#and he was right all the drivers were experiencing heat exhaustion | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bgyuus · 4 years ago

Text

chifuyu matsuno x reader

; where takemitchy takes his friend out for his birthday and his present? you.

cw: light spoilers, fingering, riding, mentions of choking, no condom, overstimulation, he calls you princess/slut, unedited writing.

note: i'm finally reading the tokyo revengers manga and ngl, it was a total rollercoaster while reading it. also, chifuyu’s in his present time (the pic below 😫 *simp screams*)

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHIFUYU!”

Takemitchy exclaimed, engulfing his old friend in a tight hug.

The ebony black haired male smiled, thanking him as he hugged back. It’s been a while since he last hang with him. Having their schedule busy with meetings and such, they couldn’t find the right time to catch up on things. Sure, they see each other everyday but spending the rest of the day with an old friend without worrying about work just hits different. At least that’s what Chifuyu thought.

“Shall we go have dinner then go see your present?” the blonde asked with a smile. Chifuyu nodded in response, shutting the car door behind him as Takemitchy speeds off into the horizon.

“Thanks for the dinner, man,” the birthday boy said, smiling at his friend in the drivers seat. “No problem! And now! It’s time for your present!” Takemitchy exclaimed. His voice filled with anticipation. He looks more excited than Chifuyu himself.

“Alrighty, we’re here!” he said, parking the car in front of a fancy looking complex. “Are we in Shibuya?” the black haired male asked, facing the building in awe. Takemitchy only nodded as he skipped into the building, making Chifuyu ran up to catch him.

The elevator stopped at level 4. As the two adults stepped out from the lift, Chifuyu’s jaw nearly dropped at what he saw. Right outside the elevator was a counter, handled by a middle-aged man, who was occupied with a women- who was dressed in a very thin silk dress. The male's eyes wondered around the boards beside the counter. They were filled with pictures of- lewd photos. Chifuyu cocked an eyebrow at this. What even-

"Looks like this place hasn't change one bit," Takemitchy said with hands on his hips, a proud and nostalgic look displayed in his eyes. “Oh, Takemitchy, right? Here for your reservation?” the man behind the counter asked. Blondie nodded furiously. Why is he so excited? Chifuyu raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Actually, I’m just here because I made the reservation, the one who’ll be doing the job is Chifuyu,” Takemitchy said proudly, pushing his friend towards the counter.

Chifuyu swallowed hard. Is this place what he thinks it is? "Alright, sign here and please proceed to the waiting room," the man said, handing a form to Takemitchy. Chifuyu tugged his shirt and pulled his friend aside. "Oi, what're- what am I suppose to do?" he asked, sounding nervous. "You're a 26 year old virgin, I'm helping you out!" Takemitchy explained while signing the form and handing it back to man behind the counter. Chifuyu mentally face palmed himself. This was definitely not how he imagined getting his virginity loss. Especially not with some random girl at a brothel.

"Wait! This is not how I-,"

"You may now go to the waiting hall, gentlemen," the man said, pointing to a room not far from the lift. Takemitchy thanked him and head towards the room without wasting any minute. Chifuyu walked after him, deadpanned at his friend's excited behaviour. "Look, I appreciate the effort but-" "Chifuyu, meet my friend, y/n!" the blonde said, holding hands with a girl in front of him.

The black haired man stared down at the girl. She was gorgeous. Is he lying? Of course not. His eyes trailed down to your body, scanning every inch of your curves. You laughed as he snapped back into reality. "Can't wait to do the dirty, are we?" You teased, pulling him towards you by his tie. Chifuyu's cheeks heated up as you brought your face close to his. “Aww, Takemitchy, you didn’t tell me he was a shy one,” you exclaimed, turning your head to face your blonde friend. “Eh? Chifuyu? Shy? Please, he’s one of Toman’s Top Admin, why would he be shy now?” Takemitchy laughed, making the said boy’s cheeks even hotter. You faced the man in front of you again. Now it was your turn to blush. The faint smell of his cologne filled your nostrils. His skin was fairly smooth. His eyes, oh how you got lost staring into his light blue orbs. Those orbs were just so mesmerizing that you didn’t notice that he was also actually staring into yours. Takemitchy gave off a small chuckle, making both of you snap back into reality.

“Sorry about that,” you said slowly, eyes glued to the floor, not wanting to let this Chifuyu guy to see your red tinted cheeks. Funny how this was actually your first time experiencing a quickened heartbeat for a customer. You slowly jerked your head up to look at the male. Chifuyu took a quick glance at you, making your eyes meet again once more. He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure of what to say. “Ay yow! I’m not here to just sit and see y’all being all gushy and wasting my money,” Takemitchy complained in a jokingly way. You shot your head up as if you had escaped from a trance. “Alright, Chifuyu! Let’s get going, shall we?” your playful smirk crawling back to your lips, grabbing both of his hands and lead him to another room, leaving Takemitchy alone with his earbuds plugged in.

Chifuyu scrubbed his body under the hot steaming water. One second she was like a teenage girl staring at her very new boyfriend then suddenly she became a playful flirt again, he sighed in thought. He was sure that he could here her heart beating rapidly as if it was about to burst out from her chest.

And yet, here he was, taking a shower before losing his 25 years of being a virgin to a girl he doesn’t even know, let alone have met before. Sounds kinda messed up to be honest, he chuckled at his joke. After slipping on his undergarments and a robe, he exited the bathroom while wiping his damped hair. “Look, I know you’re only doing your job but-” he got cut off, eyes widened at your figure who was slowly taking off your dress, revealing a see through lingerie. Being the kind (and nervous as fuck) gentleman, he immediately looked away, blood rushing to his cheeks and a slight pain growing in his boxers.

You walked up to him and slowly pushed him onto the bed with a light touch of your finger. Chifuyu’s breath hitched as you placed your legs at his sides. You dragged a finger along his jaw to his chin, tilting it upwards, making his eyes stare into yours. The both of you stayed there in silence, listening to each others quicken heartbeats. Your cheeks were tinted red, it was noticeable to Chifuyu. His eyes flickered to your lips then to your eyes. You gulped nervously. On the inside, you were practically cursing to yourself, telling you to get a grip and just treat him like your usual customers. You closed your eyes, wishing that this was just a dream or hoping that the man in front of you isn’t that Chifuyu guy but another customer.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to find that he was leaning into your touch. Fuck it, you thought as you slammed your lips into his. Surprisingly, he too, kissed you back. You slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to your body. Chifuyu placed his hands on your waist and soon, his hands grabbed your thighs and wrapped them around his waist. The kiss then became sloppy as he bit the bottom of your lip gently, gaining access to explore your mouth.

You finally let go in desperate need of air. Chest huffing up and down whilst your sweaty forehead leaned against his. Your cheeks were definitely red now and same as his. "It's okay if you don't want to do it," you said nervously, looking down at- shit. Your eyes widened at the tent in his undergarment. All that kissing made him hard? Your cheeks flushed even more now. Chifuyu noticed this and looked down. Shit, shit, shit, shit, he cursed to himself. "Uhm," he laughed in a nervous and unsure tone. For the first time in your life, you're being this flustered and nervous. There was definitely something wrong with this guy, you concluded as you looked at Chifuyu who was fumbling with the ropes of his robe.

"Uh, I'll take care of this myself," he said, pushing you off his lap. You quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. "I know you don't want your first time to be with a, um, a p-prostitute like me, but let me help you with that, plus you don't wanna let Takemitchy's money go to waste, don't you?" you explained. You avoid looking at him, cheeks still tinted red with embarrassment. With a light tug from your hand, Chifuyu went back to the bed.

"F-fuck, that's it," the male sighed, hands gripped onto your sides as you rode him. Screams can be heard from you as you slammed yourself onto his cock. It was tiring, really. Getting your pelvis to hit his everytime was a pain. "Fuyu, I can't," you gasped as his tip hit your cervix. "Now now, princess, you were the one who was all over me in the first place," he said, pulling you by the neck, slightly choking you whislt making your foreheads touch. You flinched at his sudden demeanor. Where did the shy and nervous Chifuyu go?

You can't do it anymore. You toppled on top of him, gasping for air. Chifuyu found this amusing. "Is my wittle princess tired?" he asked in a playful tone while stroking your hair lovingly. You nodded in response, too exhausted from riding and cumming for the third time. You feel like you were about to pass out when he suddenly flipped you over. "Ass up, face down for me, princess," he whispered. You wouldn't be lying if you say his tone of voice turned you on.

