#So here's a first draft I like for what he should wear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dadsbongos · 11 months ago

Text

a king, his advisor, and the betrothed

@toxycodone the fic is here fren

11 K words / warnings - reader has vag n wears a dress once, threesome WOAH, p in v + p in a sex, oral (m receiving), kabru is a fan of inappropriate workplace relationships

summary - Laios cannot find a suitor on his own, so Kabru is forced to summon an old... friend... for help.

~~~

“Just… someone you would like, then.”

“Someone I would like?”

“Yeah! If you like them, they must be good, right?”

“This isn’t about… ugh, fine.”

Kabru already knew exactly who to set up with Laios, but he wanted to grant himself a few more hours of delusion by drafting a list of desired traits.

A queen should be: diligent and humble, wise and patient. Honest.

Ideally, a short-lived king should marry from another short-lived race. Any children will therefore be short-lived as well, which Kabru considers highly preferable. Another tallman is his best option to keep infertility sparse.

Laios’ personality will need to be accounted for as well (Kabru finds that the longer he dawdles, the more fun he has hypothesizing Laios’ perfect match).

Laios, specifically, needs someone blunt and unencumbered by conformity -- the man seems to thrive when others feel comfortable speaking frankly with him. Someone from another royal court will not do, and especially not someone descended from direct nobel blood. Furthermore, Laios is clueless as to what his own title ensues, so he does little more for his countrymen than make appearances or pass budgets and bills. So for Kabru’s own sanity, someone intelligent and inclined to make Laios do his actual job is also preferred.

They must balance indulgence and sobriety for the man’s antics, as well as willingness to sit through Laios’ obscure personality.

Wait…

“No,” Kabru scratches that last half of his sentence, ink bleeding across the page, “What kind of matchmaker settles?”

They must like Laios, and Laios must like them. Laios is not a man Kabru can envision enduring loveless marriage, it’d be too awkward and the dolt would have it annulled.

Someone not petrified by monsters and intrigued by Laios’ strange personality, but also not so deranged as to be exactly like Laios.

Again, a single name comes to Kabru’s mind, but this time he does not put it off. He’s had his fun scheming, now he must draft a letter to the Northern Continent. To a village chief’s firstborn -- acquainted well enough with basic politics while also sharing a similar upbringing with Laios.

You’re perfect.

You’re also…

“An ex-party member?” Laios’ eyes skim over the contents of Kabru’s summoning letter, addressed at the top to you, “Cool.”

“Yeah, an ex-party member,” Kabru sighs to himself, imagining Rin beating him over the head with her staff right about now, “I think you should know, I briefly- ”

“Kabru,” Laios shakes his head, grinning, “I don’t care. If you trust them, I do.”

Briefly -- sure -- if an entire year and some months was brief. Kabru sighs louder and decides to let Laios find out on his own, since the king is so determined to look cool and easygoing.

In any case, you’ll be fond of Laios, Kabru’s certain.

Certain, and also dreading.

Year 512

“Where’d you find the space case anyway?”

“You sound upset.”

“Look!” Rin flings a gloved arm straight out, gesturing heatedly towards where the party’s newest member is staring straight at the first floor’s cracked ceiling.

Both hands squeezing the straps of your pack, you leave your throat completely exposed in order to gaze at a dark, faraway roof. The ease with which Kabru could slit your tender neck is comical, he finds it more concerning than charming. Any hoodlum or hooligan could rob and beat you blind and you’d be incapable of a proper defense.

“Let me handle it,” Kabru hopes to placate Rin with a soft grin, its success is limited because Rin’s known him long enough to push through his gushy exterior. She puts up no fight, thankfully, and let him approach you alone, “Hey!”

“Shh!” you hiss cutting your fingers along your jaw to silence him. His shock and horror at your rudeness must be visible because you wave that same hand around and smile, “Sorry. It’s just…”

Pointing up, your stare returns to the ceiling. Eyes wide and lips curled with glee. Kabru heeds and grimaces: glistening slimes the shade of clovers goop between gaping slashes in the ceiling. Pulsating and shivering as one beating organ, Kabru can’t think up a more disgusting sight.

“Slimes are sensitive to the heat we exhale, so the louder you are the easier they can find you.”

Blinking at you as inconspicuous as possible, Kabru asks, “Why stand right under them then?”

“They’re so weird. They don’t look intelligent, but they move around easily and developed such a scary way to trap prey. Pretty neat.”

Kabru has half a mind to cut you out of the party just for saying that, until you tack on a,

“Still super gross, though. We should move before they notice us.”

Kabru nods, watching you cross towards the rest of the party before following with a silent prayer that you’re not actually a monster fanatic.

His prayers are answered on the second floor -- your party is down, Holm and Daya crumpled over on opposite sides of the tree den. Kuro is strewn over a shaking, teary Mickbell with a bloody gash in his back. Rin has a similar slash, only deep in her gut and Kabru can tell she’s bleeding out fast.

While he prides himself on his wit and light thinking, Kabru is horrified by the sight of his party in agony. Planning so far ahead of himself he’s trying to scheme how to charm a passing healer into aiding Rin or reviving Holm, meanwhile he can’t even be certain he’s going to survive this attack. His own life is on the back on his mind, body stiff in preparation to swing his sword and cut off the chicken head of a charging Basilisk.

But how should he cut? It has to have a carotid artery, or a heart, but where? What if his strike is at a wrong angle and the snake side gobbles you all up.

Suddenly, the glint of your sword blinds him -- you snip the snake in half, exploiting the monster’s following stagger to round its body and stab through the Basilisk’s head. Tearing outward and splattering Kabru in blood as the beast drops.

He looks to you in silence, knees sore and wobbly and hands a shaking wreck.

Simply, you say, “The snake head is the real head, so if you attack that end first the chicken tail is distracted and easy to sneak up on,” then, you notice his trembling, “Oh, sorry…”

As if waiting for permission, Kabru’s body gives out once your hands find his shoulders. You smooth a palm over his back while shredding the loose material of your blouse to mop up the mess. Gently soaking Basilisk blood from his face with a frown marring your face, continuously murmuring apologies.

Kabru takes your wrist in his hand, blinking back his shock to sigh, “Thank you.”

Suspecting there’s more words jumbled on his tongue, you patiently wait that way: knelt beside Kabru as he squeezes your wrist.

“I think we should go back to the surface.”

You nod quickly. Much quicker than he’d assume you would given how directly you dealt with the terrifying Basilisk, “Do you want me to head back and get corpse retrievers? I doubt we could carry everyone up by ourselves.”

He takes note of how you specifically exclude Mickbell, presumably due to the young man’s hysterics.

The sharp tang of raw iron is filling Kabru’s nose, he chokes on it. He can’t stand to smell it a second more.

“No,” but inhaling through his mouth makes him taste it, rotting each bud on his tongue, “No. I’m the party leader, I should get them.”

Your eyes are lidding, no shock or awe found in the twinkle of your iris -- you were expecting this response.

“Sure, Kabru, I’ll wait with Mickbell.”

You don’t call him out on it, though.

Once the party has been revived and Kabru’s thrown the men their coins, you suggest the crew return a floor above.

“I’m sure nobody wants to eat where they died, so let’s have lunch up there and save instead of visiting a stall,” you gasp quietly and cover your mouth, then deferring to Kabru, “If that sounds good to you? Sorry… I shouldn’t have spoken so boldly like that…”

“No, you’re right,” even though he’s not looking to confirm, Kabru can feel Rin burning holes into his skull with her glare, “I think that’s a good idea.”

Secretly he’s glad no outsiders heard you make that call -- he isn’t ashamed to be bossed around by someone in a blouse, but he’s also not unrealistic. Others seeing that could threaten his meager status among the adventuring community. He’d be the wimp pushed around by his own members.

Interrupting his spiral, again, is you, “Okay, let’s get going then!” you clamp another hand over your mouth, “Right, Kabru?”

“Right.”

Thankfully, it is just your party who only finds your zealousness comedic rather than an opportunity for mutiny.

Returning visit to the first floor proves you about as useful as the initial one did.

Holm and Daya are unpacking rations with Mickbell and Kuro straggling at the edge of the blondes’ conversation. Rin is fetching water. Kabru is watching you; and he knows he should be either helping Rin, or lecturing you to help Rin, but he keeps watching.

He cannot hear you, but he knows you’re speaking -- crouched to make eye contact with a pair of slight humans. Round cheeks and marblesque eyes tell Kabru they’re just scratching at maturity. Not even thirteen.

The shorter one, a boy with freckles, picks at tender plumes of skin around his nails, knees shaking. He finds no voice, but the girl beside him does. She squeezes the shirt over her heart and her brows furrowed with passion, he can barely make out the words: mage, fourth, corpse retrievers.

One of your hands is perched on your bent knees while the other grazes along the forsaken graveyard, your head tilts and if he really forces his ears then Kabru can hear you ask, “How did you get separated?”

The girl’s shoulders go lax, lip twitching down as she sputters a reply. The boy’s picking grows frantic, his head shaking and voice shivery (this time Kabru can pick up: without her, no chance).

Kabru’s gaze hones on you, dissecting each twinge in your face as you process the information. Daya and Holm’s voices become vague, like buzzing insects, even Rin’s agitated staring from the fountain is pushed out of focus. How will you react to these children?

It's a horrible story, he’s sure. He’s so sure it’s a truly heartbreaking tale about two little ones separated from their ward on a lower level due to a snap decision from fear. However, it could also be just that: a story.

Criminals banned from The Island’s coasts often seek refuge in the bowels of the dungeon. Kabru feels confident that as this dungeon continues to fester unconquered: criminals are beginning to raise their children here.

If you blindly follow them down, you’re a fool. If you hand over all your party’s gold, you’re a fool. If you do nothing, you’re heartless. Heartlessness can be worse than foolishness, at least fools have good intentions.

Fingers wrap around the stem of a limping flower and pull, cutting it clean from the floor and holding the plant for both children. You push your hand closer to the kids, waiting until the girl grasps the flower before speaking again,

Something long winded, and judging by the shudders racketing down the boy’s frail body something rather dismal too. Yet you’re beaming up at the children, then they’re smiling as well. Rising to your feet, you brush moss stains from your knees and wave the children off with a promise Kabru can actually hear,

“If my party finds any retrievers, we’ll send them down.”

With eager nods, the kids sniffle and affirm their bravery to you -- the girl cradling the plucked daisy to her chest. You return to your party’s camp and boldly declare,

“I think we should try reaching the fourth floor soon.”

Rin bonks you with an elbow to the side, “Where’s this enthusiasm when I needed help carrying the water?”

Rubbing the tenderized area, you laugh and accept her frustration, “Sorry. Got caught up.”

“Obviously,” Rin sighs, falling to her knees around the party’s temporary camp.

Kabru sits as well, still observing as you apologize to Rin again though your eyes trailing the kids as they heft food packs onto their shoulders and begin their trek.

Mickbell settles into Kuro’s lap, Daya has begun digging into her plate while Holm ensures everyone has a filling portion. Rin agrees to dissolve the tension, meaning you two can begin gaffing amongst yourselves. As if you never left, the party is normal.

Despite your itch to reach the fourth floor as soon as possible, you don’t mention the interaction whatsoever.

Overall, Kabru considers your first dive with the party a cohesion success.

Year 515

“Don’t speak over or interrupt. Got it?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Alright.”

“I’m serious,” Kabru’s eyes widen a smidge, as if to force how pertinent it is that Laios absorbs this lesson, “I’m still upset about the meeting last week.”

“I didn’t know he wasn’t done talking,” Laios frowns, shrugging in an obnoxiously coy play, the worst part being that Kabru knows Laios does it in earnest. His stupid kicked-puppy stare is entirely genuine, “That guy takes long breaths, it’s hard to tell when he’s done.”

“Well try harder to tell now,” a wave of guilt hits Kabru in the chest, heart squeezing at the sight of Laios’ frown deepening, “I don’t mean to upset you. I just… I want this to go well.”

“I do, too, you know?”

Kabru finds that hard to believe, but Laios isn’t lying to him right now. He’d know otherwise. Whether Laios can make a positive impression will have to be seen, but the man clearly has no intentions of sabotaging himself.

For all his lackluster socio-political ambitions, Laios is still a good king: insightful to the experience of commonmen and quick to new ways of strengthening their country. He has yet to give citizens, or Kabru, valid reason to question his ability to rule.

“I’m sure,” Kabru turns in his desk chair, bracing his forehead with his palm, “Let’s get this finished then.”

“But- “ Laios hesitates when he’s shot an icy glare from Kabru, “But I’m so hungry…”

As if to punctuate his torment, Laios’ stomach grumbles. Loudly. Echoing through the informal setting of Kabru’s personal quarters.

“My poor royal majesty,” Kabru coos, inked with sarcasm, “Will you survive till lunch?”

Laios’ eyes go thin, arms folding, “Don’t demean me.”

“It’s one meal. You’ll hardly die. The faster we finish this paperwork, the quicker we can usher you to breakfast.”

“I want to go now,” Laios, with no sense of self, lays his lips into the crook of his advisor’s neck. Soft, plump flesh scorching Kabru’s pulse, then a cold flash of bone: teeth, “I’m starving.”

Bladepoint canines puncture Kabru’s skin, shock blinding him to the scathing scratch till after Laios has already pulled away. Saliva stringing them together before Laios snaps it, sloppily swiping the wrist of his sleeve across his mouth.

“Disgusting,” Kabru starkly avoids eye contact by glaring at the sheen of spit on his shoulder, cupping the inflamed flesh, “Go change your shirt now, it’s not a handkerchief.”

He doesn’t remember when he first felt comfortable being so venomous around Laios, only that it's easier than trying to be pleasant all the time.

“After I eat?” Laios prompts.

“After you eat,” Kabru massages his tensing temples, working away the headache as it builds.

Upon Laios’ exit, Kabru traces the shallow indents with his fingertips -- lashes fluttering against his cheeks at the resulting faint sting. Now he’ll be forced to find a new shirt of his own, one that hides his bruising mark.

Year 513

“As long as we don’t piss off any living armor, we should be able to get to the fourth floor, at least,” you nod to yourself, hands steady and body firm as you hold up your homemade map of the area.

Raucous groans follow your cheery assessment, and a cursory glance back shows your party in disarray: Rin and Holm have heavy, discolored bags beneath their eyes. Daya is leaning against her axe with quaking arms while Mickbell coils around Kero’s shoulders. Even Kabru can admit he looks worse for wear, or assumes he does because he certainly feels at his worst.

“Oh, unless you all want to head back?” you roll the map up and wave a hand dismissively, almost seeming ashamed of the previous suggestion. Cautious to maintain a soothing and even tone, clearly doing your best to prevent any of them from feeling coddled or mocked.

Not that he truly wants to, but Kabru agrees, “Probably for the best. We’re running low on food, so we should save what we have for the journey back.”

“Makes sense,” you don’t appear disappointed or discouraged, “There’s always next time.”

“Enough optimism,” Mickbell whines, “It’s making me all nauseous.”

“Be nice,” Rin chastises, then looking at you forlorn, “You could probably carry on without us.”

Her dejected lilt prevents any accusations of wanting you to go it alone.

“No way, I’d go crazy by myself!”

Kabru reads that instantly as a lie -- if your scrunching brows and fidgeting hands weren’t telling enough then perhaps you don’t remember confessing to him your days as a solo adventurer.

You could easily carry on without the rest of the party. Hell, you could even join a better, stronger party -- the Toudens, maybe. They’d chomp at your skills if they cared even a little about their fellow men. Kabru bets you would even be able to form a party of your own with ease.

“We’re strongest when everyone’s at their best, after all,” you reassure, turning your back on the dream to hit fourth floor this crawl in favor of aiding your party’s exhaustion, “As long as we can go that deep eventually, I’ll die happily.”

Kabru doesn’t bring up how rapidly approaching the date for you to sail back home is, he gets the sense you wouldn’t want him to.

“Well don’t go keeling on us as soon as we do,” Rin’s scowl loosens, only slightly, when you smile in return and loop an arm through hers.

“Of course, not, Rin. Who else would terrorize you if I died?”

Quickly, the mage’s dark eyes flick to Kabru before returning to you, “I have an idea.”

“Oh, duh.”

Her gaze lingers on the way you’re staring at Kabru and how Kabru stares back. She must read his fondness because her forehead wrinkles up and she tugs you forward, “Yeah, duh.”

Year 515

Kabru’s foot taps impatiently, knowing it’d be improper were he to rush over and help you down from the carriage himself. But forgive the man, he’s in a hurry to have you at his side again.

He wonders if you wear the same perfume.

He wonders if you’ll take to Laios immediately, or will it take the entire two weeks before your wedding ceremony for you to warm to him?

Most of all, he wonders if he can compose himself during the entire courting process.

“Hey!”

Kabru’s mind snaps back into the present at your call, you’re charging over with an ecstatic wave. He waves back, calmer and centered towards his chest.

“It’s great to see you again!” you effortlessly knock the polite handshake Kabru extends aside to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Imagine my surprise, the first time you send a letter is to try and marry me to a king!”

“I never found the time to write back when things finally got interesting,” Kabru bluffs, returning your hug. Warmth spreads between the both of you, if he focuses hard enough he can make out the dull thud of your heart, “Hopefully this makes up for it.”

“Definitely,” you pull back, rolling your eyes, “Father made my brother village chief while I was on The Island, so there wasn’t anything left for me to do there.”

“Perfect time to get one up on your brother. Even just marrying into royalty is better than village chief.”

You hum thoughtfully, “Let’s meet Laios Touden first. I remember he was kind of a weird guy, no?”

“He still is,” Kabru shrugs, turning to guide you into the main hall as men lug your bags towards the castle’s south wing, “He’s nice, at least. Wants to make living easier,” he glances back at you over his shoulder, “Handsome, too. You must remember what he looks like.”

“I remember he was big.”

“Strong, yeah,” Kabru slows to match paces with you through the rolling corridors, “Nice jawline, pretty eyes, and the slope of his nose isn’t terrible. He’s kind of an outstanding specimen, physically I mean.”

“Oh…” you press a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing at his rambling, “So his looks do the heavy lifting?”

“Just something to keep in mind,” he pauses outside a set of tall double doors, one hand braced against the hanging, solid black handle, and the other drawing circles into his temple, “His unique personality hasn’t faded with becoming king.”

“How interesting.”

“That’s a word for it.”

Laios is slumped comfortably back into his throne, sunlight complimenting his bored expression before he notices the pair pushing through his grandeur. Immediately, his eyes sink into you, scrawling from the top of your head to your feet in blatant observation. Staunchly, his gaze remains respectful to your modesty, indicating he’s purely sizing you up; perhaps confirming whether or not he could take you in a fight. Or to use you as a meager replacement for his monsters, studying your anatomy and mentally attaching tails and horns and heads where he sees fit.

“King Laios,” you politely remain behind Kabru. Your own gaze lurches over the king’s body as well, much less clinical than his examination -- you already know you could take him in a fight. What you want to imagine now, is if he’s the outstanding specimen that Kabru claimed, “So nice to see the Golden Kingdom for myself.”

“Prettier than the North,” Laios, much to Kabru’s unspoken irritation, scratches the back of his head without grace, “You’re from there too, right? How has it been? I haven’t been in awhile.”

“Oh, you know,” none of the men from your village look like Laios, despite their hard labor they aren’t built like him. Big. Beefy. Chewable also comes to mind; you could chew him up and be full of protein. From the little pouch of his stomach you surmise he isn’t cut or excessively defined, which drives you mad, “Same as usual. Cold and quiet.”

“Mhm. How about the monsters up top? I don’t think anybody from my village was willing to slay them,” he folds his arms, legs spreading as he readjusts for comfort, head ticking curiously, “I’ve been thinking lately that they could be overrun by monsters if nobody fights them off.”

Kabru’s irritation grows, having to claw at his thighs to restrain from choking the man. He may be older and bigger and more powerful than Kabru is, but Laios is the most painfully oblivious man in the world. He just has to be. He’s so focused on not attacking his king that Kabru almost misses how eyes scald his side at the mention of monsters overtaking the North.

“I haven’t noticed anything unusual,” and you mean that, the North truly is as boring as it was when you were growing up, “Maybe more acceptance for magic, but that’s mostly to combat the increase in ghosts.”

“Increase in ghosts,” Laios’ eyes bulge, posture straightening out in vivid excitement, “Do they know why there’s so many? Do they just wander around, or do they remain in cemeteries?”

“Ah, King Laios,” you try to hide the way your eyes bounce repeatedly towards Kabru’s rigid frame. His hands are balled, even shaking, and his stare is aimed over the king’s right shoulder, “Perhaps we could get some privacy before discussing such things?” you boldly step forward, correctly assuming Laios would take no offense at the intrusion, “We should get to know each other on our own.”

“Oh, right!” Laios waves a dismissal towards Kabru, apologizing for holding the man so long.

You don’t ask Kabru if he’s okay before he leaves, but you take one of his hands and squeeze it gingerly. Smiling tenderly and bidding him well. A soft halo of gold ringing around your head from sunlight pouring through glass panes.

“Don’t let- ” just as he’s apologizing for his king, you silence Kabru.

“I’ll form my own opinion,” you release his hand, still grinning, “You trust me, don’t you?” he nods, of course he does, “So trust me to gather my own thoughts, okay?”

Oh, God that cannot be a good sign.

Please, please, please -- he’s contemplating getting on his knees to pray outside the doors -- please don’t let his reaction to Laios’ monster obsession make you hate the king. You’re his only choice, the only one that will do!

You’re kind and strong willed and beautiful and he’d love to have you living under the same roof as himself.

Not that that has anything to do with his decision. No, no, that would be idiotic.

That would be the worst plan he’s ever planned in his entire life. So, he’s glad it's separate from his real motivation.

At least, he’s glad until that night. Alone in his bed with only moonlight shining along his pristine sheets.

For hours Kabru has been cooped in his room, and technically he’s been cooped in his mind even longer. Since the second a passing pair of guards relieved him from lingering outside the throne room, Kabru blindly stumbled through his messy thoughts.

Worse now than ever before is the desperation to know. Clawing him apart from the inside out. He needs to know.

To know what you’re feeling. To know what’s being said. To know why you two never came out, even hours after Kabru left. In explicit detail, he must know. What you like about Laios, what you don’t, what you find attractive, if you got hot in the face when you saw him, if you ever felt that way about Kabru, if you think Kabru’s attractive, if you accepted his invitation just because Kabru sent it or because you truly wanted to meet Laios.

He can’t just ask, so now he must meticulously set up a series of precision events to fish the information out.

Because your hesitance to emphatically accept the proposal confuses Kabru. You’ve never been particularly picky about partners, but you’re not the type for manufacturing attraction to spare a person’s feelings. So theory one is that Laios is not physically appealing to you.

Though not even that explanation makes sense. To be short, Kabru doesn’t understand how you couldn’t be attracted to Laios. Such strong, determined features demanded attention; and trust, the attention would be positive.

Broad shoulders and meaty thighs, Laios’ build is admirable on its own: Kabru could sink his teeth into Laios’ bicep and never cut bone. Aside from that is the healthy fluff of blonde hair his king keeps trimmed, as well as his face. Remaining clean shaven gives an air of proper hygiene and self-sufficiency that makes Laios seem more attractive.

Kabru cannot fathom how you’re not preparing vows yet.

That thought makes him shoot up in bed, eyes wide and a hand curled into his churning gut.

Why can’t Kabru fathom how you’re not preparing vows? Why does he find it so peculiar?

That type of questioning, this obsession -- it implies Kabru wants to prepare vows, doesn’t it?

With ragged grumbling Kabru collapses back into his mattress, letting his fried brain melt through his ears as he finally attempts giving in to sleep.

…

He wakes to a nightmare the next morning -- you and Laios are alone in the great hall, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the end closest to the kitchen. Chairs pushed so close the armrests are peeling against each other, elbows knocking as Laios forgoes all table etiquette. Not once do you scold or demean him. Instead seeming too engrossed at the ear-nibbling of shapeshifter trivia Laios is laying down.

“Did you ever run into one?” Laios asks, eyes a little too glittery for someone who must’ve woken quite early for this private breakfast, “My dad had our dogs follow herds so we could spot them in the flock.”

“Dogs can tell which sheep are fakes?”

“Oh, yeah! Dogs can tell by the smell,” Laios taps his nose, “I wonder what the difference is, don’t you? Do they smell more sweet, like dirt? Or do they have no smell at all since their illusions?”

“Maybe a Kobold would be able to tell you? Their anatomy is dog-like, after all.”

“I thought so, too! But there’s not many Kobolds native to the North.”

“Well, hopefully you can find out one day,” then you bite for more monster facts, “I did always wonder what my own shapeshifter could look like. Don’t they read people’s minds to make their copies?”

Laios’ silverware clatters away, tinking loudly on the glass plate, hands flexing hysterically, heart jumping to his tongue, “They do, they take other people’s interpretations of you to confuse your company into keeping it around.”

“How thrilling,” you muse.

“It’s a shame I’ll never get to see or make another one,” he lifts his fork, pushing meat and eggs around his plate glumly, “Would’ve been fun to see what you look like in my memory compared to the real thing.”

“You can tell me now,” your palm bares his shoulder, leaning over your chair and towards his own. Laios’ honey eyes dip, tracing the shape of your lips which makes you lean even closer, “How is it that you see me, Laios? Would I be flattered?”

“I hope so,” he blurts.

Kabru backs away, rattling door hinges before slumping back into the corridor. Rotten thoughts of how lovely you are corroding his brain. You’re so lovely to nip at your betrothed’s interest wholeheartedly, no matter how unconventional.

You’re so lovely it's all consuming.

You’re so lovely he can’t remember when or why, exactly, he fell in love with you.

You’re so lovely he thinks he might have just always been your emotional pin cushion.

There remains to be a single thing Kabru could name that made him fall in love with you.

Kindness is much too bland of a trait. And you wanted the wellbeing of others, but that’s something Kabru expects from people. You are pretty, but that’s no reason to daydream about buying a house together. Perhaps it was a combination of all three that mixed lethally well with how much time you spent together.

That, with how detrimental party romances are to group fallouts, maybe made you more desirable? Could that be it?

You were a new, fascinating person he couldn’t pick apart as soon as he gazed upon you, and you knew exactly how to swerve his expectations. You loved listening to him mutter about the interlocked nature of humans: one man cheating on his wife in Kahka Brud undoing a port in Melini. But you stepped away from interpersonal Island gossip. You could rattle out seven variations of man-eating plants but couldn’t stand to even look upon the vegetation without grimacing.

Approachable with a thin smile and batting lashes, beautiful and quiet. Very quiet. You hardly ask anything of others. It should make you seem ominous or menacing, but no part of him feels endangered by you.

Kabru always felt so comfortable around you that, despite knowing his other party members longer, he found you the easiest to converse with. Before he could realize himself, you’d crawled over so many emotional walls without letting him bypass a single one of your own.

You’re his worst nightmare, he craves you more than oxygen.

Year 513

The tavern door opens with an outrageous squeal. If the mood were different, then you would probably make a humorous remark about the aged hinges. But the mood isn’t different. Things are tense and he just wants to go home now.

Even twinkling stars blink away to avoid giving his humiliation anymore attention. Moonlight rudely oozes over you both, though, reminding him how much he prefers the sun. The moon always seems to follow him when he’s whirled in his worst turmoil.

You step into the tavern first, holding the cranky door open for him. He’d thank you like the upstanding young man his mother raised… if only the mood were different.

Silently, Kabru trails behind you, cheeks blistering hot and palms moist, with his head bent. You two make it back to the table circled by your party, sans Daya due to a more pressing engagement with her fiance. Rin’s perma-scowl cracks briefly into blatant shock at his slouch before schooling herself into re-wrinkling her face. Confusion curling into the folds of her glabella.

