- shes been teaching you memes?

Damian-yes.

Bruce-...well at least your making friends.

Damian-dont tell the others, they'll want to meet her and Id rather not be embarrassed

Bruce-I wont say anything until they catch you then.

Around the end of Marinette's junior year Lila accuses Marinette of theft and she is once again expelled. Only this time Marinette gets the school board involved and she is quickly cleared of charges. once again. However she decides not to return to the school tired of their treatment. Instead with the help of Jagged and her parents permission she enrolls at Gotham Academy and doesnt tell Damian to surprise him. Jon does know that way he could help her.

Within the week Marinette is in Gotham in her new penthouse apartment with her new gaurdian, a maid/nanny that Penny had recommended. Her name is Margaery she is in her 60s. The next day Marinette is dropped of at school by Margaery, Jon is already there early and helps her get his schedule and everything. Then they wait for Damian to arrive hiding until the see him open his locker Jon distracts him while Marinette hides behind the locker door. The school is very surprised whe. Damian smiles brightly at seeing her. Within the day she is known around the school as both Sunshine and Gotham's new Goddess.

Soon enough Damian Marinette and Jon are never seen withiut tge other except in classes. Many teachers see Marinette as a blessing classes have been calmer shes always willing to volunteer and shes even started tutoring some of the students. Even though she entered late in the year she starts to help the student council and things were more organized and running smoother. What everyone is really happy about is how she seems to bring out the teen in Damian and encourage him to act his age. The only reason they havent posted about her and Damian's relationship is because Damian made it clear he didnt want his family to know.

He starts calling her Angel and Red Bird. Marinette starts calling him Dove and Birdie. They slowly start going on dates while also making sure to hang out with Jon so he didnt feel left behind. Its the beginning of summer when Marinette gets invited to a Wayne gala by Bruce himself with a little note.

'Miss Dupain-Cheng, I would like to meet the girl that has stolen my youngest's attention. Please do not inform him I invited you, I think it will be quite the surprise for him. -Bruce Wayne

She tells Damian to wear a seafoam green tie because it will bring out his eyes, in a sly way so that they will be matching. She then makes a seafoam green Asymmetrical A-line off the shoulders dress adding layers of tulle that forms teirs and finishes with horsehair hemlines. The MDC signature is stictched on to the second layer of tulle.

The night of the Gala she is dropped off by Margaery and Jon leaves his parents to meet her. She tells him that Damian didnt know either and Bruce wanted to surprise him. Jon starts laughing causing Marinette to dissolve into giggles. This catches Jon's parents eyes and they walk over. Jon wuickly introduces her as one of his best friends. Lois and Marinette quickly hit it off and enter the gala together with Jon and Clark following behind them. After 5 minutes Damian spots them, and discreetly hurries over to them.

Damian-Angel!

Lois and Clark are surprised at the nickname and that Damian is smiling even more surprised when he hugs her and holds her hand gently. They stare into each others eyes for a moment until Lois coughs catching boths attention. Damian greets them as he lets go of Marinette's hand wrapping an arm around her waist as she does the same. They stand talking with each other until Lois spots someone she wants to interview and hurries off with Clark. The three of them share a look before all saying food at once. Jon walks ahead of them as Marinette and Damian follow talking to themselves.

M-'Your father wanted to meet me so Im afraid I will no longer be a secret.'

D-'Of course he did, I was hoping to keep those embarrassments known as my brothers away.'

This causes Marinette to laugh leaning her head on his shoulder.

M-'I am sure they arent that bad.'

They spend a good half hour talking with Jon and eating before Bruce finds them and introduces himself to Marinette. Five minutes later she notices Damian's brothers starring at them in shock. She starts giggling and points it out to Damian who groans. Soon after the boys rush over to interrogate their brother dragging him away from Marinette Jon and Bruce.

While Damian is dealing with them Jagged and Penny both find Marinette. Eventually the boys force Damian to introduce them to Marinette. She hits it off with all of them promising to visit the mansion. Jon convinces Damian to ask Marinette to be his girlfriend. He asks her to dance with him and asks while they are dancing. That night Marinette Damian and Jon leave together for an impromptu sleepover at Marinette's. Margaery picks them up greeting both parents and assuring them that there kids will be safe, and they will be camping out in the living room.

Marinette surprises the boys with handmade pjs once they get to her house and Margaery surprises them with cookies. The next day she goes to the mansion with Damian and gets to know his brothers more piecing together who is who of the Batfamily. At one point Jason insinuates that Marinette couldnt fight so she challenges his to a spar. Jason being cocky holds back and gets his butt kicked, he asks for a rematch and doesnt hold back this time, still gets his butt kicked.

While Damian and Marinette are saying goodbye she jokes about how long its going to take his siblings to realize shes a hero not a civilian. Damian finds it hilarious. When Marinette gets home she tells Margaery that she was going up to the roof to look at the stars for inspiration. Margaery allows her making her take a blanket, hor chocolate and some cookies with her. That night Nightwing lands on her roof and 'startles' causing her to throw her cup at him hitting him in the gut

Robin chuckling-That bitch empty,

Mari and Robin together-Yeet!

Marinette laughs offering him a cookie as Nightwing gets up

Nightwing-Nice throw.

Marinette laughs harder her eyes twinkling.

Mari-Sorry you startled me I must have lost track of time I should head back home now. Have a safe patrol Birdies!

She says before passing other of them leaving the plate of cookies behind for them. Over the summer Marinette and Damian visit her parents for two weeks before returning to Gotham. The rest of the summer is filled with dates between her and Damian the Gotham Gazette is having a field day with them.

They're referred to as the Goddess and the Prince and every date is talked about the next day. When summer is over Marinette Damian and Jon are back for their senior year. Marinette decides to run for student body president and Jon runs as her vice president, they both tease Damian about being the trophy boyfriend and he responds that he is fine with it as long as hes the trophy boyfriend to Marinette. Marinette and Jon win with an almost unanimous vote. It is half way through their senior year when Damian's brothers realize she knows. Bruce and Babs already know. Jason teasingly jokes about Damian outing them to a civilian and Marinette jist goes

Marinette-Jayby(This is her nickname for him), I have beaten you in spars 9 out of 10 times and you still think Im a civilian.

Tim-What?

Marinette sighs before calling Tiki out and transforming. (She has a different outfit. Period. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, held by a red ribbon. It has a completely black mask, her top was sleeveless and was a deep red. She had gloves that stopped at her elbows the same deep red but with black poka-dots. Her pants were completely black with a red belt holding her yoyo. Her outfit was finished with red combat boots with black soles.) Everyone is silent as they taken in her outfit.

Damian-God your so beautiful.

Marinette-Aw Dove

Que a sweet kiss where Jason gags jokingly before Tim flips out about her being Ladybug. Marinette jokingly says that he didnt react that way to her being MDC.

Tim-what?

Dick-This time your oulling my leg.

Marinette-You didnt know? I was always giving you guys family discounts.

Tim-Your MDC...my favorite fashion designer is my future sister-in-law. Thats why your commissions always seemed cheaper than others. Im chalant right now.

This causes Dick to burst out laughing.

Dick-Really becuase Im whelmed!

Bruce smiles slightly remembering when his eldest would use to his 'Unwords' all the time.

That night Marinette patrols with them and Gotham gains a new hero LadyBird. With a little shove from Damian and begging from Tim, Marinette begins to grow MDC even more by partnering with Wayne Enterprises. Marinette and Damian are the power couple of the school, they have majority of their classes together both being in AP and Honors classes. As the school president Marinette is notified that during the last quarter of second semester a French class is doing an exchange program at Gotham Academy.

Her and Jon have to escort them around the school the first week. Marinette argues a bit at first.

Mari-I understand that it is important but Jon and I are still heavily working on Prom, Senior's Last Peprally, Senior Awards, Senior vs Freshman Football, Prom King and Queen vote and The Senior trip.

Jon-Mari is right is there anyway we could pick someone else to show them around. There are a few other people in student council that speak French.

They both convince the Principal to allow the Secretary of the Student Council, Candy St.Cloud, to show them around. Marinette, Jon and Damian avoid them, none of Marinette's old class knows Marinette is there until votes for Prom King and Queen pops up and Marinette's name is on the ballet.

Lila bursts into tears claiming her Dami promised her she'd be on the ballet since he goes to that school. They all try to hunt her down and give her shit for booting Lila off. However majority of Gotham academy has noticed their attitude towards Gotham's Goddess and everyone makes sure Marinette is unreachable.

They pretty much only see glimpses of her until Senior's Last Peprally when she and Damian are announced Prom King and Queen. Their boos are covered up by the school's cheers. Marinette and Damian share a quick kiss which causes more cheers as the teachers roll their eyes calling out Pda. Then both her and Jon announce whats going to be happening at the peprally.

At the end of it all the seniors get together for one last class photo in the front is Jon Marinette and Damian. Damian and Marinette are wearing the sashes and crowns and Marinette is in the middle of them. Bustier's class is upset they cant be a part of the picture because they arent actually seniors at the school. The next night is Senior awards the class doesnt go but the trio does.

Marinette and Damian get best couple.

Damian gets the award for best grades.

Jon gets the award for most likely to secede in life.

That night all three are on the news and trending on Twitter when they go out to celebrate at Bat Burger, videos and pictures are posted off Marinette and Jon dying of laughter as Damian cuts his burger with a knife and fork. At the hotel Lila is crying claiming that Damian is cheating in her with Marinette. The class continuously message Marinette even when they get a response saying that the person is not Marinette amd that they've had the number for two months.

The next day at lunch they confront Marinette, they followed Jon to the room the Student council eat lunch in. Que them berating Marinette infront of everyone including the teachers. Marinette just rolls her eyes not wanting to give them the time of day.

Alya-I cant believe you tricked Lila's boyfriend into dating a bully like you!

This causes Jon to launch to her defense, he steps in front of Marinette glaring at the class.

Jon-Lila's boyfriend?? You mean Damian, so Lila was dating Damian first?

Lila-Yes! And Marinette purposely seduced him!

Jon-Really tell me when did you firat meet Damian?

Lila-oh he was so sweet! It was when we were 6 and we met at a gala here in Gotham! A older women was being incredibly mean to me and he stood up for me telling me that he'd have his dad kick her out. We were always meeting up over the summer and started dating at the beginning of senior year!

Jon-Oh so you know Arabic?

Lila-What?

Jon smirking-Well Damian didnt learn English until he was 8, his first language is English. Also you couldn't possibly have met Damian here when he was 6 because Damian didn't come to Gotham until he was 10. When his dad was informed that he had a son. On top of that Damian spends every summer with his family and closest friends. Actually he usually spends a few weeks on my family's farm, this summer he didnt because he went to Paris with Marinette. Also at the beginning of senior year? St. Cloud, when did Damian ask Marinette out.

St. Cloud- Beginning of the summer at Mr. Wayne's first charity gala of the summer, he asked her while they were dancing. It was really cute and Marinette looked amazing in her MDC dress!

Mari-Thank you St. Cloud, I could give you her number if you'd like a dress

Lila runs away embarrassed the class starring at Jon and Marinette in shock.

Alya-who-who do you think you are?!

Mari-Alya do you really not recognize your idols son?

Marinette is disappointed as she introduces them to Jon Kent, after that the teacher finally forces the French class out, while also telling them how kuch trouble they'll be in.

The class starts trying to get on Marinette's good side for the rest of the year but she ignores them. Prom comes and goes and when its finally time for graduation Damian is valedictorian. He gives a fairly inspirational speech and at the end he smirks finishing it with.

Dami-And lastly I would like to thank my eldest brother, without him Id never be able to give this sappy inspirational speech, he is really good at them.

When they throw their caps in the air Damian finds Marinette and dips her pulling her into a deep kiss.

That night while they are all celebrating at the Wayne Mansion Marinette finally lets go of Paris, she decides that her place is in Gotham with Damian.

Lets do a time skip!

Marinette is the top name in Fashion, Damian is Co-Ceo of Wayne enterprises with Tim. They are both married and living in Marinette's penthouse together with Margaery, I am to emotionally invested to kill off her or Alfred even if it is do to age. They visit the mansion almost every day, and family dinners are common.

Jon started going out with St. Cloud and are engaged, he has also taken up the mantle of Superman.

Damian has taken up the mantle of Batman with his Robin, Johnn'i Thomas Grayson-Wayne, Richard and Koriand'r's second child that did not inherit his mothers powers, and his partner Ladybird. That is until Marinette discovers she is pregnant. She surprises the family while they are getting their family portrait redone, with only Kori and the photographer knowing.

All the girls are in chairs with the boys behind them. Seating goes.

Babs, Kate, Selina, Marinette, Kori, Stephanie, and Cass. For a few of the pictures Marinette holds up a sign saying, "Another Wayne is on the way!" Then they hide the sign so they have a regular family portrait.

A few days later when the entire family is gathered to see the photos they are surprised when Bruce stars at them in shock. Alfred and Margaery merly smile offering congratulations, everyone is confused until Bruce turns the picture around.

Damian is looking at the pictures in shock until he jumps up and picks up Marinette spinning her around. Soon everyone is screaming and cheering offering congratulations. While Damian and Marinette hold each other close crying softly.

Mari-Your gonna be a Daddy Dove.

Damian-I love you so much Marinette. So much.

953 notes · View notes

caiuscassiuss · 5 years ago

Text

Birched⎮D. Sicheng (M) P.1

Description: There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous… something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious. (Or, your ill-tempered coworker turns out to be your dominant.)

Sicheng♡Female! Reader

Genre: BDSM/ enemies to lovers winwin! smut | romance | angst WC: 11k+ Warnings: graphic smut (dom! sicheng + sub! reader, BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Submission, and Masochism) paddling, fellatio, fingering), taboo relationship, blatant sexism, TW: mentions of an abusive relationship

(A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @won-markiepooh-woo for helping me. This story wouldn’t have been possible without you!!!!

Also, this story contains heavy and graphic BDSM with violent contact play and uncomfortable dialogue. You might not like Sicheng very much here. 18+ please.)

Red, red light highlighted the contours of the woman’s back, and threw the rest of the room into dark, dark shadows.

Slap.

A long, drawn-out, strained moan resounded,.

A sinful smile crawled up the tall, slender man’s face as he looked down at her.

January 5th, 2020

Raesung, Lee

Re: Important Office Notification —

To: y/nl/[email protected], [email protected], [email protected]… view 389 more

To all whom it may concern,

It is my greatest displeasure to be announcing my resignation and consequent retirement from Sinochen Enterprises. I had been the Head of the Sales Department in this great company for over 10 years and it has been a pleasurable experience to work with all of 500 you, in order to better our enterprise.

Words cannot express how grateful I am to all of you, from the interns to my managers, for working hard and honestly over all these years. We experienced a 468% sales increase over my tenure, and it couldn’t have been possible without any of you.

My resignation will be announced tomorrow at noon, but I thought it would be better to get a heads up from myself. In the meantime, until a new successor is appointed, my vice president, Xiao Daiyu, will step in and act in my place. A new email regarding possible successors will soon circulate shortly, and I advise all of you to keep an eye out for it.

Once again, I thank all of you deeply for these wonderful 10 years at Sinochen Enterprises, and I wish the utmost success for this company and all of you individually.

Regards,

Raesung Lee

Department Head of Salesforce at Sinochen Enterprises

Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

Office 1876, 18th floor

Phone: +852 XXXX XXXX ext. 1876

On one side of the island, a woman finished reading her work email. She remained calm, scrolled through her other emails, and shut down her laptop after seeing no such material.

She faced her high rise window, contemplating the Hong Kong skyline.

The email was written in the usual arrogant tone that her Korean boss took. Not a surprise, seeing as she worked with him nearly every day as the South Asia Region Sales Manager. She sighed, kicking up her feet on the coffee table.

A new successor? Y/N L/N hoped and prayed that it would be her.

On the other side of the island, a man finished reading his work email. He remained calm, scrolled through his other emails, and shut down his laptop after seeing no such material.

He faced his high rise window, contemplating the Hong Kong skyline.

Of course, the man was anticipating this as his East Asia Regional Sales Manager. The old coot was due for his retirement, so he could spend time with his many mistresses. He sighed and kicked up his feet on the coffee table.

A new successor? Dong Sicheng knew it like the sky was blue that it would be him.

January 6th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7 AM HKT

It was a rather chilly morning, as your assistant knocked softly on the oak door. You finished putting your light coat on the stand. As you hummed for her to come in, she slowly creaked open the door.

She smiled brightly at you. Genuine, to boot. “Morning, Miss L/N. Do you want any pastries, or breakfast goods, to go along with your usual macchiato?”

You considered BeiBei a good secretary—prompt, meticulous, and all what an assistant should be. Sociable, too. However, even with all her amiable requests for lunch or coffee, you couldn’t consider her as a good friend. After all, there was to be a balance of power to be maintained.

“Yes, that would be great.”

Like everything else in your life.

Work went on as usual in the office—you dealt with the clients, you dealt with HR, you dealt with this and that.

BeiBei knocked softly at the door. She peeked in through the door with her sunglasses perched atop her brunette locks and a scarf around her neck.

“Miss L/N? They asked all of the sales department to meet in Ballroom D for an announcement.”

It was noon already? Christ. “Alright, let me get my things and I’ll go along with you.”

You grabbed your cell phone and Dior sunglasses, then quickly headed out with BeiBei. You lagged behind her slightly as she socialized with her other coworkers, laughing uproariously at some inside joke between them.

You wondered what it was like to be able to make real bonds in the office.

Out of your periphery, a large group coming from the other side of the floor was bustling their way through. In the midst, you could see the blonde head of Dong Sicheng, looking down at his friends as if they were his royal subjects.

Psh, you could never see what was the fuss around this boy. To be fair, objectively, he was good-looking... in that pretty boy kind of way. All of his older, middle-aged coworkers looked like pigs next to his lean, pale figure. Yet, all of the sales department, and probably half of the office, thought he was the next best thing since the vibrator.