You obeyed his words. Chifuyu groped at your ass, feeling the soft flesh against his warm skin. You squirmed under his touch, wanting him to desperately put his dick back inside of you. "Chifuyu, please, ah!" You yelped at the sudden contact. He inserted a finger into your wet entrance, pumping them slowly. Enjoying the pleasure his finger's giving, you didn't realize that your hips started to rock against his hand, following the pace of his digit.

"Stay still, you slut," he snapped as he slapped your ass making you moaned in both pain and pleasure. Chifuyu's free hand grabbed your hip to lock you in place. He stopped penetrating your cunt with his finger and pumped his cock, which was already leaking with precum. You winced at the pain as he inserted his cock inside you. The blacked haired male didn't move, he let you readjust to his size and once he got the signal, he slammed his his against your ass, making you screamed.

Tears slowly streaming down your eyes as your knuckles turned white from gripping the sheets too hard. Takemitchy said this will be his first time but the way he thrusts-

"Why are are you crying? Don't you like this?" He sounded sadistic and that nearly made you cum on the spot. "Chifuyu, I'm about to cu-," he grabbed a fistful of your hair, making your back hit his chest. "Hold it, hold it in for me, princess," he whispered into your ear. His voice, oh my god, his voice literally nearly made you burst. But you did hold it in for him. At this point, you’d do anything for him.

His thrusts never slowed down. His hand gripping at your waist guided your body, matching his thrusting rhythm. "Chifuyu, please, I can't hold it anymore," you panted. He grabbed your face and kissed you roughly. Tongue swirling, fighting for dominance. His lips trailed down to your jaw then to your neck, sucking and biting, leaving dark purple blue marks. His thrusts began to slow down, signaling that he was close too. “Shit, come for me, princess,” he whispered into you ear and this time you finally came whilst feeling his cum dripping down your thighs.

Chifuyu sat up from the bed. He smiled softly at the girl sleeping peacefully beside him. He checked his phone and saw a message from Takemitchy.

Seems like you’re enjoying yourself, Chifuyu! I’ll be going home now. Hope you like the present!

- Takemitchy

The ebony black haired male smiled at his friend’s message. He turned to face the girl again. She stirred in her sleep, her feet lightly kicking his waist. He chuckled at her sleepy behavior. Their first encounter was weird enough for him. It was as if they were teens again. Staring and getting lost in each others eyes. He smiled at remembering the incident where she stared at him as if he was the first man she had ever seen in her entire life.

“Hey, you’re up early,” the girl said, rubbing her eyes. She crawled towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning against his bare back. “Are you really this clingy after doing your job?” Chifuyu laughed at her pouting face. Heat rises to her cheeks once more as she let go of him. “No, it’s just that, you’re warm that’s all,” she crossed her arms in denial. She looked at the man beside her. He was laughing with his toothy grin shining against the rising sun. The girl’s face blushed at how gorgeous he looks. Chifuyu noticed her tinted cheeks. He kissed her a good morning kiss, taking her by surprise.

“This sounds weird and sudden but wanna be more than just my present?”

note: okay! so that was longer than i expected but this does show how much of a simp i am for this guy lol. anyways, hope you enjoyed the story! <3

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #chifuyu tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers chifuyu #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu imagines #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu fluff #chifuyu smut #tw: smut #tw: overstimulation

839 notes · View notes

drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

Safe & Sound

Bishop Losa x F!Reader

Request by @frattsparty, @garbinge, and Anon: #11 with Bishop: “I almost lost you” kiss (Prompt from This List)

Warnings: language, angst (with a happy ending), hospitals, mentions of injuries, mentions of car accidents

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: All three of you sent in this request and that fact alone made my heart soooo happy haha. Hope you guys enjoy it!!

Join my group-chat here: (X)

Bishop Losa Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @queenbeered @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @arveeee @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists just let me know!)

Bishop has experienced more than his fair share of loss in his lifetime. Every kind of loss you could go through, he’s been there already. He’s lost relationships of every kind, he’s lost friends and family to the inescapable grip of death. From the military to the MC, the numbers had grown too high to count. Somewhere along the way he started to push it all down, become hardened to it. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to function at all. He truly believed that he had hardened past the point of no return, become too jaded for any loss to hit home anymore.

Until Hank walked into Templo one night looking like he’d seen a ghost.

“Bishop…” his voice was timid, which wasn’t at all like him.

“What?” Bishop had been so in his own head, too busy stressing over the MC falling apart to even notice Hank walk in.

“Y-you gotta get to the hospital,” he forced out.

Bishop’s brows furrowed, unsure why he was being so vague, “Why?”

“It’s Y/N.”

He shot up out of his seat, “What the fuck happened?”

Fear was written plain as day on Hank’s face, “I-I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me—I’m not family.”

“Fuck!” he slammed his fist down on the table before racing out of Templo.

His rage was written all over his face—unable to show genuine fear he leapt right to anger. He didn’t know what happened but the reality of it was that it didn’t matter. You were laid up in a hospital somewhere and someone was going to have to pay for it. Everyone who was in the clubhouse saw the tension in his features and stayed well out of his way as he quickly strode towards the door. Angel got halfway through asking what was wrong before he realized that Bishop wasn’t going to offer a word to anyone, his only concern being getting to you.

He tore down the streets of Santo Padre on his bike. By some minor miracle, he got to the hospital safely and didn’t need to be laid up in the room next door to yours. He gripped his helmet tight in his hand as he stormed in, Hank hot on his heels after somehow managing to keep up with him on the wild ride over.

After a very disjointed talk with one of the nurses, who was clearly intimidated by everything about Bishop at the moment, he was finally being led back to see you. Hank offered to go back with him but Bishop waved him off, saying that he was fine.

“Really, Bishop, I don’t know if you should be—”

“I said I’ll be fucking fine, Hank,” he snapped.

Hank backpedaled, taking a deep breath before finding a seat off to the side in the waiting area. He didn’t know what Bishop was about to be walking into—neither of them really did. The last thing he was going to do was leave him there alone. Even if he was acting like a dick at the moment.

The nurse walked him to the doorway, hanging back as he walked into the room. The rage he’d been holding onto began to wear away as he looked at you, his fear and sadness taking over. He set his helmet on one of the chairs as he slowly approached your bed. One hand came up to cover his mouth as tears gathered in his eyes. Once he reached your bedside, the nurse took that as her cue to step away, giving Bishop a moment to process all that was laid out in front of him.

You looked peaceful. There were a few cuts on your face, and your right arm was strapped up in a sling, but the expression on your face was almost one of contentment. For some reason that made his heart break even more. A choked sob slipped past his lips as he reached forward and gently caressed your cheek, as if to make sure that you were really there and really okay. He studied the steady rise and fall of your chest in a desperate attempt to try and calm himself.

“Fucking drunk drivers,” he muttered under his breath as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

He pulled a chair as close to your hospital bed as he could manage, not wanting to climb up next to you and risk hurting you further. The nurse reassured him that you would be alright, you just needed whatever rest you would be able to get, but he wasn’t going to believe that until you woke up and spoke to him. They might’ve seen you conscious and speaking but until he saw it for himself none of that mattered. He slid his hand into your own, letting out a deep, strangled sigh as he tried not to break down.

Minutes ticked by in hospital silence, meaning the only noise came from the monitors at your bedside, and the occasional sound of loud footsteps from outside the door of your room. Bishop didn’t move a muscle, unable to do anything besides stare at you and trace his fingers over the knuckles of your good hand.

You let out a quiet groan as you started to wake up. His eyes widened, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly in anticipation. You fought to open your eyes, exhaustion still weighing heavily on you. your eyes slowly started to flutter open and you began to register what was happening around you—you felt the warmth of Bishop’s hand clasping yours and you could hear the hitch in his breathing.

“Obispo?” your voice was raspy with sleep, and residual pain from everything you’d been through.

He let out a sob that turned into a laugh of relief, “Querida,” he lifted the back of your hand to his lips, kissing it lightly as he mumbled his words against your skin, “Fuck, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Baby?” you said quietly as you tilted your head slightly to get a better look at him.

He lifted his head, “Yea?”

“Come here,” you took your hand out of his and motioned for him to join you on the bed.

“I don’t wanna hurt—”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured, scooting over to make room for him to join you, your movements slow and rigid as you tried to maneuver without causing yourself more pain.

Bishop carefully settled onto the bed next to you, letting out a deep sigh of relief as he let you lean comfortably against him. He felt your body heat seeping over into him and he couldn’t deny that it was the best thing that he’d felt in a long time, the strongest type of reassurance.

“I love you,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against the side of your head.