“What happened?”

Per usual, you answer for Kabru, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” anger seems to flash briefly over her for a moment, a spasm so minute only Kabru can spot it, “Really?”

He’s not surprised she’s upset about him, shamefully, trying to woo you during a night out with the party. What surprises him is that her anger is solely directed at you.

At least until you nod firmly, “Nothing happened, Rin.”

Then pity laxes her irritation, she spares Kabru a flicker of eye contact before mumbling an ‘okay’. She ends up remaining largely silent for the rest of the night, only extending responses when directly prompted.

What else surprises him is the ease with which you lie. Something happened, just not how he wanted it to play out.

Maybe he didn’t notice because of his drowned mood, but Kabru swears you didn’t exhibit any of your usual tells when you spoke.

(the fact he harps on your physical tells will make him so mad he cries later tonight)

Year 515

“He’s going to burn their ear off, I’m telling you…” Marcille grumbles.

“I think it's cute,” Falin grins.

“Of course, you do,” Marcille sighs, though smiling fondly at the girl while scritching around her plumage. Falin chirps happily and nuzzles into Marcille’s shoulder, “He’s your brother, you never think he’s as weird as he is.”

Kabru speaks boldly, which he knows is unlike himself but he’s so eager to show that he knows you more than them that he cannot stop himself, “They can bond over the monster talk, at least.”

“Are they even into monsters?”

“Kind of?” he backtracks, realizing that he isn’t sure how to answer her question, “They hate monsters, but they know a lot.”

“Good on you for finding someone like that, then,” Marcille shrugs, “They might actually have a good marriage.”

Kabru tenses, even though he shouldn’t (because he knows why you’re here, so he can’t exactly get depressed when other people bring it up), “Yeah. They will.”

“For a while, I thought you’d marry my brother,” Falin says suddenly. Eyes sharp on Kabru’s figure.

Marcille guffaws, “Why would you say that?”

She shrugs before letting her eyes relax to their usual serene state, “They get along well. And Laios likes him. Laios doesn’t usually like people.”

“I guess you have a point,” Marcille waves a figurative flag before gesturing to the room around them, “But we’re not planning their wedding.”

“Yeah…” Falin sighs like she’s the one most disappointed.

Kabru says nothing, only returning to the list of ale and wine suppliers eager to vend for the upcoming royal wedding. His eyes skim names he’s heard various reviews for, but his brain takes none of them in. Rather, he’s fixated on what Falin said.

She could see it?

Could they have gotten married?

If Kabru forgot you completely, or even better never met you, could it be him stepping up to the altar? Would Laios have him?

Laios doesn’t usually like people. but in crowded meetings, it's solely Kabru that Laios searches for. And it’s the sight of Kabru that makes Laios sigh in relief. And it’s the sound of Kabru’s voice that Laios waits for before delivering a response.

At dinner, back when they ate together before you monopolized mealtimes, Laios always ensured Kabru had twice his fill before calling it a night.

(“Even though we’re not fighting in a dungeon anymore, I still think you should retain your strength.”

“You sound like you just like watching me eat.”

“Maybe that, too. You have a nice mouth.”

Kabru never responded to that, too petrified over the implications. Now he thinks he probably should have, maybe it would have meant he’d be marrying a king.)

Falin was right in that Laios doesn’t take to people easily, and he’s sure that’s all she meant. But Kabru knows that her statement is a criminal oversimplification of Laios.

Laios likes people so much he’s gone on potentially endless, potentially fruitless, endeavors for them. Laios likes people so much he makes them harpy eggs because they seem minorly interested in monster cuisine. Laios likes people so much he makes sure they’re treated with the utmost dignity. Laios loves people, and suddenly the thought of you becoming one of those select people is getting harder to grieve.

Laios’ love is not limited, but now Kabru’s forced to come to terms with the fact that Laios’ romantic love for him is--

“So, did you pick yet?” Marcille and Falin are swatching fabrics from the cushy loveseat of the main library, “I’ve heard of a roach outbreak in Smisson’s breweries, so I hope you didn’t get attached.”

Kabru jolts upright and shakes his head, saying the first dumb thing he can think of, “I heard of that, too.”

Falin giggles, “He’s the one that told you about it, Marcille.”

“Huh? You’re kidding!” a furious blush overtakes the elf, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how I forgot that!”

Kabru shakes his head again, swallowing roughly, “It’s fine.”

Really, it’s all fine.

Year 513

“Everyone wanted to be here,” Kabru chuckles quietly, as if raising his voice could somehow wake the entire Island.

“I’m sure,” there’s no hint of sarcasm in your voice, “They were with me late last night, so… I didn’t really expect anyone to see me off,” you giggle softly, a hollow sound he doesn’t take very kindly, “I’m surprised you made it.”

“It’s the least I could do after everything you gave the party,” with no decorum he scratches the back of his neck, and avoids looking you in the face, “It’ll be harder in the dungeon without you.”

“I believe in you.”

His breath hitches. He looks at you. A barely-there smile and tired eyes. It may be the most honest he’s seen you. He’s tempted to ask how you meant that ‘you’, but doesn’t.

He doesn’t even speak until you’re boarded -- until he’s forced to raise his voice so you can hear him over a bustling crew and fellow passengers.

“If I send letters, will you read them?” Kabru silences you before you can open your mouth, “Will you respond?”

Then, you’re smiling wider, and your eyes are tight with joy. It isn’t the usual siren cant of droopy lids, it’s pure elation. You’re laughing at his question, shoulders bouncing gleefully. You’re nodding. You speak between chortles, as if he asked you what color the sky was.

“Of course, I will!”

You look more beautiful than he’s ever seen you before.

“Okay, I’ll write you, then.”

“You better!”

Your ship rocks as it sets off from the dock, but you don’t disappear beneath the ridge. In fact, you almost hang over it, torso flattening against wood and nails digging for purchase as you wave.

Kabru waves back. He runs down the dock like a fool, barely catching himself from tumbling into the lapping ocean.

“Bye, Kabru!” you’re still smiling, bathed in soft orange and soothing yellow -- your voice grows distant over crashing waves, “I’ll miss you!”

He keeps waving. He waves and he waves and he doesn’t stop until your ship is behind the horizon. Only then does his hand fall to his side, eyes sopping wet and chest squeezing.

He feels pathetic.

He misses you already.

Year 515

Days prior this morning, the grand hall was cleared out -- pews replaced the needlessly long cherry oak dining table. Flowers plotted in tall carved vases with white lace and silk choking the necks, a velvet track from the altar through open doors to the courtyard. People from across the continents were invented, diplomats to friendly nobles to acquaintances Laios does not remember to true friends to your father and brother and Falin.

(“You don’t want to invite your parents?” Kabru re-evaluates his list of guests, “Seems uncouth, no?”

“What do I care?” Laios’ legs are splayed, thighs pressing against either side of the gold throne, “A wedding is meant to be happy, why would I need people I don’t like there?” he knocks a fist back into Kabru’s chest, letting his knuckles linger over the man’s heart only as long as he can say, “I have you, and my betrothed, and my friends. Really, that’s all I need.”

“It’d be rude to- ”

“I get it,” Laios’ hand falls back onto his armrest, fingertips skimming the rounded metal edge, “This is why I’m leaving it to you, I trust you.”)

Out of all the tedious preparation, dressing Laios was the most tragic in that the king hated everything the handmaids and servants stuffed him in. Countless hours were wasted before they begged Kabru to help, only then did the king settle:

No crown, terminally unsurprising, since Laios abhorred the weight and feel of it on his head. Rather, he would adorn himself with that dreadful Winged Lion’s pelt, and a vermillion cotehardie reaching mid-thigh with gold trim. Leather belt tethered around his waist gave the fabric shape whilst holding up loose britches. Daggered teeth of various beasts lined his neck, which Kabru was privy to each and every complaint over the sensory nightmare they provided. He’s sure as soon as Laios can, he’ll be tearing the necklace off.

Dressing himself, regardless of Laios’ multiple emphatic encouragements, was a similar exercise in disaster:

It felt massively inappropriate to wear something so shiny and attractive as gold on another man’s wedding night, even as Laios insisted Kabru wear whatever he pleased. Still, Kabru chose silver earrings and accents. Sparkling and flattering, yes, but nothing so bold. He did splurge with a sapphire blue kirtie that made his eyes shine brighter, and a simple chain of pearls. He felt attractive, and joyous.

Joyous for tonight. Joyous for a wedding! Yes, simply so ecstatic for tonight’s marriage.

Truthfully, Kabru is so overjoyed for his king, he really could just fucking die.

From joy. And happiness.

Because what makes it even better is how you look happy. Actually happy. No low gaze or siren simper, just pure, carefree merriment as you link hands with Laios. Reciting vows from a flushed, teary-eyed Marcille. Neither of you has that gleam or honeydew sparkle of pure love, but Kabru is good at his job: zero doubt swims in his mind that you two will be a pair truly enamored with each other.

His misery must be unfiltered in the back of the grand hall, far behind the rest of the wedding party, because Rin’s dark eyes are piercing through the side of his skull. She’s frowning up at him, arms folded.

She murmurs, “You should’ve said something.”

Kabru grins at her sardonically, “I should’ve broken up their engagement? You didn’t even like us interacting when they were in our party.”

“That’s- !” her cheeks stain red, an annoyed huff rattling her whole body, “They never told you why they rejected you, right?”

Kabru’s silence is answer enough. It’s also more unsettling to Rin than any dungeon monster she’d encountered.

“They knew that I wanted you,” Rin clears her throat, embarrassment trying to choke her into silence, but she overcomes it for the sake of her friend, “So, out of respect, you were refused and never told why.”

Kabru loves Rin, as a sister. He loves her so much he’d kill for her, because she’s like his sister. He loves her so so so much that he cannot even be mad at her, because part of him always considered her somewhat to blame for your rejection of him.

For an agonizing, silent few seconds, Kabru just stares down at her with those crystalline eyes. Blinking himself from his stupor, Kabru asks the dumbest question he could think of, “Did they want to say yes?”

Rin’s frown deepens, forehead wrinkling, “Is that something you really want to know?”

Laios is a terrible kisser, and out of respect you cover your mouths with a hand as he maps out your lips with eyes clenched. Kabru told him not to close his eyes too early, and naturally Laios did not listen. Thankfully you’re there, hiding Laios’ possible humiliation with one hand and guiding him with your other on his jaw.

“No,” Kabru sighs, “Not really.”

That’s the biggest lie he might’ve ever told Rin.

Still she pats his back sympathetically, even laying her head against his shoulder.

Celebration begins, food laid free for grabbing and wine flowing like water -- especially into Kabru’s gaping maw. It's sour on his tongue, but as far as he’s seen it's him alone that scrunches his face and shakes out his hair at the taste, which only has him feeling crazier.

“Isn’t this foul?” Kabru scoffs, slumped over one of the many strewn tables in the general ballroom, cramped posture making him seem smaller. Ordinarily this is embarrassing. Ordinarily he’s not drunk.

“I don’t notice anything,” Chilchuck swigs from the clear chalice in his hand.

Marcille takes a civilized sip for herself, unspoken concern that their friend’s taste in alcohol is not utmost dependable, “I don’t notice anything either.”

Kabru swirls his wine, staring into the dark spiral and wondering if a bug of some type sensed his grim mood and decided to drown itself and poison his cup.

“I’m going to get a new drink, then,” Kabru rises, bidding the pair well as he guns for the barrels of frothy ale.

People cheer and clack maizers, spilling various toxic cures onto the floor making his shoes stick with loud clicks. Something he doesn’t bother with knowing Laios will seek him out once the stains are discovered.

Laios, Laios, Laios: speaking of.

Kabru’s gaze floats across the party to find his king, who is staring off with hands fidgeting in the drape of his Winged Lion’s pelt as your father speaks. An unfortunate sight, one he’s itching to rectify when a lengthy gown flows into his vision.

Dashing and soft and yours.

Sage fabric glides along the floor, intricately sewn floral trim skittering along the ground. Flowers of lace and yarn decorate the bust and sleeves, even a crown of colorful buds blooms atop your head. Rings of gold link around your fingers. Hair swept away to unveil your face, coiled and braided with, unbelievably, more flowers dancing between the tresses. Faint lavender and tangerine lingers around you in a hypnotizing haze, culling lovestruck head-turns of men and women with your every step.

“Your husband’s alone with your father.”

“They’ll come out alive, or we’ll hear them killing each other,” you pull out a seat at the longest central table and gesture to the chair directly beside you, “Sit. We never got to properly catch up.”

Kabru sees you have wine. He suddenly craves the sour grape flavor (maybe all he was missing was the sensation of licking it off your lips). From what he remembers, Laios was holding wine as well. Kabru considers stretching out to steal a second taste.

Although, sugary enough is the sound of your voice, suddenly his fresh mug of ale is entirely forgotten.

“Kabru?”

You’re so pretty, Kabru could tear his eyes out now and not miss a single greater sight. Especially when you’re -again- bathed in the pouring gold sunlight through grand windows, tranquil beside him at the long table. As if there isn’t a single other spot you prefer, you sit right next to him with a chalice of the worst wine he’s ever had.

“Hey, Kabru…”

His hands shake with the need to hold you. Chest raging with his uncontrollable heartbeat. His head hurts with the knowledge that there really isn’t a place he prefers more than by you (even if he’s forced to drink alcohol so foul it's comparable to sewage).

“Kabru,” your touch startles him, pout and knitted brows capturing his whole attention, “You’re not even listening to me!” you laugh, shaking off his incompetence so easily it makes him want to thank you with a kiss, “Are you drunk?”

“Huh?” he lowers his head into his hands, “Yes,” he lies to you, “Yes, that must be it.”

“Poor thing, I thought you were better at holding your liquor.”

“Your memory is fading…”

“Oh, well, suppose me and the king will have to tuck you in. Make sure you get to bed safely without bumping into anything expensive.”

Kabru gags, pushing himself up from his seat and dashing towards the nearest bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach (wine, mead, beer, and beer’s good brother ale).

Tears sting his eyes, snot beginning to leak from his nose as he spits into the toilet bowl. You and the king. The king and you. You and Laios: married. Perfect union. And Kabru did it all to himself. He wanted so desperately to drink himself under the table to forget, and you just had to go reminding him.

You are the worst person he’s ever met, and so is Laios! Your commitment to respect is disgusting, and Laios’ trust in him is an absolute travesty. You two should just hurry up and keel over instead of shoving your romance in Kabru’s face; and if either of you ever thanks him for setting you up then he’ll gut you both that very instant.

Laios and you are terrible, awful, no good devils -- and he wants you both so bad he’s vomiting in the bathroom on your wedding night.

Maybe he can send you both off on a honeymoon? Yes, yes. And while you’re away, he’ll drown in responsibility by day and pretty faces by night. Upon your return, he’ll have forgotten he was ever smitten.

No, who is he kidding? That would be a pointless venture.

You’d be so giddy to tell Kabru allllll about your trip while Laios would show off trinkets he picked up with that charming smile, Kabru would fall right back here. Puking and crying. He should just resign totally. Rot away in bed and die so he never has to see either of you again.

How cowardly.

How unbecoming.

Kabru could kick himself.

Rin was in his position more or less (...less, though, definitely less) and still had the nerve to face him every day for years. She didn’t run away, and she didn’t make her party suffer because of her feelings -- so how could Kabru extend the kingdom’s wellbeing over his? Without him, Laios would socially drown with a village chief’s firstborn as a life preserver.

You’re smart and well-versed in reading others, but you’re not Kabru for God’s sake. You can’t apply half of what you know, not to mention you don’t even care to learn.

Wiping off his mouth and flushing the toilet, Kabru stumbles toward the doorway with a prayer in his pocket to find water soon.

Returning to the chipper scene, Kabru can instantaneously spot Laios flagging him down, with his spare hand curved into the base of your spine.

He dodges you both and retires to bed. Lightheaded and miserable, he’s asleep quickly.

Then, suddenly, he’s not.

He’s outside Laios’ room.

Did his feet carry him here subconsciously? How pathetic…

Kabru is fully prepared to turn back and amble to his room when there’s a sound from the other side of the door. A sharp gasp and whine, then your giggling, and Laios’ voice pleading for you to be nice to him. More murmuring, then a soft moan. A lofty sigh.

Song of a consummation.

Foolishly, Kabru hadn’t thought that your sex life was something he’d have to encounter directly. And despite knowing he should step away, if not out of honor then at least to preserve his own heart, Kabru’s curiosity bolts him to the floor.

He’s never seen Laios fuck.

He’s never seen you fuck, either.

He feels compelled to study -- how does your subdued front mesh with Laios’ eager hands? Which of you takes control? With his bigger size and more powerful title, one would assume Laios, but Kabru bets it's you. Will you make him wait? Would he dive between your thighs with fervor? How will the lip stain your ladies painted you with look slathered across Laios’ pale skin?

Despite knowing what it says about his character, Kabru stays. On some level to get it through to himself that you two are together and off-limits; and on a deeper, truer level because he’s sick in the head.

As was the plan anyway, until a booming, “Hey!” echoes from down the dim hall. A guardsman fast approaching from his patrol route. Kabru’s face is hidden by the dark, figure easily mistaken for a passing servant. But even if the guard could recognize him, would it matter?

What reason does the royal advisor have for lingering outside his king’s chambers so late into the night?

Lies fly through Kabru’s brain as the guard bristles closer, none of them plausible. Finally, the idea of killing this man cycles through his mind, and he reconciles with the fact that must be his only option to avoid an obscenity charge.

“Oh, you came!” a soft hand lands between Kabru’s shoulder blades, voice floating past him and to the guard now two feet away, “Thank you for your faithful service, but don’t concern yourself with him. Our king summoned him,” your laugh soothes Kabru’s tensed muscles, “I wasn’t sure he’d make it because of the hour.”

Kabru stares at you, not bothering to hide his confused, jaw-hanging stare as the guard retreats to his typical patrol.

A thin silk robe drapes over you, loosely tied at the waist and exposing much of your chest.

“I never took you for a pervert, Kabru,” such a mellow voice makes even your scalding accusation sound sweet. You whirr him around by the arm and lug him into yours and Laios’ newly shared room. All proprieties trapped outside but trepidation slithers through, lodging in his gullet.

Laios lays on the bed, exposed completely. Tousled sheets bunched between his hands and under his thighs. Cheeks flushed redder than the head of his cock, hard and slapped against his stomach. Wide spread thighs and heaving chest bountiful eye candy.

“How’d you know it was him?” Laios sounds devastatingly breathless, eyes low and ruby lips swollen.

“Hunch,” you answer plainly, petting down Kabru’s arm until your fingers lace with his.

Kabru murmurs your name, wide eyed. You knew?

Of course, you knew. How could he have thought anything else? Your calm nature about the whole ordeal solidifies that you must’ve known for a long while. Longer than him, even. When would you have figured it out?

“He’s beautiful,” you perch your chin on Kabru’s shoulder, cooing into his ear, “You were always so focused on his face, you’ve never gotten to see anything beneath his clothes, have you?”

Oh, right. The very first day you got here, obviously.

Laios rolls his head from one shoulder to the other, brows pinching in frustration, heated gaze straying from Kabru to you, “He’s going to touch me, right?”

“Depends,” your hands skim up Kabru’s spine, nudging him forward, “Kabru, do you want to touch your king?” one arm glides around his front, fingers toying with the band of his trousers, “And myself?”

“Uhhh…” can he be honest with himself? Can he lay himself bare before not one, but two people? Two people he’s interested in above all else. Heat laps from the barrel of his chest, scorching from cheeks to ears to forehead as sweat beads along his hairline and the back of his neck.

“I asked a question. I need a response.”

Laios’ cock twitches against his abdomen, throat croaking around desire.

“Yes,” Kabru exhales, heavy, barbed, and thorny, cutting him up inside until he’s too weak to stand. Sinking onto the mattress by his knees, “I will.”

Laios’ eyes flick from Kabru’s face down to his weepy erection.

He wants Laios in his mouth. Wants the warmth slapping his tongue, burrowing towards the cinch of his throat. He wants to grope the bulge his king forces through his neck and feel your hands buried in his dark hair. The latter need is fulfilled, your fingers combing through dark curls to push him into your husband’s crotch.

“What a pretty mouth, Kabru, you love to run it,” you climb onto the bed beside him, holding Laios steady by the base, “Try something new, hm?”

“New is- ”

“Try it, Kabru. Now,” regardless of the choppy demand, your voice remains dulcet. Pillowy and fluffy. He could melt into your sound.

His tongue lolls to slather the underside of Laios’ cock with hot saliva, enveloping the man in his mouth. Cheeks hollowing and lashes batting wetly up at the king, crimson deepening on Laios’ face. Behind him, the mattress dips and shakes, Laios’ eyes jumping from baby blues to over Kabru’s back, hips jerking against his chin.

Your hand lifts from inky hair, curls slipping between your fingers in vain attempts to tether you against his skull. Now both your palms run up Laios’ chest as you mold against his side. Your thighs spread around one of his arms and robe nowhere to be found, painted lips smear rouge up Laios’ neck and cheek before you claim his lips.

One of Laios’ hands cradles Kabru’s head, not rudely pushing nor wrangling his hair, just an affectionate reminder of whose cock is in his throat. Meanwhile, the hand between your thighs crooks towards your heat, middle finger ringing your clit -- earning a jump and heave from you.

Laios coaxes Kabru off, winded as he requests, “Can you two kiss? Please?”

Kabru gives the king no time to abjure before he’s spearing you with attention, not that you’re more patient; hurriedly cupping his cheeks and legs spreading to welcome him between. Sat up enough to give Laios a proper view, Kabru fondles your ass as you happily cram your lips to his. He wonders if your lip stain wipes off on him as well. He hopes it does.

“So beautiful,” Laios muses stroking his cock, casually flicking his wrist and thumbing the head, as you reach for Kabru’s.

Kabru’s lips sear down your neck, urged to bite. He does not.

“Soft, right?” Laios lays his head against your shoulder, poking obnoxiously into Kabru’s space (not that he minds), “Still sweet with wine.”

You taste better than the fucking wine.

Does Laios?

Your lips curl, drifting away just to whisper against his lips, “Would you like to kiss the king?”

“Can I?”

Before you can reaffirm, Laios snatches Kabru by the chin to kiss him.

Laios is not sweet like wine, he tastes like beer and salt and iron from a raw lip, and yet Kabru cannot drink him down fast enough.

Hands, big and calloused and sweltering, brand Kabru’s hips -- spinning him around to face the door as you unwork the man’s nightshirt. Tossing the flowy cloth aside, you press a final kiss to Kabru’s lips, before laying out beneath him.

Kabru’s eyes hone on the honeydew slick glossing your slit, hands scrambling for perch on your bracketing thighs as Laios’ settle on his ass. Anticipation builds and flows out of his mouth, rich and thick and in the form of a lashing tongue. Broad and cozy, Kabru sweeps up your cunt, thumbs parting you for the purest taste. Audible sighs fan over your pelvis in time with Laios burying his spit-slick fingers into Kabru’s hole.

A groan vibrates through your hips, Kabru’s electric eyes flashing over the quiver in your thighs as you grind onto his nose. Both hands knotting through his hair.

Fingers prod inside you, curling toward your stomach before scissoring apart just to noisily slurp out leaking wetness.

Burly hands rearrange Kabru again, manhandling him until he’s got his back against Laios’ chest with legs thrown out across the bed. Exhilaration surges through Kabru’s whole body, extremities jittering and whines dribbling down his lips. Slowly, he’s lowered onto Laios’ cock with teeny rasps inspiring you to grab him by the shoulders. Again, sweet lips meet his, but he realizes the ploy quickly: torturous pleasure rips through his gut as you push him back to prime for riding.

Laios’ hand finds your chest, tweaking your nipple while snapping his hips up. Pounding into Kabru’s clenching hole in time that you sink down on the poor man.

Over Kabru’s shoulder, you and Laios swap spit with noisy kisses and if he weren’t sweating ecstasy then maybe he’d find the power to be embarrassed over his desperation to join. Regardless of getting his brains ground into mush by your combined, incessant pistoning, Kabru finds himself giddy to be involved further.

You’re purposeful and elegant; excruciating, tantalizing bounces with nails digging into the meat of Kabru’s chest. As if you could easily tear him apart, only dangling in front of him like a carrot-drawn-horse.

Laios is frantic and overwhelming; hips unrelenting and thick muscled arms belting Kabru against him. Skin clapping skin, moist with sweat, and fat rippling from the impacts of Laios’ fucking. Each thrust into Kabru sends him rocketing further inside you; bulging deep, deep in your squelching cunt.

Contrasting in all ways -- your hands pet and scratch while Laios’ anchor and tug, you moan and mewl while Laios groans and growls. When you’re not kissing your husband you impress downy lips upon Kabru’s chest while Laios tears bruises from his neck with full teeth.

Passion swells each suck and stroke and pap, pap, pap until Kabru’s bursting from the inside out. He keens, body tensing.

“Breathe,” Laios huffs into his ear, voice low and crackling, “Breathe, it feels better when you don’t tighten up.”

Kabru heeds, blowing hot air across your bare chest as he cums, and you coo, “Good boy.”

A slush of your combined juices cascades, soaking and matting Kabru’s pubes. Wetting his and Laios’ balls. Three hard rams and Laios is spilling inside Kabru as well. Pants and gulps echoing around the room.

Reclining against the headboard, Laios slowly pulls your exhausted body off Kabru before slipping his cock out of the man. Each of you is fully aware the hygienic option is to wash yourselves, change the sheets, and maybe even comb through messy heads of hair.

None of you do, though.

Laios, grinning bright and alluring as the sun, has an arm nestled around both you and Kabru to keep you flush against his sides. Your head finds a pillow in your husband’s chest, Kabru copying the motion. Swamped exhales pass between yours and Kabru’s blissed out faces, but only measured breaths pull a serene rise and fall from Laios. Drool even leaks from the corner of Kabru’s mouth, he groans in disgust but can’t manage the strength to wipe it away. Neither can you, exhaustion poisoning you from the knees up.

A careful thumb dabs the spittal away, only to grossly end up smearing it across Kabru’s shoulder when Laios replaces his hand on the man’s bare arm.

“How…” Kabru shudders for breath, “Why…” his eyes flutter drowsily, “Not tired…?”

“I didn’t do much,” Laios reasons (whether he genuinely thinks that or is bluffing, nobody can be sure), voice low as he notices you’re beginning to drift asleep, “Wore yourselves out, though.”

“Still…” Kabru huffs defiantly, yawning against the moist valley between Laios’ pecs, “I… more stamina…”

“Ass,” you drowsily pitch in, eyes closed and lashes stark against your cheeks.

“Ass?” Laios looks down at Kabru.

“Ass,” Kabru yawns again, now capable of slurring full sentences together with his breath sufficiently caught, “First time taking it in the ass. Probably took more out of me than I expected…”

“You should’ve said something,” Laios lours, “Even monsters like Orcs that have sex for pleasure stretch their partners more than I did. It helps prevent tearing. I wish I could’ve seen more mating rituals before getting cursed.”

“You could read more…”

Kabru’s too tired to negate your yawn of a suggestion. He doesn’t need to before Laios mutters again, seconds away from passing out altogether,

“I’ve read about them a lot, I just wanted to see it for myself.”

Year 515. Some days later.

Laios suddenly turns in his throne, angling his body towards Kabru, “You think I can make polyamorous marriage legal?”

“Why?” Kabru’s sure he knows exactly where the king’s head is, he just wants to hear the man say it.

Sticking out his thumb, index, and middle finger, Laios scrunches the digits towards his palm twice, “Aren’t we all getting married?”

“You’ll have to ask your real spouse about that first.”

“I did.”

“Huh?!” that makes Kabru’s heart explode, blood and meat blowing through his orifices. Teasing Laios is easy now that he more clearly understands the man’s motives, but you?

You’re intimidating even after he’s been inside you, he doesn’t know how Laios can so casually ask you something like that (he does though, it’s due to Laios’ many loose screws).

“I already asked about us marrying you.”

“And…?”

“They thought it was a good idea!” Laios shakes off, as if Kabru should have just known you would go along with your husband’s insanity, “So, can I legalize it?”

“Probably,” Kabru settles a hand over his chest, hoping to calm his racing heart (or what remains, anyway), “I’ll look into it.”

“Yay! Thank you!”