You thought he seemed too nice, too friendly to be true. Sicheng had the innocent flower boy looks, but you could see the dark edge he kept from everyone. You could see how his smiles never reached his eyes, how his words were always friendly but strained. Dong Sicheng was disingenuous as hell, and it bothered you, but why waste energy over such a matter?

You’d rather focus on other, more productive things.

Namely, the Sales Head promotion.

Your South Asia and his East Asia division converged in the middle of the lobby, forming an even more boisterous crowd. Everyone slowly piled into the elevators to go down.

You were reaching the chokehold of the crowd, but unfortunately you were a bit on the shorter side. It was hard to see where you were going in this crowd, and you wouldn’t dare raise yourself up on your tippy toes, like some fresh intern.

“Ladies first.”

You looked up to see Dong Sicheng smiling at you brightly—his arm extended to herd you into the crowded elevator. You couldn’t help but see a mocking tinge to the curl of his lips.

“Thank you,” you said.

After you had stepped into the elevator, he followed immediately afterwards. You had no choice but to be eye level with Sicheng’s chest. You two were so close that you could smell his cologne, and it briefly think of his cologne all around you—

No. Never. No. No. No. No. No. Nope.

Dong Sicheng would not tempt you.

January 6th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

9 AM HKT

The department filed out of the ballroom, murmuring amongst themselves about the new development.

“Oh my god, we all know Xiao Daiyu will never be promoted. Yeah, she may be vice president, but Daiyu can’t do shit.”

“Well, who do you think will be promoted?”

“Certainly not you, Lina.”

“Hey, I—”

A new voice enters. “I, for one, think Y/N should be promoted. She’s smart, driven, and you actually get things done when you work with her.”

A hum of agreement went over the little group. Some of them nodded along quietly.

“That’s not a bad idea. She’s cold as hell and kind of intimidating, but I wouldn’t mind working under her.”

You pretended not to hear their conversation, but you felt ecstatic to hear your name in regards to the promotion. It was hard to admit it to anyone other than yourself, but you thrived off of attention and vindication more than what was healthy. The satisfaction of being praised, of getting the answer correct or being complimented was as heady as being drugged.

“Y/N is great and all, but you know who’d I rather have as sales head? Dong Sicheng.”

Your jaw clenched unconciously when you heard that blond asshole’s name.

“Kinda agree. Sicheng’s friendly and it’s easy to talk to him. We also get a lot of work done with him too!”

You could not hear any more of the conversation as they had walked out of earshot, but you felt… sour. You swore to god—if that asshole gets the promotion, you will leave the damn company.

Well, whatever. The likes of Dong Sicheng would be wiped from your mind after the fun you would have tonight with Dolos.

January 6th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

12 PM HKT

“Hey Sicheng, what did you order?” Some coworker of his said to him.

Sicheng felt an inward flush of irritation. Couldn’t people leave him the fuck alone and let him eat his meal in peace? Without interrupting him about how XX from the implementation team did this and YY from IT did that?

“Oh, hey, um—” What the fuck was his name again? Joon? Jin? “Jae, I ordered a teriyaki salad. It’s pretty good, I’d recommend it.”

There. That answered any potential questions Jae may have and clearly signalled the end of the conversation so he could eat in peace.

“What about the grilled chicken salad? Have you tried it?”

Alas, not all well-thought out plans would be fruitful.

He continued conversation with his inane coworkers around him at the lunch bistro they always frequented. It was tiring, keeping up the facade of a friendly office boy. His impatience wilted slowly as the people tittered and tattered, laughing and gossiping, god—they were so stupid.

“I like your tie, Sicheng. It’s very nice.”

He turned back towards the conversation as soon as he heard his name.

The so-called department hottie was staring at him from her seat a couch away—her eyes slightly widened, in an attempt to be vexing.

“Thank you, Tzuyu. Might I add, you look very nice today,” he said, as he forced a smile on his lips.

The brunette blushed heavily and turned away in bashfulness. Ugh.

Don’t get him wrong.He rather liked blush on a woman. But, Tzuyu was the kind of woman that would not put up any type of fight, if he chose to seduce her. Sicheng liked the thrill of the fight, the thrill of gradually pressing his control into someone until they were submissive to only him.

God, but Y/N was someone he’d like seduce.

Sicheng thought back to the moment when he courteously gave his spot in line to her, yet she only thanked him off-handedly. Y/N was the only one in the whole damn complex that didn’t give a fuck about his amiable facade and treated him as callously as one would beneath them. He clenched his fist, thinking how uppity and standoffish you were to snub him. That was something that couldn’t ever be forgotten.

Luckily, he knew his darling Dove would be there tonight to take the edge off his anger.

Friday January 18th, 2020

A Busy Street

6 PM HKT

You huddled a light coat around yourself as you checked the address on your phone.

353 Cornerstone Ave.

You looked up at the British colonial-style building, slightly reminiscent of the Ritz-Carlton a few blocks away. The building was probably a remnant of colonization. Nevertheless, it was beautiful.

Your heels clicked against the marble floor, as you dipped into the establishment named Black’s Spa. Swiping off your sunglasses, you beamed at the beautiful lady behind the receptionist desk.

“How may we help you today? Are there any services you would like provided?” she asked.

The corners of your lips turn up. You’ve always liked this part of the game, where you have to gain access into a club. It felt like you were a femme fatale in one of those old Bond movies your father loved.

“Hey, afternoon. I’ve been hearing about this rope treatment. I’ve heard it does wonders for your muscles.”

The girl’s pink tinted-lips twisted into a grin.

“Right this way.”

The zen, stark white corridors of the spa that the dungeon pretended to be eventually led to an innocuous bookshelf. The lady felt around the shelf for the handle underneath the dark wood paneling. A hum of affirmation left her mouth as she closed her well-manicured hands around it.

With a click, the shelf gave way to a dimly lit room that looked like the parlor of a traditional British gentleman’s club. What little light there was was provided by candles and glittering chandeliers, which reflected off of the dark oak paneling of the room. Rich Persian rugs and velvet sofas dotted the room, and the hum and tinkles of conversation meandered around. However, little details quickly ruined the impression that this was a respectable establishment of any sort.

For one, many individuals here were scantily clad. Yes, some were in suits and proper evening wear, but that was contrasted heavily by the diffusion of revealing lingerie sets and sculpted chests. Second, there were casual warning signs posted about the room, asking patrons to practice safe, healthy, and consensual sex, alongside the expensive paintings.

Black’s was the best dungeon in East Asia, no doubt. It was such a bitch to gain access into the club. Yet, what made Black’s so popular was not its top amenities or the luxurious atmosphere—it was the utmost anonymity it provided.

The depravity that happened in these walls stripped even the most upright individual to their most primal, lustful states. People became lumps of flesh, starving for the next release. The eclectic mix of businessmen, trust-fund kids, and professionals hungered for the anonymity that they would be hard-pressed to find in a regular dungeon (as regular as one could get for being a BDSM dungeon, anyway).

The best way Black’s maintained privacy?

Masks.

You quickly donned your own dove gray mask, securing the silk ribbons in your hair to prevent it from falling off. Tonight, you were Dove. Tomorrow, you will be Y/N. It was easy to slip into the subspace once you donned your mask, but you couldn’t really immerse yourself into it—not until your master came to you.

A quick glance at your watch told you it was only 10 PM. Dolos had told you in his letter that he would find you at 10:10. He certainly was a curious individual—one with an obsession with symmetry and a penchant for old-fashioned tradition. For fuck’s sake, his letter was sealed by a green wax seal.

But Dolos was everything you never knew you wanted.

Deciding to amuse yourself with one of the exhibition rooms, you wandered into one that seemed crowded. A girl was strung up on stage, hands bound with chains connected to the ceiling. Her black hair hung around her face and she was as naked as the day she was born. Her voluptuous figure bared to the hungry crowd—a metal table full of paraphernalia was next to the cross.

A brutish man, clad in a wifebeater and tight jeans, walked up to the stage.

“My slave has been rather naughty,” he announced. “She had the nerve to touch herself without my permission.”

A murmur arose from the crowd, whispering and gasping and giggling heard amongst the shadows. For a slave to pleasure herself, without her master’s permission, was a serious ordeal around these parts.

The man drew a finger against the side of her breasts, causing her to shiver and a gleam of arousal to run down her leg. “Today, my dear little slave will see what happens when she doesn’t obey her master seriously.”

“Let’s start with something light. Flogging.”

A curl of delight ran through you. You loved flogging; each hit stimulated different parts of your body that ultimately brought you to the brink of an edge. A bit of heat rose in your bosom imaging Dolos, with his Cat O’ Nine Tails, flogging your ass until you were red.

A whimper was heard as he struck her stomach lightly with a cat o’ nine tails. He began alternating strikes against her breasts and inner thighs, as she whimpered and cried, begging for her master to touch her there.

“Oh dear, only good girls get touched in their sweet spot. What’s the magic word?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, sir! Please!”

“Better.”

A strangled scream echoed throughout the hall, as he struck her repeatedly in between the crux of her legs. After the girl was left shaking, he whipped off the juices she left on the leather strands then threw it behind him. You shifted uncomfortably, crossing your legs tightly to ignore the burst of arousal.

“Bend over!” the man on stage barked, grabbing a paddle from the table.

The slave bent over a table immediately, unwilling to risk the possibility of more punishment.

He inserted a knee between her legs and forced them wide open—her pretty cunt exposed.

You could only see a flash of his swing as his paddle connected with her backside, a thunderous smack resounding. Her gleaming arousal was almost to her knee now, and the poor dear was visibly shaking and could hardly stand.

A high-pitched whimper came out of you and you quickly bit your lips, hoping you weren’t heard. Your panties suddenly rubbed you in the wrong places and your knees knocked together, in an effort to stop the heat emanating from your core.

“I see my little girl has lost herself on her way to the Salon.”

A gasp left your mouth as you stared back into a burgundy mask, burnished with gold.

Dolos.

“M-master, but it’s only 10 PM—”

He chuckled—a dark, delicious sound—and stretched him over the chaise you had settled yourself in. Slim, tapered fingers played with the ends of your hair as his plump lips curved into a dark smirk.

“Wrong, dearest. It’s 10:15. What time did I write in the letter?”

You hung your head, playing with the ribbons on your dress. “10:10, sir.”

He tugged on your hair, forcing a whine from you. He tsked.

“Your master has been waiting patiently for 2 weeks to play with his favorite little girl. And yet, she’s late?” You knew he was teasing you, but a sliver of real anger and irritation slipped into his voice. Immediately, you felt guilty and your bottom lip trembled. You had disappointed your master.

“And what do little girls who are late get?”

“T-they get punished, sir. I’m sorry—”

His lips turned downwards until he was sneering. “An apology isn’t going to cut it, Dove. We’re going to the Salon right now.” He roughly took your wrist and pulled you out of the room. Interested eyes followed his clearly irritated and furious gestures.

“Your safe word, darling?”

“Sappho.”

“Sappho, what?”

“Sir.”

His eyes, through the holes of his mask, darkened. “God, I will never get tired of hearing you say that.” Dolos turned around.

Dolos has been your dominant for the last 5 months, and fuck, he has been the best one you have had. Your participation in a public demonstration had led to him stealing the contract from your previous Dom, who was already supremely possessive at first glance. Your eyes, he had told you, were the most expressive he had ever seen. They were the ones that had convinced him to enter into an exclusive contract.

Your eyes traced his tall stature, the broadness of his back highlighted by his nondescript white shirt. The quote from Julius Caesar came to mind. “Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world/ like a Colossus, and we petty men.” Such power, such arrogance.

The Salon was Dolos’ room of choice, since he was a legacy member of Black’s. Filled with toys hidden behind halcyon scenes of the English or French country sides and tall, imposing dressers, the room merely looked like a noble bedroom but the things that occured in it… not so much.

“Bend over my lap, sweetheart. I’m thinking… hm, 10 slaps? Double the time you made me wait. What do you think?” He mused, throwing himself into an armchair.

You settled onto his lap, lifting your skirt and exposing your pretty, pink panties beneath. A mixture of nerves and arousal made your hands tremble, but the haze and glossiness of subspace settled over you easily, like your favorite blanket.

“Whatever you deem necessary, sir.”

His chest rumbled. “Good answer, little one. Such a good slut for me, huh?” He whispered to himself, running a paddle over your bare ass.

You barely heard his acclamation of “ten it is” before the paddle delivered a stinging slap to your left cheek. You unconsciously jerked up until his arms forced you down.

“Count for me, Dove.”

“One!”

Another one, but to the flesh of your thighs.

“Two!” you bit out.

Dolos’ hit parts that surrounded your core, but never actually reached touching it. Moisture began to dampen your lacy underthing and you had to bite down on your lips to stop from grinding yourself on his thigh like a brazen whore.

After the ninth slap, he palmed your ass carefully. His fingers dipped in between the folds of your pussy and you held your breath.

“Already, so wet? Christ. Clean me up and I’ll hit you the place I know you want me to.”

Swiping your tongue over his digits, you looked back at his mask and saw the tension at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” Without warning, he shifted aside your panties and struck the paddle against your throbbing pussy.

“TEN!” You sobbed, unable to keep from sagging into his lap.

He hushed you and ran a comforting hand over your ass, smoothing over the red marks you were sure glowed.

“What a good, good girl you are,” Dolos cooed, caressing your cheek. His thumb wiped away your errant tears and he smirked, patting it.

“On your knees.”

You scrambled out of his lap and onto the carpet, wincing as your heels met your sore ass. You looked at him, wide-eyed, for his instruction.

“Suck my cock.”

A blush spread over your face at his frank wording and your hands moved to unzip his trousers, but Dolos made a noise of disapproval.

“With your mouth only, slut.”

Your hands bunched the fabric of your dress tightly and you squeezed your thighs together.

“Yes, master.”

As you took the button in between your teeth, you used a combination of your lips and tongue to unbutton his trousers. Once opened, you slowly dragged the zipper down all while looking up at him innocently.

His length, girthy and flushed an angry red, sprung out of his trousers. Licking your lips, you looked up to him for permission.

A sly smile came across his face. “Go, darling. This is your reward.”

You took the head of his cock in between your lips and swirled your tongue over the salty precum. He groaned, a gutteral noise from his chest, and his fingers clenched the plush arm rests of the chair tightly.

Gathering some of the precum on your tongue, you released his head and ducked down to take his testes in your mouth. You licked the length of his cock, finishing off with a playful suck to the head.

An angry glint flashed in his eyes. “Stop teasing, slut. Get to it.”

Dolos clenched some of your hair at the back of your head in his fist, and the pain from the sudden action caused your eyes to water. You’d gotten the message loud and clear.

Spitting on his cock, you took half of him in your throat, bobbing and hollowing your cheeks. Your master made sounds of appreciation, loosening the grip on your just a little bit.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, relaxed your throat and went farther down on his thick cock. You were no novice, but you had trouble taking him so deep—even after such a long time together. The tip of your nose touched the base of his cock and you hummed in satisfaction.

The vibrations from your throat seemed to set him off. His previously relaxed grip tightened again and he forced down on his cock until your face was smashed in his crotch.

“Mmph!” You gagged from his sudden, violent action.

“You’re such a fucking tease, fuck,” Dolos groaned, his head tilted back in pleausure.

Forcefully, he fucked your mouth without mercy. You could barely breathe, and the combination of the pain from your hair being pulled, your throat being abused, and the slick between your thighs caused tears to run down your cheeks.

“You know you like this, whore. You like gagging and choking on your master’s cock. You like being used like a little slut, don’t you?”

Unable to respond, you focused on trying to breath through your nose as he abused your mouth.

“Don’t you?! Answer me!” he shouted, pulling your head back.

More tears dripped out of your eyes at this pain, and you nodded quickly with his cock in his mouth. Dolos narrowed his eyes and forced you further on his length.

He quickly set a cadence and it felt like your mind was filled with cotton. The only sensations was the pain from your throat being stretched, his groans of satisfaction, and the throbbing in between your thighs.

“I bet you’re dripping right now. What a slut, getting off on her throat being fucked,” he sneered. His face was flushed as he neared his peak.

Your knees started to throb in pain, your joints aching at being on the ground for so long. His thrust even harder and faster into your lips, prompting a squeal.

“I’m getting close, slut,” he said between clenched teeth. You could feel the hard muscles in his thighs tensing in anticipation for his orgasm. You sucked even harder on his cock, swirling your tongue in figure eights on his length.

“FUCK!” he shouted, eyes clenched tightly. Both of his hands grasped your head and forced your head onto his cock until your nose touched the base. You gagged and prayed to breathe as warm liquid splashed down your throat. He thrusted his hips harder into your mouth, riding out his orgasm.

Dolos pulled out and left the tip of his cock on your opened mouth, tapping his length on your tongue as cum spurted out erratically as he groaned. You flinched as he slapped his cock along your cheeks for good measure. He slumped back in his chair after he rode out his orgasm, his broad chest breathing heavily. In the low light, he looked like a fallen angel with his head turned up towards the heavens.

I will show you how us mere mortals can reach the gardens of heaven from earth, he had said to you once.

You waited with your mouth open, still painted in his seed, for instruction. A few drops of his seed dripped on your chin and onto your chest.

Dolos took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your head side to side. He paid attention in particular to your smeared lipstick. A beatific smile crossed his lips and he was so beautiful in that moment, so wicked and debauched and depraved it made your heart ache.

“What a gorgeous mess I’ve made.”

Tuesday January 21st, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

8 AM HKT

Raesung, Lee

CC: [email protected]

Re: Important Office Notification —

To: y/nl/[email protected]

Y/LN,

It is with great pleasure for me to inform you today that you are being considered for the Head Salesforce position at Sinochen Enterprises. Your name has come heavily recommended to me, and your previous boss has given me a glowing review of your performance these past few years. I, myself, have enjoyed your hard-work and impressive work ethic in your year as Head of the South Asia Division. Two other people are being considered for the role, and you will hear more from Daiyu and I about several interviews and necessary materials. I know you will practice the utmost discretion regarding this email.