“I love you too,” you reached over with your good hand and gently trailed your fingers down the side of his face.

“Hey, sweetheart?” his voice was just above a whisper.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, “Hm?”

He cupped one side of your face in his hand, carefully tracing his thumb along your cheek, sure to avoid glossing over any of the fresh scrapes. His eyes were glassy with tears as he looked at you, and you found yourself with a small, soft smile on your face. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d ever seen Bishop look so vulnerable.

You opened your mouth to say something but before you could get the first syllable out, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, the rough pads of his fingers moving so lightly along your cheek and down to your neck and shoulder. You leaned into him as much as you could without hurting yourself, wishing that you could melt completely into the feeling that you were experiencing with him as the two of you laid together, lips locked. You trailed your fingers through his beard as his lips moved in sync with yours. The slight tension in his body let you know that he was fighting hard against the urge to hold you tight and pull you as close as humanly possible. He was doing everything that he could to make one kiss communicate everything that he wasn’t able to show you otherwise.

When he pulled himself away from you, allowing you to catch your breath, you felt the rigidity in his body start to give way. His forehead rested against yours as he shut his eyes tight, trying to focus on the fact that you were really there with him, that everything was going to be alright.

You knew that there were a million thoughts running through his head, that every person he’d ever lost was coming back to haunt him. You placed a light peck on his lips as you rested your hand on his chest, “We’re alright, Obispo.”

His breath came out shaky as he nodded, “We’re alright.”

There were a few beats of silence as the two of you laid together. Bishop’s eyes were closed as he tried to focus solely on the feel of your body leaning against his. You were fighting the urge to fall back to sleep again, wanting to soak up the small comfort of having him with you for the time being.

You saw someone appear in the doorway. Forcing your eyes to focus, you realized it was Hank. A small smile crossed your face as you nudged Bishop, who immediately opened his eyes and glanced over at the door.

“Oh,” Hank rested his hand on the back of his neck, clearly knowing that he was interrupting, “I was just checking…I just wanted to make sure…I’ll just…it looks like you’re all good here so…”

“We’re good,” you said quietly with a laugh, “Thank you, Hank.”

“Yea, of course,” he diverted his gaze to Bishop, “I’m gonna head back. If you need anything just, you know, call.”

He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing down the hall out of sight. You looked up at Bishop and you could see all the thoughts swirling around behind his eyes, “You owe him an apology of some kind, don’t you?”

He chuckled, lightly kissing your temple, “You sure you’re not concussed or something?”

“You better say sorry when you see him again, Obispo,” you looked up at him.

“Shh,” he smiled, kissing you on the lips, “go back to sleep.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh, “You’re lucky I’ve only got one good arm right now.”

“I’m lucky for that reason and so many more,” he rested his forehead against yours, weight settling back onto his shoulders as he thought about what the gravity of the situation could’ve been, “You’re the strongest fucking person that I know.”

You smiled, brushing your nose against his, “We’re okay, baby,” you reassured him, “We’re safe.”

“Yea,” he placed a tender kiss on your lips, “We’re safe.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #bishop losa #bishop x reader #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa x you #obispo losa #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

330 notes · View notes

bbrandy2002 · 4 years ago

Text

A Beautiful Ending

Prologue

Pairing: Liam x MC

Book: The Royal Romance

A/N and Trigger Warning: I’ve had this one stored away in my mind for a nearly 2 years, the idea itself being based on something I’d watched a long time ago. It will only be a few chapters long. **There will be a character death in this, and it does involve a child. ** I can say though, what you think is going to happen isn’t exactly what happens, not that that makes it any better.

Word count: 1105

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

Billowing vapors of heat and humidity rose like seas of sweltering fractals across the tarmac. The slosh of softening tar and cement could be heard as a small caravan, led by the Royal Guard in SUVs and motorcycles, drove boldly through the gates that led to the private 757 jetliner owned by the Crown.

The limo came to a complete stop with a squeal of its brakes and dulling engine, just steps away from the plane. Bastien causally departed the front passenger's side, adjusting the brim of his black woolen suit jacket, the bright yellow sun reflecting in the shaded frames of his glasses. Within only a few seconds, beads of warm sweat had already pooled at his temple and slowly crept along his hairline.

A Cordonian summer could be cruel and intense.

Pausing for just a split-second, he winced at the stiffness and throb in his knee as he took his first step -- a constant reminder of what he gave for the crown six years ago at the Costume Ball.

A constant reminder of what was always at stake.

He stepped away with an unremarkable limp to the rear of the limo and placed a firm grip on the door latch; he glanced to his left, then to his right, ensuring his men and women were in their designated positions. Confidence and precision were essential here; everyone knew their part. One wrong move, an error in judgment, or a slight mishap, could make the difference between life and an unthinkable tragedy. Nothing should ever be taken for granted.

For what they are securing inside that vehicle wasn't just royalty -- a young King and Queen of Cordonia -- but a little family, precious cargo, timeless treasures of love and devotion to one another.

A beautiful beginning.

In all of his 25 years of service, Bastien Lykel understood all too well what the King had lost: a childhood marred of its innocence, the untimely death of a beloved mother, the horrific death of an implacable father, and the plans he had prepared for his life as the spare. It was all terribly sad, really, but in the here and now, His Majesty carried on happily with the help of one woman and the two children they lovingly brought into the world. To Bastien, he would be damned if he allowed another deadly incident to take all that away from Liam.

But sometimes, those unforeseen occurrences caught up with a person — destiny and fate bowed to no one.

Nodding to the driver who stood on the opposite side of the limo from him, they simultaneously opened the doors.

Almost instantly, a powerful gust of wind swept through the vehicle, causing Riley's lustrous textured hair to become artfully messy as it hurtled wildly across her radiantly smiling face.

With knees pressed together and her grinning one-year-old son -- whose wispy blonde locks resembled the most yellowish of marigolds -- wrapped in her secure arms, the beaming Queen stepped out into the noisy haze. Her floral print sundress twisted and clashed like a dauntless flag against her thighs, and she had the presence of mind to bunch up the lower part to keep her backside from making its way onto the front pages of newspapers again.

Shifting her son higher on her hip, the Queen whirled around to see if the other half of her heart was behind her.

Across from them, the driver stepped back and lowered his head to the towering figure of the King as he made his way out of the limo. Offering a courteous wave and smile to several dozen royal watchers, all pressing themselves against a chain-length fence several yards away, calling out his name, Liam reached back inside the limo where a tiny hand clamped onto his and scooted her way across the leather seats to join him at his side. A smaller version of her mother, the five-year-old princess shot a curious glance at the boisterous crowd; she could never quite figure out why people were so interested in what her family was doing.

While staff worked diligently on loading luggage onto the plane, the family of four joined Bastien, who would follow closely behind them as they headed toward the rolling steps of the jet.

The enthusiastic crowd roared louder when they got the first glimpses of the monarchs with their small children together. Liam and Riley enjoyed a popularity that seemingly was unparallel to anything the country had ever experienced. None of which would be possible without their generosity and charismatic personalities; the press and the people clung to their comings and goings like magnets.

Liam gently tugged on his daughter's balmy hand while she sluggishly trudged alongside him. He shook his head with an amused grin, taking in her dainty curls, bouncing and bobbing with each change in the wind's direction. There's nothing quite like admiring your very own piece of artwork, whose hearty giggles or cries had the ability to break him into a withering shell of himself.

Placing his other hand on the small of Riley's back as she took the first step onto the stairs, Liam's stoic gaze turned back to acknowledge his citizens one last time with a quick wave before ascending the steps behind his wife. Thoughts of a long, exhausting work week were put behind him, and he looked forward to landing in Greece within the hour. It had been months since the family last got away together and even longer since he'd visited his brother, Leo.

As Liam's foot hit the fourth step, a thunderous commotion of sorts broke out over the blare of the jet's whirling engines. There was no time to turn and see what had caused the crowd to erupt. No time to even process whether their gasps were something nonsensical or cause for concern. It was the gentle hand that had earlier clutched his so tightly, in only the way a daughter who trusted her father's loving protection would, slipping away, that gained his attention.

He couldn't catch her -- a fact that would torment him later. It wouldn't have made much difference, but his long-held beliefs were that a daddy was supposed to be the one to catch his child, not the guard.

But this wasn't a fall or a slip.

Liam's eyes widened, a noticeable expression of worry and panic etched on his face. His Princess laid limply, motionless, outwardly void of life, in Bastien's arms. "El?" he muttered, with a shudder in his voice, before tearing her away from the clutches of his head guard and cleaving her to his breathless chest.