~~~

kabru miserablism POV my beloved

beast laios and fae reader and treasure kabru imagery makes me so hard

#laios touden x reader #kabru x reader #laios x kabru #labru x reader #laios x reader x kabru #laios touden smut #kabru smut #dungeon meshi x reader #i spent so long staring at this thing i don't wanna look at it anymore omg

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hueseok · 4 months ago

Text

it was always you (from the vault)

originally titled: take my breath away.

a.k.a. the original draft for my “it was always you” fic wherein naval aviator!jungkook is your cocky soon-to-be-ex-husband who won’t sign your divorce papers because he’s still in love with you lol.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 4.5k

content: fluff, semi-angst, exes to ??? | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + husband!jungkook

warning: what you’re about to read (if you do choose to read this) is an unfinished work which perhaps will forever be unfinished.

the only reason i’m posting it because i feel like it’d be a waste to let it rot in my drafts considering that i really liked how it went until the moment i stopped writing hehehehe. i’ve also thought about continuing this story but since i already have an existing naval aviator!jungkook in my masterlist, i felt like it’d be redundant to post this!

anyhow, since a lot of you showed so much love to “it was always you”, i thought it’d be nice to share this 🥹

You really hoped that flying for almost three hours and experiencing horrid turbulence during half of the trip was going to be worth it. But again, that was only the first part of the whole charade; the real challenge would begin perhaps much later, when you finally come face to face with the person that you were scheduled to meet.

As you walked inside the bar, the nerves that previously weren’t there started to crawl from your chest to your legs, making it harder to reach the counter where a vacant bar stool stood. You didn’t even know why you were suddenly nervous—although you could only guess that the sudden burst of anxiety was rooted from talking again to the most stubborn man ever to walk on earth—and you were already preparing yourself for the long conversation you were going to have with him and possibly the extended leave you’ll have to inform your boss for this trip because of his infamous stubbornness.

“____?” a familiar voice abruptly called out for you after you finished ordering a mug of beer from the barmaid, “no fucking way. It can’t be.”

You turned to your left and saw Jung Hoseok.

Spoiler: he wasn’t the person you were going to meet today, which made seeing him such a delight. You grinned immediately upon making eye contact, hopping out of your chair and exclaiming his name with the same enthusiasm he let out when he did realize it was you who he was looking at.

“Holy shit. What are you doing here?” He automatically engulfed you in a tight embrace when you initiated. You noticed that he was wearing an off duty attire, a plain black polo shirt and blue jeans, his hair kept neat and short. “Actually, scratch that—there’s only one person you should be here for.”

You bothered to smile. “Yeah. I’m guessing he didn’t tell anyone I’m visiting, huh?”

“Nope. He 100% kept it a secret because he knows that we’re going to steal you away if he spills.”

“We?” you mused. You didn’t even know that he was training with Hoseok, and now you’re discovering that Hoseok’s apparently not the only friend he has here. “How many of you that I know are training with him?”

Hoseok takes a short pause to think about it. “Hm… well, there’s me, then Yoongi and… Namjoon. That’s just about it.”

“Wow. It’s essentially the whole group again, huh?”

“Yup. I mean, we are the best of the best.” He smirked.

You playfully rolled your eyes.

“And we’ve missed you,” he added swiftly. “I’m a bit mad that your husband didn’t inform us that you’d be here—but again, I’m not surprised.”

“Sorry. I think I have myself to blame for that. I did tell him that I don’t intend to stay here for too long.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just here to make sure he signs the divorce papers.”

Hoseok nodded, thoughtful and a bit disappointed. “Is he giving you a hard time with them?”

“You can say that.” A dramatic sigh escaped you. “He insisted that if I really wanted to get his signature, I should just go here where he’s training.”

“Classic Jungkook.” He laughed, and you agreed with a snort.

He was right, this was all a Classic Jungkook move.

Sometimes, you didn’t understand why you agreed to marry Jungkook so urgently when he asked for your hand, even after knowing that he did everything he could to ensure that he got what he wanted in the end.

Though that was just that thing, wasn’t it? He knew exactly what to do in order to get what he wanted—and at that time of his proposal, you knew it was you that he sought for.

Despite the fact that Jungkook had only been seeing you for less than a year, he was convinced that you were the love of his life. It was the reason why when he needed to be deployed for a mission, it seemed proposing was the most natural thing to do, going on about how he wanted to be reassured that when he came back for you, you were going to be there waiting for him, not only as a girlfriend, but as his wife.

And you said yes, without missing a beat, because you genuinely loved Jungkook and for you, the both of you were a match made in heaven.

By the two year mark of being a wedded couple though, just being in love with each other wasn’t enough. There were a lot of arguments, irreconcilable differences, a lot of moments wherein you wanted to abandon everything and just disappear—until you finally declared that enough was enough and you were going to file for divorce.

Of course, Jungkook didn’t want to sign them, but he did grant you a little bit of your freedom back. He did so by leaving your shared apartment on a random Thursday, only sending a text that said he was being called by the Navy for a mission he couldn’t disclose per usual, and that if you really wanted to divorce him, you’d just have to wait for him to go back.

He never returned though. Because after that mission, came a next one, and another one, until you heard that he was invited to a naval fighter weapons school in the northern part of the country, close to the seas and where he’ll be training for a few weeks among the best naval aviators in the nation.

That’s when he decided to invite you over and say that if you wanted his signature, you’d have to be the one who’ll go to him. You initially contemplated for a long time before just going forth with his ridiculous demand. Nonetheless, you figured you were once again left with no choice because here you were now, doing exactly what he wanted to get what you exactly wanted as well.

God, who knew that contrary to how easy it was to enter this marriage, it was an absolute pain to get out of it?

“Do you know where he might be?” you asked Hoseok while taking a sip of your beer. “Or if he’s going here at least?”

“I have no clue,” Hoseok said. “Though I do know that he should have free time. We don’t have training for the rest of the day.”

“I’ll be seriously pissed if he stands me up.”

“He won’t.”

“It’s Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but you’re ____,” he said it like it was reason enough, “and Jungkook can’t resist seeing you. Especially if it’s been what? How many months have passed since you two saw each other?”

You held up six fingers, continuing to gulp down your drink in frustration. “Still, he loves to annoy the shit out of me.”

“It’s his love language.”

“Oh, I’ve been made very aware.”

Hoseok barked out a laugh. He was a huge fan of your dynamic with Jungkook; he was practically there throughout the whole journey of your relationship. As Jungkook’s weapon systems officer, the both of them were thick as thieves, which also made him the best man of the wedding—so deep inside, he wanted to believe that whatever it was that you and Jungkook were dealing with, it would be resolved soon enough.

“Well, it looks like you don’t have to wait for too long.” Hoseok toasted his glass to the direction of the entrance where the Jeon Jungkook entered, removing his aviator sunglasses and hooking it on the collar of his white shirt, worn inside a dark blue long-sleeved polo he was sporting as well.

You followed his line of vision and scowled at the sight of Jungkook. Not because you hated your husband, but because even when in the middle of finalizing a divorce, you couldn’t deny that he was too handsome for his own good.

“I think this is my cue to leave,” Hoseok added, getting off his seat. “It was nice seeing you again, ___. Let’s catch up later, yeah? I’ll conspire with Joon and Yoongi to steal you away.” He smiled mischievously and gave you a sweet chaste kiss on the cheek before walking over to Jungkook, greeting him, pointing to where you were, and then walking to another table where you guessed a bunch of other naval aviators were hanging out.

A sigh escaped you, just in time when Jungkook met your gaze.

He grinned—actually grinned—and you had to prevent your eyes from twitching to not look like some crazy person who didn’t have any self-control. So, instead of plastering the same scowl a few seconds ago for him to see, you flashed a sarcastic smile, waving your hand.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” Jungkook claimed when he was close enough, marching towards you, appearing like he was going to go for a kiss but before he could, you outstretched an arm and stopped him by literally wrapping your fingers around his neck as if you were planning to choke him to death with the gesture (which you were tempted to do).

He rolled his eyes, holding your wrist and bringing it down.

“Can’t I give you a kiss?” he retorted.

“No.”

“And Hoseok can?”

“Hoseok’s my friend.”

“I’m your husband.”

“Ex-husband.”

“Wrong. I haven’t signed any divorce papers, honey, so in the eyes of the law, I’m still very much your husband.” He quickly stole a kiss on the corner of your mouth and you allowed yourself to grimace in annoyance, glaring at him as he took Hoseok’s previous seat.

You watched him order a drink for himself and nachos for sharing. You didn’t say anything while he did all that; you just stared at him, analyzing him, trying to decipher what was going on in that head of his. You honestly had no clue what his thought process was in depriving you of the signature you wanted and then randomly agreeing to meet you again, accompanied with the condition that you’re the one who has to go to him and not the other way around.

As he reasoned, he was still in the middle of training, and he couldn’t just leave even if he wanted to and that’s why you had to make the effort to make this work (he made it clear that he didn’t want to make the effort anyway if it meant it could lead to his and yours divorce).

“How are you?” he asked once he was done ordering and you scoffed.

“Let’s not do that, Jungkook.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me that I’m not allowed to know how you’re doing too.”

“I meant the small talk. Let’s just cut to the chase.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Jungkook.”

“Alright.” He placed an arm against the counter, spinning his stool to face you. “You already know where I stand, though. I still haven’t changed my mind in wanting to work it out first.”

“What? But you told me that if I went here—”

“I would talk to you, not sign the papers,” he finished. “You didn’t really think I’d sign them just like that, right?”

Your stomach dropped.

There goes assuming that the three-hour flight to go here would be worth it.

“I did, actually.” You grumbled. “When are you giving this a rest?”

He seemed annoyed by the rhetoric question. “When are you going to stop thinking that divorce is the answer to our problem?”

“We already did couple’s therapy and that proved to be a waste of time.”

“That’s because you were stubborn and wouldn’t cooperate.”

“Oh, I’m the one who’s stubborn between the both of us? I’m the one who wouldn’t cooperate?”

“Yes.”

“No, I’m not!” You raised your hands up. “You were the one who always said some lame excuse to not attend it with me.”

“Babe, how many times do I have to tell you, my schedule isn’t—”

“Yeah, whatever.” You didn’t let him finish, knowing that he was going to say something about how being in the Navy didn’t grant him the free time you were expecting him to have.

“I’m just saying… you can’t keep on doing this, you know?” you said.

“Can’t keep doing what?”

“Prolonging this. We already broke up, Jungkook. There’s not point in staying married.”