Regards,

Raesung Lee

Department Head of Salesforce at Sinochen Enterprises

Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

Office 1876, 18th floor

Phone: +852 XXXX XXXX ext. 1876

You squealed but quickly clamped a hand over your math. This was it. This was the culmination of your dreams coming true. Being the Salesforce director for one of the largest companies in Asia… shit. That would prove your mom and everyone in that shitty-ass town of yours wrong.

After quickly shutting the door and the windows, you did an undignified jig around your large office filled with fist pumps and silent screaming.

“Y/N-laoban, I have the files for—”

You froze.

“...For… uh… you know what, I’ll just come back later—”

“No, it’s fine, BeiBei.” You cleared your throat and sat back into the chair. “I just had exciting news, that’s all. Come, please hand me those files.”

Beibei quickly handed them to you and moved to scurry out of the room and back to her desk.

“Wait! Beibei, could you grab me an Iced Americano? I feel like I need a treat today.”

Her young face peered at you curiously and nodded furiously.

“I-If it isn’t too much to ask, laoban, what’s the good news?”

Uncharacteristically, you beamed at her. She seemed a bit frightened at the sheer excitement you were exuding, so you toned it down a bit.

“Let’s just say I might not be the Head of just South Asia any longer.”

“I hear congratulations are in order?”

You looked up from your double-screens to see the extremely pretty face of Dong Sicheng. His plump lips pulled in a sort of mocking smile.

“For what? I don’t recall getting engaged nor getting pregnant,” you retorted.

“I overheard a little birdie telling her friends that her boss might move up in the world.” Sicheng pushed off the doorway and moved to place a long-fingered hand over the back of one of the couches.

A sigh left your mouth. Oh BeiBei.

He drummed his fingers against the back of the couch. “Although, I am surprised Raesung is considering someone like you for the promotion.”

Your eyes snapped to his heavily lidded one. “Pardon?”

“You know, someone of your… type.”

“Elaborate.”

He sighed, like he was dealing with an ignorant child, and moved to lean over your desk.

“We all know when push comes to shove, no matter how icy your demeanor may be, individuals like you will eventually succumb to their emotions.” His mocking smile was an attempt at his nice-boy persona around the office— that made you want to throw your paper weight at his face.

Your jaw clenched. “I knew your family was traditional, Sicheng, but I didn’t expect they were this intransigent.”

He moved closer. “The old ways keep our heads at the right place, woman.”

A snort left your lips. “And I suppose customs guide the ignorant?”

His smile grew razor sharp. “Exactly.”

Your teeth clenched around your tongue. “Excuse me, Sicheng, but I’m afraid I have a meeting in a few minutes—not all of us are as lax as a board member's son.”

Ignoring the barb, he watched raptly as you stuck all your files into your purse calmly. As you moved to show him to the door, he stalled.

“I think you’re forgetting something, Y/N.”

“I’m afraid you have me at a loss, Sicheng. Please hurry.”

“Don’t I get salutations as well? I’m the other person being considered.” He smirked.

Thursday January 23rd, 2020

Your House

9 PM HKT

“Hi, mother. How are you?” you asked.

“Aiyo, my old bones are holding up, but you know what would make me feel more at ease?”

“What, mama?” You kicked off your heels and threw yourself into your lumpy, comfy couch. It was time for that conversation again.

“If you settled down with a nice man and gave your grandfather and I grandkids.”

“I am busy.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard you. “I know there are a lot of nice men at that company of yours. Surely there is a rich laoban that you can settle down with? You are not unhandsome, after all.”

“I am my own laoban.”

A moment of silence. “Ah, that’s good I suppose.”

“Thank you, mama,” you replied dryly.

“Aiyo, but you know men won’t like that! The good sort of men want good, obedient wives. How are you going to serve your husband and raise your kids if you are working such a busy job?”

“You say that as if I will marry or have kids.”

A loud gasp came from the other end of the line. “Y/N, you will give me a heart attack early! Husband, Y/N will kill me early!”

You heard a faint grunt and your mother subsequently scolding him.

A migraine started to form. You loved your mother as much as one daughter could, but she was very traditional in the way she looked at things. She had raised you from a young age to be an obedient, well-trained wife of a village man like her. Mother had good intentions of course, because that was all she knew. This was the best way she could prepare you for a good life.

The only reason she let you move to the city was because she thought you would find “good quality” (her words, not yours) men in the city. She only approved of you applying to Sinochen because not only did she see the name emblazoned across her noodle and food packets, she also knew very rich men worked there.

You really had thought that once you had moved to Hong Kong, everyone would be Westernized with more flexibility in their mindsets. But the higher ups in your company diminished those hopes very quickly.

Especially for country-bumpkin you.

You hadn’t known the Hong Kong dialect Mandarin, the new slang and modern mannerisms. Adding onto the fact that you were a woman, Sinochen did not treat you very kindly until you started to learn that being kind would get you nowhere.

And look at what you are now—a highly-paid business woman at one of the largest companies in Asia, living in a luxurious apartment within some of the most exclusive real estate on the island, along with all the pretty handbags and shoes you’ve always wanted. You even knew you were reasonably pretty and attractive, if the way Dolos looked at you was true. You kicked ass.

“Y/N, please visit us! Your father and I miss you terribly.”

You grimaced at the thought of your dirty and dusty hometown in the mainland. But still, you missed your father, who had supported you silently in whatever ways he could, and your mother, who loved you something deep.

“I forgot to mention! Kunhuang has been asking after you. Aiyo, what a good boy. He comes to our house once a month and gives us fruits, you know? Such a kind, kind boy.”

You smiled at the thought of Kunhuang and his childish face streaked in dirt and playing Catch the Dragon’s Tail in the woods near your village.

“Tell him I said hello, mother.”

“That boy— he owns most of the farms around us, wah—he tells us he misses you. Why couldn’t you have married him? You could've been closer to us, you know. Kunhuang and you would have made such cute grandkids—”

You sighed heavily. “I had dreams to chase, mama. I still do.”

Friday, January 24th, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

Sicheng frowned at the vellum letter in his hand. His dearest Dove was unable to make it this week, citing she had work responsibilities she could not miss.

The letter crumpled in his hand.

He quickly stood up from the armchair near the cozy fireplace at Black’s, dodging various couples or individuals that attempted to coax him into joining them for the night. There was no need for him to be there tonight.

What a pitiful mess he was—over a woman, nonetheless.

When he had first received a recommendation from his uncle to join Black’s, he was ecstatic. Sicheng knew of the rich history and tradition of the club. It was a holdover from colonial times, when bored British aristocrats created a gentleman’s club that quickly turned into a pseudo-bordello as the 19th century chugged on. Legacy and tradition were paramount to the club.

His father was too fastidious to enter Black’s, even though his own father was a frequent patron of the club. For all his faults, he was a loyal man to his wife. Sicheng, on the other hand, was a randy twenty years old looking to unleash his private fantasies onto the prestigious dungeon.

The mask and name he wore were given to him by his Uncle, who retired from the club as Sicheng entered. Dolos was the other side of his personality that Sicheng hid from the rest of the world.

But never had Dolos been so enraptured by his contracted submissive, Dove.

Dove was… perfect. While other women just laid there and received his attention like a rag doll, she responded in kind. Whether it was an adorable gasp from her lips or precious, minute twitches, Dolos never had a problem ascertaining what Dove was feeling. She was also such a good girl for him, as well.

So, so good. Incomparable.

No other woman would do it for him. Well...

Sicheng slammed open the door a bit more forcefully than he had intended. Fuck, not her. Anyone but that prissy bitch. Roughly bidding goodbye to the receptionist of the so-called spa, Sicheng quickly slid into the passenger seat of his Maserati and zoomed off into the lights of Hong Kong.

As much as he’d like to put her in her place, Y/N would never do it for him.

Monday January 27th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

10 AM HKT

Your ears perked up to hear the sound of muffled yelling outside your office. Quickly standing, you peeked your head out the doorway to see Sicheng fitfully waving a crumpled paper in his fist at two employees, towering over them with his mouth pulled into a sneer.

“—I do NOT pay your salaries for you to laze around and produce substandard work! If my secretary had not caught this mistake within the analysis, I would’ve been fucking HUMILIATED at the board meeting for faulty figures! My ass would’ve been on the line—”

Glancing over, you saw the other girls in the office whispering behind their hands with shocked eyes. In any other situation, you would’ve done the same. Pretty boy Sicheng? Nice, kind Sicheng who dimpled at everyone each morning? It would’ve been unimaginable for that Sicheng to be putting two of his employees (Tzuyu and Xiaogui, you think, but can’t see past their bowed heads) on blast—but this one stood in the morning light, proudly and harshly, with a terrible mask of rage.

BeiBei, who was standing outside the doorway of your office and head bowed with her friend, giggled softly.

“Wah, Sicheng looks so attractive like that. He’s usually nice but, ugh, what I wouldn’t do to get him,” BeiBei pointed at the now snarling Sicheng,“—bending me over at my desk.”

Her friend squealed and fanned herself. “I may need to change my panties after this, oh my god.”

BeiBei nodded sagely. “I knew he was in a bad mood earlier, when I accidentally bumped into him in the elevator, but my god I didn’t expect for him to blow up like this.”

“I wonder what made him so mad? I remember when Jae accidentally spilled coffee over his phone and Sicheng didn’t even get angry—just smiled and patted him on the back.”

You frowned, remembering that day. While he did pat Jae on the back, Sicheng’s fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white and the veins on his forearms stood out. There was a hidden layer behind his seemingly placid eyes, and your suspicions were confirmed after you saw the janitor taking out a broken lamp from his office late one night.

It was that incident, along with so many other tiny occurrences, that clued you into Sicheng’s secret side. You distrusted him solely on that basis. Otherwise, what kind of trustworthy man would hide something like that?

From the corner of your eye, you could tell that Sicheng looked dangerously close to punching something. You decided to intervene before HR got called. Even you had a heart, no matter how cold you were. However, you couldn’t look like you were bailing them out...

“Tzuyu! Xiaogui!” you barked, startling the gossiping women next to you.

Everyone’s heads snapped towards you, along with Sicheng.

You pursed your lips and adjusted your stance. “The Yang reports were supposed to be in my hand an hour ago. My hands are currently empty.”

Tzuyu looked close to crying, while Xiaogui shifted his eyes to the side.

“Go. Before I tell the finance department and you won’t get your full bonus for the year.”

They bowed to Sicheng, then to you, and scrambled off.

There was a moment of silence, until Sicheng had turned his angry attention towards you.

“Well? Why are all of you just standing there? We have deliverables to fulfill, people!” You scowled at the crowd, which disbursed from your shout.

Sichend had not taken his eyes off of you, not even when everyone left.

“Y/N, can I see you in my office for a moment?” he asked with his jaw clenched.

You narrowed your eyes, but acquiesced, standing by the window overlooking Kowloon Bay as he shut the door.

Sicheng paused for a moment by the doorway, his broad chest heaving. He let out a strangled breath before standing near his desk.

“You do not encroach on MY authority in this office, woman. I know the old men in other departments let you step all over them because you’re willing to put out—”

Your jaw dropped and motioned to defend yourself, but he rolled right over you.

“—but you do NOT get to do that here. Unlike the other fuckers in this office, I think with my fucking head not my dick. I handle my goddamn subordinates the way I see fit, understand?”

Your hands gripped the plush chair you stood next to.

“Where the hell do you get off talking to me like that? They’re under my supervision as well, have you fucking forgotten that? Criticize me however you want, but I draw the fucking line on attacks on my character!” you hissed, stepping closer to Sicheng.

“I talk to you however the hell I want, woman! This is my office. I’m in charge!”

Scoffing, you sat on the arm of the chair. “I know you’re sour you didn’t get the region you wanted. But that's real life, Sicheng. It must suck getting told no, daddy’s boy? Huh?”

“You shut the fuck up, Y/N. You do not get to talk to me like that,” he growled, towering over your deceptively lax figure.

You examined your nails nonchalantly. “Whatever, Sicheng. Let’s see who gets to talk when I get the promotion.”

“Ha! You wouldn’t last a fucking week in that position. No one can stand your uptight ass.”

Your placid demeanor snapped and you pushed a manicured finger into his (surprisingly) built chest.

“Fuck off, Sicheng! Some of us worked our ‘uptight’ asses off to get to where we are. You wouldn’t be shit without daddy dearest!”

“You wanna bet on that, woman?!”

Too little, too late—you didn’t notice how close the two of you were. His right arms clenched the back of the seat behind you and your noses were inches apart. If someone walked in right now, it would’ve looked like Sicheng was trying to kiss you.

You both were breathing heavily and, for the first time, you observed him from up close—his frustratingly clear skin, straight nose and slender jaw line, mouth drawn into a snarl looking like he wanted to corner you into your chair.

It was… hot.

Unwittingly, you bit your bottom lip and his intense eyes were drawn to the movement. Your legs shifted to rub together at the crux and his pants tented, while his eyes narrowed. He breathed heavily through his nose and, god, what you wouldn’t give for him to push you up against a wall and—

What the fuck!

You recoiled the same time he did, jumping away from each other like opposite poles repelling. A cold sweat formed on your back as you realized you were fucking attracted to the man that called you a whore all but in name a few moments ago.

The feral desire on his face morphed into disgust and the two of you gazed at each other in shock and revulsion.

Rushing out of his office like a bat out of hell, you slammed the door to your office shut and collapsed into your chair. Here you were, wanting to vomit in disgust but your panties were fucking soaking. You groaned and pulled at your hair. How the fuck were you supposed to last until Friday without Dolos? He would somehow fucking know you got yourself off and he would paddle you black and blue.

You dialed the private line for Black’s.

Your last resort...

Monday January 27th, 2020

Black’s

7:55 PM HKT

Sicheng drummed his finger restlessly against the leather couch, glancing at the clock. His knee bounced in anticipation and he was unaware of the dark energy he exuded.

The man felt like he could explode right now—no thanks to Y/N in his office earlier. Sicheng couldn’t believe he was reduced to a pathetic bundle of nerves all over Y/N and her red lipstick and fuck me! Eyes.

He wanted to crack open that ice-cold facade that you hid behind. He wanted to pick apart every aspect of your being, from your veiled eyes to your restless hands and—

He rubbed a hand over his face. Fuck, not Y/N again. Where the hell was his Dove? Although, he supposed he couldn’t ask for anymore than her now. He was about to break their schedule of Friday nights only, but, by some saving grace, the manager of Black’s called to notify him of Dove’s request to meet here tonight at 8 PM.

Sicheng couldn’t get out of the office fast enough. He usually worked late, but as soon as the clock turned six, he revved his Audi to get home and shower. Now he was here, looking groomed as hell for his favorite little girl.

“Master?”

There she were—standing off to the side, wearing a simple skirt and blouse, yet looking like sex personified.

He was so relieved that he didn’t even check the clock to check if his darling girl was late.

“Sit on my lap, sweetheart. Master has missed you.”

She straddled his lap and he buried his nose into her neck, inhaling deeply. He could feel the tension melting away in his muscles as she sat in his lap.

“Are you stressed, sir?” she asked innocuously, stroking his chest.

He hummed affirmative, tracing his nose over her collarbones. “Master’s had a rough day, baby. Why don’t you be a good girl and help me out, hm?”

Dove grinned, and Sicheng could see her twinkling eyes under the grey mask. “Anything for you sir.”

Sicheng heaved her over his shoulder, a squeal to coming out of her mouth unbidden. He smirked. She was lucky he hadn’t stopped her from making noise.

As soon as he got to the room, he made her strip as he pulled down a silk tie from the ceiling. Sicheng roughly forced her hands up, exposing her breasts to the cold air. As he finished binding Dove’s wrists together, he smirked and flicked a finger over her hard peaks.

A small mewl came out of the girl’s mouth, but Sicheng heard it clear as day. A smirk crawled over his plump lips.

“What was that, little girl? You want me to use a riding crop on your ass? Huh?”

Her eyes widened, she held still.

Sicheng languorously looked her over, eyes tracing the dips and curves of her body. “That’s what I thought.”

From a wooden panel, he produced a riding crop, setting aside on a side table as he rolled up his sleeves and loosened the collar on his button-up. Brandishing the crop again, he placed it on her collarbone, the cold leather a stark contrast to Dove’s heated skin.

“Safeword?”

“Sappho, sir.”

The tip of the crop forced her chin up, his intense eyes meeting hers. “Good girl.”

She preened.

He traced it down her chest, circling her sensitive breasts. He chuckled. They were so perfect for him, begging for his attention. She clenched her eyes shut.

Out of nowhere, he sides of both her breasts in two quick snaps of the wrist. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.

“Eyes on me, girl.”

Down and down he went, tracing over her stomach and waist. Sicheng skipped over her mons and started at her feet. He tapped the crop softly against her calves and thighs; he smiled, seeing her keep her stance. Sicheng would delay her orgasm if she so much as bent her legs. The irritating tapping continued until he got to her ass, where he delivered two sharp blows.

He could see her swallow down a moan, her eyes begging him to touch her there. Push and pull, Sicheng reminded himself. Push and fucking pull.

The man looked her dead in the eyes as he snapped the crop all over her ass and waist. Sicheng was unsatisfied. She could withstand the sharp, short pain of the crop and Dove wouldn’t act out.

Throwing the crop to the ground, Sicheng grabbed a ball-gag and paddle from the wall and stalked towards her.

Stuffing the ball-gag into her mouth, he smirked. “Keep your fucking legs straight.”

With that, he wasted no time and swung the paddle straight over her ass. her moan, muffled yet a masterful concerto to his ears, filled the room. Again and again, he paddled her ass until it was hot to touch, taking out his anger at Y/N on her poor ass. She couldn’t think—a buzz filled her ears and a subspace settled over her mind as he kept delivering.

Sicheng smirked as he saw the clear, viscous fluid of her pussy tread down the inside of her thighs. Unable to help himself, he swiped a finger through it and sucked on it.