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

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @jessiembruno @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko@callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow@jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac@kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234@annekebbphotography @txemrn @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09 @gabesmommie1130 @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801 @debmcg1106 @choicesstan650 @emkay512 @royalromancer @queenrileyrose @cordonia-gothqueen

#tw: death #tw: child death #Liam x mc #king liam #the royal romance #trr #choices fanfiction #a beautiful ending #bbrandy2002 #what the hell am I doing now

150 notes · View notes

vminity21 · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond the Facade | knj

Pairing: handyman!namjoon X preacherskid!reader, bestfriend!taehyung X pregnant!reader, f2l!au

Word Count: 10,958

Genre: mysterious/angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): strong language use, semi-detailed childbirth, mention of infidelity, alluding of a love triangle, evidence of a sheltered background, angst involving family matters, smut, losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple play, hand groping, lots of flashbacks but that is the point of the story i sorry; Rated: 18+

Summary: A sheltered life leads to harbored secrets that are buried in order to protect someone you are falling in love with. As the time is nearing for the life growing inside you to be welcomed into the world, the reminiscences of all the moments unfold to reveal a beautiful story that needed to be told.

Credits to: @suhdays for making such a phenomenal header! The talent she has never ceases to amaze me!

The graying of the clouds is all you can see beyond your window other than the panging rain droplets now trickling upon the glass. Arm resting against your forehead, your lips press into a straight line in response to the series of thoughts circling your mind. Carefully, you slide your palms upon the mattress in an attempt to sit up, wanting to see more of the view besides the crying sky. Knuckles curling to rub your tired eyes, you furrow your brows, the comforting warmth of the bed covers remain tangled between your shins. Leafless trees border the side of the building save for a small swing set; a paved section decorated with a basketball hoop where a large shed stands many feet across from it. If one is to step outside the front of the structure, there sits a church surrounded by a gravel parking lot where the neighboring land hosts a barbed wire fence with an abandoned house and field.

It's been four months since you deemed the fellowship hall your home, and appreciatively, the area has been vacant since the falling of the church which saves even more stress than what you've been in since moving here. Achingly, your legs stretch to move off the bed before your feet land onto the grainy carpet. Your right-hand slips to steady your back, maneuvering your body to scoot to the bed frame, which has become a daily routine, weak fingers gripping the wood until your digits become pale white. Letting out a steady sigh, with all your strength you lift yourself to where you can stand, "Oomf," a small whimper escapes past your lips, tensing at the cringe plaguing your shoulders.

Being seven months pregnant sometimes has its perks, but this isn't one of them. Bending your body forward slightly, you step sluggishly toward your dresser, pulling out maternity clothes lent to you before the move.

"So, when are you going to tell us?" The soft murmur belonging to your mother echoes from the driver's side. Her expression submits an evident mixture of exhaustion and exasperation; though it's been a month since the announcement of your pregnancy, your mother is currently driving you to a doctor's appointment for a checkup on the baby to make sure everything is okay, "we have a right to know."

Arms crossed over your chest in mild annoyance, you bite the corner of your mouth until the side of your head meets the window, getting lost in the line of trees zipping by.

Waddling into the bathroom, the vague memory fades, your hand reaching to turn the knob of the shower. The squeaky sound along with rushing water splatters against the shower curtain sending a soothing jolt of excitement. Chilly air springs goosebumps over your limbs once you're freed of your clothes, waiting patiently for the water to warm before inching into the tub. When steaming liquid soon dribbles among your frame, a grin of satisfaction sparks brief happiness you needed an escape to. The heat of the downpour eases your aching bones, fingers clasping behind your neck to lean your head back, "Oh!" You gasp in surprise when the instant feel of a kick happens within your tummy. Eyes flutter down in the direction of your swollen belly, palms moving to caress it, "Look at you, what are you trying to do? Escape?" Cooing with a light giggle, when the baby kicks again, you can't help the giddy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Now, this- this is what you love about being pregnant. Finishing up, you dry your hair before swiftly dressing along with brushing your teeth.

Thoughts still pertaining to the small life growing inside you, you've decided since your first doctor's visit that you do not want to know your baby's gender until the day that you give birth. When you presented the idea to your mother, she was all on board, proclaiming how she had done that with your younger sibling. Running a brush through your hair, you skim one final look into the mirror formerly then head to exit the bathroom.

Gradually sauntering through the mini hallway, you're more zoned on the way your hand pats upon the wall in some form of maintaining stableness to the point you hardly notice almost slamming into a tall figure.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" A deep voice panics, raising his arms in a way to catch you though your arms mirror the same. Heart ramming, a breath of relief winds past your parted lips- your eyes scanning the slim legs that follow to the handsome face of Kim Namjoon. His eyes enlarged apologetically.

"Oh Namjoon, you scared me," a tender chuckle sets the feel of calm for he sees the amnesty etched in your eyes.

"I'm so sorry, [Y/N], I was about to head out to mow the lawn, but just wanted to check and make sure you're okay," he timidly scopes the view of your huge abdomen, gulping once his hands rest loosely at his sides, returning his eyes to search yours before a sweet grin spreads upon your face.

"It's no biggie. Thank you for checking on me,"

His dimples show from the way his lips press in a tight smile, nodding in reply, timorously turning to waltz to the outdoors in preparation of the day ahead. You watch until he disappears from your line of vision; the creep of a blush burning from your chest to your cheeks. Raking your hands through your hair, you force yourself once again to deny the attraction seeping through your soul thankful your blush attacked after he left.

Kim Namjoon works for your father, making sure the church grounds continuously stay clean and cut creating a pretty environment to the eye. Protecting the land is another part of the job description- protecting it from any loiterers, wild animals, protesters, etcetera- maintaining flower bushes encircling the area as well as mini projects your father will want Namjoon to build. The swing set, including the shed, happen to be plans that Namjoon successfully constructed due to your father's wishes. In return, Namjoon is provided a place to live- the room that once held your father's office, is now changed into a bedroom.

It's strange for you to think about it now- how so much has changed in just seven months, when a year ago the church was thriving, unaware of the secrets that clouded within the audience. Squeezing your eyes shut, a reminiscent from the beginning of your pregnancy rears its head causing a tiny brink of nausea to form.

Taehyung's arms drape around you tightly, embracing you in all entirety that your eyes shut against the crook of his neck. Your fingers squeeze his shoulder, legs bent across his thighs while tepid tears spill onto your cheeks.

"Shhh," he tries to comfort, his breath tickling your exposed ear- your face still buried beneath his chin, "It's going to be okay," he whispers just as soft as the flicking fire burning amongst numerous candle wicks. Scents of vanilla blends with birch fitting the dimly lit bedroom that you're thankful exists other than the man refusing to let you go until you feel better.

"How?" You choke back another sob, "How am I going to tell my parents? How am I supposed to confront the church if that's what it comes down to? Shit... My dad is going to fucking kill me," Taehyung's shirt is soaked, but he could care less, tangling his long fingers into your hair to stroke the back of your head.

"Okay, now, you're being dramatic,"

"So, maybe I am? But you know very well that my parents aren't going to take this lightly,"

"Yeah, but I think it's safe to say that telling your parents you're pregnant is far better than if you were to tell them how you truly feel about religion,"

"Okay? Perhaps, you're right," a snippet of a frustrated huff leaves your trembling lips, "especially not with what's been going on with the church, I don't know how much more they can take,"

"Well, your dad should have thought of that before he had an affair with my mom," Taehyung's icy tone brings chills to your frame before he loudly swallows, lips firm from the anger boiling behind his almond eyes. Tendrils of his bright, red hair glow regardless of how dark the atmosphere is, and you hardly hold back the sheer pain stabbing your heart from the guilt you can't help but endure.

"Tae, I'm so so sorry,"

"Hey," he peers down at you, realizing he may have taken his comment too far, even though you're just as angry towards your father as your best friend is, "you didn't know," sniffling back the remaining mucus clogging your nostrils, you desire to face Taehyung no matter how foolish you think you may look, scooting your body to where your palm indents in his mattress next to his legs, his arm now rests around your waist, and for a split second, you're close enough to where the tempting appearance of his striking face beckons the strange glimmer of longing. A longing of curing whatever loneliness you're going through, but you're not the only one experiencing this moment for Taehyung's lips part just enough to plead your attention.