“That’s the thing, though.” He smirked. “I can keep prolonging it.”

Your nostrils flared. “Why?”

“Because I can.”

You think flashes of red were beginning to blur your vision.

Jungkook noticed the rage building up, yet he didn’t back down. “Why are you even so eager to legally separate? Do you plan on getting married again soon?” he asked.

It was supposed to be a joke, because Jungkook didn’t actually think you were seeing anyone at the moment—but at the mention of it, he saw the manner in which your expression slightly shifted, and he narrowed his eyes at you, understanding. “Don’t bullshit me. You aren’t seeing anyone, right?”

You blinked, acting all innocent. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is. You’re still married to me.”

“We’ve broken up for almost a year now, Jungkook.” You groaned, remaining him once again. “If you just signed the goddamn papers, all of this would be out of your hands.”

He scoffed. “You are seeing someone?”

“That is not the point of our conversation.”

“Well, it’s a significant aspect of it.”

“Fine.” You huffed. “I am seeing someone. Happy?”

Jungkook was in fact not happy. He was angry, but then he thought of how he shouldn’t be, because you and him have broken up for almost a year now like you said. Even though he wasn’t in support of that notion, he remembered at least granting you enough freedom to feel like you could date around without thinking about how you were technically cheating on him if ever you did.

However, he didn’t really think you would find someone. Sure, you were beautiful, you had an amazing personality, there was no question when it came to you attracting men, yet you could be picky most of the time. It was even a miracle how he managed to bag you; though he guessed that he didn’t really have to try that hard in the first place before because the two of you just had so much in common for you to ignore.

“What’s his name?” he asked after a long silence.

You crossed your arms. “Do you have to know?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” You adjusted yourself in your seat. “It’s Ben.”

Jungkook thought the name sounded stupid. “How long have you been dating him?”

You hesitated, already predicting how he was going to react that you almost exaggerated the answer, but decided against it last minute. “Five weeks.”

He suddenly burst out laughing, the sound echoing inside the bar; it was the exact type of response you were positive he was going to do, proof that you knew him too well and that you shouldn’t have changed your pretense in the first place.

“It’s not funny,” you hissed, noticing that a lot of people were glancing at where you were both situated. “What the hell is funny about what I said?”

“You want to divorce me for a guy you’ve been dating for five weeks?” He carried on snickering; he barely got the whole sentence out because he was too busy catching his breath.

“Of course not! I would just prefer it if I don’t have any baggage left before attempting to commit to another relationship.”

The barmaid came back with Jungkook’s beer and nachos. He thanked her and slid the basket of cheesy nachos to your direction, an offer that you could get a piece if you wanted. However you were neither hungry nor interested in getting anything from him that would elicit a thank you from you, too prideful at this point due to how annoying he was being.

“What does he do for a living?” he asked next.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to make fun of it.”

“Is it worth making fun of?”

“No.”

“Then just tell me.” He threw a chip inside his mouth.

You pressed your lips together. “He’s a bank clerk.”

Jungkook didn’t laugh this time, but the corners of his mouth were twitching as he grinned, and you found yourself refraining from wanting to strangle him again, questioning why you thought it was a good idea to come here since it was obvious that talking to him properly was an impossible task.

“You’re dating a bank clerk?” he posed the question like it was the most preposterous thing he had heard from you today. “What the hell do the both of you have in common?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll have you know that Ben is a very nice guy.”

“That’s what ladies say when a man is horrible in bed.”

“That’s not true.”

“Is he good then?”

“That’s none of your business, Jungkook,” you uttered once more, teeth gritting. “Besides, it’s only been five weeks.”

He smirked. “That’s a no then. It seems that you haven’t slept with him,” he said. “Makes sense. I mean, if you have already slept with another guy, you might be already begging me to get back together. Given that I’m the best sex you’ve ever had.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “How the fuck are you always so arrogant?”

“It comes with the praise I usually get during my escapades, babe.” Jungkook winked at you, hand reaching out for another nacho.

“Oh, so I’m assuming you do have sex with other people now. You know, if you’ve just divorced me, you can go live your happy single life again to go to that without any worries.”

“I don’t sleep with other people—”

“But you just said—”

“I meant before I met you.” He pointed out, giving you a look. “Why are you even thinking about that? Are you jealous?”

“God, you’re fucking impossible.” You practically growled.

He flashed you another smirk, amused.

“Anyhow,” you began, bringing out the divorce papers from your bag that you should have given him the second you saw him, but as what you think was part of his plan, he did manage to stall you in doing so, “here’s the papers.” You shoved it to his chest, rendering Jungkook no choice but to grab it.

He glanced down at them. “You’re never going to stop until I sign these, huh?”

You nodded. “Never.”

“Fine.” Jungkook flickered his gaze on you. “I’ll sign them.”

You glared at him. “Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Are you?”

You were still suspicious, but at the same time, you had high hopes.

“Yes. But I need to meet Ben the bank clerk first.”

Your spirits dropped. “Oh, no, no, no,” you made a huge cross sign with your arms, “you are not giving me another condition just to go against your word in the end.”

“I won’t this time.”

“Yeah, right.” You scoffed loudly.

It was his turn to narrow his eyes at you. “I’m serious. You want my signature or not?”

You bit the insides of your cheeks, gazing at him.

You were no fool, you knew why he wanted to meet him; you knew that it was because he wanted to see it for himself if the guy you replaced him for was actually more good looking than him or at least appeared as if he could survive a fistfight if Jungkook prompted to start one. It was all testosterone and ego, and you contemplated cutting his balls just to get this over with once and for all.

Surely, by then, he would be more agreeable.

“Fine,” you told him. “If you meet him, you’ll sign the papers? Promise?”

He took a sip of his beer, shrugging. “Sure.”

***

Jungkook watched the scene unfold in front of him with an amused expression.

Although he did admit it once that he did get a bit jealous whenever you gave the other guys more attention than him, he loved his best pals too much to care.

It was why he allowed instances like this to happen wherein you made it apparent that you valued their company much more than you did Jungkook. It was evident in the manner in which you laughed loudly as Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon hugged you, each one of them taking turns in lifting your body off the ground a few seconds in glee.

You were seen as a beloved sister to them as they saw Jungkook as a cherished brother in the Navy.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jungkook reckoned after five seconds.

Namjoon glanced at him, the last one to embrace you. “Jealous?” he teased, reading his mind.

“I am, actually.” Jungkook affirmed. “You three got a better greeting than I did.”

You rolled your eyes at the pettiness of his comment. “That’s because there’s nothing good about seeing you again, Jungkook.”

Jungkook glanced at you. “You wound me, babe.” He placed a dramatic hand on his chest. “Truly, you do.”

The guys stifled a laugh.

Today’s agenda was supposed to be a catch up session with the three guys. News spread quickly yesterday that you were in town thanks to Hoseok, and given that the three of them were good friends of yours, you didn’t decline the offer when Jungkook informed you that they wanted to meet you while you were here.

So, as the next day came in and the evening rolled, they met up with you at the same resto-bar Hoseok found you in. It did seem like the only venue that was both near enough from the academy and the hotel you were staying at that offered adequate food. You observed that the occupants of the place were composed primarily of people wearing naval aviator uniforms or motorcyclists stopping by before going forth with their ride.

“So,” Yoongi began just as Jungkook headed to the counter, volunteering to relay all of your orders to the barmaid, “we heard from a little birdie that you’re seeing someone else.”

You gave him a look. “Still a big gossip, I see.”

“Oh, it’s not counted as gossip if it’s what Jungkook’s been complaining about the whole time at the showers,” Namjoon humored.

Hoseok agreed with a nod. “It’s what he’s been nonstop yapping about earlier when we were flying,” he said. “Seriously, ____. Release the boy from misery and just get back together.”

They watched you grimace. “You all know my relationship with Jungkook has been long complicated for it to be as easy as that.”

“Did he cheat on you?” Namjoon asked.

“No, of course not.” You scoffed. “He’s an annoying shit for the most part but he’s not a cheater.”

He physically relaxed at the confirmation. “Good, because I don’t think I can beat him in a fistfight.”

Yoongi chuckled. “What’s the matter then? You still haven’t spared us any details on why you’re so keen to divorce him.”

“There’s no particular reason,” you sighed with a throw of your hand. “It’s just a compilation of the small things. He’s away most of the time, I’m away most of the time when he’s available—we fight a lot, argue a lot, it just doesn’t seem to be worth fighting for anymore.”

“So, you don’t love him anymore?”

“I…” you trailed, abruptly feeling like you were being interrogated, “I mean, love doesn’t go away easily. And it hasn’t been that long since we called it quits.”

The three men shared a look among themselves.

You straighten your posture. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What does?” Hoseok queried.

“That look you guys just gave each other. I don’t like it.”

“That’s just their faces, babe,” Jungkook reappeared, taking the liberty to take the seat on your right. “What are you fellas talking about?” he asked his buddies.

They didn’t dare utter a word. You were under the impression that they had an understanding between them that talking about your relationship right in Jungkook’s face was something one should not ought to do.

You, on the other hand, took it as your cue to speak, starting another topic to hopefully erase the previous one. “Ben said he can come. He’s boarding tonight,” you told Jungkook as he’s sipping from his glass of service water.

“That’s good.” He didn’t look as interested as he was yesterday.

“Who’s Ben?” It was Hoseok again.

“The bank clerk,” Jungkook answered.

“The new guy you’re seeing?” Yoongi asked you.

“Yep,” you said before turning to Jungkook. “And can you please refer to him by his name? He’s not just a bank clerk.”

“Is he a boring bank clerk?” Jungkook asked, that teasing smirk flashing on his mouth.

“Will he be here tomorrow?” Namjoon chimed in.

You nodded. “Hopefully.”

“Great,” Jungkook placed his glass down on the table. “It’ll be enough time to get to know him.”

He said ‘enough time’ like his time was limited because it really was. He informed you before you parted ways yesterday that he was graduating from the academy this Friday, and that after that, he was almost 100% sure he was going to be deployed again with some of his classmates for a mission that you wouldn’t be allowed to know the details of.

Your stomach somersaulted when he told you that.

Somehow, despite convincing yourself that you no longer cared for Jungkook, the thought of his life being put at risk again once he was back on the field made you want to vomit in anxiety. It reminded you that his very dangerous occupation was one of the root causes of your separation, for there were months wherein you couldn’t take the fear of waiting in uncertainty on whether he was going to come home to you or not, regardless of how he promised he would every single time.

It was funny, you thought. One of your similarities with your husband was that the both of you were adrenaline junkies. You and him bonded over extreme rides in amusement parks, activities that got your heart pumping and gave you the sensation of being on top of the world—and yet it was the reason why you didn’t want to be with him anymore as well, too scared to continue loving him if he always sought for adventure and danger through being a naval aviator.

“You knew what you were signing up for, ____,” he told you during one of your many arguments. “You entered this relationship knowing the nature of my job. You can’t expect to adjust for you when it comes to—”

“I’m not expecting you to adjust for me, Kook,” you replied in exasperation, practically begging him to listen to you with an open mind at that point. “God, I just want you to consider me. I just want to feel that for once, you actually remember that someone’s always waiting for you to come home.”

Whenever conversations like that popped back inside your memory, you forced yourself to push it away. It wasn’t an experience you wanted to relive. You’ve spent far too many nights just crying because of how it felt like to be in a constant state of worry for the person you found yourself loving the most.

“We can all meet him, right?” asked Hoseok, looking at the other guys for back up.

You surveyed them, raising your eyebrows before saying your answer.

“Like the hell you would.”

#jungkook #bts

941 notes · View notes

kingkat12 · 2 months ago

Text

forever (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: angst, mentions of blood, ANGST (SORRY IN ADVANCE)

summary: nothing will ever be the same again after you've found out what Roman truly is-- you can be sure of that now.

word count: 5,093

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

a/n: GOSH I'M BACK! 13 is the lucky number (not). this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but it's more than enough for this scene... I can't breathe omg. thank you to everyone that has helped me with brainstorming and clearing my mind about this scene, specifically @mentallyscreamingsincebirth who read about 7 different drafts (poor soul), and I'M SO SORRY. SO SO SORRY Y'ALL. ENJOY... tbh that's not the right word, so, good luck!!!

Loving Roman had consequences right from the start.

However, I never imagined it would lead to this.

My hands trembled as I clutched the knife, though I couldn't tell if it was from fear or the sheer weight of the situation. Roman hadn't moved an inch since I'd pointed it at him, but the way he loomed in front of me made every second stretch unbearably long. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the fridge-- my breath caught in my throat as he tilted his head, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable, something quiet.

Then, without warning, a slow exhale left his lips as though he was indifferent-- Roman's shoulders slackened, the tension bleeding from his frame as if this entire moment had bored him. And then, just like that, he put his tux jacket on the kitchen island before he turned away.

I flinched at the movement, but all Roman did was step toward the fridge, peeling it open with a lazy sort of ease. He bent down, rummaging through the shelves, shifting the milk aside like I wasn't still standing there, terrified.

I turned with him, still pointing the blade in his direction as my pulse threatened to rupture my ears-- this was the biggest mind-fuck of the century. This night was. My brows drew together as I dared to speak, confusion drowning my anxious words; "What are you doing?"

Roman shrugged. "I have a feeling this is gonna take a while, and I'm really fucking hungry. Do you know how many calories you burn from beating up assholes?" Another sigh followed-- he continued to speak into the fridge as he shuffled through the vegetables; "You're not wearing your dress."

It sounded like a casual remark, yet I knew it was loaded with the intent of getting me to explain myself. The longer I stayed quiet, the more I could hear my heart pound. "I changed,"

"Where?"

"... Here?"

Roman shook his head, remnants of a knowing smirk painting his lips-- it didn't reach his eyes. "I don't think we should be starting this conversation off with more lies,"

His words were chilling. I struggled to find mine. I cleared my throat over and over as my hands got clammy around the knife I had yet to lower; "I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Come on," Roman huffed, rolling his eyes as he straightened up, reaching for the handle of the fridge. When he turned his head to meet my gaze, I felt my breathing knot itself in my chest-- I hated this feeling. I hated being scared of my boyfriend. I hated that I couldn't bring myself to put away the kitchen knife I was still pointing at him. Roman continued; "I've been waiting for you for about... what, fifteen minutes? You didn't change here, and those clothes aren't yours."

Fighting the urge to stay tongue-tied, I snapped; "And you shouldn't have broken into my house in the first place! That's crossing all fucking boundaries!--"

BOOM.

The fridge door slammed shut with a force that rattled the shelves.

I jolted. A sharp, pathetic squeak clawed up my throat before I could stop it. My pulse jumped, breath hitching-- fuck.

Roman had never looked more intimidating; "I see we're past talking about boundaries!" he hissed, glancing down at the knife in my trembling hands. His attempts at containing his anger were cracking.

"Fine," I bit back. "Let's talk about the important piece of information you so conveniently failed to tell me, then!"

Roman blinked. I knew him too well; I could see his mind racing behind those big, beautiful eyes. I shouldn't be looking into them. "The car crash?" he asked, attempting to soften his voice. Something told me he got hopeful that he had hit bingo about the subject, and that he could somehow salvage this; "I'll tell you everything you want, baby. No problem, okay? Where do you want me to start?--"

"Don't fuck with me, Roman!" One of my hands left the knife as my tremble subsided, and I steadied my stance. "Enough!"

Roman's fists clenched, and his gaze pierced mine with rays of ice. It took him some time to let it sink in-- we were about to have this conversation, whether he wanted to or not. We were going to talk about what he was. Despite the horror of the situation, my body filled with a satisfaction unlike anything I had ever felt before; I had pieced it together. I had cornered him. I had caught the liar, and I had done it all by myself.

However, the liar in question didn't want to relent so easily; "This is about Daniel, isn't it? The little shit who confessed he'd get off to snapping your neck in half?"

"It's... What?" My frustration possessed me as I gestured with the knife, exasperated. "No, Roman! It's not that, and you know it!"

Roman let out a quick, icy breath as his fists clenched and unclenched-- deny, deny, deny. "He had it coming," he breathed. "I don't get why you're holding a knife at me for giving that guy what he deserved!"

"That's not why I'm!--"

"You think I went too far?" Roman scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. Deny, deny, deny. "You think I should've let him walk away after hurting you, is that it?"

This was beyond frustrating now. It was infuriating, actually. Roman's dismissal of the real topic of concern drove me into a state I hadn't been in before; it almost made my vision go red. Then, it took me a second to realize my vision was blurring because of more causes than one-- with tears pooling in my eyes, I watched as Roman continued his angry rant;

"I don't get you! Why the fuck are you pulling a knife on your boyfriend for protecting you?! I was the one who saved you, I was the one who made sure you got the revenge you deserved, and what do I get in return? That terrified look on your fucking face?!"

Roman was yelling now.

Yelling.

I kept telling myself he didn't mean it, that he was simply anxious to face the truth that I knew his biggest secret, but... now that I knew what he was, it only made me grip the knife harder. What if he suddenly pounced at me? What if he got so overcome by anger that he lunged my way out of pure instinct?

I flinched when Roman raised his hands, yet I let out a shaky breath of relief when they went to his hair, ripping at the tips of his brown locks in frustration; "I have done everything to protect you! I-- I messed him up, okay, but!--"

Enough. "Protect me?! You think this is protection?!"

The panic Roman had painted across his face for sympathy got wiped away the second I raised my voice too. His act wasn't working. His distractions weren't working. Nothing was. "It is," he hissed.

"No!" The tears that had welled in my eyes threatened to spill. "You should've left me alone the second you started feeling anything for me! That would've been protection, that would've mercy!"

Roman closed his eyes and sucked in a sharp line of air-- "Don't say that," he breathed. "You're crossing the line."

"Crossing... the line?!"

"You are," he continued, blindly gesturing at the knife. "Point your knives, call me whatever, say all the shit you want, but not that. What we have is damn near holy to me, so keep that out of your mouth."

I had half the mind to throw the knife at him. Enough was enough, I couldn't stand it anymore; "You're insane!" I yelled. "You're batshit crazy, and you're out of your fucking mind if you think that you were protecting me all this time! You've only put me in danger!"

Roman's eyes widened with offence. "I have not!--"

"You urged me to slice my hand in front of you, and you sucked my fucking blood that time you decided you wanted to blood-bind us or whatever the fuck those vials were for! How dare you put me in that situation when you know what you are?!"

Silence.

In the void of sound we had created, I could hear a light tapping against the windows-- it was raining. Outside, the grass was given the opportunity to grow. At this very moment, flowers all around were watered with new energy for life; yet here I was, being drained of all of mine.

Roman's face twitched with multiple emotions, unable to decide which one to settle for as he lowered his gaze. Had he ever prepared for this moment? I wondered if he had. I wondered whether he had ever laid in bed at night, riddled with guilt and the weight of the world, and whether he had ever thought about coming clean. Had he thought he could get away with it, that I would never find out?

Finally, Roman opened his mouth; "I..."

It didn't take long before it shut again.

A shaky breath escaped me when I realized my knuckles were going white around the knife. I was about to say something, maybe even dig deep into my soul to search for words of comfort; yet when Roman's eyes fully focused on mine again, I felt my whole world freeze over.

Roman's pupils widened, fixating on me as though I was prey, a big deer in the wilderness. He knew the act was up, that the game was over, and instead of facing it, he fixated on the one thing he felt he could still control. His words came out with a low growl; "You have something of mine,"

... What?

He took a threatening step forward.

My breath hitched; I readied my brain for possible combat.

"The vial," Roman hissed. "Where is it?"

Another step.

"It's mine. If this is how you want to do this, I want it back,"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Back-- Back off!--"

With Roman's next step, my body tensed up with the realization that he was speeding up--

It was now or never.

With a shriek, I tossed the knife in his direction out of pure fear, and ran out of the kitchen as my screams emptied my lungs. The pounding of my heart filled my ears as I heard the clashing of pots and pans, possibly the sound of Roman jumping over the kitchen island to get to me, and it only made me panic more.

He called out my name, a yell of rage, as I made it past the living room and into the hallway.

I was running for my life.

A ragged scream tore from my throat as I snatched the nearest object, a flimsy umbrella, and flung it behind me without looking. It didn't matter. He'd dodge it. He'd always dodge it.

Tears burned down my face, blurring the steps ahead as I bolted up the stairs. My chest heaved, my legs burned, but I pushed-- pushed like my life depended on it, because it did.

I was going to die, wasn't I?

This was it.

But for a second, a stupid, desperate second, my brain tricked me; maybe I could make it? Maybe I could outrun him? Maybe, maybe I could get out of this alive?

I chanced a glance over my shoulder--

Roman wasn't there.

My heart stopped. Relief slammed into me so hard that my knees nearly buckled.

Too soon.

I saw it too late-- the flicker of movement at the edge of my vision.

Roman's hand, appearing at the top of the banister.

He hadn't run up the stairs. He'd jumped. From the first floor to the second in a single, monstrous leap.

A scream ripped from my throat as he vaulted over the railing, his body a blur, his weight crashing into me before I could even think to run.

My back hit the ground hard, but before I could even feel the pain, something else registered.

His hand. Between my head and the floor, cushioning the blow.

My breath stuttered, my body locked in pure terror as I fought, thrashed, pounded my fists against his chest-- but it was useless. He didn't budge.

My heartbeat was a deafening drumbeat of panic; I wasn't getting away. I wasn't getting away.

I wasn't getting away.

Then, Roman grabbed my hands and slammed them to the floor, pinning me down with a groan. His voice was sharp, teetering on the edge of control; "Stop it!" he yelled. "Stop fighting! I'm not going to hurt you!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, the tears still coming. I didn't believe him. I couldn't believe him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he continued. "Since when do you throw knives at me?!"

I kept trying to kick him off. It didn't work. Nothing did.

Roman's chest heaved above mine, his grip tightening before he seemed to catch himself-- his fingers loosened just slightly. His voice dropped, a thread of disbelief woven through the frustration. "You're really afraid of me, aren't you?"

I let out a quiet sob, unable to speak.

Roman's breath shook, his head tilting as if seeing me for the first time. He exhaled through his nose, but his next words wavered; "After all this time... you really think I could hurt you?"

Something in his voice made me pause. He wasn't just angry anymore, he was... wounded.