However, the paddle had hit right next to her throbbing pussy and she cried out, pushing her legs together to relieve the tension.

His slim fingers grabbed her chin. His eyes were wild and his lips were drawn into a familiar snarl. The thought left her head as he hissed. “What the fuck did I just say about keeping your legs straight? You wanna be bad? Disobey my order? I’ll show you bad.”

Uncharacteristically, he threw away the paddle and wrapped a strong arm around her chest. She felt the rough, calloused skin of his palm smack her ass and she couldn’t take it.

Moans and whines forced themselves past her lips as he kept on going, smacking her ass in quick succession with his bare palms. It was a useless mission trying to keep her legs together but he kept going until she was trembling. The only thing keeping her up was his arm around her waist.

“What a naughty, naughty girl,” he whispered into her ear. “You deliberately disobeyed my fucking orders, huh? Fucking put your legs together because you were too impatient for master to touch you.”

“Sir, please,” she sobbed through the gag, saliva dripping down her chin.

Sicheng thrust two fingers into her mouth and she rushed to spit and lube them up. He quickly spread the lips of her labia apart with his finger, and his thumb brushed slightly over her little pearl. The ‘accidental’ move nearly made her pass out, a loud scream echoing along the walls.

“What sweet, sweet screams are elicited from that throat of yours,” he murmured.

Suddenly, he roughly stuffed two fingers into her dripping wet pussy making her scream even louder from the sudden intrusion. Pumping harshly, in and out, an undulating rhythm that made her legs collapse and lean on him totally for support. She cried into his shoulder as he just kept on going, feeling the lush walls of her pussy pulsate against his fingers. Once again, his thumb brushed over her clit and her throat felt raw from her shouting. He rubbed her little pearl viciously while two fingers were still deep in her pussy. Her muffled screaming echoed through out the room and he quickly unbuckled the gag from her mouth.

“Master, sir—please, let me come! I’ll be your good girl, I’ll doing anything you want, I’ll keep my legs apart, I’ll—”

“Come, sweetheart. Come for your master,” he said, his breathing finally a bit labored.

She let out a keening wail and her nails dug into his broad shoulders, shaking uncontrollably against him. He held her close.

Monday January 27th, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

All that could be heard was the crackling fire in the corner of the room. You slumped bonelessly against Dolos on the leather couch, head on his chest, knees pulled up to rest on his lap. As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you could feel his fingers stroke your hair and the comforting sound of his heartbeat thrumming steadily.

“Sir, I… I missed you,” you whispered.

He said nothing. But, as you turned your head up to his, he gazed at you with an unreadable gleam in his eye.

You blushed, and buried your head in his chest. God, that was too sincere. It actually sounded like you needed him outside the walls of this playroom. You knew what happened when you mixed feelings with sex. Trouble.

Trouble was Minghao. Trouble was dark and mysterious—the kind of boy that made girls go starry-eyed and ga-ga over him. The girls would constantly daydream Minghao “fixing” himself for them, “piecing” himself back together in order to be with the girl of his dreams.

Except they were wrong. So, so wrong.

Minghao wasn’t like that. He was cool, he was cruel, and he was mean. He was the first to initiate your eager eyes into BDSM. He was the one that discovered how good of a submissive you were. He was your first in everything.

In the end, he was too much for you. Minghao would’ve destroyed you had you stayed for any longer—would’ve ruined your already fraying self-esteem and confidence. Yet, when the two of you parted ways, it felt like something had been torn out of your chest. You had dedicated yourself to serving this man, thrown your confidence and dignity on an altar and sacrificed it to him, but he had deigned to not even treat you with a modicum of respect outside of playtime.

Never again.

“Never mind, sir. My mouth ran away from me for a moment.”

His right hand rose to cup your jaw, and his fathomless eyes searched yours.

“You are the only thing real in this world, you know that?”

Your thumb stroked his sharp cheekbones and Dolos sighed. He quickly gathered you up in his arms and crushed you into his chest. You froze, unsure what he planned to do.

“Fuck,” he said. “What are you doing to me?”

You gazed into the fire lapping at the stone of the fireplace, snapping and crackling. What the hell was he doing to you? Dolos was the first dom in years to make so weak—so attached.

He gave a bitter laugh.

“I came here for control.”

Burying his face into your hair, he inhaled deeply like you would disappear in thin air.

“So why are you taking it away from me?”

Wednesday January 29th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

3 PM HKT

You sighed and played mindlessly with your pen as the clock ticked forward. Sicheng had gone to the bathroom before your quick progress check with him which left you to scrutinize his office.

If there was one word to describe his office, it would be monotonous. White, black, and red with no personal effects in sight. The only thing that made the space not some page from a design catalogue was the simple calligraphy painting bearing a proverb in harsh, strong strokes.

人算不如天算.

Man proposes and god disposes.

Huh. Funny, for a man whom you thought was fettered by nothing but himself.

The scroll painting was also dead set in the middle of room, with two dark bookshelves flanking it. In fact, everything in the room was perfectly symmetrical. The two chairs faced the desk straight on. There were two pens that stood side by side, unnaturally neat at the center of his desk. Even his recycling bin was perfectly in the center of two tables—

A ball of paper, different from the other stark white sheets in the bin, caught your eye. Weirdly enough, the paper broke the bizarre, polished neatness of the room by laying on the floor adjacent to the bin.

Insatiable curiosity gripped you in its clutches, and you bent down to pick up the odd bit of parchment.

Immediately, you felt the quality of the paper. It was heavy and smooth like silk, not something an individual wrote on casually. Hell, it was aged as well. What was Dong Sicheng doing with this?

Opening the crumpled paper (which had felt like it had been crumpled and straightened many times), you took a look at the contents of the paper.

Your own handwriting stared up at you mockingly.

Dropping the paper like it was a burning ember, you fell gracelessly to the carpeted floor. Your eyes widened and your hand clamped over your mouth to prevent you from gasping.

No. That could not be Dove’s letter. It couldn’t. It couldn’t because—

You heard muffled footsteps echoing coming down the hallway outside the office, and you scrambled off the floor and into your chair. Having no time to think, you stuffed the letter into your coat pocket.

“Y/N, thank you for waiting,” Sicheng greeted, striding confidently into his office.

His casual oxford and black trousers were a slap in the face. How could you not notice the similarities between Dolos and Sicheng? The way they walked, the way they talked, the way they looked at you.

With Sicheng, looking into his eyes was like gazing through a veil. Silhouettes and hints of something indiscernible danced in his eyes, alien to his warm demeanor. Looking into Dolos’ eyes was as if the veil had been lifted, naked and hungry desire running rampant and burning with its ferocity. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide underneath his stare.

Even his forearms. The way they flexed as he lowered himself into his office chair and took one of the freakishly aligned pens in his sinuous fingers. You could see them twisting and rippling as he paddled your—

“Y/N?”

Your eyes refocused on Sicheng watching you intently, concern written on his face.

“N-no problem, really.”

You wanted to facepalm yourself. Your voice almost fucking cracked and sounded shy, like the twittering of the office girls around him. Fuck, where was your ice queen when you needed her?

A slight smile played upon his pink lips, and hell if you couldn’t imagine him calling you a little slut.

The informal progress meeting continued on in the same vein, you acting uncharacteristically bashful and him hiding his befuddled amusement badly.

The paper felt like it was a brand burning through your blazer pocket the rest of the day.

Love, your Darling Dove.

Friday January 31st, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

Friday night once again found him at Black’s, awaiting his weekly tête-á-tête with his darling Dove. But this time, he planned to make it different.

He restlessly toyed with the red, signature box embossed with gold etching. He had never spent this much money on something for someone other than his mother and older sister, but Dove once again compelled him. The necklace with gold filigree had a simple pendant of a blossom, its leaves done in malachite and its petals in iridescent opal. Sicheng imagined Dove in nothing but his necklace, her pretty lips contorted in a moan, and he instantly got hard again.

Fuck. He could not wait to get her to the Salon and kiss every inch of her skin, worshipping her with his mouth and his hands. And after, when she was sated and curled contentedly in his arms, he would ask to remove her mask.

And hopefully, she would say yes.

Then she would be his.

His mouth salivated at the thought, his heart beating just a tiny bit faster at the thought of untying the ribbon of her grey mask and the stupid lace falling down so he could bask in her features. A thousand different features flashed before his eyes, each one as perfect than the next.

Y/N’s cold gaze flashed unbidden before his eyes.

Sicheng’s teeth clenched until he couldn't feel his tongue. As much as he’d like to put her in her rightful place, why was she in his thoughts? Dove was perfect and submissive to his whims, and he was about to make her his. Y/N had no business being even a passing thought.

Although, she acted quite off this week. She was her normal, bitchy self around the office, ruthlessly demanding results while everyone obeyed in a mixture of fear and awe, but Y/N was almost… shy.

She refused to look him straight in the eye, even if, in the past, she had no problem getting all up in his face. Her posture was slumped and hesitant, her hands twiddled and twitched in his presence.

While he liked it a bit more than he should, this was not the Y/N he knew. He had no idea what made her like this and it made him... uncomfortable. Did he do something?

“Dolos, sir.”

He looked up from his broody contemplation into the fire and to the distinguished, older man’s face. This was not some errand boy, this was the owner of the damn establishment. Sir Theodore Lau himself.

“Mr. Lau, nice to see you,” he said, rising up to greet him properly.

“Quite well, and you?”

“In good spirits.”

Mr. Lau’s face took on a pained expression.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Lau?”

The usually unflappable gentleman looked discomfited. “You… I have received this. For you.”

Sicheng cautiously took the letter from Lau’s hands, and broke the wax seal to the aged vellum inside

Dear Dolos,

I am sorry you could not receive the contents of this letter in person, but circumstances have not allowed for it.

Dolos, I’m sorry to inform you I am no longer a patron of Black’s and consequently not your submissive anymore. No, it is not an issue of money. Neither have I been treated untowardly in this establishment. No, I have had to leave because of some personal conflicts.

I have had the best six months of my life with you. You have made me feel comfortable in my submission, with no shame or judgement in those eyes of ours. I looked forward to our Friday rendezvous, embarrassingly eager for when I could be in your arms again. But that shall sadly never happen again.

Please do not get angry, but if our six months together meant anything to you, please do not seek me out. It’s best for the both of us.

Thank you master,

Dove

Sicheng could only gape at the paper, the letters rerunning and jumbling in his mind until they were all a blur. He could literally feel the blood freezing in his veins and the unnatural stillness he was stuck in.

“She… she said she was sorry. Very sorry.”

Mr. Lau could have been speaking gibberish for all he cared, because Sicheng could not hear anything other than the pounding of his blood.

“What the fuck,” Sicheng hissed after a long time of not speaking.

Mr. Lau could only look on piteously. Sicheng’s face was grotesquely beautiful in the firelight, highlighting his angelic features contorted tortuously. The owner had never seen such raw, unfiltered emotion from Sicheng— from anyone in his life, really. This was the face of a man who had the rug taken out from beneath his feet.

He put a fatherly hand on Sicheng’s shoulder. Lau had known the boy since the boy was an adolescent and a submissive had never left him in such a state.

“We have other girls—men as well—who would be more than happy to serve you tonight—”

“I don’t want to fuck tonight,” Sicheng seethed, brushing the older man’s hand off roughly. “I don’t want any of them. I want Dove.”

How could she do this? Just leave him high and dry with just a letter and unforgettable memories? He thought they were more.

Evidently not, Sicheng thought bitterly.

However, something was off in the letter. There were blotches of water around the page and even in the handwriting, as if a droplet had smeared the page. Of perhaps, a tear.

“Can I meet with you privately in your office?” Sicheng said lowly after he got his rage under control.

Mr. Lau sighed. “Of course. Come along.”

Sicheng refused his invitation to sit, but did accept a finger of bourbon. He took a sip, contemplated the glass in his hand, and hurled it at the wall.

Mr. Lau jumped out of his chair, shocked. “Sicheng, those glasses were from my grandfather!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Like air suddenly leaving a balloon, Sicheng deflated and collapsed into the armchair. The blond youth rubbed a hand over his tired face.

“May I ask you for a favor, Mr. Lau?”

The man, inspecting the now ruined silk wallpaper, snorted. “Unless you replace my decanter set, no.”

Sicheng waved a careless hand. “Consider it done. 1890s, correct? I’ll even pay for the cleaning service.”

Harrumphing, the owner sat in his office chair and steepled his fingers. “So, what may I do for you?”

Sicheng’s burning eyes turned towards him.

“Tell me who Dove is.”

Mr. Lau winced. “Anything but that Sicheng, anything. Not her identity.”

“Well, say goodbye to your father’s decanter set, then,” Sicheng murmured petulantly.

“I can live with that. However, I will never disclose her identity— or anyone’s, for that matter.”

“Please, you don’t understand. I need her.”

Oh, how beautiful he looked like this. A tortured angel materialized from a Michaelangelo painting.

Mr. Lau felt all his years weighing him all at once, and two sides of him warred.

“I’m sorry, but no matter how good your intentions are, I personally and legally cannot do that.”

“Even though my family and I have been patrons of the club for decades?”

“Even then. You know this.”

The blond man’s eyes shifted to the side, and his jaw tightened. His knuckles grew white clutching the wood armrests of the chair he sat in.

“Fuck this!” he shouted, suddenly throwing the chair back with a resounding clash. He motioned to stomp his way out of the room, but Mr. Lau’s voice stopped him.

“She’s a good girl, Sicheng. If she wanted to be found by you, she would’ve.”

Sicheng grasped the door and said ominously, “I will not accept this. Never.”

The older gentleman sighed, and took in the destruction a man’s broken heart had left in its wake.

*cackles evilly* to be continued...

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years ago

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living dead ~ damon salvatore;the vampire diaries

word count: 2563

request?: no

description: when his friend falls ill and is thought to be dead, damon lives for centuries with the guilt of never admitting his true feelings for her, until he finds out she wasn’t completely dead

pairing: damon salvatore x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

She saw him coming up the walkway before anyone else. She recognized him even before she could see his face. She raced out of the house as quick as she could to meet him halfway, jumping into his arms and nearly knocking him over. Damon chuckled as he squeezed his best friend.

“I didn’t know you were here,” he said.

“Mother and I arrived yesterday,” she responded as Damon set her down. “I didn’t know you were discharged!”

“I didn’t tell anyone, not even father or Stefan. I wanted it to be a surprise when I arrived home. I had no idea I’d be the one who was also surprised. Are father and Stefan home?”

(Y/N) smiled brightly and took Damon’s hand in hers, pulling him into his own house as if he were the guest. When the front doors closed behind her she announced, “Mr. Salvatore! Stefan! Mama!”

Her mother was the first to come at her call, reminding her daughter, “(Y/N), I told you it is not lady like to yell!”

“But mama, it’s Damon!” (Y/N) said as her mother descended from the stairs.

Following closely behind was Stefan, the youngest Salvatore, who quickly raced down the stairs and into his brother’s arms. Mr. Salvatore was last, and he didn’t look as enthusiastic about his eldest son’s return.

“Hello Damon,” he said once Stefan stepped away. “What are you doing home so soon?”

“I was discharged, I wanted to surprise you,” Damon responded, trying to smile.

“Are you home permanently then?”

Mr. Salvatore was practically glaring at his son, which angered (Y/N). Mr. Salvatore could never be proud of his sons, or happy when they were around. He had to always be upset, to find the bad in every situation, to always make Stefan and Damon feel as though they were in the wrong for everything.

“I hope he is,” she spoke, drawing all the attention to her. “I’ve missed him around. It’s been so boring here without him.”

Damon and (Y/N) smiled at each other. Damon was grateful to have her there. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle his father, even with Stefan there.

Mr. Salvatore merely turned his glare to (Y/N) before addressing his son again, “We’ll have a special dinner to celebrate your arrival home. We will eat at 5:00 sharp, none of you be late.”

He turned to walk back up the stairs. (Y/N)’s mother smiled at Damon and welcomed him home before following Mr. Salvatore. The three youths were left, watching their parents go.

“I see he’s still a ball of sunshine,” Damon muttered.

“I think he has just gotten worse since you left,” Stefan responded. “It’s good to have you back, big brother.”

~~~~~~

Mr. Salvatore sat at the head of the table with (Y/N)’s mother on the other end. Stefan sat on one side by himself while Damon and (Y/N) sat side by side on the other. Dinner was, as to be expected, silent and tense. (Y/N) kept trying to make conversation, asking Damon about his time away. However, it would always end shortly after Damon’s answer as no one would pick up the conversation.

“So,” Mr. Salvatore said, breaking the silence, “Damon, your discharge, was it honorable or dishonorable?”

“Father,” Stefan said, his voice warning his father not to upset his older brother.

“Actually,” Damon said, ignoring Stefan, “I asked to be discharged. I was tired of fighting a meaningless war.”

Mr. Salvatore dropped his utensils, causing them to clatter on the table. (Y/N) jumped at the noise. His face was red with anger as he looked down at his plate. “You...abandoned the war?”

“I asked to be discharged, I left by my own accord,” Damon responded. “There was so much I saw, it wasn’t worth it to stay.”

“You disrespected my family because you did not like what you saw at war?” Mr. Salvatore hissed.

“This is my family, too, father,” Damon snapped. “And it seems you are the only one who feels disrespected. I did not wish to stay because staying meant either two things; going insane or dying.”

“I think I would rather you dead than tarnishing our name like this.”

“You vile, heartless man!”

The outburst from (Y/N) surprised everyone, including (Y/N) herself. But she had witnessed so much of Mr. Salvatore’s abuse for years and she was fed up with it.

“(Y/N),” her mother scolded.

“No mama, I am sick of the way Mr. Salvatore treats Stefan and Damon! All they do is try to impress you, and all you do is shit on them and treat them like dirt!”

“You better watch your tone, young lady, you are in my house,” Mr. Salvatore scolded.

“I do not give a damn about your house, or you! You are a wicked, heartless man, and you deserve to - ”

(Y/N) stopped suddenly. She clutched her chest as breathing became harder and harder. Damon, Stefan, and her mother jumped from their seats as she fell over. Damon took her head onto his lap and leaned down so his eat was over her mouth and nose.

“She’s not breathing,” he said. “Get help!”