You can't stop yourself, and you don't, because before either of you comprehend, you close the gap letting the delicate wave of his kiss caress yours. "Tae," you breathe against his lips, reuniting with his kiss almost immediately while a dizzy spell of want travels through your chest. You know this isn't right. He knows this isn't right, but too many pent-up emotions between your hearts have gotten out of hand, and for now, all the two of you have is each other. His fingertips move to tenderly trail your jaw, gasping into his mouth when the tip of his tongue circles yours before you move to trap him in a perfect straddle. You need something, anything to feel whole again- something to forget about the people you lost and the people you will lose. And, if there's anyone in this world you do not want to lose it's him.

There's no refraining, there's no hesitation, just the growing pace of the kisses, and the way you're so enthralled with how beautiful he feels squeezing you tighter to him. "[Y/N]," he moans, hating himself for how far he wants to go with you, yet he craves your touch, nearly supplicates for it. You want to feel his skin, and the aching throb below you seems to deafen any other screams of stopping, and yet, your fingers move to the end of his shirt, peeling it just enough to expose the solid wall of his abdomen. "[Y/N]," he stops you, breaking the final kiss, his hand covering your wrist, while your eyes frantically search the side of his face, "We- we can't,"

You haven't seen him since, because of the boundaries that were crossed and would have been farther crossed if Taehyung had not had the strength to stop. The pair of you have been best friends since childhood, and neither of you wants to take anything beyond for the sake of feeling empty, but he assured you that night, even after your panic of apologies pouring from your mouth, after the humiliation that shackled your system, even after the daunting assumption that your friendship was over- he cupped your cheek, promising that he was still here and that he would never end your attachment over something, you both will never regret.

It's a secret you've suppressed for some time. Taehyung calls every so often when he can; dealing with his broken-hearted father on top of two jobs consumes every bit of his time. Yet, you can't help but miss him, the one person who loyally stayed by your side even when you came forward to your friends about your pregnancy. And, the one friend who still loves you all the same, even after discovering his mother's affair with your father.

Rage isn't enough to describe the resentment against your father, and ever since you told your parents that you were expecting, and ever since your move, you haven't spoken to him. You'll never forget how torn your mother was- depression weighing heavy on her, and that's something that's hard to forgive.

Your mother looks frail as she twiddles the crumpled tissue in her hands. Tears brim her eyes through the silence in the car, sparse sniffles breaking your heart into a million pieces. The two of you had just come back from the grocery store to restock the kitchen in your recently new home and are now parked at the church's back door to drop you off. You hesitated upon leaving because the thought of your mother having to return home to a place of remorse is the last thing you want for her. The promise of a car was granted to you, but you turned it down, refusing to accept anything from the man who caused so much pain to your family. To Taehyung's family.

Running the tissue underneath her eyes, she speaks, "[Y/N]?"

"Yeah?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but the guilt from how stressed your mother has been is something you wish you could carry instead of her. After the betrayal of your father as well as him resigning from the church to send people away from the place they once sought refuge in- on top of her oldest daughter being pregnant with her first child is already a lot to handle. The other frustration you bite your tongue from expressing is the fact of your parents refusing to let you get a job until the time after you give birth. You want to make the money to provide for yourself and your son or daughter without the dependence upon your parents- your mother especially, yet you're grateful for her adamancy on keeping you from any risks outside of the walls of your home.

It takes a moment before your mother gathers her words, "Do you- do you think you could ask Namjoon to help take you to the hospital? Whenever it's time... for you to have the baby?"

It was easier for your mother to ask that of you because he lived in the same building, and if any emergency of your water breaking happened earlier than expected, at least you would have someone available to take you to the hospital. Your gaze clears from the zone out you've had the whole time standing in the entrance of the hallway before Namjoon left. Turning on a heel, you decide to return to your bed, slipping under the covers- you're too wide awake to sleep as of now, yet the foam of the mattress eases the soreness of your back once you lean against the pillows.

-Four months earlier-

Queasiness envelops your abdomen to where you recognize the cue, rushing to the porcelain throne to heave whatever yellow liquid is left- spurting it into the toilet while you grimace through the pain. The door swings open behind you mixed with heavy footsteps quickening to you. When large hands swoop to hold your hair back, you don't have the strength to look at the intruder due to the continuous retching that deems you defenseless.

"It's okay, it's okay," the deep voice is soft, and relief brings tears to your eyes when you recognize it to be Kim Namjoon. You're embarrassed once your stomach gives you a break, your palms pressing to your forehead while you slump against the wall.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, swiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Namjoon scatters to find a tissue, patting the corners of your lips.

"You don't have to be sorry,"

"That... wasn't what I was apologizing for,"

A knowing glance is all he must give for you to share whatever thoughts you can't bring yourself to voice. He was your friend before all of this, yet you failed to mention to him about the pregnancy, and with him being the worker of the Church- he didn't discover your budding stomach until the day you moved in. His eyes flicker away from your stare toward the slight protrusion of your baby bump due to your ruffled t-shirt. He settles on the floor across from you, silence being the only conversation held. He isn't one to hold anger, and though you kept him unaware until your third month of pregnancy, he refuses to leave your side, making a pact to himself he will do whatever it takes to provide the care that you will need. As well as the little one.

Despite the emotional roller coaster, you remain amazed with how he keeps his patience with you. A day of depression to a random bout of laughter- memories turning of the betrayals of close friends who judged you immediately the day you put your trust in them- the freedom you craved away from the sheltered life your father forced upon you- even days where you can't seem to put your tears on pause, yet Namjoon holds you through every grieve.

"What if... what if I'm not good enough?" Your voice shakes between sobs- you had been dreaming restlessly yet another night, tossing within your bed to the point Namjoon came to check on you- rushing to pull you into his arms the moment your eyes fluttered to reveal pained tears. Your words nearly shatter him- pulling away just enough to where his eyes lock with yours.

"How can you say that, [Y/N]?" The faint light of your lampshade causes his face to glisten- angelically, you decide, yet the shadowing doubt of motherhood plagues you still, because what if you genuinely can't care for the child that you're six months away from holding? Fears encompass you like an ocean, smashing along your mind in harsh waves. "Look at me," are the words that snap you from whatever sea you were suffocating in to realize you had unintentionally switched your gaze from him. It's the calming effect the warmth of Namjoon's eyes bring when he exposes whatever faith he has in the woman you are and will become. "You're going to do just fine, believe me, I know it,"

Sniffling, you run the back of your hand along your chin where an escapee of a tear dangled, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because when have you ever given up on anyone that you care about," it's not a question, he's stating what he knows to be a fact. Something he learned of you when he first was hired to tend to the property. "You're stubborn when it comes to winning someone over. I was determined not to befriend anyone here. But you changed that for me, remember?"

A knowing tug of a smile trembles into a stretch upon your lips, "I do,"

"Same with the baby. I know you will love that little one more than life itself. It doesn't have a choice, and you'll let him or her know the second they're born,"

When a hearty snicker leaves your mouth, you notice the sticky feel of your drying face- you are no longer crying.

"You don't have to do this alone, [Y/N]. You showed me that even when I didn't know what else to do. Now, get some rest, okay? You have a doctor's appointment bright and early," the bed creaks from the gradual movement of Namjoon standing,

"Wait!" You speak before you can stop yourself, Namjoon immediately pausing- the heat of his arms is felt beneath your palms from your pounce of panic, and with evident chagrin, you shyly stare at his chest, "Can you uh, ... Can you stay in here with me tonight?" You've refrained from asking sooner due to the shame of not telling him the news that's become apparent, and even now, you haven't been able to comprehend how he's not the slightest bit angry with you. When his arms encircle you closer to his frame, no words need to be said because he's already answered by just this gesture. Nuzzling into his embrace, the side of his chin pressed to your forehead, "Whoever it is, I hope they grow up to be half the person that you are," you whisper, squeezing him tighter, infinite smiles now ending the night that cures any ounce of uncertainty.

By the fifth month of pregnancy, you finally come to the realization of how selfish you have been- it's no longer about you and your needs; it is now about the needs of your son or daughter growing within you. Namjoon catered to every grocery store trip, stocking the kitchen and in return, you choose to cook for him every meal, hoping to show as much appreciation to him that you can.

"Have you thought about any names?" Taehyung's voice muses on the other line of the phone, the sound of him bringing a small smirk upon your face. You've missed him terribly so, yet the acceptance of surprise phone calls is all you can settle with for now. At his question though, you pause with the tilt of your head, taking a quick sip of the broth that you're currently heating on the stove.

"No?" It's a brief question of guilt, something you haven't been ready to ponder, "Honestly... haven't thought that far ahead yet," you add in the vegetables to boil within the broth.

The familiar, deep chuckle is all you hear to gain an idea of what your best friend is about to say next, "I should have known,"

"Alright, Birkenstocks. What do you mean by that?"