"After everything?" he breathed. His fingers curled around my wrists, but this time, they trembled.

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

That silence, that awful, confirming silence, broke him. Roman's expression crumpled as he clutched my wrists like a lifeline, his breath uneven. The anger drained from him in an instant, replaced by something desperate, raw, broken.

"You're breaking my heart," he breathed.

The words shattered between us.

I stilled, my own heartbeat stammering.

In the muted space of my lack of words, Roman let out a quiet, shuddering laugh, his green eyes glossing over. "Letha told you, didn't she?" His voice cracked, barely above a whisper; "You're wearing her clothes, and you kinda smell like her expensive incense for crazy people. Don't tell me she performed some ritual on you?"

I swallowed hard. Telling him the truth felt dangerous; I needed to protect my last ally, didn't I? "No," I whispered. "No rituals. There was no Letha. I figured it out by myself... I-- I read a book." At least there was some truth to what I was saying.

Roman uttered something between a scoff and a choked breath, shaking his head. His lips curled, but there was no humor in it. "All by yourself?" he muttered. "That's my girl."

Acid filled my next words, overcome by emotion; "You left me no choice,"

"I didn't?"

"You didn't,"

"That's nonsense," Roman mumbled. "We could've avoided all of this. We could've had a few good years with you in the dark."

His face was too hard to read. His expressive eyes were so cold and hard with his conviction-- he really believed that, didn't he? "Years?" I whispered. "With me... in the dark?"

"Yeah," Breathless. He was breathless. "A decade, maybe."

It didn't take me long to piece it together. It would take a decade until he looked considerably younger than me. Would he have let me in on his secret then?

"That wouldn't have been enough," I said, choking back my tears. "I wanted a whole life with you, Roman."

His next inhale was shaky, yet quick-- finally, he could be sure that he had lost. "So you... you really know, now?"

I knew.

And I could barely speak it; "That you're a upir? Yeah,"

Roman had yet to let me go. "Fuck..." he breathed, nodding to himself. "There goes that."

There it goes.

All the stolen glances, all the kisses, all the joy, all the love.

It was draining the life out of the both of us. "I'm not going to ask you to forgive me," Roman tried. "But can I at least... please have the vial?" His voice broke at the end of his sentence, and he bit down on his bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

My words came out with a tremble; "I-- I threw it away. It was affecting you horribly, and I don't want that for you... I don't want you to be in pain, Roman, despite everything you are,"

He sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body locking up as if my words had just stabbed into him. "I'll have nothing of you, then?" His voice was barely there, so fragile it made my chest ache. "When you leave me, I'll... I'll have nothing?"

I blinked. When I leave?

Was he... planning to let me go?

"You're breaking my heart," Roman echoed, his shoulders trembling as he let go of my wrists to cradle my face in his hands.

The touch nearly made me flinch. Had I not been so intent on my survival, I would've pushed him away with a shudder. I didn't want him touching me, not now that I knew who and what he was, yet I endured it for the sake of my life.

Roman's grip faltered as he watched me fail to hide my fear, and his fingers trailed to my cheeks as he took in the look on my face.

"I can never trust you again," I whispered. "Never hold you, never kiss you... Not now that I know what you are."

Roman's fingers slowly brushed over my cheek, shaking. "But... it was supposed to be you and me," he breathed. "Forever."

Forever.

The word sent a sharp ache through my ribs.

Roman's eyes shut, his face twisting with something too deep to name. "I know I should've stayed away..." A shuddering inhale. "I should've just kept on being miserable."

I choked down a sob; "Rome," I whispered. What else was there to say?

The nickname hit him like a bullet. Roman's voice was rough when he dared to speak; "I wasn't supposed to feel like this for anyone... That was my one rule," He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot, and his jaw was tight like he was forcing the words out. "I don't know when it happened, and I don't know how it happened, but I woke up one day and realized that I-- fuck!"

Overcome by his emotions, Roman let out a sharp, bitter laugh; "I didn't want this, okay? I didn't-- God, I didn't fucking want to feel anything for you at all! I didn't want us to ever happen in the first place!"

The words should've hurt. They were meant to hurt, why else would Roman say them? But the way he said them, so wrecked, so lost, made my heart ache instead.

Roman exhaled hard, tilting his head back like he was trying to keep it together. "You have no idea how much I fought feeling anything for you... You have no idea how many times I told myself that it was nothing, that it would go away, and that you were just!--" He stopped, his breath hitching. "That you were just some meaningless girl, something temporary, a distraction at most, and not!--"

He didn't say it.

He couldn't.

Not yet.

"And I--" Roman stopped, like the next part physically hurt to say. "I should've told you about this, I should've told you who I am. You deserved that much, and I tried, I swear! I-- I wanted to. But every time I got close, every time I thought, this is it, tell the fucking girl, be a man, I'd look at you and-- and I got scared."

Finally, I could be sure the world was going under. The notorious Roman Godfrey was scared, and even worse, admitting to it.

"Because if I told you, you'd leave!" he said, voice raw with pain. "And I couldn't-- I can't!--" He was shattering right before my eyes, shattering into a million pieces. "Fuck, you have to understand! I didn't keep it from you to hurt you, I kept it from you because I'd lose everything!"

Roman swallowed hard, and in the smallest, quietest voice, he whispered; "I never, ever wanted to lose you. Nothing else matters like this, I-- I love you too much to function,"

Silence.

Thick. Suffocating.

Roman Godfrey... loved me?

He loved me.

Roman loved me.

And here he was, looking down at me with those big, pleading, green eyes like it would fix everything. Like it would fix the fact that he could kill me within a second. Like it would fix his blood-thirst.

"Please," he breathed, heartbroken with my lack of response. "You're not saying anything. Please say something."

All the times I had sensed something was wrong and convinced myself I was crazy rushed through my mind, clouding my shock at Roman's confession. It was torturous how he had let me remain in the dark for so long. Was that love, or was that selfishness?

I knew the answer.

"That's not love, Roman," I whispered. "That's fear."

His face fell. "No," he tried. "Don't-- Don't say that, it's not--"

"You say you didn't tell me because you didn't want to lose me, but what do you think this is? What do you think is happening right now?" My voice wavered, heat rushing to my face. "You talk about love like it's this big, tragic thing you had no control over, but you chose to lie to me above all else! You chose to put me in danger every time you were ever near me!"

I pushed against his chest, my body trembling with the force of my anger; Roman could've easily stayed put, could've easily kept me pinned to the ground, yet he relented, his eyes wide with hurt as he allowed me to push him away and sit up.

"You let me walk around and doubt myself for months, Roman! You let me drive myself crazy, trying to understand what the hell was wrong with me and why I was even doubting you, when this whole time-- this whole time, you were lying to my face!"

Roman ran a hand through his hair, looking wrecked. "What did you want me to do?!--"

"Anything but this, you fucking asshole!" I shoved myself off the floor, feeling my heart pound. "And you don't get to look at me like that, like I've wrecked your life! You don't get to act like this is just something sad that happened to us when this could've been prevented all along if you'd just stayed the fuck away!"

"That's not fair!" Roman yelled through the tears welling in his eyes. "You were basically throwing yourself at me!--"

"And you shouldn't have let me!"

"Come on!" Desperate, Roman reached for me, but I jerked away so fast that I nearly tripped.

"Don't!" My voice cracked, but it didn't matter. "Don't you fucking touch me, how dare you!" Every nerve in my body was screaming at me to tell him that I loved him too, that we could find a way to make it work, that I would always love him no matter what... but Letha's warnings ran through my head.

She had told me he was dangerous. She told me about his urges, how he would forever be hungry for blood, and that I risked my life every minute I was near him. Letha explained how Roman could hear the heartbeats of everyone within a certain radius, and that every thump reminded him of how hungry he was.

But now, as I looked into his hurt eyes, I could only see...

Pain.

I couldn't look at him anymore. I couldn't hurt him any longer, as Letha said I needed to do-- I had to move. Roman's voice was a faint echo as I started taking shaky steps toward my bedroom; there was no chance I'd outrun him if he wanted to chase me again, so I walked. It didn't take long before I heard him scrambling up from the floor as well, following me into my room.

I could feel him behind me when I stepped inside.

The door clicked shut.

My heart pounded, and I knew he could hear it. I knew.

"Baby--"

"Don’t," I breathed, stopping in the middle of the room before I turned around to face him. Even at this moment, he was beautiful. He was breathtaking in his shirt, even though his previously neat hairstyle had fallen apart with all the running and struggling. How was this fair?

I heard the shift in Roman's breathing, and how he tried to swallow the desperation in his throat. "You’re scared of me,”

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Yes,”

"You don’t have to be," he whispered. "I would never--"

"I do,"

A sharp, broken exhale. He took a step closer, daring to get in my personal space, and I flinched before I could stop myself.

Roman froze.

Silence. Again.

And then--

He dropped to his knees.

I gasped. His hands clutched the fabric of my shirt, Letha's shirt, his forehead pressing against my stomach like he was praying to me. His breath was shaky, his fingers curling and uncurling as if he didn’t know whether to hold me or let me go.

"Please," His voice was wrecked, hoarse with unshed tears. "Please don’t do this."

I stood frozen, my hands shaking at my sides. I wanted to cradle him, wanted to sink down to the floor and hold him, but I couldn't move.

Roman pressed a kiss to my stomach, then another. Then my ribs. Then my hip. A desperate, reverent kind of touch. Not to seduce, not to possess-- but to beg.

"I love you," His voice cracked, his lips ghosting over the fabric of my shirt. "I love you so much, I can’t-- fuck, I can’t lose you!--"

"Roman--"

His body shuddered against mine, his fingers twitching where they clung to me, like if he just held on tightly enough, none of this would be real. "I can control it," he pleaded. "I swear, I swear, baby, please!--"

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. I wanted to believe him so bad, wanted to relent, yet Letha's voice echoed in my head; "He will hurt you,"

"I won’t hurt you," he choked out, contradicting my every thought. "I’d rather die."

My breath hitched as my hands trembled, longing to reach for him. I pressed my lips together, trying to force down the sob rising in my throat; "If you don't want to hurt me, you-- you have to leave. You have to let me go,"

Roman's fingers clutched the fabric of my shirt as he shook his head, a frantic, shattered movement. No, no, no. "I don’t want to," His voice was raw. "Don’t make me. Please don't-- please don't make me."

I squeezed my eyes shut. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. "Roman..."

He knew he had lost. It was over. There was nothing more to say. Slowly, painfully, he pulled back, looking up at me with wide, devastated eyes, silent tears streaking his face. He pressed one last, trembling kiss to my hip.

And then--

Roman let go.

He pushed himself up onto unsteady legs. Stumbled back, one step, two.

Heavy.

Everything was, until I felt the relief of his eyes leaving mine. It felt like the weight of his attention lifted a ton from my shoulders. But the momentary solace quickly left me when I watched Roman's gaze shift--

He stilled.

The change was instant. His entire body locked up so tight it was like something inside him had snapped. His breath came shallow, his shoulders rising and falling in sharp, stuttered movements. His fingers flexed and curled like they didn’t know what to do.

I followed his line of sight with my breath catching in my chest, and my stomach dropped when I saw what he was looking at.

The book.

That fucking book.

The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir.

It lay there on my nightstand, its pages still open, marked by the frantic creases my fingers had pressed into them over and over again. There was no hiding it now.

With a sharp turn, I glanced back at Roman with huge eyes, wondering whether anger would take over his body and trigger him to chew me to death. But alas-- nothing.

Roman didn’t move.

He just stared. His lips parted slightly, his lashes fluttering as he blinked through the tears in his eyes, but he didn’t speak. I could see it, the way the pieces started clicking into place in his mind, how the dots connected in a way that destroyed him.

Finally, we both knew it was over.

Then--

Defeated, Roman turned away.

It was sudden, almost violent, the way he ripped himself away. He staggered toward my window, one hand swiping at his face as he smeared his tears into his skin, his breath a sharp, hollow sound. His entire body shook like he was barely keeping himself together, like the second he stepped outside, he would completely break apart.

Roman reached for the window.

Shoved it open.

But just for a second, he hesitated.

For a second.

For me.

He waited.

He was begging me to say something, to stop him, to tell him he didn’t have to go.

But I didn’t. I couldn't.

So, Roman climbed through the window I had snuck him in through countless times. We had shared countless kisses there; kisses of passion, kisses of joy, kisses goodbye, kisses hello. But now, there would be no more.

With one final look back, his green eyes seared into mine with a look I would never forget.

And then--

Roman Godfrey was gone.

I stood there for longer than I'd ever admit to anyone, staring at the empty space he'd left behind, waiting for him to come back. I could still smell him-- the deep cologne and the faint, metallic tinge of blood clinging to my shirt where he'd been pressed against me just minutes ago. It was Daniel's blood, a trace of what had happened earlier tonight. I couldn't believe I had been happy just a few hours ago. A few hours was all it took to unravel everything.

It was like he had left a ghost of himself behind--- something half-alive, something that would never quite let go of me.

Nothing but the sound of my own breathing filled up the room. It sounded too loud, too shaky. My fingers drifted into my pocket without thinking, curling around the cold glass buried there.

The vials clinked together as I rolled them between my fingers-- his blood, my blood, trapped inside two fragile little prisons, always touching but never quite meeting.

I brought them to my lips, squeezing my eyes shut— I could never get rid of them. Never.

If I crushed them right now, if I just closed my fist and shattered them into a thousand tiny shards, maybe this whole nightmare would shatter with them? Maybe I would wake up and he would still be here, begging me not to send him away? Maybe I could've made a different choice? Maybe he would wrap his arms around me again and swear that he would never hurt me, and maybe this time I would believe him?

But I didn't crush them-- I couldn't.

Instead, I pressed the glass harder against my lips until I tasted the salt of my tears on the rim.

At least in this form, we could be together.

Forever.

(a/n: ... sorry not sorry. this was heartbreaking to write, believe me. but this isn't the last chapter, that will be the next, and y'all are in for a RIDE!! thank you so so much for reading this, aaaand just quick psa, I will not be compensating anyone for their possible need for an ambulance or any funeral services cause I'm obv evil:))) JK MWAH🥹🌸 THANK YOUUU<333)

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amourane · 11 months ago

Text

falling for you

pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

genre: fluff, college au

w/c: 2.6k

summary: in which soonyoung struggles to ask you out on a date.

warnings: none!

a/n: if you saw the first post u didn't cuz tumblr made a mess of it and now i gotta repost it TT

"Jihoon!" A voice hissed from behind him. "Jihoon, here! Behind you!" He spun around to face...a bush.

"When did plants learn how to talk?"

"It's me you idiot!" A hand shot out grabbing Jihoon's arm, pulling him into the bush. Soonyoung had twigs, leaves and something that looked like a ladybug but no one could ever be so sure. He was fiddling with the hem of his sweater, his cheeks bright red. “I just saw Y/n!”

“So?” Soonyoung’s eyes bulged incredulously like Jihoon was supposed to know why his best friend looked like he had been living in the wild for a week.

“Jihoon, you don’t just reply with ‘so’ and make it some question. You should know this!” Soonyoung shook his friend by his shoulders, squishing his cheeks painfully. “Obviously it’s because I saw her walk by and obviously I went up to talk to her but obviously I fell. I don’t even know how I fell and I was going to stand back up and continue to talk to her but she was already gone. And I have this huge stain.” He pointed to the brownish green patch on his white cotton sweater. “Everything’s just a mess!”

“Okay first of all, calm down Shakespeare.” Jihoon rolled his eyes, picking his best friend up. He tugged the sweater over Soonyoung’s head. “You could’ve just taken this off, you’ve got a shirt underneath anyway. And it’s been a week and you still haven’t asked her out?”

“Well, it’s hard alright.” Soonyoung nibbled his bottom lip. “Also Mingyu’s always around her and I can never seem to get her alone.”

“Now you’re just making excuses.”

Jihoon knew his best friend. He knew Soonyoung. If Soonyoung wanted something he’d probably fight the world for it. He remembered that one time he’d been so desperate to win Mario Kart against Jihoon that he’d dumped his water all over him. Jihoon was positively fuming, not because he’d lost but because Soonyoung had gotten his favourite shirt wet.

Needless to say, Kwon Soonyoung would eat avocados for the rest of his life if it meant he’d get to ask you out. That was why it was weird that the guy who could probably fight zombies single handedly in an apocalypse couldn’t ask a cute girl out.

“Hey what’s this?” Jihoon reached for the piece of paper hanging out of Soonyoung’s pocket. The boy flushed red, trying to grab the paper back from Jihoon. When he realised it was no use he slumped back a pout evident on his face.

“You’re not allowed to judge me-”

“You really are a dork.” Jihoon snorted, examining the A3 piece of paper with ‘ASKING Y/N OUT’ scrawled on the top in big black marker. The page was filled with annotations and little diagrams that were all coloured in neatly. All the possibilities were drafted out, some more silly than others. “You were thinking of taking her to NASA?!”

Soonyoung’s ears burned. He squirmed. “I mean it’s always a possibility but I think that would kind of ruin me.”

Jihoon watched as his best friend avoided his gaze, fingers anxiously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He smiled. He’d never seen Soonyoung this nervous to ask a girl out. It was oddly endearing. He continued to scan the paper, a little shocked that Soonyoung had put so much effort into this plan.

So this was definitely not a little crush.

“Okay listen.” Jihoon grabbed Soonyoung’s shoulders. They were currently outside the classroom you were in. He had devised this plan perfectly so that Soonyoung would actually ask you out without embarrassing himself. “Y/n’s going to come out here in approximately five minutes. You’re going to walk up to her and say ‘are you free this Saturday?’ and then she’ll say yes and then BAM instant date!” He clapped his hands together for exaggerated effect.

“Jihoon, where are my flowers? And I can't be wearing this!” Soonyoung grabbed his black hoodie. “I can’t ask Y/n out like this. We need a suit and I need roses and some type of confectionery to win her over!”

Jihoon blinked like an owl. C-Confectionary?! Who the hell speaks like that anymore? Clearly Soonyoung had been watching too many romance movies. “You don’t need flowers or some fancy clothes to win Y/n over. You just need you, she likes you, not some dolled up Barbie.”

“It’s actually Ken who’s the main male-”

“Oh look here she comes.” He pushed Soonyoung hard. The poor boy stumbled clumsily, promptly bashing into you. He had to stop doing that. “Go get her!” Was all Soonyoung heard before he felt his soul die.

You held Soonyoung steady. A small giggle left your lips. He blushed. You were even cuter today. Which was normally impossible but you were obviously special. The sweet smile you gave him nearly had him fainting.

What was it Jihoon had said again? Oh yes, ask you out. He could do this.

“Did you need something Soonyoung?”

Your voice was gentle and soft like a marshmallow. He could feel himself melting just at your words. Nope can’t do this. Soonyoung nearly spun around but when he caught sight of Jihoon’s deadly glare he retreated. Jihoon wasn’t someone you wanted to get angry. Guess he was going to have to do this.

“I...um…” He waved his arms around pathetically. It didn’t help that you were looking at him so innocently. “T-This Saturday you free...?” Soonyoung wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His cheeks burn bright red and he coughs. Not only did he completely butcher the English language but his voice cracked. Cracked!

“I’m free this Saturday.” You grinned, eyes twinkling. Soonyoung felt his heart flutter. “I’ll text you okay?” You tucked a piece of paper into his hand before waving at him as you caught up to Mingyu. He watched as the two of you talked, you bursting into a fit of giggles, blushing.

The whole situation had happened so quickly it had made his head spin. A loud smack on his back brought Soonyoung back to reality. Jihoon stood behind him with a proud grin on his face.

“Now we’ve just got to get you through this date.”

Soonyoung checked his watch for what felt like the upteenth time. It read, 11:13. He had said to meet him at 11 o’clock but maybe he was just early. Maybe you were stuck in traffic or something. He had spent about half an hour picking his outfit, with help from Jihoon of course because he could never decide on anything.

It did look a little pathetic. Soonyoung sighed. Did you stand him up? You wouldn’t be that mean, would you?

“Soonyoung!” You were panting behind him, looking as if you had just run a marathon. Your chest heaved. “I'm so sorry. I lost track of time and everything kind of just went haywire-”

“I-It’s okay.” Soonyoung squeaked, wringing his hands. His eyes tried not to drift towards your chest. You were wearing a bright yellow sundress that hugged your body, little flowers dotted all over. The thin straps on your shoulders were tied in little bows at the top. He swallowed.

“You’re not upset?” Your eyes were wide. The familiar scent of your jasmine perfume wafted to Soonyoung's nose and he shook his head. He could never be upset with you, that’d be ridiculous. You smiled. “Well, where are we heading?”

He gave you a small grin. To say that Soonyoung has connections with people was an understatement. He had connections with everyone. That sounded a bit weird but everyone knew Soonyoung. It wasn’t like the town was small or anything, he was just known by everyone. Even the grumpy old lady that sold newspapers knew him.

Now normally he would have a plan for this, it was all written down. Sadly, Jihoon had ripped it up and threw it in the bin. Apparently having a plan was lame. Totally untrue, it was great to be prepared.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh my god!” You nearly tumbled to the ground at your shock. “How did you even manage to get in here? Isn’t this the Hong’s?”

In front of you were rows beyond rows of strawberry bushes. The field seemed to stretch on forever. There was only one family in town that owned so many acres of land, the Hongs. You’d met their son, Joshua Hong, a couple of times at campus but everyone knew their strawberry fields were off limits.

“My mum’s friends with Mrs Hong, used to go over to hers every week with apple pie. Me and Shua were friends for a while but then he got caught up in music and me, dancing. We still talk and I was lucky enough to get us in.” Soonyoung shrugs. “And it’s strawberry picking season.”

“Most boys would bring their date out to a fancy restaurant.” You picked a strawberry, popping into your mouth, savouring the sweet taste. “I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy this.”

Soonyoung tried not to smile too wide. He couldn't contain his excitement. At first he wanted to take you to a lot of places in one day but Jihoon had said it was impossible to take you to the cinema, zoo, aquarium, ice cream shop and laser tag in 24 hours. So he settled on strawberries. Everyone loved strawberries, plus it was free because he knew Joshua.