~~~~~~

(Y/F/N) died the next night. Her mother refused to let any of the Salvatore men in to see her, insisting that she be the only one with her daughter in such a dire time. Damon begged her to let him see (Y/N) at least once, and sat outside her door until the news of her death.

A year later, the impossible happened and both Damon and Stefan became vampires. Damon lived for centuries with the guilt of his best friend’s death. Not that he had anything to do with her sudden illness, but he kicked himself for never admitting his true feelings to her. He wished he could’ve had at least one last moment to tell her before her untimely death.

Centuries later, Damon found himself in a much more modern Mystic Falls. While (Y/N) was definitely not forgotten, Damon had mostly moved on. He knew he shouldn’t be dwelling on her death for so long when he was going to live forever, so he tried his best to move on.

However, on one particular night, Damon was at the Mystic Grill with Stefan and a group of their friends when a familiar girl walked in. Damon’s eyes had crossed over her briefly, but then he quickly did a double take.

It was (Y/N).

Damon stood from the table before he knew what he was doing, drawing the attention of the group to him. He could hear his friends questioning what was wrong, but it sounded like their voices were muffled. The commotion caused her to look over at him and her eyes widened.

Next thing he knew, Damon was outside the Mystic Grill with his hand around (Y/N)’s arm, dragging her behind him. She yanked her arm from his grasp and rubbed the place he had been holding on to.

“You’ve gotten stronger,” she noted.

“You’re alive?” Damon questioned.

“Not really. I am dead, but just...living dead.” She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “Seems as though you’ve figured that out, though, considering you are also still alive.”

“I didn’t fake my death!” Damon hissed.

(Y/N) stepped back, her eyes wide. “Careful Damon, you’re starting to sound like your father.”

Damon sighed an ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I am happy to see you, but you have to understand I thought you were dead for centuries. I’ve been grieving you for so long, I’ve gone years thinking that I would never be able to say a proper goodbye to you.”

(Y/N) sighed and looked down at her feet. “I know, I’m sorry. I tried to convince mama to let you come see me before my fake death, but she said it was too risky. She said there was a possibility that I’d change in front of you and then our cover would be blown and your dad would kill us. The only safe way for us to leave was for mama to tell you all that I had died.”

Despite her voice having changed to match that of modern times, she still had that slight accent that Damon remembered, causing him to remember the good days before she had “died”.

“Was your mom a vampire?” Damon asked. “I thought my dad had known her for some time, wouldn’t he had noticed she was never aging?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “She wasn’t my real mother. It’s...it’s a long story.”

“I have an eternity.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile slightly at this. She nodded for him to join her and the two began to walk away from the thumping music of the Grill.

“Well,” she started, “when I was born I was a very sick child. My parents were told that I had an illness building within me, and at some point it would take over me and I would die, most likely young. My parents were devastated as I was their only child, but the nurse that was looking after me told them that she had a way that I would survive, the only catch was that I’d stop aging before the illness could take me, meaning they’d never truly see me grow old. The news devastated them, but they’d rather I live than to lose me. The nurse, mama, she took me in. She had always wanted a child but couldn’t have one because of what she was, so she Glamoured my real parents to forget that I was their child. She took me in and raised me, keeping a close eye on me to make sure that my illness didn’t get the best of me before she could put her blood in my system.”

“Wait,” Damon said, stopping her. “Your mother...that woman...she took you from your family?”

“It was for their own good,” (Y/N) explained. “For their safety. When I changed, I was blood hungry. I was so wild that mama could barley keep me tamed. She was afraid that I’d expose myself, that I��d get myself truly killed. She knew that if I stayed with my human parents when I changed that I would’ve attacked them and killed them. It was for their own safety.”

“What about my father?”

“At first, she had no intentions of leading the lives that my real parents led, but soon people began to wonder what happened to me. They all knew my real mom was pregnant, but then suddenly my parents didn’t have a child and couldn’t remember having one. So mama Glamoured everyone to think that she was my mom, and that my real parents were a completely different couple. When she was Glamouring your father, I was old enough to walk and I met you. According to her we were infatuated with one another, and it broke her heart to break us up, so she decided to make it seem as though she shared the memories my real mother did with your father so that you and I could remain friends.”

Damon smiled. “Your mother was always better to me than either of my parents were. I’m glad she liked us enough to want to stick around.”

(Y/N) smiled, too. “I’m glad, too. I can’t imagine living life worrying about when my illness would catch up with me and when I’d have to be turned.”

Damon looked over at her. She didn’t look upset, more reminiscent, like even the memories of the times she was sick were good ones. “Did you know? About being sick and your mom, I mean.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah, when I got old enough she was very upfront about it all. It was hard to believe, the vampire stuff anyways, but she proved herself to me. It was scary, but I had the reassurance that she was there for me and that’s all I really needed.”

They walked in silence for a while. Damon wasn’t really sure what to say. What do you say to someone you thought had been dead for centuries? After taking so long to come to terms with her death, to finally try and start moving on, only to have her walk back into his life. It wasn’t something that had ever happened to Damon before, he wasn’t sure how to grasp all of this.

“I heard you outside my door those last two days,” she told him finally. “I heard you begging with mama to let you in, I heard you talking to me through the door in hopes that I’d hear you. I begged mama to let you in so I could say me goodbyes, but she said it was too risky.”

“She wouldn’t even tell us what was going on,” Damon said. “She just said you were sick, that you needed to be alone. And then, you were dead. It was...mortifying.”

(Y/N) stopped suddenly and turned to face Damon. “I am so sorry, Damon. I never thought...it didn’t occur to me how much this would’ve affected you. I thought...that you’d just move on.”

“I tried. I tried for so long. I didn’t really move on until a few decades ago, but even then it was hard to not see your face, to hear your voice. I regretted not being able to see you one last time. To tell you that I...”

The words trailed off. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at Damon. “What did you want to tell me? You have plenty of time for it now.”

This caused Damon to chuckle slightly, which brought a smile to her face. God, he had missed that smile so much. Damon looked down at the ground, knowing he couldn’t look (Y/N) in the eye as he spoke.

“I...I’ve loved you since we were young,” he admitted. Having the words out felt like a weight being lifted off of his shoulders. “I wanted to tell you for so long, I thought I had a long time to be able to tell you, but then you got sick and...I tried to get into that room to tell you, I wanted you to know before you died.”

(Y/N) looked at him in shock. She didn’t react for a long time, which worried Damon. He was sure he had ruined everything in that moment, centuries of loss and misery had been rectified and he was sure he had ruined it again.

But finally, she smiled and said, “What took you so long?”

Damon couldn’t help but sigh with relief, which turned into a laugh. “You mean, you knew?”

“No,” she responded, “but I’ve always liked you. I wanted to tell you, but especially after learning of my illness and what I was to become, I knew that I couldn’t. But, now we’re both immortal and we both have feelings for one another, so what do you think we should do about it?”

She was leaning into him. Damon wrapped an arm around her back, holding her to him. “Come back to the Grill and meet my friends. Tomorrow, I take you on a proper date.”

(Y/N) smiled brightly. “I’d love that.”

#damon salvatore #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore x reader #ian somerhalder #ian somerhalder imagine #ian somerhalder x reader #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvd #the vampire diaries imagine #vampire diaries imagine #one shot #imagine

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nightlock-1989 · 4 years ago

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Side-Parts and Skinny Jeans

A short story about what happens when Millennials find out Gen Z is ripping on their precious side-parts and skinny jeans.

Context: I am a 31 year old proud Millennial. I graduated in 2007. One day, scrolling through Tik Tok, I kept seeing things about old people and their side-parts and skinny jeans. I googled it and what do you know? Forget the Boomers because the Zoomers are targeting us now. Thought it might make a good Everlark story. You can also find it on AO3 here.

Takes place in September so that school could be in person again. Enjoy!

September 2021

The first week back when school begins is always taxing on both the students and staff. Add in 18 months of virtual learning at home and it’s a surprise that everyone isn’t already passed out in Haymitch Abernathy’s yard a victory.

It’s always been a tradition. The principal hosts the school staff the first Friday after the school year begins for a barbeque and alcohol. Normally alcohol is always aplenty since it’s Haymitch but this year everyone is a little even more stressed.

Effie Trinket, the school secretary is walking around with a tray of Jell-O shots.

“Thanks, Trinkie,” Haymitch gruffs before slurping down a green one and handing one to the English teacher Peeta Mellark. He hesitates briefly before Delly Cartwright, pulls it out of his hands and slurps it down.

“Very nice,” Haymitch remarks.

“Thank you, Mr. Abernathy,” she responds.

“You know you can call him, Haymitch; right?” Finnick O’Dair, history teacher, reminds.

“HA,” Peeta responds.

“He’ll always be Mr. Abernathy,” Delly tells.

“You’re 28,” Finnick says

“Doesn’t matter,” Katniss Everdeen, biology teacher and Peeta Mellark’s lifelong crush strides forward.

“Sweetheart,” Haymitch gestures.

“Mr. Abernathy,” Katniss greets.

Peeta and Delly both point fingers at Finnick.

“Grill’s ready,” Effie hollers.

Katniss takes a Jell-O shot and sighs before tipping it back.

“Is this the first time we’ve all drank together?” Delly asks gesturing between Peeta and Katniss.

Katniss, Peeta, and Delly were in the same grade at District 12 high; however, only Delly and Peeta hung out. Katniss kept to herself for the most part, having a difficult life. Katniss was the newest hire at District 12, having transferred over from 8 last year. She didn’t attend last year’s barbeque to Peeta’s sadness.

When Peeta saw Katniss in the auditorium for in-staff training, he nearly fainted and when he realized she lived in the same apartment village, he thought he would have a heart attack. Although she still sports her signature braid every now and then, she’s taken to wearing her hair down and walks with a new-found confidence that has only made her sexier. Everyone knows how much he likes her, except Katniss.

“Probably,” Katniss answers heading over to the kiddie pool filled with beer. She bends down to pick one up, giving Peeta the perfect view of her ass. Her jeans fit like a second glove and Delly smacks Peeta in the chest to get him to stop gawking.

The food is ready, and everyone dishes up. The alcohol and conversation flow generously.

Haymitch begins telling a story about how for seniors, they have alternatives for the seniors who have a lot of detentions left to serve. Instead of serving one detention at a time, they can pick up trash or volunteer for a student event.

“So, we needed someone to remove the gum from under all the auditorium seats.”

Katniss groans.

“All 896. I offer to free up 4 detentions. Sweetheart had 12. No one is taking it, but I can tell that I’ve got some interest peaked. I get up to 7 and Katniss sees Johanna about to pounce. She screams, “I volunteer, I volunteer.””

“Well, I wasn’t the only one who volunteered,” Katniss reminds before looking at Peeta.

“Sweetheart, you aren’t even the butt of this story. Then, the boy over here,” he says while gesturing to Peeta who puts his face into his hands, “also volunteers. I was only looking for one.”

“You let us both though,” Katniss says.

“The deal was for seven detentions total,” Haymitch emphasizes.

“But seven of mine did get wiped out,” Katniss says.

“Exactly,” Haymitch points out. “The boy didn’t even have any detentions.”

Everyone but Peeta and Katniss roar with laughter.

“Wait, what? I’m so confused,” Katniss says more to herself because she’s at that point of intoxication.

“You really always have been Brainless,” Johanna Mason, physical education teacher teases. “Let’s get another beer,” she says, pulling Katniss with her.

Delly’s phone chimes so she takes a look. Peeta, still mortified is keeping his eyes on the two girls but he stops staring when he hears, “Miss Cartwright, Miss Everdeen, Miss Mason.”

“What’s that,” he asks looking towards her phone. Delly has open the Tik Tok app and the short video shows video of the respective teachers at the same time as their name.

“Side parts and skinny jeans…….so old,” the voice in the video adds.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Delly shrieks as she chucks her beer bottle into the yard.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Johanna asks.

Delly is in such a mini-rage that she picks up her fold up chair and also chucks that off of the deck. She reaches for the outdoor end table before Finnick grabs her wrist and pulls her into him.

“Are you okay, Delly?” Katniss attempts to rush forward but trips in the process. Peeta rushes to help her up.

“We,” Delly emphasizes by pointing to all the young teachers, “have all had to deal with fucking everything. School shootings, terrorist attacks on live TV, two fucking wars, the housing market crashing, a great fucking recession, $4.00 gallons of gas, a global pandemic, ANOTHER FUCKING RECESSION….and now THIS. I’M NOT EVEN 30,” she finishes before letting out a guttural moan. Katniss leans in closer to Peeta, obviously scared before Johanna marches up to Delly who is holding up her phone.

They all crowd around and watch the offending video. It is showing the various female teachers and on the bottom is a tally marking all the women who have a side part and skinny jeans.

Johanna is first to break the silence by grabbing her folding chair and hurling it off the deck.

“Those little Tide-Pod eating Zoomers can go rot in hell.”

“Yeah, why can’t they just nearly succumb to alcohol poisoning in the cornfield like we did?” Delly cries.

“I like my side part,” Katniss says to herself.

“I have full-bodied hair. A middle part is boring,” Delly whines.

“Do they want us to wear the stupid mom jeans that they’re donning?” Johanna volleys back.

“Would they like it if we just went back to fucking ultra-low-rise jeans and had our thongs on display again because I’m not going back to that, Finnick,” Delly sobs into his chest.

“I didn’t say anything,” Finnick interjects staring cluelessly at Peeta. “Wait, wasn’t this like a thing in the spring?”

“They didn’t make a fricken Tik Tok that specifically targeted us then” Johanna states.

“Does this mean I have to give up my skinny jeans?” Katniss asks to the empty space next to her.

“Don’t even think that, your ass looks fantastic in them,” Peeta answers.

Everyone goes quiet and stares at Peeta. He is perplexed before he realizes he actually said that out loud.

“No—I didn’t mean that,” Peeta begins before backtracking, “You know what, I didn’t mean that either…. I’m just going to go over there.” He heads down the deck stairs and grabs one of the chairs and plops down on it.

There is an awkward silence before Finnick says, “you should just side part your hair even harder.”

All three girls light up before agreeing. Katniss looks out and sees Peeta sitting alone. Delly tilts her head in a “go talk to him” motion, Finnick smiles and nods, and Johanna mimics a blow job.

Katniss orders an Uber before she heads over to Peeta.

“Peeta,” Katniss begins. He looks up with such sadness that Katniss interrupts him before he can even start, “Why’d you volunteer?”

“Um,” he stalls. “You know what, fuck it,” he resigns. “I had a huge crush on you growing up and I just wanted a reason to hang out with you.”

“So, you volunteered to remove chewing gum off hundreds of seats during our spring break?”

“Yep,” he answers with a pop.

“You know you only said like four words that whole time we were cleaning up?”

“That’s because when I’m around you, I feel like a mumbling idiot. Even now, 10 years after high school, you make me feel like- “He is interrupted by Katniss’s lips. She pulls back and smiles.

“Um, how drunk are you?”

“Definitely Ubering……. but I’ll definitely remember this in the morning.” She leans in again. He breaks apart long enough for him to stand and continue the kiss. Cheering can be heard from the deck causing both of them to laugh.

“Did you mean what you said about how good I look in these skinny jeans?”

“They look amazing on you.”

She leans up and whispers in his ear, “I think they’d look a lot better on your bedroom floor.” An alert sounds on Katniss’s phone. “Uber is here.”

Peeta wastes no time in grabbing her hand and practically dragging her to the car.

Effie comes out with another round of Jell-O-Shots while Haymitch grabs one.

“To young love,” he says.

“To side parts,” Delly adds.

“To skinny jeans,” Johanna finishes.

“We’re going to tease them mercilessly on Monday; right?” Finnick asks.

“Duh,” Delly states while everyone laughs.

Monday morning comes around and true to what Finnick suggested, their side parts are more pronounced, and they are all donning skinny jeans, their own form of mini rebellion.

And once again, Katniss’s pair ends up on Peeta’s floor that night.

#everlark

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dollsonmain · 3 years ago

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So in Minecraft every time they change something big it renders our existing worlds obsolete because a lot of those changes are to world generation.

I know you can move to an area you’ve never visited before and it’ll render that chunk in the new manner, but that’s not the point. That makes me not want to explore outside the existing chunk ever because then I have to move farther and farther from my home base every time something is changed.

Anyway, we all know how boring and bland and pastel I am these days. However, in our current shared Minecraft world, I rebuilt my little fishing hut with the “new” Nether woods and built a little fish market out front with dancing mannequins in sparkly, enchanted gear and it’s garish and hideous and I think I need to make it even more so. I also think I ought to build a grill but I’ll have to look up how people are doing that because I don’t remember.

That Guy, in true That Guy fashion, is both saying things like “I don’t claim ownership to anything in the game, you can build whatever you want.” and “I GATHERED THOSE RESOURCES STOP WASTING THEM JUST LIKE IN REAL LIFE IF YOU WANT TO EAT YOU HAVE TO WORK.” and I want to smack him every time he contradicts himself like that.

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years ago

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Book Two: Sapphire (Ignis x Reader) Chapter VI

After speaking to Monica and learning of Cor's plan to dismantle the Norduscaean Blockade, the sun had set. Deciding to head to the rendezvous point the next morning, the royal retinue departed from Prairie Outpost. They were stripped of funds and couldn't even afford the caravan. Instead, they opted to camp out at Lepellieth Haven nearby.

Once the campsite was established, Ignis went to work on dinner. While he was deciding what to cook, (Y/n) grabbed a wood-knitted basket lined with a pale blue fabric. She examined the basket before nodding in approval.

Prompto, who's been scrolling through the pictures on his camera, lifted his head when he heard her hum faintly. "What's with the basket?"