"Breezing past that mistake. You named your Parakeet, Bird,"

"Well, in my defense, I was seven years of age,"

"And in my defense, playing basketball in Birkenstocks was supposed to start a trend,"

"Since how? I-"

"Ask Hoseok,"

"You lost a bet didn't you-"

"And, I will pay for it for the rest of my life, now won't I?"

"With me around, you will,"

Hoseok is the deacon's son who's dream of fashion has been shunned by his family, yet he designs in a sketchbook Taehyung hides for whenever Hoseok and he share the same work shifts. He's not one you have had the opportunity to communicate much with, but you're thankful Taehyung has someone to maintain a friendship with while you two have been apart. A short response of silence settles while your cheek and shoulder squeeze the phone for a moment as you stir the steaming vegetables.

"You could have named the bird, Tweety at least-"

"Oh!" You playfully growl, "Back with that again, huh?"

"Do I need to send you a link of baby names-"

"I promise you, Tae, I do not plan on naming my child, Kid, okay?"

"You'd be surprised-"

Taehyung's excitement for his future Godchild brings a simmering joy to the surface of your pattering heart. Almost as equal to the eagerness, your mother has shown with this being her first grandchild. Graciously, your mother has never been as strict as your father, hence why the past five months have gone much smoother then they would have if your father had never had an affair with Mrs. Kim.

The phone call ends whenever dinner is finished, and by that time, Namjoon scuffles through the door- the outdoorsy scent drifts to your nose while you place the sweltering bowls of soup on the table. Namjoon shimmers his feet from his work boots before hanging his coat, timidly glimpsing in your direction to confirm you're okay.

Small talk ensues with the typical questions of how each of your days has gone once the pair of you take your seats. One secret, yet another you and Taehyung have harbored, is the awareness of Namjoon's atheism- something your father must never learn of his worker. Namjoon, who will not admit it, works on the church grounds in order to provide for his family who lives a few miles up the road. Ultimately, there are many secrets not worth sharing to your parents, not only for the sake of sanity but for the protection of the ones who you've kept close, especially Namjoon. With your father being the tyrant of a priest, he used to be, there is still the potential distress of him firing Namjoon over the mere difference of beliefs. Something you refuse to let happen while you're around.

Clinking spoons replace conversation, for how long, you're uncertain; the fog of your thoughts seem to consume upon one in particular- something that has remained festering long enough, yet you have never said it aloud- figuring this moment may be the time that you do. Namjoon confided in you and Taehyung once he found comfort in trusting the pair of you- even subjects that one would have never expected him to open about. Guilt presents itself to the point your eyes squeeze shut, opening them to move your spoon to play at a piece of broccoli swimming in the potage.

"They don't know," your words are careful- slow even- continuing your vision on the dinner before you. You can feel Namjoon's soft eyes on you, his expression confused. "They don't know who the father is," that's when your gaze trails to meet his eyes just for more guilt to manifest behind them. By they, you're referring to your parents, as well as every other soul excluding Taehyung, "I won't tell them." Namjoon slowly nods with the sense of understanding, knowing the cost that will be taken if your father were to know who you're trying to bury beneath this web of fear. "Besides," you sigh heavily, "I'm surprised my father was lenient enough to let me live here," you confess, "if he wasn't so guilty over the affair, I would be homeless-"

"I wouldn't let that happen," Namjoon says suddenly, destroying whatever anger you were dwelling upon. Your mouth falls open in shock at his words and the frilly flutter of your heartbeat is hard to ignore. After living here for two months, he's proven time and time again that he means what he says; what he just said. Speechless, the rest of dinner continues in fond silence, your heart refusing to steady for the man slowly captivating your heart.

The sixth month of pregnancy gifts swollen feet and aching bones on top of your belly growing heavier by the week. Namjoon has stayed loyal- tending to your pregnancy cravings in the dead of night, aiding to your discomfort whether it involves a heating pack or a cup of ice, slipping under the covers on nights you want him to hold you, driving you to every doctor's appointment without any hesitation; with all that he's been doing for you, it's like your feelings have blossomed deeper which you know shouldn't be happening with the peril of your father finding out. The unexpected visits from your father are few, yet you usher the reminder to yourself of protecting Namjoon, though he carries the weight of facing your father instead of you who avoids the confrontation.

Night comes quickly after a day spent cleaning up the nursery that seems to be coming together, other than the crib Namjoon's been building- something you accidentally discovered when strolling close to the shed one sunny day. He's so dedicated to the unborn infant, it nearly brings you to tears, glancing around the elegant hues of multiple pastel colors painted across the room with stuffed animals, blankets, and furniture he continues to gift you amongst different items your mother has added to the collection. You always enjoy the sporadic visits from your mother, because she's free to celebrate the life that she refuses to consider as a sin.

"Are you thinking boy or girl?" Your mother elbowed your side earlier today after moving around the furniture.

"Hm," you hummed happily, thankful for the relationship that's being redeemed with her, "you know? I'm not very sure,"

"I can tell from all the colors you've chosen," she teased, "it looks beautiful," she cooed, pulling you into an accomplished side hug. You didn't want to stick to just pink or blue, so you chose every other shade in between, colliding the space with colors that could go for either or. "You're going to be a wonderful mother,"

The sound of the front door opens distracting you from the former memory, staring down at the table that now rests heaping plates of chicken and rice. The fellowship hall used to be filled with numerous rows of horizontal tables mingled with circular ones where the crowd would come to camaraderie to joyful hymnals, delicious food, reflected testimonies without any warning of the secrecies soon floating to the surface. Now a solo table, the one planted before you, pairs with a few sparse chairs just enough to seat at least four people.

"Hiya," you greet, trying to ignore the subtle increase of your heartbeat. Namjoon flashes a kid-like smile once he shutters out of his jacket, "How was your day?"

"It was good, thank you," he replies, taking long strides until he makes it to you, "How was yours with your mom?" His right-hand steadies the small of your back while his left one clutches yours to help settle you into your seat. It's hard to focus on the question he just asked when the scent from outside seems to heighten the attraction you already feel towards him, "It was good," you manage to say, reaching for the silverware to begin digging into your food, "Thank you... For helping me," the distance between your stomach and the table now is something you've been trying to get used to as well as the turmoil of trying to stand and sit.

"Anytime."

A blush floods your cheeks when he holds your timorous stare, so you avert your eyes to your dinner, letting the obvious feeling of Namjoon watching deepen the red shade on your skin. A few minutes disappear into time before you feel a shove against your abdomen from the inside. Your hand instinctively flies to press upon the baby bump, Namjoon jumping at the motion, stopping mid-chew, while his eyes enlarge in surprise.

"It's okay," you chortle at his reaction, "it's just the baby kicking," his response reminds you of the moment you felt the baby kick for the very first time- similar to a weird flutter that's hard to describe, and it had taken you a second to realize what it was exactly- just your baby making its presence known to you. Namjoon swallows the bite of food in a nervous gulp, the pang of his silverware mutes from where he lays it on the napkin.

"Here," you murmur affectionately preparing to stand to your feet. Namjoon immediately jolts from his chair, rounding the table to gather your hand in his. Instead of relying on his strength to help you position yourself, you plop back onto the seat, sliding his hand to the area where the baby kicked a few minutes prior. Namjoon kneels to level with you, his plump lips ajar mirroring the widen stance of his eyes while he patiently waits, his nervous heart pounding in his temples. It's the exuberant joy in his smile that meets his eyes in a dazzling glow the pure second the baby kicks again, and the bliss of delight smothers your heart in so many ways imaginable at this moment the pair of you are capturing together. Your hand remains resting upon his while your eyes lock repudiating from breaking contact.

"I told you that you don't have to do this alone," he whispers, and it's then you come to the awareness of how near his face is from yours, his dimples visible from his smile to the point you press your lips to each one, shocked at your act of boldness, but you can't refrain. He's too handsome and too wonderful to stay away from any longer. That's all the invitation needed, for Namjoon's lips brush yours igniting the sparks of what you've been trying to suppress for way too long. Your fingers find his hair when he leans to deepen the kiss, moving his hands to rest on the chair, fingers pressing into the wood until pale white.

At this moment, you don't care what anyone thinks.

You are in love with Kim Namjoon, and there is nothing in this world that's going to scare you away from that.