You slowly intertwined both of your fingers, holding his hand. Soonyoung felt his cheeks flare an embarrassing red as his eyes trailed down to both of your clasped hands. He felt his heart beat rapidly in his chest. There wasn’t a lot he could do but try not to faint.

A small smirk crept up on his lips as he handed you a basket. “We’ll make a deal.”

“A deal?” You looked at him confused, taking the basket. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s say, whoever picks the most strawberries decides where we’re having lunch and they pay as well.”

“Chivalry really is dead.” You rolled your eyes. If Kwon Soonyoung wanted to bet that he would pick more strawberries than you, then he best be prepared for war. You contemplated the thought. If you were to win you’d probably empty his pockets but if he won he would empty your pockets. It’s a 50/50 chance.

You must have stayed silent for a tad too long because Soonyoung grew worried.

“W-We don’t have to if you don't want to-”

“Fine. No rules, just as many as we can pick.” You shook his hand, a playful grin on your face. “Be prepared to lose Kwon.” You dashed away.

“Hey, you’re cheating!”

“No rules remember!”

Soonyoung stood still, mouth open like a goldfish. He finally snapped out of it, chasing after you, determined to win. There was no way he was going to let you beat him.

Or maybe he will.

Soonyoung grasped his basket tightly. It was already nearly full with ruby red strawberries. No doubt they were sweet and juicy. He hadn’t seen you since you left him and it was slightly worrying. Hopefully you were fine. Hopefully.

"Y/n?" He calls over the bushes. No reply. Soonyoung trudged forward, still looking for you. A twig snapped from behind him. "Y/n?" He spun around only to see you reaching a hand inside his basket plucking a strawberry and stuffing it into your mouth.

"They're really yummy, I should thank Joshua when I see him." You giggled, turning to flee again but this time Soonyoung grabbed your hand. A small squeak escaped your lips.

"Don't you dare run away." His tone was light and teasing. You shrieked when he popped one of your strawberries into his mouth. "No rules remember." He smirked, playfully flicking your forehead. You threw a strawberry at him which he dodged. You pelt another and another. One hits him and you stifle your laughs.

Soonyoung pulled you forward and you shut up. He leaned forward, breath fanning your face. You instinctively fluttered your eyes shut.

"I'll see you later." He whispered, causing you to snap open your eyes, mouth dropping to the ground. You watched dumbfounded as he ran away. What happened to the shy Soonyoung?

“I only lost because you ate all of mine.” You pouted, folding your arms defiantly. It wasn’t your fault that he was so devastatingly cute that you just had to offer him some of your strawberries. He stole them from you, even if he insisted that you gave them willingly.

“You’re in denial Y/n.” Soonyoung skipped happily next to you, swinging his full basket. Your pout deepened. “Now where’s the most expensive place to have lunch?” He pulled his phone out, tapping a few times before a smug grin took over his face.

“You’re going to empty my pockets.” You whined.

Soonyoung grinned. “Come on we’ve got to catch the train otherwise we’ll be late. I’ll pay for the tickets.” A small smile flitted across your face before it reverted back into a pout. You huffed, letting Soonyoung clasped your hand as the two of you walked away. “If it makes you feel any better, you can have my strawberries.”

“I just wanna know what was with the personality change back then?”

His cheeks flushed bright red. “I can be confident too…”

“Don’t doubt it. I’ve seen you dance.” The look he gives you has you rolling your eyes. “You’re a totally different person when you’re in the studio.”

His cheeks flushed bright red again causing you to burst into a fit of giggles.

“So what you’re saying is that the bill is too expensive and right now you’re hiding in the bathroom and, might I remind you, you left poor Soonyoung to fend for himself.” Mingyu said through the phone.

“It sounds worse when you say it aloud.”

“You can’t just ditch him Y/n, what are you going to do, climb out a window and escape?” He hissed. You stared at the tiny window at the back. If you did it right you could squeeze through. “If you’re thinking about climbing out of a window I will stop feeding you my brownies.”

“Hey hey hey. No need to deprive my need for brownies Gyu, have some respect.” He snorted, muttering under his breath. “I can still hear what you’re saying.”

“Good.”

Okay maybe running inside the bathroom and hiding in a stall wasn’t going to solve all of our problems. But the bill was hefty and you would probably land yourself in prison if you did manage to pay for it. Also you couldn’t climb out of the window because you really did need those brownies.

“I want you to go out there and say you can’t pay for it and ask Soonyoung to pay for it.”

“Gyu are you crazy?”

“You’re the one in a bathroom stall, not me.” And with that he hung up leaving you alone. You could do this. It was not that hard, not that hard.

Soonyoung was still sitting at the table where you left him but this time all the plates had been cleared and he was staring at his phone. He looked up and smiled. “Thought you were gonna do something illegal. Don’t worry, I paid for everything.”

“D-Did you rob a bank before we came here?” Your mouth was hanging open. That was the only option, unless he really did have enough money but everyone your age was practically broke so…

Soonyoung chuckled, shaking his head. “You didn’t actually think I was going to let you pay for all of that? You’re cute.”

You were left gaping as he took your hand. What just happened? He said your line, your line. You were meant to call him cute. Soonyoung seemed to sense how confused you were because he shot you a dazzling smile.

“Told you I can be confident.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt fluff #svt imagines #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #svt x reader #soonyoung scenarios #kwon soonyoung x reader #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #seventeen fluff #soonyoung fluff #kwon soonyoung imagines

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cherrychilli · 2 months ago

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18+ Eddie Munson x F!reader, established relationship, flashback friends to lovers WC:1.6K

A/N: So I'm a super sentimental person and I adore keepsakes so it got me thinking of a certain kind of keepsake reader would love to get her hands on and how it came to be in her possession. No smut in this one but my blog is strictly 18+. Enjoy!

"Babe..."

You weren't paying enough attention when he called out to you, too busy trying to clean up around your room to notice Eddie sorting through the box you stored under your bed. The one that housed all your keepsakes – ticket stubs from movies you'd seen together, napkins he'd doodled on, crumpled up early drafts of songs he'd written, all the little trinkets he'd gifted you over the years and more of the like.

But then Eddie pulls out something you'd forgotten he didn't known about yet, something that sat at the very bottom of the nearly overflowing box, a secret you were yet to share.

"Is this my hair?"

That gets your attention like a crowbar to the knee, eyes snapping to the lock of dark curled hair held together with thin black ribbon, dangling from between his thumb and index finger as he held it up for you to see.

"Oh, that..."

The first time you set foot in Hawkins was three years ago for your senior year. It was a few weeks into the move that you found yourself upholding a promise you'd made to your classmate Ronnie Ecker, a promise to come out Friday night and watch her band play at one of the local dives, the Hideout.

You were happy to go, thankful for the lifeline that was Ronnie's friendship in a town where you knew no one else. None of the others could be assed to befriend the new girl when graduation was just around the corner, everyone set to go their separate ways soon after.

The invitation sounded exciting nonetheless, even making you genuinely intrigued to see what the underground music scene was like in this grungy corner of Hawkins.

That night you were hit with the stale smell of cigarette smoke and bitter alcohol that commonly permeated establishments like this. You held your breath for as long as you could manage while you navigated the bar carefully, hoping the aroma won't cling to your hair once it was time to head back home.

Soon enough you found some space near the very front of the little stage, shuffling through to stand shoulder to shoulder with a modest crowd.

To say you found them intimidating would be an understatement. All of them unfamiliar and unsmiling and those who weren't tossing back hard liquor, chugged frosty beers right out of the bottle while decked out in dark leather and ripped denim. Cigarettes burned hot between their scowling lips too as plenty of ink and silver adorned their skin.

Looking around, you quietly wished Ronnie had clued you in on what to wear to these kinds of things. You didn't want the attention that came with standing out, hoping your suede jacket and fluttery lilac dress, not to mention your complete lack of any tattoos or piercings, wouldn't draw any looks.

Yet, despite hoping for the best and even resorting to standing still enough so as to avoid any kind of detection like some kind of poor injured prey in the wild, that nasty bite of self consciousness zeroed in on you and clenched its teeth down on you bone deep when you happened to catch the way one of the waitresses' gaze hung on you.

Her glittering pierced eyebrow climbed higher than the other while the corner of her jet black lipstick painted mouth fell into a half frown of sorts as she looked you up and down. Her eyes full of daggers, it was entirely unsubtle and unmistakable how out of place you looked to her as she returned to clearing a nearby table, dealing one final blow when she bows her head and begins to shake it disdainfully, her red dyed hair swishing gently from the motion.

'you should have known better than to show up here looking like you do'. You could read it plain as day on her disapproving pale face.

There were no real words exchanged but it was hard not to wither on the spot once she'd strut away, reminded once again of how much you didn't really feel like you belonged in Hawkins let alone the Hideout.

Smudging your own lipstick by nervously chewing on your bottom lip, it takes a lot to suppress the fleeting urge to make a break for the exit, your anxiety quietened somewhat once the lights suddenly dimmed and the band started to emerge on stage.

You met Ronnie's eye instantly and aimed a quick wave in her direction as she took her place behind the drums, her toothy grin directed back at you in return along with a friendly wink.

That was when you got a look at the rest of the band for the very first time. Each one stepped up under the amber yellow lights, making final adjustments to their instruments while you scanned them all.

It was their front man who held your attention though when he took his place behind the mic, thick guitar strap slung around his neck and chunky silver rings catching the light as he adjusted the mic stand to match his height.

You were yet to know his name. His real name anyway, refusing to refer to him by any of the monikers your classmates had dubbed him. But all those thoughts about the whispers that surrounded him, the hushed tones of 'devil worshipper' and 'town freak' went mute in your head when his honey brown eyes fell on you.

They weren't icy and cruel or quick to dismiss like most of the people you'd come to know in this town. Instead there was something distinctly warm and inviting about his wide eyed gaze, enough to make you feel more at ease than you had when you first arrived.

At least now there was one more person who seemed happy to see you.

His voice was unlike what you'd heard before too, smooth, smoky and surprisingly soulful while his fingers played fluidly over the fretboard of his flashy guitar, faster than you thought possible as your cheers echoed loudest amongst the crowd, genuinely impressed with how they were performing.

Especially him.

Up until now you'd known him mostly for the theatrics he pulled in the lunch room. Scaling the lunch tables and provoking hungry jocks by hurling clever insults along with shit eating grins and raised middle fingers. To know this was the same boy performing on stage in front of you now was a little jarring to say the least.

The whole set was so unlike any of the other musical performances you've ever seen before, even the handful of concerts you'd been able to see with your friends back home. Unable to help yourself, you grew so much more excited every time his eyes connected with yours and smiled, like he'd been seeking you out in the crowd, everyone else inconsequential.

Fuck, he looked at you like the final piece in a jigsaw puzzle - perfectly placed in front of him in a space that was meant only for you.

When it came to the final song of their set you weren't surprised that he was able to nail his electrifying solo with apparent ease, headbanging throughout it with his long, curly hair whipping in every direction. Thinking it had to be the highlight of the performance you grew from giddy to stunned as you watched him reach behind the amp during the final beats of the song, pulling out what looked to be a pair of clippers as he held it up for the audience to see.

It struck you then that this is what Ronnie must have alluded to you when she'd first asked you to come and attend. 'He really wants to make an impression, you know? we all do. And well, you've got to come out and see it for yourself', was how she had put it, practically luring you to the bar with how mysterious she'd made it all sound.

With your breath held, you watched him flick it on, raising the whirring clippers with no hesitation and running the blades across the side of his head in one clean stripe, strands of his long hair falling away like the first sign of snow.

It was hard not to be enthralled as the dark curls littered the stage in little tendrils, more falling as he kept shaving at the side of his head.

Staring at the dark hair on stage as the crowd broke into drunken cheers and whistles, you reacted a little differently from everyone else, growing silent while others grew louder.

The longer you stared the less you could help yourself.

In that moment you gave into a burst of impulse, reaching forward to snatch back a handful of hair and stuffed the locks into your pocket before you could even figure out why you'd done it.

No one had seen you do it, thankfully. His hair remained in your jacket pocket even while Ronnie introduced you to him later, trying not to stare at the freshly buzzed cut on the left side of his head, thankful he hadn't committed to shaving it all off because he really did have a nice head of hair.

You couldn't quite explain what had made you do it, only that you felt compelled to do so. But now here you were, two years into your relationship, just glad to have a part of him with you at all times.

"Guess I'm just your biggest fan", you shrugged with a smile that makes Eddie grin back at you

"You gonna give me some of yours then?", he asks, eyes hopeful as you deepen your smile at him in return.

"Get the scissors"

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things

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zaunian-lesbian-daddy · 2 months ago

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WW2 lesbian love story!!!!

MINORS/MEN DNI!!!!

Hey everyone! If this does well I'm going to turn this into a full short story! I want to see who would be interested in that. This short story is going to be based on the myth that “the face you wear in this life is the face you loved most in your last”. It's going to be a tragic love story with smut mixed in! I left the smut out for verious reasons but it will be in the short story! I promise lots of happy things will happen too! Let me know what you think and prepare for a lesbian love story that transcends lifetimes!

WARNINGS: lesbian content, fluff, mentions of war, sexual content, historical dates, WW2 content, soulmates, multiple deaths, mention of suicide, mention of birth, some swearing. (that's all I can think of right now)

3.2K words

It was June 27th 1940 when I bumped into her in the dairy aisle of the grocery store. I was 18 at the time and she was 19, the wedding ring on her finger glinted in the fluorescent lights when she brushed back her long brown sugar colored hair with her hand. Her warm chocolate brown eyes landed on me, and I felt like I was frozen to the spot, she was so beautiful. I soaked in every tiny detail I could of her; the light brown freckles painting her face and her pink pouty lips. “I’m so sorry, sometimes I'm so in my head I don't see the people around me,” when she spoke it sounded like warm honey.

Being gay was almost unheard of at the time, I knew I liked women, but those words would never leave my mouth.

“I was the one who bumped into you, I should be the one apologizing,” I laugh a little trying to keep my composure. I keep the conversation going so she doesn't walk away, “My name is Evelyn, what's yours?” I hold my hand out to shake hers, it's as soft as satin. She takes my hand “Rose,” her lips forming into a beautiful smile.

We talked for a while and ended up doing some shopping together that day. When we went our separate ways, we made sure we could reach each other through the operators who worked the phones back then.

The next few months were filled with long conversations over the phone, her voice lighting a fire deep within my core. Dinners at her and her husband John’s house, where growing feelings on my end makes the word desire sound pitiful. Little did I know at the time, she felt the same way as I did.

War was spreading through the European countries, we caught wind of what was happening in Germany here and there. That didn't burst our bubble though, months turned into a year. Tensions were rising and there was talk of a draft for all able bodied men between 18 to 35 years old to join the war. We were in her kitchen late one night, crickets were chirping as we spoke about the news.

“Do you think John is going to be picked in the first draft?” I keep my voice low so he doesn't hear me over the radio he has turned on. Rose nods her head slowly but I don't see sadness in her eyes, which is strange, because doesn't she love him? “I have no doubt he will be one of the first men to be picked in the draft, it's a gut feeling,” her voice is just as soft as mine was.

I debated on asking her why she doesn't seem sad about it. As soon as I went to ask, we heard John's footsteps approaching from the living room. We both look towards the door as he walks in. “I’m going to head to bed,” he speaks as he walks over to her. He places a soft kiss on her lips, I watch it happen, I always do. I think about how her lips would feel on mine.

I snap out of my thoughts as John gives me a nod, I smile at him, then without a pause he leaves. I turn my attention back to Rose, she almost looks sick, her face is slightly pale. I study her for a second before speaking, “what's wrong?” I've known her for almost a year and a half. I can tell when she is thinking too hard about something.

“I'm thinking about if he gets drafted, how will I support myself alone?” she finally looks at me. Before I can stop myself the words seem to fall out of my mouth, “You won't be alone.. I’ll always be here with you and we can figure it out together,” my mouth goes dry. She looks at me before offering me a sweet smile.

A long pause happens, we just sit and look at each other. It doesn't feel uncomfortable at all, more like something unspoken. She stands slowly while keeping her eyes on me. She rounds the table, my eyes trace every movement she makes. She is now standing next to me, I have to look up at her from my sitting position.

Her eyes are softer, her lips parted slightly. There is a charge in the air that I can't describe. She moves slowly, cradling my cheeks with her hands. My breathing hitches as I stare up at her, she breaks the silence with a soft whisper, “May I kiss you?”

My mind goes blank, my eyes still locked on hers. I take a deep shaky breath before I end up nodding, she doesn't seem to hesitate once I give permission, she bends down pressing her lips against mine. I melt into her, our lips dancing together in a passionate kiss. When she finally pulls away, we are both breathless.

She giggles a little with a smile, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,”. I smile back at her, with a laugh of my own. “I’m glad you did it, because I've wanted it too,”. That night we experimented in her kitchen, exploring each other's bodies with our hands and mouths. Doing things God would surely send us to hell for.

We talked about how we both knew we were attracted to women but it could never be something we did in public. We found solace in each other. Months of us exploring our sexuality, hidden behind closed doors, a dark, sinful, secret. The kisses and touches we shared were warm despite the incoming war.

Between the passionate nights Rose and I shared, my family often pushed me to find a man who could take care of me and give me children. If they knew what I did behind closed doors I'm sure I would have been disowned and kicked out, since I still lived at home. I did as I was told, filling my days with dates with ugly men who promised me the world. After performing all day, I would go fill my nights with Rose’s sinful touches.

As time went on, talk of the draft became real. John got sent off to Germany, not long after the bombing of Pearl harbor. The dust hadn’t settled yet, when word broke of women entering the workforce to fill the spaces the men had left. Rose and I started doing factory work, producing munitions for the war.

My family let me move in with her since we were so close and she needed help paying for the house while John wasn't there. I had to promise them to keep looking for a husband to do so. With the war raging and so few men not fighting in the war it was easier to make excuses for why I remained single.

It felt natural living and working with Rose, we decided that we could call ourselves a “couple” but it was only meant for behind closed doors. The nights were filled with long talks, making love to each other, and falling deeper in love with each other. I had to remind Rose several times to write to her husband, to keep the act up, so when he did come home he wouldn't think anything improper was happening.

About eight months after John deployed, soldiers showed up at the house, Rose was home and I had picked up an extra shift at the factory that day. They gave her the news that he had been KIA during the Dieppe Raid, he was one of three Americans who died that day. They offered a short, insincere, apology then left her standing there. When I came home that night she didn't say much, gave me a kiss, and handed me the letter.

I read it over, then studied her closely. She didn't look like she had cried at all, she was acting normal. Over the next few days she seemed completely fine. Maybe it was because she never loved him or maybe it was the fact that we had been in a “relationship” for so long it didn't matter to her. Either way, I celebrated in my head because I knew there was nothing standing between us now.

The war was making the days fly by, work at the factory was grueling. We even made a hook near the door where we would hang our carabiners that were full of tools we needed to use at our job. One night I was so tired I came home so tired I hooked them together by accident, it became our running joke.

Rose would always find ways to make coming home interesting, meeting me in the nude, leaving notes telling me to find her and fuck her, or just loving on me. I did the same for her, at one point I left my belt on the counter with a note saying “find me, tie me up, use me however you want”. Life was good, no matter the war raging just outside our door.

I didn't really go see my family anymore, it wasn't important. Everytime I went to see them they would ask about me finding a husband. I couldn't imagine life without Rose in it, it's like God made us for one another in every lifetime.

In April of 1945 we got the news that Hitler had been killed, the entire United States was celebrating. The years of Rose and I being together had been magical. We met other like minded women through our job at the factory, there were other lesbians who we became friends with. Nights filled with gossip, wine, giggles and games. That's until Rose got sick.

The first time she collapsed was about a month after Hitler got killed. She became pale, got sick and collapsed on the floor. Luckily I was home, I rushed her to the hospital but they wouldn't allow me to stay with her because I wasn't family.

Months followed of them running as many tests as they could, multiple trips to the hospital, long nights staying awake to make sure nothing happened to her while I was sleeping. We got word of other women who were getting sick just like Rose was, they all had one thing in common, working in factories around TNT.

There were no answers and she was only getting worse, the life I once saw in her was fading away every single day. I prayed to the God who would surely damn Rose and I to hell for the kind of relationship we had. I hoped he would listen, maybe give the doctors answers so I wouldn't lose the person I've loved most.

I made her quit working when she got sick, whenever I got home, I would crawl into bed and stare at her. Take in her soft curves, the beauty in her face, the lines that formed over the years. I would hold back my tears till I was alone so I could remain strong for her. When I got home tonight I did the same as usual, she was awake this time.

Her warm brown eyes found me, she gave a half hearted smile. “I love you so much,” her voice seemed hollow, I couldn't help the tears welling in my eyes. “I love you more,” my voice cracks as I speak. She turns her body so we are laying face to face. We never had the death talk because it was never on the table, I couldn't lose her.

“I will find you in every lifetime, my love. If I am a dog in my next life, I will find you and make you my owner. If I am an ant, I will find every drop of sugar in your house just to be close to you. Even if we are worlds apart I will find my way to you.” her smile is weak, tears are welling in her eyes too now. I can't help but stare at her, why does this sound like a goodbye?

“You aren't leaving me in this one by myself Rose..” I have no choice, tears pour out of my eyes as I pull her into me. Hugging her so tight I'm probably hurting her, but I can't let go, not now, what will I do without her? “I don't think we have a choice,” her voice is weak and muffled by my shoulder.

We cry until we fall asleep in each other's arms. In the morning when I wake up, we are still in the same position. I pull back slowly and that's when I notice, she's gone. It was a goodbye last night, somehow she knew. I just stare at her for a while until I finally get up. I'm numb but I need to get the operator to send the police.

It happens so fast, they take her, and since I’m not family, I don't get to help plan her funeral. Her family takes over, the next week seems to come in a blur. I don't go to work, I sit in the house and look at the things we collected over the years. Our friends come over to help me, but when I see them together all it does is remind me of her.

I go to the funeral, her family doesn't let me speak. What would I say anyway? How much I loved her? How lonely am I without her? I sit and stare at the coffin till it's over.