"I'm going to take a short stroll around the area and search for ingredients. The basket makes it easier to carry whatever I find," (Y/n) explained.

The photographer hopped to his feet. "Lemme go with you!" He put his camera down in his chair. "I-I know you're badass and all in a fight, but you really shouldn't be walking around at night. Y'know, with all the daemons..."

She smiled reassuringly at him. "I'll be fine, Prompto. If I'm not back in an hour, that's when you should start worrying. I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Do tread lightly, (Y/n)," Ignis spoke up as she left the safety of the haven.

Gladio watched the guardian leave before glancing back at the advisor. "You're not worried?"

"Unlike you all, (Y/n) knows her limits. I have confidence she needs not a hand to hold whenever she pleases to explore," he replied as he began chopping vegetables.

"Damn, Speccy," Noctis spoke up. "Sounds like you trust her more than us."

"To be fair, they've been together pretty much their entire lives," the shield remarked. He leaned back in his seat. "So tell us about (Y/n), Iggy. The rest of us have no clue what it's like growing up with a guardian."

"What could I possibly convey that she could not?" The tactician retorted.

"And why're you so curious?" Noctis mumbled. "Pretty sure they taught you the basics in school."

"I think spiritual beings was the only class I passed," Prompto chimed in.

"Some of us didn't go to a school where they could learn about guardians," the shield stated.

"Now that I think about it, the books mentioned each guardian is unique and their timings vary. When did (Y/n) come into the picture?"

Ignis kept his attention focused on cooking while answering the question. "(Y/n) manifested when I was merely three months old, but our unification didn't come until my fifth birthday. As you may know, spirits are born unto this world via a soul which they are sworn to protect. Just as we, they are brought in with an innocence and pure form. Guardians, unlike us, are stunned at growth and only develop their human form after their masters have reached certain ages. Their spiritual form can also change once development has begun."

Noctis blinked in realization. "Now that you mention it, (Y/n)'s tail was really short when we first met."

"Our first meeting was a time when (Y/n) had yet to develop her human form."

The prince smiled at the memory. "She was really small, too. All I remember was seeing a white fluff ball curled up on your shoulder. She was fast asleep and didn't even budge when I poked her."

"When did she develop her human form?" Gladio asked.

"The day I turned eight," Ignis answered.

Prompto gasped, eyes wide as saucers. "Now I remember!"

"Why're you shouting?" Noctis groaned.

"The reason why guardians take so long to develop is because their human forms are determined by their masters deepest desire!"

Gladio smirked when understanding what Prompto was getting at. "So (Y/n) looks the way she does because Iggy's deepest desire was a beautiful woman. Nicely done. Better make sure no one else tries to take her from you."

"Isn't that a little extreme? Y'know, for an eight-year-old?" Prompto muttered. "I thought maybe it was because Iggy may have been lonely..."

Prompto was indeed correct. Ignis' deepest desire at a young age was someone who would be his friend and someone who would care for him. He had his uncle, but he wanted someone else important in his life to care for him. (Y/n)'s physical appearance was not the result of his desire but simply how well she took care of herself. And now his newest desire was her. He cares deeply for her not because of her beauty, but her heart. What he adored most about her was her kind, caring nature and how selfless she was. She always put everyone else first, just like he did with Noctis. Although he was duty-bound to the throne, he wanted to put her first. However, his job prevented him from doing just that. His duty was to Noctis, not to (Y/n). He couldn't neglect the prince simply for love. He had a job to do and there wasn't any time for any thing or anyone else. Being an advisor was the one thing that was keeping him from professing his true feelings to the one variable that was constant in his life.

Once completing dinner, Ignis handed everyone their dishes. Noctis immediately groaned when he saw the chunks of vegetables floating in the broth, but he ignored the prince and enjoyed what he prepared. As he was about to scold Noctis for not eating, (Y/n) returned with a basket brimming with ingredients. Curious as to what she brought back, Ignis stood up and returned to the cooking station.

With a smile, the guardian showed him what she found. "I found some sweet peppers, sweet potatoes, chocobeans, and tomatoes."

Noctis had overheard and sighed dramatically. "You didn't find any meat?"

The girl placed a hand on her hip while Ignis examined the many items she brought back. "Meat doesn't grow on trees or bushes, Noct."

Suddenly, all eyes were on Ignis as he shouted, "That's it!" with a sweet potato in his grasp.

(Y/n) turned back around and began putting the ingredients back into the basket. "Some new inspiration, Iggy?"

"Indeed. I've come up with a new recipe."

"It better not have vegetables in it," Noctis grumbled.

"I look forward to trying it," (Y/n) smiled at the tactician, ignoring the prince's complaining. "Maybe I could even help prepare it."

"Yeah, right," Gladio scoffed. "Iggy never lets anyone help him cook."

"On the contrary," the advisor spoke up. "(Y/n) is quite the delight to have as an assistant when I am in need of aid in the kitchen."

"Wha-?" Prompto gaped. "You're treating us like curbside garbage compared to (Y/n)! We could totally help you in the kitchen!"

"Your cooperation in the kitchen would be fruitless for you, Noct, and Gladio are ghastly cooks."

The sapphire-eyed girl bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. She couldn't help but agree after tasting some of the dishes Ignis prepared with help from one of the boys. They always either tasted burnt or half-cooked. Even the cookies Noctis tried to help make weren't cooked all the way through. The center was still doughy because he made them too big and didn't set the oven temperature high enough for the cookies to bake properly. She wondered if the prince had done it improperly only because he wanted to eat the cookie dough raw and not bake it into cookies.

"Oh, c'mon, Iggy! Give us a second chance!" Prompto begged.

(Y/n) placed the basket down beside the grill and listened to Prompto continue to plead with Ignis. She took her portion of dinner and sat down around the fire. She enjoyed the simplistic soup, savoring each and every bite. As she was almost finished with the soup, she looked down at her bowl when she detected movement. Noctis was scooping the vegetables out of his bowl and placing them into hers. "Noct, why...?"

"You know I hate veggies," he said, continuing to remove what he hated from his bowl. "You take 'em."

She inhaled deeply before exhaling. "How old are you again?"

"I don't care if I'm 5 or 50, I'll always hate veggies." When all the vegetables were gone, Noctis ate what remained of the broth.

Deciding not to argue, (Y/n) finished what was left of her serving and Noctis' vegetables. With her bowl clean and her belly full, she offered to do the dishes in Ignis' stead. The advisor tried to protest, but she snatched up all the dishes before he could grab one. "You four should get some rest. I'll deal with the dishes. It won't take long."

Noctis and Prompto crawled into the tent to play a few rounds of King's Knight before going to bed. Gladio followed suit with his book in hand while Ignis lingered in his seat by the fire. He stared into the flames for a few minutes, delving into deep thought. When he looked away from the campfire, his eyes traveled over to (Y/n). She had finished with the dishes and neatly stacked them on the preparation table by the grill. Now she stood at the edge of the haven, eyes casted up to the night sky.

Pushing himself out of the chair, Ignis wandered over to stand beside her. He followed her gaze to see what had her attention. When he couldn't find what captivated her, he wondered if she too was lost in thought like he was a couple minutes ago. "(Y/n)?"

She blinked rapidly a few times before humming in acknowledgement. "Hm?"

"Are you feeling unwell?" He asked.

She smiled sweetly at him. "I'm fine, Iggy. Guess I was lost in thought again."

That's when he remembered what she told him at Galdin Quay. "Has the voice returned?"

She hung her head. "I...was hoping you'd forget about that." Looking back up at the sky, her eyes glistened as she focused on the cluster of stars only spirits could see. "I never told you before, but there's this mass of stars only guardians can see. It's called the Celestial Crescent. I would often gaze at it back in the city, but the lights and barrier prevented me from getting the perfect view. Out here, I can see it perfectly. And now whenever I look up at it, I hear the voice. With each passing day it becomes clearer, but I still can't make out what it wants."

"Is there nothing I can do to ease your concerns?" Ignis offered.

"Just talking to you about it is enough. I am grateful for you listening to me ramble on. It does put me at ease having someone to talk to this far from home."

"It puts my own harrowing thoughts to rest knowing you decided to accompany us. I fear our time together would've been cut short if you had desired to remain in the city."

She clasped her hands together behind her back. "I don't know what I would've done if I stayed behind. You and I are connected no matter how far apart we are. And if I had perished in the city when the empire struck..." She moved one of her hands from behind her back and placed it over the gemstone embedded in her chest. "I'd rather not think of the gruesome outcome that could've happened if I had decided to remain in Insomnia and wait for your return."

"Neither do I," Ignis confessed.

(Y/n) finally looked away from the night sky and focused her eyes on Ignis' tall stature. "It's getting late. We should call it a night. We've quite the day tomorrow and wouldn't want to be sleep-deprived. It'd be awful if one of us were to slip-up in battle and wind up injured." Without skipping a beat, she transformed into her spiritual form and flew into the tent. Ignis followed after her once extinguishing the campfire.

Inside the tent, the three boys were already asleep. Ignis laid down on the opposite side of Prompto. Once lying comfortably on his side and turned away from the others, he felt a familiar furry presence curl up near his stomach. Unconsciously, he reached down and stroked (Y/n)'s back as she slumbered. Even in the darkness of the tent, he could see her snowy fur clearly.

Eventually, Ignis felt sleep tugging at his being and he soon fell into a deep slumber.

<-------------<<<<<

The next morning, the group ate breakfast and packed up the haven. Ready to leave Lepellieth Haven, they set their destination to be the Norduscaean Blockade. They rendezvoused with Monica, who instructed Noctis to join Cor up ahead while she and the others remained behind to be a diversion.

Monica, (Y/n), Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto approach the blockade from the front. The imperial troopers on duty aimed their weapons at the group as more poured out of the blockade with their own guns drawn on the group. The guardian raised her hand and formed an ice wall made from large icicles around her and her companions to protect them from the gunfire. When there was a break in the firing squad, Ignis, Monica, and Gladio emerged from cover and attacked the soldiers. Prompto and (Y/n) remained behind the ice wall and used projectiles to attack any imperial forces that scurried their way.

After some time, soldiers stopped pouring out of the blockade and the grand metal gate slid open to reveal Noctis and Cor on the other side.

Prompto bounded over to his best friend with an excited squeal. "Noct!"

"Marshal. It's good to see you again," Ignis said.

Noctis glanced at his companions. "All right on your end?"

"Right as rain," Gladio replied. "The Niffs couldn't take their eyes off us."

"Thanks to you we were spared their attention," Cor stated.

(Y/n) went to speak up, but held her tongue when she heard the low humming of an engine. Looking around, she spotted an imperial drop ship approaching them. It hovered in the air as the imperial officer aboard addresses Noctis and the others. "Stay right where you are. Well, well, if it isn't Cor the Immortal. So you survived the Citadel. But you won't survive what I have in store for you. It's past time your legend came to an end." The officer, known a Loqi, spotted the guardian among the group and cackled. "And it seems a lowly spirit has ranked itself among this band of misfits. It'll be another one to mark off the list." Loqi enters the cockpit of his MA-X Cuirass magitek armor, then deploys to the ground.

"Say, Marshal, how 'bout you show us how it's done?" Prompto asked nervously.

Cor unsheathes his katana. "No wimping out. Let's move."

Alongside the MA-X Cuirass was a horde of soldiers and magiteks. Noctis focused on the large mech while everyone else dealt with the smaller enemies. After slicing through one of the MTs, the marshal glanced over at the spirit. "I'd like to see your specialty again, (Y/n)."

The girl glanced towards the magitek armor. "Who am I to deny a request from the marshal himself?" She broke away from the soldier she was attacking and ran towards the MA-X Cuirass. Ducking under its arm when it swatted at her, she trailed her fingers across the mech's arm. Ribbons of lightning course across its exterior before entering its metallic body and alter its coding. Loqi noticed his mech's strange behavior and how he was unable to control it any longer. "What is the meaning of this?!"

The MA-X Cuirass fires missile after missile at its own allies. Soldiers and MTs were blown to smithereens, leaving only Loqi and his out-of-control magitek armor. He screamed out when one of the mech's missiles hit the cockpit, causing it to crumble to a single knee. Noctis went to finish it and Loqi, but (Y/n) stopped him by grabbing the hem of his short-sleeved black jacket. She met his gaze just as the MA-X Cuirass self-destructed with Loqi still inside the cockpit.

Noctis looked back to the magitek armor and watched in awe as it exploded. He dispelled his blade at the same time (Y/n) released him. Turning to face her, he complimented her ability. "Nicely done."

"You can thank the empire for installing a self-destruct sequence. My magic only activated it when there wasn't another imperial enemy detected within a certain vicinity," she explained.

"Still, it's pretty damn cool."

She smiled. "Then maybe I should work on more surprises to keep you on your toes in battle."

Noctis blinked in excitement. "Wait, really?"

She nodded. "Yeah. There's been a few more things I've been wanting to try over the years, but never really got the chance. Now that we're all the way out here and we have to fight for our survival, it makes for the perfect opportunity to try the many other tricks I've stored up my sleeves."

Cor sheathed his katana and walked over to Noctis and (Y/n). "Impressive. Seeing you both in action puts my mind at ease. It's clear I don't need to worry any more. I'll return to watching the Niffs. 'Til next time, take care." The marshal leaves with Monica.

A moment later, Noctis and his companions move toward the open gate of the blockade. Ignis, who has retrieved the Regalia, slowly drives alongside the others. Gladio rested his greatsword on his shoulder. "Ain't so bad out here once you get used to it."

"Still a lot we haven't seen, though," Prompto stated matter-of-factly.

"And a lot for us to do," Ignis added.

"Yeah."

"Buck up. We're just getting started," Gladio said.

Noctis smiles, but it fell when he realized (Y/n) wasn't following them. Turning around, he found her staring up at the sky with a stoic expression. "Hey, (Y/n), you coming?"

Ignis stopped the Regalia and glanced at her. Gladio and Prompto turned around to also gaze at the girl. She blinked a couple of times before looking at them. Her heels clacked against the asphalt as she walked towards them. "Yeah. Let's see what other trouble we can get ourselves into."

"Do try to keep the trouble to a minimum," Ignis remarked.

She giggled. "No promises."

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #ignis x reader #ignis scientia #ignis scientia x reader

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years ago

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cutting down the family tree

@buckleydiazs said:

High school au where Buck’s the sad lonely kid with the shit family and Eddie’s the popular captain of the wrestling team who makes it his personal mission to make Buck an honorary Diaz and convince him that he deserves nice things I am just saying

WOW this got a lot longer than I thought, so I abandoned the ask and put everything all up in here. Only barely edited, SORRY LMAO.

8.5k, Buddie HS AU. underage-ish if you squint I guess? tw for abuse.

Buck was good at going unseen.

It was a defense mechanism—his parent’s couldn’t get upset with what they didn’t realize was there—and it had only amped up once Maddie graduated. Once she went off to college, Buck had no reason to be a distraction anymore, to try and pull attention off of anyone; so he just got better at it. He could pick things up and set them down without a sound. He constantly walked on the balls of his feet. He even kept his breathing even, slow and low, whenever he wasn’t alone.

At home, Buck had gotten really good at—nay, he had perfected—the art of becoming invisible. So it only made sense that it translated to his school life, as well.

He got good grades—straight A’s—but only high enough to keep his grades at a 4.0, not high enough to earn Valedictorian, no AP classes, no crying over tests. Enough to ensure he would have opportunities after high school, but not enough to bring any student or teacher attention his way.

He worked out every day, and had for years, years of defending himself or defending Maddie meant he had to be in the best shape he could be in—but while his body was packed with lean muscle and quick reflexes, he drowned himself in clothes that were a size too big, making him look smaller, unassuming. He kept his posture slouched whenever he wasn’t standing to take a few inches off of his height, to the point that he could get lost in a crowd while you were still looking at him.

He didn’t participate in after school activities. He didn’t run for school president. He didn’t have a flashy car, a high status girlfriend, he didn’t show any interests that might make him friends or enemies.

Buck was invisible to absolutely everyone.

Well... everyone except Eddie Diaz.

Eddie Diaz, who was a senior, like Buck was, but was new to Pennsylvania, moving over the summer — who was 18, a year older than Buck, because he was held back in the third grade for fighting — Eddie Diaz, who had joined the wrestling team and made captain in an embarrassingly short amount of time (well, embarrassing for the rest of the team).

Why did Buck know all of this?

Because this was also Eddie Diaz, who, on the first day of Senior Year, locked on to Buck with laser-like focus, ignored all of Buck’s defenses, and apparently decided to take him on as a new friend pet project.

And much to Buck’s annoyance, he just couldn’t. Shake. Eddie. Off.

He definitely tried. He changed his walkways, he changed the bathrooms he used, he changed where he parked, he did everything except change his schedule—and Eddie was still there, keeping up mostly one sided conversations. The only time he had to himself any more was his free period, the time he spent in the school weight room, and never before had be been so thankful for that regular moment of peace.

Buck finally hit his limit one lunch period, spent huddling in the library, when Eddie sat down across from him. "Eddie, isn’t there someone who actually wants to have lunch with you? Some of your friends, or teammates, or someone who isn’t me?” Buck had asked, barely looking up from the text book he had been reading—he wasn’t a fan of the ‘mean’ route, but he was at his wits end. When Eddie paused, Buck actually felt hope rise up in his chest, that he would be alone again.

But Eddie had just leaned forward, made eye contact, and said “Nope.” with the biggest, shit eating grin Buck had ever seen.

Fine. It was less than a year. Buck could handle Eddie being around him for less than a year.

Buck could not handle less than a year.

Because Eddie, Eddie was nice. To him. To Buck, who had never said more than ten words to any other student since the day he started high school. Eddie was nice to him, and it was going to kill him.

It was going to kill Buck because he found himself wanting to be nice back.

Not that Buck was a mean person, because he wasn’t, but niceness was followed by friendship, and friendship was followed by attachment, and that was simply unacceptable as far as Buck was concerned.