-Present day-

The pitch black outside the window brings frustration when you awaken to scold yourself for how long you've slept. Gathering yourself once the fatigue rolls off, you cautiously sit up, scooting to the bedpost until you're on your feet. Taking a trip to the restroom, you notice upon exiting the clock on the wall reads seven pm, and you wonder if Namjoon has made it inside for the evening. It's eerily quiet save for the air conditioning, but you pause when you see the lights are on in the main area of the building. Shrugging, you waddle around the corner until the sudden shouts of, "SURPRISE!", nearly knocks you to the ground.

Gasping, your eyes widen while your hand flies to your chest. A prolonged second interferes before your brain deciphers the two individuals cheering before you. Numerous pink and blue balloons hover to the top of the ceiling matching the colors of a cloth decorating the one table now adorned with a cake and wrapped gifts. "What?" You can barely speak from the light headiness taking over, but the tears that well in your eyes when you see the boxy smile of your best friend sends you in an attempt to run just to crash into his arms. He meets you halfway, surrounding you within his embrace as he rocks you back and forth muffling your wails of joy into his checkered sweater. Your soaked cheeks are wiped away from the material as been done countless times before, and his tepid palms squish your cheeks when he steps back to gesture toward your belly.

"Wow look at you! Your belly is huge!"

"I'm still in denial of how fast this pregnancy is going!" You say breathlessly, you're so happy to see Taehyung, you can hardly contain your composure. Namjoon steps forward with his hand reaching to squeeze your best friend's shoulder. Taehyung's fiery strands are curled upon his forehead, lustrous beneath the lights as it always has before, "Your father let you come?" There's a seriousness behind your voice at the question because you are cognizant of the fury Tae's father has against the church from the events that occurred what, in some ways feels like a lifetime ago.

"Well, no," Taehyung winces mischievously, "I told him that Namjoon and I were going to a basketball game,"

"Of course, you did, you sly fox,"

"You know you love me," Tae pecks your forehead before leading you to the table where the sweet whiff of cake flatters your nostrils.

"You guys didn't have to do this," you're still wiping tears off your face, though it's evident that your crying is from untainted gratitude, "What did I do to deserve the two of you?"

Namjoon kneels, intertwining his long fingers with yours, using the tip of his thumb to tickle circles upon your skin, "Taehyung mentioned how when you were kids that you loved surprises, especially if it involved a small party of some sort so," he tilts his head toward Taehyung, "And I knew how much you missed him, too. I just wanted to do something to celebrate you. And, the baby,"

It doesn't take much to smother this man in kisses nowadays, and once you express your thankfulness to the men before you, Namjoon reads your mind, snatching a small kiss in return.

"You two are on kissing terms, again?" Taehyung teases while you poke your tongue at him in mild embarrassment. Namjoon does not know of the moment you and Tae shared, and that's something you're not ready to talk about, and with the cutesy scrunch of Namjoon's face, the memory escapes to the back of your mind for now.

By the end of the night, the frosting had met all three of your faces- some smushed into Taehyung's hair while some swiped across Namjoon's neck, and your eyebrows are smeared along with the possible suspicion of some getting up your nose. Cleaning the mess takes a while, but nobody in the room would trade it for anything, and it's good stalling to prevent the night from completely ending.

Walking Taehyung to his car is the only dread overwhelming your system because you're not sure of when you will get to see him next. Tears flood your eyes, breaking Taehyung's heart as an awe of shame gusts past his lips, "I'm sorry, [Y/N]. My dad's expecting me home soon,"

"I don't want you to go," you choke, on the brink of bursting at the seams- Tae fumbles to tighten his arms behind your back- him trying to be mindful of your abdomen being pressed too firmly against his frame.

"Please don't cry," he whispers near your ear, "Please, please don't cry," His lips curl from the tears burning within his own eyes wishing with all his strength he could rid of the aching hurt that has kept your friendship separated. Tae swiftly pulls away when he remembers another present, he meant to give you earlier, whirling around to unlock his car, bending into the vehicle while his hands shuffle around the floorboard in a desperate search for whatever he wants to show you. When he turns to face you, a sharp inhale of glee echoes into the night- the lopsided plush of a heart is attached to a blue body ornamented with yellow polka dots that match its mouth. "Oh my gosh!" You squeal, "Tae, it's adorable! Where did you find this?"

Wiggling his eyebrows in pride, he hands it to you, "I made it myself. And," he pauses for effect, "since you have trouble naming things, I did the honors and named it for you. I introduce, Ta Ta."

"Ta Ta?"

"Yeah, like 'Ta Ta... for now,'"

"Just when I thought I couldn't love your dork of a self even more," you exhale, slamming your eyes shut just to bury your face further into his chest, not able to breathe in his scent from the clog of mucus stuffing your nose.

"I love you, too." His voice thickens with emotion, "Now, quit saying it like you're never going to see me again, because you know I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" Your cold nose moves to press into the corner of his jaw where steady breaths move between your parting mouth. It's a serene moment where he turns just enough to glimpse at you, engaging in the beauty he's always found within your heart. Taehyung's agape lips now rest centimeters from yours when his large hands raise to rest his fingertips along your flushed cheeks- the curls of his frizzy hair pressing to your forehead, prickling your closing eyes. You discover your free hand enfolding around his wrist from the daunting desire looming from what's been left unspoken, and the shiver in his breathing brushes your chin once the light touch of his nose cuddles to yours. You both stand there for a seeming reel of eternity, battling the inward mayhem of choice that's displayed itself on the invisible line tempting to be traversed.

"I promise."

He hadn't kissed you, but there was no denial that he wanted to, especially with the way your face has haunted his dreams since the night your lips met in emotional patterns of sorrow. But, deep down, he knows it's too obvious of a choice if the one for him is to be you, but the love that has been kept for you will never go away. The same as a tether of your heart will forever be his no matter how deep your love goes for someone else. Kim Taehyung will always be your poise- your muse- the soulmate of a friendship that you will always need.

Toddling to the nursery upon Tae's departure still presents the boiling tears from your tired eyes dripping off your cheeks as you set Ta Ta beside the koala plushie Namjoon gifted you; the humor involving the struggle of both Taehyung and Namjoon carrying the crib Namjoon built for the baby taunts a smirk at the corner of your lips. It's dark besides the faint light of the hallway behind you, giving you just enough to admire the scenery around you- sniffling back what you can before reaching to cover your quivering chin with your hand. You've missed Taehyung. You miss him. And, how beautiful of Namjoon to surprise you with your best friend's presence? Reuniting the three musketeers from once upon a time?

Little do they know, from the unearthing of your pregnancy to now, the two men have mended your broken heart and stitched it back together again piece by piece. You're highly uncertain of where you would be without them, and just the thought alone is one you refuse to dwell on. While memories turn like a spindle of loosened thread, a revelation halts you in your tracks. The thought rings loud and clear gracing a wide smile on your face while one more set of tears dampen the corner of your eyes.

After scolding yourself for so long for not thinking hard enough on the subject,

right here, hands grasping the handlebar of your future child's cradle,

you finally have a name picked out for your little one.

2 months later....

"Namjoon, I'll be fine," the pointed look you flash him prompts a nervous chuckle once his hands rest to rub gently along your sides. He's concerned as he's been almost the entire pregnancy, but of course, now his worries are heightened to an extreme, "I'm not due until next week. Don't worry,"

"I know," he groans, tugging you closer just enough to plant a warm to kiss to your neck, "But, I can't help it."

"I'll be fine," you drag the word with a teasing sound of a whine. Namjoon shaking his head at you with a smile you're now feeling upon your lips. "Mm," you hum into his kiss, your hands sliding to squeeze his shoulders in reaction to how impeccable it feels. You end the moment simply to gaze at him, "You'll be back before you know it," you assure him- his trip to the grocery store being the plan for the afternoon.

"Okay," he says tenderly, eyes flickering to your lips once more before leaning to brush them to his own, "I love you,"

There's a small pause, one that entails warmth smothering your chest in giddy sensations when his eyes steal yours after pulling away, "I love you, too, Joon," watching him head out the door until the truck disappears along the road.

Of course, the day doesn't go accordingly the way you expect, because on carefully prodding to the kitchen in preparation to cook breakfast, a slight ache ensues within your abdomen. "Oh," you groan, stroking the area with your fingertips before deciding to lay down for a bit instead. When reaching your room, the sharp pain of a cramp returns causing a harsh cringe as you lean against your bedpost, hardly able to concentrate on the attempt of climbing onto the mattress. You remain hunched over for five minutes, forcing slow breaths to prevent from panicking, and when you find the coast to be clear, you straighten yourself out.

Suddenly, before you can comprehend what's happening, a gush of water splatters onto the carpet soaking your feet in the process.