When I get home the days seem to blur, I don't leave, I dont allow people in, I cant even eat. My family wants me to move back in with them but I don't, this is the only thing I have left of her, so I sit and exist in misery. Then I remember her words “I will find you in every lifetime,” I say outloud to myself, hardly recognizing my own voice.

I stand up slowly and walk to grab a piece of paper and a pen to write my final note. It reads, “I don't know if anyone will care or read this note. This home was shared by my partner and I. Years of love, tenderness and laughs. I loved her more than life itself, that's why I'm saying goodbye too. To my friends I'm sure you'll understand and I'm sorry. To my family, I hope you forgive my sins. Sincerely, Evelyn.”

With that, I take the note and go to the garage. Our car sits there just like any normal day. I climb in and put the note on the dash, grabbing the keys, I start the car. “I hope you are right Rose, if you are, I look forward to meeting you again..” I roll down the window, relax into my seat and listen to the car's engine. My eyes close, my breathing slows, and then, all the pain stops.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I open my eyes again all I can do is cry, fluorescent lights burn my eyes. I can't speak and my body feels weird. I try to move but have no control over my movements. My limbs flail and I can feel tears streaking my face. Then I’m met with a warm body and a soothing voice, something familiar about it. Before I close my eyes again I hear a woman's voice say “Her name is Iris,” it's melodic enough to put me into a deep sleep.

Turns out, I was born again in 1998. Growing up my family didnt have alot but it was enough. I never went hungry, had toys I could play with. I learned to walk, talk, run, explore, build and destroy. My school years went smoothly, I was a solid student, B average.

I had boyfriends, a girlfriend that my parents had no idea about. They never talked about being against the LGBT but they never mentioned being in support either, so I figured my safest bet was to keep the fact that I found women attractive, quiet.

The years passed, now I'm finding myself standing in front of the mirror looking at myself. Today is my birthday. I'm turning nineteen years old. The person I'm staring at in the mirror seems so familiar. Not just in the way that I know myself, but something more. Like I've seen her before somewhere, this face doesn't seem like mine. Maybe someone else?

I touch my face, my eyes tracking the movements I make with my fingers. Chocolate brown eyes, my lips are pink, light brown freckles spread evenly over my nose and cheeks. My hair is long, a warm brown color to it.

I snap out of my trance when my phone dings. I look down to see a message from my friend, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH!!!”. I can hear her voice through the message, I giggle then text back. “Thank you! Hope you can come to my party tonight!” I exit the bathroom to go sit on my bed as I send the message.

While I wait for her to text back I open up instagram, the first post I see is a black background with white lettering that says “the face you wear during this life is the face of the person you loved the most in your last”. I pause on it, reading the words over and over, when my friend's text pops up, I ignore it, and head straight to google.

I type in the words I saw on the post. It comes up as a Chinese myth, so I clicked on the first link. When I open it, my eyes scan over the words. Before I can finish reading the article something flashes in my brain. A memory? I'm looking into a woman's eyes, identical to mine. She looks sick and sad. Actually, her whole face looks identical to mine. “I will find you in every lifetime,” rings through my head.

I drop my phone on the floor, I barely hear the thud. I'm panting heavily as I stare at the article that's still open on my phone. “What the fuck was that?” I say out loud as if someone will give me the answer.

I hope you enjoyed the story! Let me know if you want me to make this into a bigger story! I promise there will be smut, lesbian love, laughs, cries and so much more! Will Iris find her love again? Will Rose keep her promise? Will it be a lesbian happily ever after?? If you made it this far thank you for reading!

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bettelaboure · 2 months ago

Text

a small piece of GD, I had in my drafts for too long. maybe someday it will be a full fic 🤍

You were already regretting the heels.

Not because they hurt—though, they did. Not because you weren’t used to them—though, you weren’t. But because every time you walked past his office, you heard them click against the marble like a countdown to your own humiliation. A slow, echoing reminder that you were a terrible liar when you said you didn’t like attention.

Especially his.

“You’re late.”

His voice was velvet wrapped around a razor. You didn’t even look up, just held the stack of folders tighter to your chest and stepped inside his office.

“I’m not.” You weren’t. You were three minutes early.

Ji-yong, CEO of KJ Holdings, tech prodigy, fashion icon, and certified menace in a three-piece suit, leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world to watch you squirm. Which he probably did.

“You were supposed to be here the moment I started thinking about you,” he said, without missing a beat.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“That’s… not in my job description.”

He grinned. “We should renegotiate your contract.”

You moved to his desk, setting the folders down between you like they could shield you. “These are the Q1 reports you asked for. The numbers from our Japanese team are—”

He reached out, casually brushing his fingers over yours as he picked up the top folder. It was the lightest touch—barely there—but it shot straight up your spine. Your breath hitched, and he heard it. Of course he did.

“You’re so jumpy,” he murmured, not even glancing up as he flipped open the folder. “You always act like I’m going to do something terrible to you.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.” His eyes lifted to meet yours, lazy and hot, and just a little amused. “And I haven’t even started yet.”

Your throat went dry. “Ji-yong…”

He raised a brow. “Mr. Kwon. While we’re at work.”

You swallowed hard. “Mr. Kwon. Right. Sorry.”

“I like when you say my name like that,” he said, flipping another page. “All formal. Obedient. Makes me wonder how else you might sound if I told you exactly what to do.”

Your entire body flushed—your cheeks, your ears, your everything. You took a step back before your knees gave out.

“I—I’m going to go get coffee.”

“Black,” he said smoothly. “Unless you’re bringing yours too. I’ll take it how you like it.”

You paused mid-turn, heart thudding. “Why would you want it the way I like it?”

His smile sharpened. “Because then I can taste it on your mouth later.”

You fled the office.

The first time you met Kwon Ji-yong, he was barefoot.

You’d shown up ten minutes early for your final interview at KJ Holdings—one of Seoul’s most elite tech firms—wearing your best blouse and your most fake confident smile. The receptionist had been flustered, muttering something about the CEO being “in one of his moods,” and then, without any warning, you’d been ushered straight into a massive corner office where a man with platinum hair and absolutely no shoes was standing on a desk.

You froze in the doorway. “Um… am I interrupting?”

He looked over his shoulder, one brow raised like he’d been expecting someone far more interesting. “Only if you’re boring.”

You were too stunned to answer.

He hopped down, walked toward you, and held out a hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Kwon Ji-yong. CEO. Potential disaster. You?”

“Y/N,” you stammered. “Your… new assistant, I think.”

He looked you over once, eyes pausing on your mouth a little too long. “Pretty.”

You coughed. “Excuse me?”

“I said ‘pretty impressive resume,’” he lied with a grin that made your stomach flip. “You blush easy, don’t you?”

You hadn’t said a word. You just sat down and tried not to fall in love with a man who didn’t believe in boundaries or footwear.

That was six months ago.

Now? You were wearing pencil skirts you didn’t even own back then, had memorized the schedules of three department heads, and knew—without asking—exactly how Ji-yong liked his coffee, his whiskey, and his chaos. And every day, you walked the tightrope between professional assistant and flustered wreck.

Because he never stopped.

“You know you don’t have to look like a snack just to sit in meetings with old men, right?”

You turned toward the doorway of the executive boardroom, where Ji-yong leaned, watching you adjust the hem of your skirt. His tone was casual, but his eyes? Anything but.

“I didn’t dress for anyone,” you said.

He stepped closer, slow, like he wanted you to feel him coming.

“I know. That’s the best part.”

You tried to maintain composure, eyes flicking back to the stack of files in your hand. “Do you flirt with all your employees, or am I just lucky?”

“I don’t flirt with employees,” he said. “Too messy. Too many lawsuits.”

You gave a tight nod. “Good to know.”

Then his voice dropped, low and husky. “But you’re not just an employee, are you?”

Your heart skipped. He was so close now you could smell his cologne—something dark and woodsy and completely unfair. You backed away slightly, and he grinned.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

You stayed late that night, half because you had actual work to do and half because you didn’t want to admit how much you liked being the last one in the building. The office was quiet after dark. Safer. No Ji-yong watching your every move with that smirk that said he was imagining you bent over your desk instead of working at it.

You thought he’d left.

You were wrong.

He came in without knocking, two glasses in hand and a bottle of Japanese whiskey tucked under his arm.

“Midnight oil,” he said. “You look like you need some.”

You blinked. “Aren’t there rules about drinking with your boss?”

“Sure,” he said, pouring you a glass. “But we’re just coworkers now. It’s past business hours.”

You took the glass from him with a suspicious glance. “And this isn’t inappropriate?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, settling onto the edge of your desk, “if I was being inappropriate, you’d be shaking too hard to hold that drink.”

You stared at him, cheeks flaming.

Then he tilted his glass toward yours. “To blurred lines.”

You clinked.

And drank.

And hated how much you wanted him to blur every single one of them.

He started texting you after hours. At first it was harmless—updates, reminders, small talk. Then it got… not harmless.

JI-YONG [10:42 PM]:

What are you wearing?

You stared at your phone like it might explode. Then you typed:

YOU:

Pajamas. Why?

JI-YONG:

Just picturing you. Cotton or lace?

You didn’t answer.

JI-YONG [10:45 PM]:

Let me guess. You’re all sweet and shy at work, but you’ve got a drawer full of pretty little secrets, don’t you?

You turned your phone off and threw it across your bed.

You didn’t sleep.

#fanfic #bigbang #big bang #kwon jiyong #gdragon x reader #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon scenario #gdragon

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probablysimpledreams · 2 months ago

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Let Me Take Care of Ya, Yeah? (Hawks x reader: NSFW)

a/n: holy shit I meant to finish this like 2 months ago but then it just sat in my drafts until today loll BUT here's a lil hawks smut for yall<33 been thinking about how much of a #freak he secretly is and how he'd enjoy period sex (a lil too much lol) so here's a pic on it!

cw: period sex (and Hawks is v into it), afab reader, possessive Hawks

wc: 1747

Despite only dating for a few months, you have already crossed off many of Hawks' "firsts." First date, first kiss, first blow job, etc. And after he woke up to you loudly cursing a new one was added to the list: first period he was home for.

Due to his insanely busy work schedule, he had actually never been home when you've started your cycle before. So between that and the fact you are the first person he ever dated, Hawks had no clue what to do. He stayed frozen in bed, watching as you scramble to get up and examine the mess you had unknowingly made in your sleep.

"Shit I'm sorry Kei," you apologize. He stays quiet as he thinks about and processes the situation, making you frown. All you can think about is how disgusted he must be.

"What? No don't apologize baby," he confidently reassures you. A handful of his wings detach from his back smoothly before quickly attaching to you and pulling you into the bathroom. "You just do what you need to feel good, I'll handle the rest ya?" He calls out from the bedroom as he begins changing out the sheets. His feathers move around the bathroom, drawing you a warm bath and rubbing against your face affectionately before returning to Hawks.

Now that you were out of the room, Hawks let his confident demeanor fall as he scrambled to grab his phone. He began going down a Reddit rabbit hole to learn about periods and, most importantly, what he as your boyfriend should be doing when that time of the month comes. He wasted no time flying off to store so that when you got out of the bath you'd be greeted with your favorite take out order, chocolates, and a sweet note before heading out to work.

As he patrolled the quiet city streets, Hawks couldn't stop worrying about you. He wanted to do more for you, the need to take care of you stronger than usual. He decides to fall back down the Reddit rabbit hole, hoping to find more he can do for you. His eyes widen, smirk tugging at his lips as he begins reading the benefits of period sex. After a quick read, he sends you a sweet text before sliding his phone back into his pocket, thinking long and hard on what the night will bring

---------

The sun setting marked the end of his patrol shift and thankfully the Commission had no other tasks for him. Hawks basically teleported home, happily entering the apartment as he headed towards the bedroom. The exhaustion in his body began washing away the moment he laid eyes on you laying in bed, wearing one of his old t-shirts and pair of boxers as pajamas while you scroll on your phone. The scent of your body wash and lotion becomes stronger as he moves further into the room, causing his wings to twitch in anticipation. Your attention moves from your phone screen up to your boyfriend, smiling as he climbs onto the bed. Before a word could leave your mouth, his begins kissing you rough and eagerly.

"Missed me huh?" you teased, giggling as you try to catch your breath. You start start playing with his hair, thinking he needs some gentle affection before heading to bed. However as his lips began trailing down your neck, lightly nipping at the exposed flesh, you realized his true needs. "Mmm K-Keigo....but I'm on my period," you weakly protested, trying to push him away.

"Yeah I know," he responds quickly before returning to kissing your skin.

"And you still want to have sex? You don't just want a blow job or something?"

He laughed at your question, making your eyebrows furrow. One of his hands goes to cup the side of your face, thumb rubbing your cheek gently as his other hand moves to your waist, fingers teasing the elastic of your underwear. He smirks as your expression relaxes, body reacting to his touches. "Let me take care of ya, yeah?" he whispers in your ear before kissing your forehead. "Gonna make you feel so good baby," his hand slides in your underwear, fingers rubbing between your folds causing you to squirm. The way your body reacts plus the wetness of your arousal and blood coating his fingers makes him moan. After a few more teasing touches, Hawks pulls his hand out and examines his fingers. The shine and hint of red on his skin made his cock and feathers twitch.

"Stay here, Imma grab a towel for you to lay on. I have a feeling you're gonna be messy~" he teases as he gets off the bed, heading into the bathroom. He returns quickly, allowing his feathers to place the towel over the sheets as he holds you in his arms before placing you onto the towel. Once back in bed he wastes no time getting both of you fully undressed, roughly kissing your lips before moving to your chest.

"Mmm ffffuck K-Kei!!" you cry as he kisses around your collarbone and slides two fingers inside you.

"God you're so wet baby," he groans as he fingers you. The sound of him fingering you echoes throughout the apartment and it drives him crazy. He loves pleasing you, so every sound from your body and mouth has him chasing more and more. He feels you clench around his fingers, a loud moan leaving his lips as you suck him deeper into you. He takes it as his sign to go faster, thumb rubbing your clit before the fingers inside you curl upward. The intensity of the pleasure and heightened sensitivity from your hormones cause your orgasm to wash over you without much warning. Hawks praises you as he fingers you through your high, cooing sweetly in your ear. But you can't focus on anything other than the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body as you grip onto his shoulders, crying and shaking before your body sinks into the bed. You feel sweaty, your mind cloudy, and body still trembling as you lay out on the towel. Once you regain some form of composure your gaze moves to your boyfriend whose expression was once you had never seen on his face before. You watched as he stayed above you, his gaze sharp on his fingers coated in your cum and blood. His expression was animalistic, hungry even. Hawks was no stranger to blood on his hands, but this was different. This was a piece of you. A new way to mark you as his, a new way to provide you pleasure. He had never seen you cum so hard and fast before, it was driving him wild. He takes his stained fingers and begins tracing circles on your inner thighs, chuckling as you whine and as the blood sticks to your skin like it does his. He felt closer to you than ever before, and was not ready to let that high go away. His wings puffed out as he grabbed his dick, whining as he pumps it slowly. Your cum and blood left on his fingers began mixing with the precum leaking from his dick, and the sight made him shudder.

"Ready for more baby? Gotta make sure ya feel real good," his voice is dripping with lust and it makes you want to rub your thighs together. You had never expected to see him like this, but you sure weren't;t complaining. You were so use to men not caring about your pleasure or needs, but here was your gorgeous boyfriend almost cumming from the site of pleasuring you during the time of the month you loathed.

"P-please Kei," you whine, all those needy and horny feelings washing over your body again.

"Anything for you ______," he leans down to kiss you gently before sliding his dick inside you. You both moan into the kiss as you feel him stretch you out and he feels you squeeze around him. "Fuck this pussy is so good...too damn good," he babbles as he begins fucking you. He starts out gentle, worried he may hurt you if you're still feeling overstimulated from earlier. The knot in your stomach is already forming but you're too overwhelmed by pleasure to speak, so instead you tug harshly at Hawks' hair to communicate your needs. He picks up instantly on the message, moving from slow thrusts to rough, quick ones. You whine and cry out his name, back arching off the bed as tears fall from your eyes. Your hands don't leave his hair, tugging at the messy golden strands as he pulls you closer and closer to that sweet release.

"Y-you like that huh? Like how-fuck-good I fuck you huh baby?"

"Y-yes yes ahhhh," you somehow manage to choke out the words. Your praise only makes him needier, pulling himself fully out of you before slamming right back in. It only takes a couple more rough, deep thrusts until you're cumming around him again. He fucks you through it, once again praising you as you come undone around him. You cry and whine as it takes him a couple thrusts more until he cums hard and heavy inside you, pushing it as deep inside you as possible. You watch as his wings spread out behind him, shaking as he fills you up.

The room now is quiet aside from you both panting, and the scent of sex lingers like a thick fog. He pulls out of you before collapsing against your chest, a stupid cheesy grin painted across his sweaty face. You couldn't help but smile back at him, pushing strands of hair out of his face.

"Cramps feeling better?" he asks, gently rubbing your lower stomach.

"Mmhmm," you nod, melting into his sweet touches. "However now I'm sore for a whole different reason," you laugh. His cheek flush before he laughs with you. The two of you stay cuddled up in bed, not caring about the sweat or blood sticking on your skin. He peppers a few more gentle kisses, nuzzling into your neck as he lets out a few soft coos. The vibrations from the sound against your skin tickles, causing you to squirm and laugh.

"I love you Keigo," you sigh happily, rubbing his back and smiling at the way his wing flutter when your finger tips grace over them.

"I love you too ________," he hums, eyes beginning to fall close. "So damn much."

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bitchinbarzal · 2 months ago

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Unsent Texts | M Barzal

summary: syd steals mat’s phone to uncover how your break up really made him feel.

You weren’t supposed to be thinking about Mat tonight.

You were supposed to be having a normal, drama-free dinner with your best friend, Sydney.

But the universe had other plans.

Because somehow, in the middle of drinks and half-finished appetizers, Sydney accidentally unlocked Mat’s phone. And now? Now you’re staring at hundreds of unsent messages—all of them to you.

It had been months since you and Mat ended things. At first, it was unbearable—learning to sleep alone, getting used to waking up without hearing his voice, forcing yourself to unlearn the way you fit so easily into his life. But you did it. You moved on. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You didn’t check his Instagram anymore. You didn’t avoid places you knew he’d be. When people mentioned his name, you smiled politely, like it didn’t twist something deep in your chest.

And you definitely, definitely didn’t still have a note in your phone filled with messages you were too afraid to send.

But it was there. Just sitting in your drafts, filled with late-night thoughts and regrets:

• I miss you.

• I saw your post-game interview today. You looked tired. Are you okay?

• I hate that I still think about you this much.

You could delete it. You should delete it. But you never did.

Sydney had mentioned casually earlier in the night that Mat was at their house before she left to meet you. It wasn’t unusual—he was always around since Matt and him were practically attached at the hip. You brushed it off at the time, convincing yourself it didn’t matter.

But now, here you were, holding his phone in your hands. Because he had left it at the Martin’s house, and Sydney—being Sydney—grabbed it, meaning to bring it back to him later.

And now you’re staring at your name on his screen.

And a message.

“I keep typing these, but I never send them. I don’t even know if you’d want to hear from me. But I miss you.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Y/N?” Sydney says softly.

You don’t answer.

You just scroll.

Because it’s not just one message.

It’s dozens.

No—hundreds.

Unsent texts, stretching back months.

• I saw something today that reminded me of you. I wanted to tell you but… I didn’t know if I should.

• I don’t even know why I’m typing this. Maybe just to pretend like you’re still here.

• I miss your laugh. I fucking hate that I miss your laugh.

• I hate that I let this happen.

Your chest tightens. Because you had done the exact same thing. You had unsent messages too—ones you never dared to send, ones you forced yourself to delete because you thought Mat had already moved on.

But he hadn’t. Not even close.

“Y/N,” Sydney says again, more serious this time. “What are you gonna do?”

You shake your head, gripping the phone tighter. “I don’t know.”

Because there was only one real option.

You could pretend you never saw this. Put the phone down, walk away, let the past stay buried.

Or You could type a message of your own.

And this time, hit send.

Before you can make a decision, the restaurant door swings open.

And suddenly, there he is.

Mat.

Wearing a hoodie, damp hair from the cold, looking like he rushed here the second he realized his phone was missing. His eyes lock onto you immediately. Then flick down.

To his phone.

In your hand.

And you watch it happen—the realization, the panic, the sharp inhale when he realizes exactly what you’ve seen.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Sydney coughs awkwardly. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

But neither of you even notice her get up.

Because Mat’s eyes are locked on yours, his whole chest rising and falling like he’s bracing for impact.

And then—quietly, hesitantly—he asks, “Did you read them?”

Your throat is dry. You can barely breathe.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I did.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. He swallows hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was gonna delete them,” he admits. “I just… never could.”

You exhale shakily. “Neither could I.”

His gaze snaps to yours, wide. Disbelieving.

And suddenly, the air between you is charged with something new. Something unfinished. Something that, for the first time in a long time, feels like hope.

The restaurant feels smaller now. Like the walls are pressing in, like the air is thinner, like you might suffocate under the weight of everything you never said.

Mat stares at you, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides like he’s afraid if he moves too fast, you’ll disappear.

And maybe he’s right.

Maybe you should disappear.

Maybe you should walk away right now and leave him with nothing but his own regrets, the same way he left you.

But you don’t.

Instead, you whisper, “Why didn’t you ever send them?”

Mat exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Because I was a coward.”

You blink, not expecting him to say it so bluntly.

“I thought about you every day,” he continues, voice low, hoarse. “Every fucking day, Y/N. But I convinced myself you were better off without me.”

Your throat tightens. “And now?”

His lips part, but he hesitates. “Now…” His gaze drops, flickering to the phone in your hands. “Now I just want to know if you ever thought about me too.”

You inhale slowly. “I did.”

His head snaps up.

“Mat…” Your fingers tighten around the phone. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

His face crumples—like he wasn’t expecting you to say it, like he’s spent months convincing himself you had moved on completely.

And maybe you had tried. Maybe you had told yourself that he was just a chapter in your life, that you had turned the page. But standing here, seeing the desperation in his eyes, knowing that he never stopped thinking about you either?

That changes everything.

“Do you still love me?” The words are out before you can stop them.

Mat inhales sharply.

Then, quietly, without hesitation—

“Yes.”