... not that he hadn’t wondered, of course. He had always wondered what it would be like, to be able to hang out with friends, to have people come over to his house for his birthday, to have more contacts in his cell phone than the front desk of the gym near his house, his parents, and Maddie.

He had wondered, sure, but he had never missed it. He had never craved it. He knew it was more important for him to be on his own, at least for the time being—an attachment would make it that much harder to get as far from the east coast as possible when time came for college, and that was unacceptable.

But...

As he pulled in the parking lot, to a familiar spot near the back of the school, and saw Eddie waiting there for him so they could walk in to class together...

Alright, so he wanted it. So sue him.

“Buckaroo!”

Well, that was a good way to make him want it a little less, at least.

“Eddie, I’ve told you,” Buck said with an exasperated sigh, locking his car behind him. “It’s just Buck.”

(Eddie had called him Evan once. Just once. Once the blind panic had subsided, Buck had put a stop to that, real quick.)

“And I’ve told you,” Eddie said in a sing-song voice, “it’s a nickname. Nicknames are what friends do, remember?”

“Your words, not mine.”

Friends. Is that what they were? He rolled his eyes and shouldered his bag instead of thinking about it too deeply, but he couldn’t deny the spike of anxiety that rippled through him as Eddie started to ramble, falling back into the easy habit of talking for the both of them. He didn’t want friends. He just wanted to get out.

“...and so I told him...”

Besides, it wasn’t like Eddie actually considered him a friend. They had barely spoken—well, Buck had barely spoken anyway. There was no way in hell that Eddie actually cared about him, right? He had to have some secondary motive.

"and after that, she...”

But that was frustrating in and of itself. Buck had been so sure that Eddie was up to something, or had some ulterior motive, or but damn it if Buck hadn’t been able to determine what it was. None of Eddie’s little douchebaggy wrestling friends had approached them, Eddie hadn’t even tried to get Buck out of his comfort zone yet, he hadn't done anything, and somehow, that was even more frustrating.

“...just because Ms. Syzmaski’s a wrinkled old bitch.”

Buck let out a laugh, in spite of himself, as Eddie rambled on, shaking his head. Ms. Syzmaski wasn’t that bad, and—oh.

He covered his mouth as soon as he realized what he had done. He didn’t think he had laughed at all since Maddie left, and to have one pulled out of him so suddenly was a little surprising, to say the least—but as he turned to Eddie, beet red, he could tell that he wasn’t the only one surprised.

The look that Eddie was giving him, however, was the closest thing to “starry eyed” that Buck had ever seen.

“I, uh, I have to get to class. Bye Eddie.” Buck blurted as he turned and booked it down the hall, not quiet quick enough to miss the smile and the incredibly soft “Bye, Buck” that followed him.

Things only got worse as more time went on.

Better?

No, worse. Definitely worse.

Because Eddie could make him laugh, and the more time he spent with him, and the more he actually listened, the more likely those moments were. He was nice, too nice, on the rare occasion that Buck actually had lunch in the lunch room instead of hiding in a stairwell or the library, Eddie said goodbye to his friends and joined him kind of nice. The kind of nice that worked its way past Buck’s defenses, instead of breaking them down.

The kind of nice that made Buck actually want to open up, which, as he would never forget, was a dangerous kind of nice.

It was also, as he learned too late, the kind of nice that made him fucking cave in way too easily to Eddie’s whining.

“Come on, Buck,” he had begged. “I’m going to be failing Chemistry if I don’t get a B on the midterm, and if I fail chemistry, I get booted from the team. You have to help me.”

And like a sap, Buck had sighed in agreement, giving up a Friday night doing nothing to help the intellectually infirm (“Hey!”).

Wincing as he touched up the concealer on his cheek, Buck dragged his backpack out of the passengers seat of his car, giving an appreciative look up to the small, ranch style house that spread out before him. It probably said a lot about his own expectations if he already felt more comfortable in front of a row of little ranch houses than he would in front of his own house, but… well, that was just it. His house was a big, gaudy house in a neighborhood full of big, gaudy houses. But everything about where he was now—the sound of a dog barking, the smell of someone cooking on the grill, the fact that you didn’t need to ask anyone to buzz you in to a front yard—screamed home.

He didn’t think anything could spoil how light he felt—and that was certainly proven true as Eddie opened the door before Buck even had a chance to knock.

“Hey Buck, thanks again, you… uh, wow. You look, uh, great.”

It was a small surprise, but a nice one. He had ditched his regular, baggy, hiding-in-plain-sight clothes for a simple pair of jeans and a polo shirt, casual but comfortable, and he tried to ignore the smile tugging at his lips even as his face heated up.

“I mean, it’s nothing special, it’s just jeans and a—“

“Eddie! Bring your friend inside and close the door!”

It didn’t matter how he had tried to prepare himself, there was something about a parent yelling that would probably always cause Buck to tense up, and tense up he did. If Eddie noticed, he didn’t say anything, thankfully, just hooked his elbow in Buck’ as he yelled right back. “His name is Buck, Mama, I told you that!”

He tried to get his heart to calm down as he felt Eddie tug him to the doorway, his free hand clinging to his backpack strap for dear life, bracing himself as he walked into…

…something that could not have been more polar opposite of his own life if it tried.

Eddie’s house was smaller, sure, but it was homey in a way that Buck had only imagined or seen in Hallmark movies. He was all smiles as Eddie introduced him to both of his parents (he knew how important first impressions were, had had that beaten in to him from a very young age), but he found that it wasn’t fake—he was genuinely glad to be there. Even if it still threw him for a loop when Eddie’s mother had insisted on being called Helena, had shoved a tray of snacks into Eddie’s arms, and sent them to Eddie’s room to study.

“Go on, we’ll let you know when dinner is ready. Get your studying done.”

“Thanks, Mama.”

“And leave the door open!”

“Mama!”

Buck was only mildly placated by the fact that Eddie was blushing as brightly as he was.

Any concerns that Eddie wouldn’t be taking this seriously, or was just looking for a reason to hang out and fuck around, were quickly put to rest as Eddie pulled out his chemistry book. It was comforting to know that Eddie was just as serious about his grades as he acted, and it made things a lot easier—when Buck didn’t have to spend half of his time telling Eddie to pay attention or to focus, as he had feared, things moved at a pace he hadn’t anticipated.

Eddie was incredibly smart. That much was obvious from the get go. Chemistry just didn’t click with him, but that was easy enough to rectify—he just had to help Eddie see things from a different angle, to focus more on the process than the end result, and “seriously Eddie, would it kill you to take a legible note for once in your life?”

Buck had set to work on transcribing some of Eddie’s rushed notes into a legible format while Eddie continued to work on a few practice problems, and before Buck knew it several hours had gone by and they were both being called down for dinner, and… look, Buck had a live in cook for most of his life, but damn if Helena’s enchiladas didn’t blow them out of the water.

He found himself drawn into the family dynamics easily—Eddie had introduced him to his sister, Sophia, explaining that Adriana was out for the night, and they talked, bickered, poked fun, everything that Buck had figured was out of his reach for the longest time. He spoke when he was asked questions, and let himself engage in a few conversations, but more than anything, he just sat and ate and soaked up the delicious atmosphere.

Was this what a family really felt like? He didn’t think he had ever felt like this at home, even before Maddie had graduated, even before his father had started drinking. He felt something white hot burn in his chest as the night dragged on—not jealousy, or envy, something more dangerous, want. It seemed like a cruel joke, that someone so close to him got to have it all, while he had… nothing, but as he looked over at Eddie, his head thrown back in laughter at one of his mothers jokes until Sophia flicked a piece of corn into his open mouth and he sputtered, he wouldn’t wish the reverse on even his worst enemy.

The good part about Pennsylvania was that it didn’t matter what time of the year it was, it was usually cold. Cold meant long sleeves and sweaters to cover the arms, and long pants to cover the legs, especially as the sticky feeling of Summer turned to foggy breaths and dew, and Buck could breathe a little easier.

Just a little easier, though, because when you were tugging your hoodie down over your head to cover a black eye, you couldn’t relax. Not really.

He was usually so careful. He was usually so good about covering his bruises (hell, he was usually good at getting bruises anywhere other than his face), but the last time he had touched himself up, he had forgotten to cap the concealer and the entire tube had run dry. He was sloppy. He had been reckless and stupid and sloppy and now he was paying the price; because as confident as he would have been a semester ago about getting through the day with a shiner and no one noticing, the day now included Eddie.

He didn’t know if he could avoid Eddie for an entire day. What was worse, he didn’t know if he wanted to.

The day had started off pretty well. He took the train to school instead of driving so Eddie wouldn’t see his car. He was barely on time to each and every class to avoid Eddie in the halls. He ignored every text that came in—though he did allow himself a grin when Eddie sent him a picture message of his Chemistry test, a big 91 circled on the front of it. He even managed to find a new place to eat his lunch, one he was sure that Eddie wouldn’t know about.

And then everything had gone to shit.

He had finished his History midterm early, turned it in with his head down, and walked out of the classroom. His next period was his free one, so he decided to head to the gym early, taking a quick stop in the locker room to change into a baggy, long sleeved shirt, chucking his hoodie and his backpack in a locker before getting to the gym. There was only one other person in the room, back turned to Buck as he walked in—it was as good as it could get, and he sent a silent prayer up to anyone who was listening in thanks.

It was going to be a cardio day, Buck could tell—his right wrist was a little sore, and his shoulder too, and while thankfully neither of them felt dislocated it definitely wouldn’t be a good idea to try to lift weights. He could feel the tension bleed out of his shoulders as he started to stretch out his hips and legs, nearly ignoring the telltale buzz he felt at the base of his skull until it was too late.

“Buck! There you are!”

Buck bolted upright at the same moment as a hand clapped onto his shoulder, squeezing in the friendly way Buck had become so accustomed to—but now, instead of a familiar warmth in his stomach, it sent a bolt of pain through his body. He sucked in a gasp and jerked his body away from the pain, fists halfway up as he turned around, his body sagging when he saw Eddie standing opposite to him.

Eddie, who he had been avoiding all day, who’s multiple messages he had left on read, who now looked like he was face to face with a ghost. If he could imagine how he looked right now, he might have laughed—black eye, slumped shoulder, pale, panicked face. It was probably hilarious, even if Eddie didn’t seem to think so.

“Buck?”

“Hey, Eddie.”

“Buck, what... what happened to you? Is this why you’ve been avoiding me all day?”

The biting comment was on the tip of Buck’s tongue, to tell Eddie to fuck off, to get lost, but Eddie sounded so small and scared he couldn’t bring himself to snap. Instead, he offered a weak smile, shrugging his good shoulder. “Nothing I can’t handle. You should see the other guy, right?”

It probably was in poor taste to go for a joke, and Eddie’s dark expression only confirmed that fact, but what was Buck supposed to say? ‘Hey, no worries, my mom broke a picture frame so it was either let her get the shit beat out of her or take the heat?’ Yeah, no.

Suddenly, his face was in Eddie’s hands, and oh wow that was nice, and he had to work to keep from sighing as Eddie’s fingers went feather light over his skin.

“Buck, this wasn’t just a little love tap.” Hah, no, there was no love in it at all. “You know, I could teach you how to block a few hits. Some self defense.”

Buck laughed, humorlessly, shaking his head. “No, that’s okay. Not a lot of good there, I don’t think.” he shrugged, shaking his head, even as Eddie opened his mouth to protest.

“But I can—”

“Stop. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Buck, I am serious. I’m really worried about you, have been all day.”

Buck had to swallow at that, his heart sinking, and he looked down as he weighed his options. Neither were good. But if one kept Eddie from worrying...

“...fine. On one condition.” Buck said, his voice a little thick as he looked back up to Eddie, who... well, he looked like he would do anything Buck asked at that moment, and wasn’t that an interesting swarm of butterflies in his stomach?

“You stop asking about how I got them.”

Eddie’s face did a funny kind of flip flop, but eventually, he nodded. “Fine. First lesson starts now.”

Buck sighed again as he thumbed the hem of his shirt, debating for only a moment before he pulled it off. The tank top he was wearing beneath didn’t hide a whole lot, but he figured Eddie had already seen one bruise, and had promised not to ask about the rest, so he didn’t think much could come from getting rid of the heavy, hot garment.

What would come of it, apparently, was Eddie gaping at him, eyes nearly bugging out of his head. Buck felt a sense of shame pool in his stomach, ready to put the shirt back on in another second—he didn’t think the bruises were so bad, but maybe—

“Buck, you’re—you’re ripped.”

What?

“How are you not on the wrestling team with me? Or the lacrosse team, or football, or... something?”

Buck blinked for a moment before he felt blood rush to his face. Oh. Oh. Eddie wasn’t staring because he was disgusted, or horrified, but because he apparently... liked what he saw. From a sportsman perspective. That had to be it. Right. He cleared his throat, willing the pink to die down on his cheeks. “Eddie, are you gonna teach me or what?”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up, wide as dinner plates, voice an active higher as he spoke. “Right!” He cleared his throat, shaking his head as he stepped closer to Buck. “Okay, so, if someone is going to come at you from the front, if they try and throw a punch, you just move the outside of your arm to knock the arm back, and—good.”

Buck didn’t even wait for Eddie to finish speaking, as soon as the hand was up he batted it away with perhaps a bit more force than needed, a thoroughly unimpressed look on his face.

“Okay, but then you need to follow through with a hit when they’re open. See—”

Eddie moved to throw a punch again, slow and painfully obvious, and Buck followed his instructions, pushing it away, and then... not doing anything. Eddie scowled, raising his hand again, and just like before, Buck knocked it away with the inside of his fore arm, trying to focus on the best point to hit to knock the hand away.

“Buck, you have to follow through. Blocking is great but you have to use the opening to hit back.”

Punch- block. Punch- block. Punch- block. Eddie started picking up the tempo, moving around Buck,

“I’m not hitting back, Eddie.”

Yeah, right. Buck hit back, and he’d probably get beaten beyond recognition. Pass.

“I can see that, but you have to. If someone is going to try and hurt you, you have to strike whenever you’re open. One good hit and you can run like hell.”

Punch- block. Punch- block. Where exactly was he supposed to run to? The living room? The kitchen?

“No.”

Eddie gave a quicker shot—still weak, but Buck ducked, pushing the hand away from him. This was actually proving to be pretty useful.

“Look, I get not wanting to hit someone, but you just need to daze them if you’re going to get away.”

“Eddie, I don’t hit back. That’s now how this works.”

“Well why the fuck not—”

“Because it doesn’t fucking matter!” Buck yelled, his tone taking himself by surprise, as did the heat that suddenly burned through his face. “It doesn’t matter if I land a hit or not, it doesn’t matter if I get hurt, as long as he doesn’t hurt anyone else!”

“He?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and dark, and Buck almost swallowed his tongue when he realized what he had said.

“Buck, who did this to you?”

“I have to get to class.”

It was too much. Buck swallowed as he turned around, abandoning his belongings in the locker room as he fled through the gym doors. He didn’t have to run far—thankfully he had his phone and wallet with him, which meant he had a train ticket—and only when he managed to throw himself between the closing doors of the Thorndale line did he manage to breathe again.

He pulled his phone out when the train took off, shooting a quick message to Maddie, asking her to call him out for the rest of his day.

Then he turned off his phone, put his head in his hands, and started to cry.

When Buck came to school the next day, he had his concealer on, and as far as he was concerned, the day before had never happened. He parked in his regular area, locked the doors, and tried not to sigh too heavily when he saw Eddie waiting from him.

He didn’t have it in him for a fight, but Eddie had both his hands up, and that was enough to keep Buck from running again.

For now.

“Look, Buck, I won’t ask details, but.... just tell me, are you okay?” Eddie asked, his voice slow and unsure, and Buck felt a frown creeping over his face in spite of himself.

He tilted his head as he looked Eddie over, brow furrowed. “You really care about me.” A statement, not a question, but Eddie nodded all the same. “Why?”

If the question caught Eddie off guard, he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked away, seemingly chewing over his words as he tried to answer.

"Because you’re worth being cared about, Buck.”

Buck hummed as he considered the answer, acting like it didn’t just rock him to his very core, and sighed as he opened his arms and pulled Eddie into a hug—Eddie seemed surprised, but pleased, and Buck didn’t have to wait long before Eddie was hugging him back, so gently and mindful of Buck’s body that he thought he might start crying again.

“So, it’s not just these rugged good looks?” he mumbled into Eddie’s hair, and Eddie groaned, shaking his head.

“Buck, please.”

“My charming personality?”

“Buck, please.”

Somehow, nothing changed, and everything did.

Eddie didn’t bring up the bruises anymore, possibly because they weren’t visible anymore, but he held himself differently around Buck—instead of grand claps on the back, he tugged at Buck’s elbow, instead of a teasing elbow to the ribs, it was a playful shoulder bump—all, Buck knew, things that Eddie could do without risking aggravating an unseen injury.

Any doubt in his mind that Eddie knew what was going on was dashed almost immediately, when Eddie intentionally steered the conversation in their little friend group (which was mostly the wrestling team, who had decided beyond all reason that Buck was okay) away from family matters. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together, and Buck was sure it was at least a little obvious when you got to know him where the bruises came from, but that was why Buck had been so hesitant to get to know anyone in the first place.

What was new, though, was the hand holding. It started off as Buck being led around, but then Eddie never really let go of his hand. Buck didn’t mind it, even though he felt he should—he was more or less dying for any physical contact that didn’t hurt, an itch he didn’t even know he needed scratched until Eddie showed up. But it was still... weird.

It wasn’t until later on, as Thanksgiving break loomed around the corner, when Eddie let his hand trail over his shoulders while dropping a burrito and chips from the Qdoba off campus did Buck start connecting dots.

Eddie was always a touchy feely guy, and it had only increased as of late.

Eddie had blushed when Buck took off his shirt—and for good reasons, apparently.

And now, Eddie was treating him to lunch.

They were all fine things on their own, but once was an accident, twice a coincidence, and three times, a pattern.