Your breath catches.

His voice is raw, almost broken. “I never stopped.”

You swallow hard, hands shaking. “Then why did we let this happen?”

Mat exhales, stepping closer, his fingers twitching at his sides like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he’s allowed.

“Because I was stupid,” he admits. “Because I thought I had all the time in the world to fix it. But then you were gone, and—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “I didn’t know how to get you back.”

You stare at him, your pulse pounding.

“And now?” you whisper.

Mat’s throat bobs. “Now I’m standing here, praying that I haven’t lost you for good.”

You don’t overthink it. You don’t let fear win this time.

Instead, you take a shaky breath—and hit send.

Mat’s phone vibrates in your hands, and when he looks down at the screen, his breath catches.

Because there, sitting in his messages, is the first text you’ve sent him in months.

“Come home.”

He looks up at you, eyes wide, glassy, disbelieving.

“Are you sure?” he whispers.

You nod.

And then, before either of you can think twice, Mat pulls you into his arms, gripping you like he’s afraid you might disappear.

And this time, You’re not going anywhere.

#mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine

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thoseboysinblue · 4 months ago

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Santa Baby

Mason Mount x reader

You and Mason welcome your first daughter shortly before the holidays.

Word Count: 8400+

Requested: No

Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), swearing, child birth (under 18 DNI)

A/N: This is an old draft I had for Mason and to be quite honest, I'm a bit nervous to post since it has been a while. I had every intention of getting this posted before Christmas, but it just didn't happen. Feedback always appreciated.

Mason had left for training early that morning, after you had reassured him several times that you were fine. You were sure the uneasy feelings you had were more related to Braxton Hicks contractions and the excitement of the upcoming holidays more than anything.

You were still three weeks from your due date with your and Mason's first baby and your midwife appointment a few days ago was uneventful and you were showing no signs of progressing towards labor at that time.

Christmas is next week and if you can just get through the last few things on your to do list you will be fine. However, the irregular pains you were feeling earlier in the morning have since become more regular and slightly more painful, enough so that you decided to give the midwife a call to ease your mind.

"How often?" she asks, trying not to sound overly concerned.

"Every seven minutes," you breathe.

"And getting stronger?" she follows up with another question.

"Yes, definitely getting stronger," you sway your hips standing at the kitchen counter, seeking any kind of relief you could get.

"Where's Mason?" she asks another question.

"Training, he should be home in a couple of hours," you wince slightly at the pain.

"Oh no," you gasp when your water breaks sending a cascade of fluid onto the floor.

"Y/N, can you still feel the baby moving ok?" she asks after you explained what happened.

"Mmhmm," you groan, "shit, that hurts a lot worse now."

"Y/N, you need to call Mason and get him home, I will meet you guys at that hospital. Congratulations mummy, it's baby day," you can hear the smile in her voice.

"Hi, Catherine," you grit your teeth through another contraction, "it's Y/N Mount, I can't get Mase on the phone, I'm sure he's still training, but can you track him down and have him call me, it's urgent."

"Yes, of course, is everything ok, dear?" she asks.

"Mmmhmmm, or it will be, I hope, just have him call me as soon as possible please," you beg before ending the call.

You do your best to clean up the all of the fluid out of the floor, changing clothes quickly and grabbing all of the things you had thankfully already packed the week before.

When Mason calls you back, you can tell he's out of breath and sounds like he's running still. "Hey baby, is everything ok?" he asks his voice full of concern.

"My water broke, Mase, I'm in labor," you groan as you hear him starting his car.

"I'll be there as fast as I can," he says nervously.

"Be careful, don't speed, I'm not going anywhere," you laugh softly, calming him a bit.

"Ok, I love you, see you soon," you hear the engine rev.

"I'm serious, Mason Mount, it won't do me any good if you don't ont get here in one piece," you say sternly.

"Yes ma'am," he chuckles.

"I love you, be safe," you sigh.

About ten minutes later you hear Mason clatter through the door, still wearing his training kit, boots and all.

"Hi baby," he smiles at you, coming over and wrapping you in a hug, gently rubbing your back when you groan as you have another contraction.

"They are about five minutes apart now," you breathe out.

"Go shower, quick, I don't want our baby meeting you when you smell like sweat and grass," you smile up at him.

A few minutes later he is rushing back down the stairs, freshly showered and changed. He grabs your things and puts them in the car and then helps you into the front seat where you lay a towel down trying not to ruin the interior.

He holds your hand and soothingly strokes over the back of it with his thumb as he makes the short drive to the hospital.

"Thank God, we picked somewhere close," you sigh as you pull into the car park.

He turns off the car and moves to open the door when you grab his hand, "Mase, wait, what if I can't do this, what if I can't get her here safely," you look at him, your eyes brimming with tears.

He leans his forehead against yours, "y/n, baby, you've done so well this whole entire time, you've been so strong, I know you can do this, everything is going to be fine."

He kisses you softly on the lips, "let's go meet our baby girl," he smiles at you when you nod.

Once you've settled into the delivery suite, your midwife comes into check you. "Already at 6cm, y/n, you're doing brilliant," she beams at you, "I would say this little one will be here in a couple of hours if you continue progressing this well."

Mason stays beside you, holding your hand, rubbing your back, and encouraging you every step of the way. He doesn't even wince when you hurl a few curse words his way for "getting you into this mess."

Once you're fully dilated and it's time to start pushing, the panic really sets in.

"Mase, I can't, I can't do this," you shake your head at him, tears slipping from your eyes.

"Baby," he says, brushing your hair out of your eyes and kissing you on the forehead, "you can do this, I know you can, I'm so proud of you, y/n, you've done so well, just a little while longer, yeah? She'll be here soon, I love you so much."

You nod and close your eyes, willing yourself to keep going, for him, for your baby girl that you can't wait to meet.

"I'm ready," you breathe out, squeezing his hand.

"That's my girl," he smiles proudly at you.

A short while later, cries fill the room as your baby girl enters the world and is placed on your chest.

Mason looks at you with tears running down his face as they ask him if he would like to cut the cord. He nervously takes the scissors and does the honors, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm so proud of you, you were amazing, look at her, she's perfect," he smiles at your newborn who is now quietly laying on your chest.

"I'm going to take her over here and clean her up and check her over," one of the nurses smiles at you as she removes her from your chest and places her under the warmer.

"I love you so much, y/n, thank you," he smiles at you before kissing you softly.

He stays by your side but keeps glancing over to where the nurses are looking your daughter over.

"Mase," you get his attention, "you can go over there," you smile at him.

"You sure?" he asks but his eyes keep wandering over to his baby.

"Yes, Mase, I'm sure, go see her," you nod at him kissing the back of his hand.

"I'll be right here if you need me," he says kissing you on the forehead again.

"Unless you've miraculously learned to sew, I think I'll be ok with the midwife," you chuckle.

He looks at you a bit puzzled.

"Stitches, Mason, she's putting in stitches," you giggle when you see his eyes widen once he realizes.

"Oh," he shakes his head at himself, "do a good job," he smiles at the midwife, "I mean, take good care of her."

The midwife chuckles at him as he moves around the end of the bed.

"I am so sorry," he says when he glances to where she's working, never even looking up to your face.

You and the midwife shake your heads at one another as he makes his way over to his baby girl.

"Dad, would you like to put her on her first nappy?" the nurse smiles at him.

"Yeah, sure" he says nervously.

"Have you done this before?" she asks handing him the diaper.

"Once or twice, but never when they're this new," he looks down at his newborn baby girl, gently starting to put the diaper on her.

"You're not going to break her I promise," the nurse chuckles at him.

He finishes up and she swaddles her in a blanket and hands her to him. "There you go dad, all yours," she smiles at him as tears well in his eyes.

"You're all mine," he grins, "you've got the best mummy in the world little girl, she's so brave and so strong and I hope you grow up to be just like her," he says as tears stream down his face.

You take a couple of pictures of them with your phone before getting his attention. "Mase," you smile at him when he looks up at you with the biggest grin on his face while you take a few more photos.

He moves over to stand next to you, "thankfully she has your nose, I think," he grins.

"But I hope she has your eyes," you smile up at him.

"She's got a head full of dark hair," he continues smiling at her, pulling the hat back enough for you to be able to see.

"Alright mummy, just going to clean you up a bit and put a fresh gown on you and get you some fresh linens," the midwife smiles at you, "then you can do some skin to skin with her."

Once you're cleaned up and have a fresh gown on and clean sheets, the midwife takes a few pictures of the three of you before placing your baby girl on your chest.

"She might be hungry soon, you can call the nurses to come help you with feeding her when you're ready," she smiles at you.

"She's beautiful, you both did a great job," she takes another picture for you before leaving the room.

Once she's left, Mason is standing beside the bed looking at both of you. He takes a few pictures with his phone and continues hovering over both of you.

"Mase, come here," you say scooting over in the bed and making room for him to sit with you.

He kicks his shoes off and climbs into bed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you cuddle into his side. He places his other hand over your baby's back as you both cradle her to your chest.

"She's so perfect," he whispers against your temple before kissing you there lightly, "I really can't believe she's here."

You both sit quietly, just taking in your first moments as a family of three until she starts to stir a bit and begins sucking on her hand.

"I think she's ready to eat," you say quietly as Mason calls for the nurse to come in.

He starts to get out of the bed when she comes in until you grab his arm, "just stay here, I'm more comfortable with you beside me," you smile at him.

He wraps his arm back around you and settles back at your side while the nurse helps you get your daughter latched on and eating.

"Let her eat as long as she wants to, if you get uncomfortable or need help switching her to the other side let me know," she smiles before leaving you alone again.

"You're so amazing, y/n, I'm so proud of you, I don't think I've ever seen you look as beautiful as you do right now," he speaks quiet words of affirmation to you while you're feeding her for the first time.

"Thank you, Mason, for everything, you've been wonderful this entire time, I couldn't have made it without you," you smile up at him.

"My girls," he whispers as he strokes his thumb over her head and squeezes you a little tighter before placing a soft kiss to your lips.

Once she's finished eating, the midwife comes in to check on you and offers to help you to the toilet.

"Mason, would you like to do skin to skin?" and before she even finishes her statement he's whipping his shirt off and tossing it across the room.

You both chuckle at him as you place her on his chest and cover them both with the blanket.

"I'm pretty sure you whipping your shirt off is what got us here in the first place," you grin at him.

"I think it was the other way around," he winks at you.

After you've been to the bathroom, the midwife brings in a couple of sandwiches and snacks for you both to eat.

"Mase," you say between bites, looking at him with your daughter sleeping soundly on his chest, "I know I just pushed a baby out not too long ago, but I'm so turned on seeing you with her right now," you smile shyly at him.

"I'll keep that in mind for later," he chuckles, watching as she wraps her tiny hand around his finger.

"I'm in so much trouble," he sighs, "she's gonna get away with everything, and I'm going to spoil her rotten."

"Well if you spoil her more than you do me, you might need another job or two," you lean against him, holding up one of the sandwiches for him to take a bite of.

"We should probably let people know she's here," he mumbles as he swallows his food, "I didn't even tell anyone you'd gone into labor."

"Let's wait just a little longer, I'm kind of enjoying having the two of you all to myself for now," you speak through a yawn.

"Why don't you take a nap, I'll be here, just staring at her," he says as he leans his head over on yours.

"Okay, but wake me up if you get sleepy, and I'll trade with you," you yawn again.

"Get some rest pretty girl, you've earned it," he kisses you on the top of the head before you drift off.

You wake from your nap a little while later when the baby starts to stir, you feed her while Mason makes a few calls letting your families and close friends know that she's here and everyone is doing well before you both settle in for the night.

The next morning, you are released to go home. Even though the midwife gives you the option to stay one more night, you want nothing more than to retreat to the comfort of your own home.

As you are filling in her the birth certificate prior to leaving you look over at Mason, "I guess it's really time for us to finalize her name," you smile at him.

While you'd both narrowed down a short list, you had decided you wanted to meet her before making the final decision.

"Would it be cheesy if we make her middle name something Christmas related?" you smile over to him while he balances her on his knees, just staring at her while she sleeps.

"So we've settled on Isla, correct?" he glances up to you before looking back down at her.

"Mmm" you hum in agreement, twirling the pen you are holding in your hand.

"How about Noelle as her middle name?" he smiles at her as she stirs slightly before smiling in her sleep.

"I think she likes it," he grins at you.

"Me too, pretty name for a pretty girl," you grin back at him.

The drive home is slow, as Mason refuses to drive the actual speed limit. You don't fuss at him, though, its incredibly sweet how protective he is of both of you.

Once you are at home, he takes over taking care of everything he can, refusing to let you lift a finger for more than feeding your daughter.

Mason misses a couple more days of training and a match to stay home with you, but you can tell he's getting antsy. He's not used to not being busy with work obligations and while you are grateful for his help and support, you also know he needs to get out of the house.

"Mase, I think you should go to training for a bit in the morning," you smile at him as you climb into bed beside him.

"No, I don't want to leave you," he shakes his head.

"I know, baby, but I can tell you are getting restless. At least go in for a couple of hours, we will be fine, I promise."

You watch as he mulls it over in his head.

"Maybe just for the outdoor work on the pitch, I can do the cardio and weight training here," he flashes you a smile.

Your days are consumed by caring for Isla, Mason does all he can to balance trying to get back into training with helping you at home.

He makes the extra effort to help with getting things together for Christmas, picking up groceries and trying to honor the traditions the two of you have.

One evening, as you are watching a Christmas movie and enjoying the cookies the two of you had baked earlier, he looks over and notices you've started crying.

"Y/N, baby, what's wrong?" he asks as he pauses the movie.

"I've just realized Christmas is only a couple of days away and I haven't finished my shopping and wrapping, and I didn't even buy her anything Christmassy to wear because I didn't think she would be here yet" you sob, suddenly overwhelmed.

He wraps his arms around you and kisses you on top of the head, "stay here, I'll be right back."

He disappears and then returns a few minutes later with a few bags in his hands.

"I picked up a couple of things the other day when I was out," he smiles at you, handing you the shopping bags.

You open them to find that he's bought matching pajamas for the three of you for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, as well as a Christmas dress for Isla, a few cream color baby outfits and a blanket that says "Baby's First Christmas" on it.

"I noticed you looking at those a couple of weeks ago when we were out shopping," he smiles as you admire the things he picked up.

"You're too good to me," you let the tears fall from your eyes again.

He wipes them away gently and kisses you lightly on the lips, "you've given me everything I've ever wanted, it's the least I could do, sweetheart."

"Thank you," you choke out, "I'm sure it's just the hormones making me emotional."

The next morning after he's left for training, you hear a knock at the door. You hear chattering outside before you can open it, but as soon as you do you hear "Auntie, Y/N" as Summer squeals and then wraps her arms around your legs.

To your surprise, you find Mason's mother and sister and nieces standing outside.

You usher them in before Jazmine wraps you in a hug.

"We're sorry to show up unannounced, but Mase called last night worried about you," Debbie pulls you into an embrace after Jazmine.

"He said you needed help finishing up Christmas things," Jaz adds.

You nod, "I got a bit overwhelmed last night, I'm sure it scared him."

"He just wants to take care of his girls," Debbie smiles at you, "so put us to work, whatever you need.

"Thank you both, I'm sure you've got plenty to be doing yourselves, you didn't need to make the trip up here," you smile, thankful for the trouble they've gone to.

"Nonsense," Debbie grins, "any excuse to come and see that gorgeous baby works for me."

They had been here a couple of days after you had gotten home from the hospital, everyone eager to meet the new addition to the family.

Your mom is planning to come and stay a few days after the New Year since that's when you previously expected to go into labor.

"Mum is going to stay here with you and the girls, I'm going to run into the city to finish picking up whatever you need, if you can just let me know where you need me to go," Jaz offers.

You chat while they admire, Isla and you finish up your shopping list before Jazmine sets off.

While she's gone, Debbie helps you to wrap the gifts you already have that aren't wrapped and showers you with compliments over how well you are doing with everything and you have to admit it is nice to hear.

She arrives back to your house with the items she's picked up for you as well as dinner for you and Mason.

She cuddles her new niece while you wrap the last few gifts and spend a few minutes playing with your nieces.

Once they are sure you are feeling better about everything, they bundle up the girls and leave, heading back home after serving as your elves for a few hours.

Mason arrives home in the early afternoon to find you napping on the sofa with Isla in the bassinet next to you. He takes a few minutes to admire you while you sleep, never having felt more in awe of you and the way you've handled transitioning into this new role so flawlessly.

On Christmas Eve morning you wake to find Mason gone from the bed, you glance around and realize he must have gotten up with the baby and left you to sleep a little longer. You make your way downstairs to the living room and find him sleeping on the sofa with Isla snoozing on his chest. You take a few pictures of them, both sleeping with the Christmas tree glowing behind them and you've honestly never felt so content and in love in your entire life.

You make coffee for the two of you and gently wake Mason up.

"Morning, daddy" you grin at him sitting your coffee down before taking Isla and placing her in her basinette.

You hand him his mug as you sit down beside him, "you know my brain realizes I'm actually someone's daddy now, but my dick doesn't," he chuckles before leaning over and giving you a kiss.

Later in the afternoon Mason's family arrive to celebrate Christmas Eve and stay the night just as they always have. You enjoy your normal family traditions with them over the evening and next day; eating, opening presents, making cookies and playing games.

As Christmas Day draws to an end, your heart is full from spending the day enjoying Isla's first Christmas surrounded by those you love. When Deb offers to be on baby duty for the night, saying she will bring her to you when she needs to eat but otherwise let you and Mason get some much needed rest, you reluctantly give in knowing you could use some alone time together.

"Babe," you call out from your closet as you make a final adjustment to the red satin pajamas you put on, you're not quite ready for lingerie yet, but you admire your post baby curves and the way your breasts spill out of the top of the camisole you're wearing, knowing Mason will enjoy the way you look as well.

"Yeah," he answers and it sounds like he's in the bed.

"Could you do me a favor and sit on the end of the bed and close your eyes," you call back to him, "I have one more gift for you," you grin in anticipation.

"Ok," he answers a bit puzzled.

"You there?" You call back.

"Yep," he chuckles.

"No peeking," you smile at him as you look around the door to make sure he followed your directions.

You walk over to him, gently taking his hands and placing them on your hips while you stand between his legs and rest your hands on his shoulders.

"Okay, you can open them" you whisper.

He opens his eyes and the look on his face is one that you hope you won't forget anytime soon. His eyes are full of wonder and love, mixed with a flair of lust and heat.

"Jesus baby, you look incredible, what's this all about?" he grins up at you.

"Well, I figure I've been on the nice list all day, but I kind of want to end the night on the naughty list," you wink at him.

"I didn't think we could, you know..." he trails off and knits his eyebrows together.

"We can't, yet, but I've noticed your showers have been extra long lately, and just because some things are off limits doesn't mean all things are off limits," you lean down to kiss him hungrily.

He raises his eyebrows as you pull a red satin ribbon from beside him and move to cover his eyes with it.

"One last look" you wink at him as his eyes rake up and and down your body before you blindfold him.

"You are naughty," he chuckles to himself.

"I haven't even gotten started yet, babe" you smile at his eagerness as you settle on your knees in front of him.

You kiss along his chest and abdomen, flicking your tongue along the smattering of hairs just below his navel before he jerks his hips involuntarily.

"Patience baby," you smile against him as you slip your hands in the waistband of his pajama pants and slide them down his legs when he lifts his hips for you.

"Have you not had on underwear all day," you ask him as you take his hardened length in your hand and enjoy the quiet gasp that escapes his lips.

"Nope," he breathes out stifling a moan as you flick your tongue over his tip lapping at the precum that has already collected there.

"If I'd have known that I would've given you your present earlier," you whisper before licking a stripe along the vein on the underside of his shaft.

"Oh god, baby," he moans as everything seems more sensitive without being able to see what you're doing.

"Mase you're going to have to try to be quiet," you chuckle, "we do still have guests."

"Got it, I'll try, but I can't make any promises," he groans as his head tips back when you take him in your mouth and begin to slowly work him just the way you know he likes it.

You alternate bobbing your head with swirling your tongue around his tip, working what won't fit in your mouth with your hands. He places one hand on the back of your head to steady your pace and to ground himself a little.

"So good baby" he breathes out, "so so good."

You glance up to see him with his head back as he's still blindfolded, his chest rising and falling as he tries to keep himself quiet.

You take more of him into your mouth, gagging as his tip hits the back of your throat.

You continue working him, letting him feel the tip of his cock in your cheek when he grazes his fingers along your jaw.

"So perfect," he bites his lower lip.

"Can you take a bit more for me?" he pleads as you relax your jaw and take as much of him into your mouth as you can.

"God, yes, that's it baby, so good for me," he groans when you hollow out your cheeks and suck harder as you pull back off of him a little.

"I'm close," his head falls back again as you drop extra spit down his cock and work him with your hands.

"Come on, Mase, cum for me, I want every drop of it."

You swirl your tongue around his tip again before taking him fully into your mouth and running your tongue along his shaft.

"Fuck, y/n" he moans as his abs contract and he shudders and releases himself into your mouth.

As his breathing slows you reach up and pull the ribbon from his eyes, allowing him to see you on your knees in front of him, with his cum on your tongue before you swallow all of if and wipe what spilled from your lip and chin with your thumb.

"Just when I didn't think today could get any better, you pull something like this out of your bag," he grins as he pulls you to your feet and then into his lap.

"I'm full of surprises," you chuckle before you kiss him deeply, allowing him to taste himself.

"This has been the best Christmas," he smiles as he lays his head against your chest.

"Because of the blow job?" you giggle.

"Well, I mean, I've got no complaints there, but because it's just been such a good day with our new little family. You're so incredible, you've handled everything so well and I'm so proud of you and fall more and more in love with you every single day," he glances up to see the tears in your eyes.

"I love you, Mase, I'm couldn't do any of this without you, you've been amazing," you lean down to kiss him gently.

"Merry Christmas, baby" you smile against his lips before he falls back on the bed and pulls you close to him.

"Merry Christmas, love," he whispers.

Taglist:

@neverinadream @chilwellsancho@pulisicsgirl @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @xjval

#mason mount #mason mount fic #mason mount imagine #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader

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