He swallowed his bite of burrito—the perfect order, even though he was sure Eddie had only asked him what he liked once, weeks ago—and derailed whatever train of thought Eddie had going in one fell swoop.

“...but if you look at the—”

“Eddie, are we dating?”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. A denial, maybe? Or another blush and topic change?

What he wasn’t expecting was for Eddie to nod his head, his smile a little wider, and then just continue on.

“Anyway, as I was saying—”

“No, hang on. We’re dating? This is like, a lunch date? You bought me lunch, because we’re on a lunch date?”

Eddie’s smile was so soft that Buck instantly felt at ease, even though he knew he was probably asking the dumbest questions of all time. “Yeah Buck, this is a lunch date. I didn’t want you to freak about it, but I knew you’d come to the conclusion eventually.”

Buck hummed as he reached over, stealing one of Eddie’s chips, chewing it thoughtfully before he rose his brow. “Well, this is a pretty nice first date, then.”

He tried not to be offended when Eddie snorted, raising his brow as he met the challenge.

“Buck, this is at least our second or third date. Our last date was me bringing you home to meet my parents.” Eddie said with a smirk, but Buck frowned, shaking his head.

“Wait, Eddie, that was forever ago. What was our first date then?” Buck asked, confusion written all over his face.

Eddie actually blushed—okay, Buck was officially never getting tired of seeing that—as he looked up, humming in a way that was probably meant to be nonchalant but definitely wasn’t. “Oh, uh, well I consider our first date to be the first lunch we had. Um, the one where I made the joke about Ms. Syzmaski’s wrinkly old ass?”

Buck was honestly lucky he had swallowed before Eddie spoke, because that would have been a spittake for sure. “What the fuck about that joke made you think of that as a date?”

Eddie was pink again and Buck had to physically bite his tongue not to goad him about it, but he was steadily getting redder as Buck waited. Finally, Eddie threw up his arms, sighing in defeat as he buried his head in his hands.

“It was... it was the first time I made you laugh, okay? That’s why it was so nice.”

Oh, that was cute. Fuck, that was so cute. Buck could actually feel his resolve start to give way, which was unacceptable on more than one level, and he took a breath as he steadied himself. “I’m not staying.”

Eddie look like he had been punched. “What?”

“I mean it. I’m not staying. As soon as I graduate I’m getting out of this state, hell, this time zone if I can.”

“Buck—“

“I mean it, Eddie, I can’t—can’t stay here. And I like, you, I really like you, but if you’re staying in state, you have to know that I won’t. Not for anything, so if that’s a dealbreaker for you, you should just…”

His lungs ran out of his air as he forgot to breathe, but it was probably for the best, Eddie taking the moment to jump in before Buck could continue freaking out. “Buck, what makes you think I’m staying?”

Buck swallowed, his thoughts completely derailed. “What? You just moved here, why would you be leaving again?”

“The only reason we’re here this year is for my dads work. He has a year long contract, then we’d probably be moving back to Texas, but even then, who knows? No offense, but I have zero urge to stay in this snooty, Ivy-League bullshit state.”

Buck spoke slowly as his brain tried to catch up with what Eddie had said, brow wrinkling in a way that Eddie was definitely going to remember to call cute later on. “So… you’re not planning on staying. And you don’t care if I leave either.”

“No, Jesus. All I want is for you to be happy.”

It probably said a lot about how much that simple statement shocked him, but at this point in his life, he wasn’t sure anything would sit as “normal” for a long time.

“Oh. Well, then, care to explain how we’ve apparently gone on three dates and you haven’t kissed me yet?”

Eddie lit up like a Christmas tree as he scooted forward on the bench, his eyes bright. “Are you sure you’re okay with it? I didn’t want to scare you off or anything—“

“Eddie, if you don’t kiss me right now, I swear I’ll—“

He didn’t get to finish his threat—which was mildly annoying—but the warm pressure of Eddie’s lips against his own drowned out any other objection he thought he may have.

He was almost late to class, his lips bruised in a way he absolutely loved, and he regretted absolutely nothing.

The day before they were due back in school from Winter Break, Buck had been planning on spending the entire day in bed, recuperating from the incessant display of familial togetherness that the holidays usually had brought. Eddie had been his one saving grace—near constant phone calls, texts, and snapchats had been the only thing keeping Buck’s temper low enough to avoid a few new bruises.

And, if the sight of Eddie wearing the simple leather corded necklace that Buck had gotten him for Christmas made his heart beat a little faster whenever he saw it, that was between him and God.

The past three months had been… alarmingly good, if Buck was being honest. If his home life had taught him anything, it was that the other shoe always dropped—so as much as he loved spending time with Eddie, as much as he loved their kisses, and rare dates, and holding hands in the hallway, as much as he honestly, truly thought he could see a life beyond high school with him, he was constantly, constantly waiting for that other shoe to drop.

Which was why, when Eddie called him at one o’clock on a Sunday, Buck let it ring a few times before he gathered himself to answer the phone.

“Hey, are you busy tonight? I want you to come over and meet everyone.”

“What do you mean, meet everyone? I’m pretty sure all of your family knows me by now.” That much was definitely true—Buck had been spending more time at Eddies than his own whenever he could help it, and while there was always someone out on an errand or at work or doing something else, he had participated in enough dinners, family calls, and video chats that he knew more of Eddie’s family than he did his own. “What, you have another set of siblings you’re hiding away from me?”

Eddie’s resounding laugh was a little too loud, a little too tense, just enough to spike Buck’s curiosity without making him fear the worst. He agreed easily after that, asking if he needed to bring anything, and made plans for a few hours later.

When he pulled up to Eddie’s house, though, it was almost unrecognizable. There were streamers tossed through the tree in the front yard, balloons tied to nearly every horizontal surface Eddie could see, and there were enough cars parked out front that Buck had to squeeze in behind a truck and a fire hydrant (and hope that he wouldn’t get a ticket).

As usual, Eddie met him at the door (Buck had teased him once about waiting by the window, and when Eddie blushed and didn’t deny it, Buck had gone in to full hysterical laughter), the obvious nerves he was displaying not enough to dissuade Buck from punching him in the shoulder. “Eddie, what the fuck! Is this a party? You told me not to bring anything, I could have—“

“Oh whatever, I’ll sign your name on my card, calm down.” Eddie said, like he wasn’t the bundle of nerves himself, leaning forward to press a kiss to Buck’s lips (which he accepted, of course, he wasn’t a monster even if he was annoyed). He easily succumbed to the whirlwind of introductions—aunties and uncles and people who were clearly of the Diaz family, and damn, Eddie wasn’t kidding when he told Buck he wanted him to meet everyone. Eddie’s nerves started to hitch back up as they made their way to the backyard, and Buck was about to call him out on whatever it was that was going on when Eddie beat him to the punch.

“Alright, you ready to meet the man of the hour?”

“Only if you’re ready for me to.” Buck said with a hum, smiling as Eddie’s face did some impressive expressive gymnastics. “Eddie, you’re wound like a damn spring. If you don’t want me to meet this person, or any of these people, I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, yeah?” He said, bringing his other hand up to link with Eddie’s as well.

Eddie, to his credit, looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off of his chest, and he beamed as he leaned in to kiss Buck agin. “God, you’re perfect. Have I ever told you that? Well, probably not enough, but it will have to wait, because…” Eddie pushed through the back door and towed Buck along with him, where a circle of chairs were set up around a table stacked high with drinks, snacks, party games, and in the middle of it all—

“…because here’s the birthday boy!”

—was a high chair, fully equipped with a tray table, a soppy cup, and a baby.

A baby.

Buck felt every nerve, every tense minute, every rational thought melt in his body and turn into a warm puddle of goo at the very core of his soul, and his face must have reflected that fact because Buck was vaguely aware of two of Eddie’s sisters laughing at him, but who cared there was a baby and it was the most adorable, pudgy, perfect baby Buck had ever seen.

The baby quickly let out a high pitched squeal as his attention landed on Eddie, smacking his hands against the table in front of him, and Buck could not be held accountable for the noise that he made when Eddie swooped forward and undid the tray, pulling him out of the high chair easily, tucking him into an arm like he was a seasoned pro.

“Buck, this is Chris.”

And now Eddie was walking toward him with the baby, the baby who’s name was Chris, and Buck only waited for the barest hint of a confirmation from Eddie before he moved closer, cooing toward the excited little bean in Eddie’s arms.

“Today is Chris’ first birthday.”

Which, that made sense, he was still so small and pudgy but still so energetic, and Buck nodded along with the rapid fire babbling as he squeezed Chris’ little foot playfully, feeling more proud of anything at the peal of laughter Chris let out at that.

“Chris is my son.”

Well, that made sense, Chris had the same complexion as Buck did, and he was just as quick to smile, and even though his hair was lighter in color it was still thick and wavy, and—

Wait.

His brain caught up with his ears and yanked him out of his baby haze as he looked back up to Eddie, and oh, yeah, there was that nervousness that Buck had felt radiating off of him all afternoon. It seemed to echo around the yard, where there was conversation and laughter just a moment ago, everyone seemed quieter now, hushed, or maybe that was just the rushing in Buck’s ears. Things started fitting into place as Buck thought about it—how he had met all of Eddie’s immediate family, but not at the same time, probably because someone had probably taken Chris out whenever Buck came over. How Eddie so obviously loved his family, but still got a little awkward talking about them at times. Why Eddie had only rarely badgered him about going out after school, because he was spending most of the time himself with his son.

“This is your baby.”

“Yes.”

Oh.

“You’re his father.”

“Yeah.”

Oh.

“Eddie, he’s beautiful.”

Eddie sagged like a puppet with its strings cut, the tension bleeding out of his body, and the smile he shot to Buck was more open and honest than he had ever seen before. He could feel a collective sigh breathed around him as the voices picked back up, apparently approving of Buck’s reaction. “He really is, isn’t he? When he was born last year, his mom wanted to give him up, but… I couldn’t even imagine that. My parents stepped up and really helped me out, we took him home, and it was just… perfect. Like it was meant to be.”

Buck looked up with a smile as Eddie spoke, utterly entrapped in how soft he looked as he held his son, his voice low and slow as to not startle the curious kid safe in his arms. “When my dad took a contract up here, I thought it would be the perfect chance to start over, you know? I wouldn’t give Chris up for anything, but I could tell teachers were going easier on me, boosting my grades, and I didn’t know if it was pity or… whatever. This was the chance for me to prove I could do it. You, uh, you’re the only one outside of my family who even knows.” Eddie said, and Buck had to physically bite his tongue to prevent himself from gushing.

“He’s perfect, Eds. You’re perfect. I’m… I’m really honored you told me.” Buck said easily, leaning forward for another kiss, mindful of the giggling body between them. “But if you think I’m going to let you forget that you told me not to bring anything to your baby sons first birthday, you have another thing coming, I can’t believe you didn’t let me get a gift or something—no, seriously!“

Eddie let out a groan as he leaned forward into Buck’s bickering, the sudden lull in the party long since forgotten as the night carried on.

The other shoe always dropped, though, and Buck 100% blamed himself for not seeing it coming. Hell, he 100% blamed himself for letting it happen. He had become complacent, he had let his guard down, Eddie had wormed his way into Buck’s heart and showed him how good things could be, and Buck had dared to believe him.

Buck had had hope, as stupid as it was, and now, here he was, standing at Eddie’s door, knocking at the wooden frame, begging, pleading for him to open the door—he didn’t realize how much he loved Eddie always meeting him at the threshold until it didn’t happen, until he wasn’t sure if Eddie was going to open the door at all, until he didn’t know what else he could do.

As it was, Eddie wasn’t the one who opened the door. It was Helena, who he had just spent the day with, and the sound she had made when Buck came into view was unholy.

The day had started off so well, too—Eddie and Buck had both been accepted to Texas A&M (while Buck’s pre-acceptance letter had come almost a month ago, he still waited until Eddie received his to even open the envelope), and Eddie’s parents had been so thrilled with him—with both of them—that they had insisted on treating everyone to breakfast before cheering Eddie on at what was likely the last wrestling match of the season (because as great as Eddie was, the team as a whole sucked).

Helena had forced him into a “Team Diaz” shirt, and Buck looked at himself probably a little too long in the mirror, tracing the name over his chest—if anyone noticed, no one said anything, though the smile on Helena’s face told Buck all he needed to know. Eddie, on the other hand, had absolutely lit up when he saw them all in the stands, his gaze lingering a little too long on the word Diaz splayed across Buck’s chest, and the look he gave Buck when they locked eyes again was nothing short of sinful (Buck was glad that he had been put on Chris duty—holding a baby was probably the only way he was able to distract himself from the sight of Eddie in spandex).

So, it didn’t come to a huge surprise when Helena opened the door and let out a sound that would have pushed him over the edge, had Buck not already been crying.

Well… halfway crying. He was only really tearing up in one eye, the other was too swollen to do anything more than squint.

His front was covered in blood, the “Team Diaz” stained red, his lip split and swollen and his cheek covered in bruises. It was probably for the best that his left eye was swollen shut, because blood was leaking around it from a split in his eyebrow, so he probably wouldn’t have been able to see anyway. Beyond the lip and the eye, though, the biggest concern was his nose—he didn’t think it was broken, but it was still sluggishly bleeding, and it just wouldn’t stop.

Helena pulled him into the house and immediately started barking orders (“Adriana, bring Christopher to the nursery and put him in his playpen. Sophia, tell Edmundo to get home right now, his Buck has been hurt. Ramon, give me the first aid kit.”), steering Buck easily to the back yard as the rest of the family scurried around.

By the time Eddie got home, Buck had been mostly cleaned up—or, at least, his nose had stopped bleeding long enough to mop up most of the blood on his face, and Helena had taped the gash on his brow closed with butterfly bandages, and had a cold compress pressed against his face. Eddie looked wild, his eyes wide and face unforgiving as he kneeled next to Buck, and if Buck had any tears left in his body he probably would have started crying again as Eddie cupped the uninjured side of his face.

Buck knew that Eddie was trying to find words, but he also knew there were a hundred wrong things to say at that moment, so he took the step for both of them.

“My dad found out about us.” There was no sense in sugar coating it, no sense in leaving the bandaid on too long, he just had to rip it off so they could move on. “Apparently he didn’t much like the idea of his son not carrying on the family name, he… didn’t take it well.”

Eddie let out a sound that could only be described as someone breaking, and Buck blindly reached for his hand, feeling something burn through his chest, deciding then and there that he wouldn’t let another ounce of his father hurt Eddie the way it had hurt him. “But you were right. One block, one hit, all I needed to get away.” His tone had soured into something dark and sticky, good eye burning as he remembered Eddie’s little self defense lesson, all those months ago. He could tell the moment that Eddie’s mind reached the same conclusion, and he scrambled to look at Buck’s hands—there were some bruising around his right knuckles, but that was it.

One punch, that was all he needed.

One punch, and just like that, he had left everything behind—his phone, his car, his father bleeding from what Buck could only hope was a broken nose, coughing and sputtering on the entryway floor. The only thing he had on him was his wallet and his hoodie, and even the latter was tossed into the trashcan as he got off the train, too thoroughly wet with blood to be of any good at keeping him warm.

Instinctively, he had gotten off the train and trusted his feet to take him somewhere he knew he would be safe. He had finally realized that that place would never be with his family, would never be his house. His house would never be his home.

“Eddie…” Buck started, his voice thick with emotion. “Eddie, I… I don’t want to go back. I never want to see them, ever again. I’ll call up Maddie, I’ll… I’ll do something, but I can’t go back there, ever.”

Eddie looked like his heart was breaking; but before he could open his mouth and tell Buck off for considering going anywhere else, Helena spoke again.

“You will do no such thing.”

Her voice soft but hard as steel, leaving no room for argument, and Buck looked at her with pleading eyes (well, eye) as she shook her head.

“You will not be going back there. I have half a mind to drive over there right now and—no. I will do everything I can to make sure you never have to see them again.”

Buck could feel himself sag in relief, a breath he didn’t know he had been holding coming out ragged and raw, even as Helena continued.

“And Buck, I don’t know Maddie, and I’m sure she would be happy to help you out however she could, but. I would never let another Diaz out onto the street. Never in my life.” She said, and Buck had to swallow when he realized who she was talking about.

They considered him a Diaz?

“So if you would really be happier, or safer, we can get in the car and I’ll bring you to your sister tonight, but it’s just a few months until you and Edmundo leave for college anyway, and—“

“Please stay. Please. God, Buck, please, at least stay with us until you heal up a little. Please.” Eddie had apparently had enough of his mothers talking in circles, his voice shaking as he spoke, and Buck’s shock must have shown on his face because Eddie looked like he was going to start crying again.

They really considered him a Diaz.

He wanted to question it, to object, to do anything to prevent himself from being in their hair, but just like it was the first time they had lunch together, Eddie had worked his way too far past Buck’s defenses, and apparently, he had brought his whole family with him.

Buck barely had to nod before Eddie had him wrapped up in his arms, tight, and Buck returned the favor easily, seamlessly, his head buried in Eddie’s neck like he belonged there.

The thought resonated as Helena went back inside, letting the two of them have their moment; though, just a moment, announcing that it would be a lovely night to have dinner outside on the patio. It bounced around his head as Eddie kissed his cheek when they passed each other with plates and glasses, setting the table beneath the string lights in the yard, the spot on his cheek tingling long after the contact had broken. It took root when Buck found himself laughing, sitting easier in his own skin than he had ever done before as Eddie tried to justify whatever foolish thing he had done in Ramon’s story, failing miserably, his hand laced tightly with Buck’s beneath the table.

Maybe this was where he belonged.

For the first time in years, Buck saw something that was worth holding on for, that was worth keeping and protecting and letting grow.

For the first time, he had hope.

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 #buddiefic #911fic #highschool au #christopher diaz #tw: abuse #flospeaks #8k #fic #god this got long #I don't know if I like it but I needed it to be out of my brain so #there you go #mutually assured devotion

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