"No," you whisper, eyes frantically scanning your room for your cell phone. Namjoon shouldn't be far with the grocery store only being a few miles away, but in order to get a hold of him, you must find your only way of contacting him. Hands pat your bed, thrusting off the bed covers and shaking them roughly, yet no 'thump' is heard before you cast the covers in a pile onto the ground. The next destination leads to the restroom, with no luck of your phone being in your bedroom- when another wave of pain shoots within your stomach, you gasp, trying to endure through the discomfort with all your might.

Leaving a water trail behind with every step you take, you desperately search the countertops before stepping into the area that holds the kitchen, wondering if there is any possibility it may have been left behind there. Your feet meet the cool surface of the tile floor, your gape scanning the entirety of the space before a pant of relief escapes past your dry lips the second your shaking hands gather the device. "Agh!" A contraction surges, hands squeezing your phone unintentionally, yet you grimace just enough to maintain your focus on the task at hand. Managing to get the phone ringing, it doesn't take long until you hear the man of your dreams at the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Joon, it's time," you choke, voice thick with pain.

"Oh, shit! Hold on tight, I'm on my way, just hold tight, I'm coming-"

You just happen to be running by the church in favor of dropping off the work truck keys to your father when he unintentionally introduces you to the new employee you assume he plans to hire, "[Y/N], this is Kim Namjoon. He's going to be taking care of the church grounds for us, isn't that wonderful?"

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," you greet, underlyingly suffering from the attraction swarming to your reddening cheeks. When your father mentioned of hiring, you never anticipated the person to be this overwhelmingly breathtaking.

"It's nice to meet you too, Ma'am," Namjoon's polite nod mirrors the dimples evident from a soft grin, his hand reaching for yours to shake before your father continues the tour of the place you've grown up memorizing. But something initiates you to stay, eyes lingering on the back of the tall figure decked in a turtleneck covered by a green jacket complementing a pair of jeans along with brown shoes. There's a spark of intuition that day, one that ignited the prominent determination that you want to get to know this person even if your father ends up finding out.

Namjoon busts through the door with pure alarm etched in his voice, "[Y/N], I'm here! Baby, I'm right here," he immediately jumps to where you are, keeled over on the floor, throwing his arm around you until he lifts you out of the fellowship hall and into the work truck. Words you attempt to form are muted by whimpers, tears brimming your eyes from the pain that doesn't end, "I'm going to grab the suitcase, I'll be right back," time must be faster than you can measure for Namjoon arrives, slinging the suitcase into the backseat before slamming into the driver's side.

It takes a while for the newly found employee to warm up to every opportunity you take in order to get to know him. One thing he's slowly but surely learning is that you're not one to give up so easily- something you've noticed him picking up on, especially on days, you annoy him when he's on call to build a project. You make it clear to talk to him nonstop until he acknowledges your existence, and the times he doesn't breathe a word results in a call to Taehyung.

"Come help me," you plea hearing Taehyung's exasperated sigh on the other line.

"You are so annoying,"

"You know you love me, fool," you gloat because with defeat, your best friend reluctantly joins you, even accompanying a basketball just in case if Namjoon happens to fancy sports. Your girlfriends, Luna and Jo, were informed of your undying crush on the mysterious worker, crossing their arms in jealousy that you half-heartedly ignored.

"He doesn't even come to the services," Jo droned, "Don't you think it'd be best to get to know someone that's more... active in the church? Like the pianist's son, Min Yoongi. You two had such a cute relationship when you were three-"

You can't get past why no one seems to understand that you must win Namjoon over, and though Luna and Jo have seen the world along with you since childhood, you roll your eyes, turning on a heel, "I'll catch you later,"

Tires screech along the road while Namjoon swerves past cars on the highway, hands ghost white from the tight grasp he has upon the steering wheel. Meanwhile, your hand grips the bar above you while your other rests upon your belly- the keenness of getting to hold your baby in your arms is all you're thinking about other than Namjoon who's keeping you sane.

"Just a few more miles and we will be there. Just breathe," his voice is unsteady from the fright of this situation, but he upholds his enlarged gaze upon the road. He fumbles for his phone- trying to contact anyone from your family in order to tell them the news.

"GAH!" Leaning forward, a wail echoes within the vehicle as another contraction attacks.

"You guys aren't going to stop until I'm your friend, am I right?" Namjoon's elbows are folded from the hold he has on the basketball meeting his chest. Tae jumps sporadically in front of him with outspread arms preparing to prevent the ball from flying into the hoop.

"Damn straight," you shrug your shoulders in observation of Namjoon's tilting head.

"I thought church girls didn't cuss,"

"And I thought you'd have more game than the basketball," You retort.Tae halts, straightening his frame, eyes flickering between you and a quiet Namjoon, "Now hurry up. If you win, I will leave you alone for good. If Tae wins then we treat you to dinner and a movie. How does that sound?"

With an incredulous shake of his head, Namjoon smirks, "Okay," the scuffle of his converse is heard on the pavement when he briefly turns to toss the ball toward the hoop. The basketball pangs the ring, twirling ferociously to the point, your heart begins to sink, but to your pleasure, the ball tips off the rim, landing in a rejoicing Taehyung's arms.

"HAH!" You sprint, colliding into Taehyung's embrace while Namjoon tries to stifle the smile overtaking his lips, "Looks like it's going to be a burger and fries' kind of night," you wink, unaware of the hope that Namjoon has of wanting to gain your friendship just as much.

The hospital entrance appears after the rush of Namjoon turning into the parking lot soon helping you out of the truck. The suitcase will have to wait being he can retrieve it later, his ultimate goal is getting you within the building to where you're safe. "It's okay, it's okay," he tries to appear relaxed, but everything becomes a blur until a nurse with fluffy, black hair approaches with a wheelchair to help settle you in. His nametag reads 'JIMIN' – him rolling you quickly down the hall when the presence of a female nurse whose nametag reads 'MONNIE' helps you change into the nightgown upon arrival of the hospital room. Voices are mingling together from the pounding in your temples, but Monnie keeps her hands gentle on your back to lead you to the bed where she hooks you up to what seems like a million machines whilst providing as much comfort to you as possible.

Namjoon's calloused hand covers yours when one other nurse, Jungkook, floods the room, bringing a chair for him to sit in. You're not sure of all the commotion that's overwhelming the room, but you steady your breathing as Namjoon directs, squeezing his hand through each contraction. You recognize the doctor, Kim Seokjin, a tall man already dawned in a scrub hat, mouth mask and gloves, scurrying to where you are, "Alright, I am going to check your dilation Ms. [Y/N], just breathe in and out." Slamming your eyes shut, you whimper from the discomfort, "Alright, she is dilated three centimeters. Once you are at ten centimeters [Y/N], you will begin pushing. No worries, I will alert you as soon as I need you to begin. Keep breathing. Everything will be okay,"

"Taehyung... My mom... Dad-" you murmur deliriously between breaths, the foggy sense of your conscious outweighing how to speak properly.

"No worries baby, they're on their way. They're on their way right now," he sweetly kisses your perspired forehead, running his free hand through your tangled hair.

The three musketeers were official after the day at the basketball hoop, eventually learning of Namjoon's atheism as well as him providing for his family.

"My dad couldn't find a job that pays enough, so I promised him that I will do whatever it takes," it had been six months since Namjoon had been hired, and currently is finishing his final paint to the shed while you and Taehyung sit Indian style in the grass. "Thanks to the job here, I can afford the rent for my parents as well as give them my car since here, I just use the work truck..." Namjoon sharing more in-depth with his life story- you finally get what you've been determined to gain since meeting him.

It's weeks later that you'll never forget, leaning against a mini, red monkey bar after sharing your feelings toward the man you've grown so fond of. There's no denying the feelings he's had for you, and once he inches closer, the crave to hold his hand has never been stronger. Boldly, your fingers trail to intertwine with his, your nerves close to getting the best of you despite the persistent smile that hasn't left him. When you find the bravery to look up at him, he swallows calmly before leaning in, you stand on your tiptoes to meet halfway until your lips touch. The slide of his arms encompassing your frame feels so inviting when he presses his body to yours. The world is put on pause to you and nothing else matters other than the way his lips move so elegantly- your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he sways you from side to side.

Time doesn't seem to speed up through all this pain, but the adrenaline swimming in your veins peaks when Dr. Seokjin prepares to check your dilation again. "Ten centimeters-" He confirms, "Alright, [Y/N], the baby's coming. When I say push, you push. Okay," he positions himself though you can't see anything past your gown and raised knees, "One, two, three! Push!"

"AGH!" You grunt, a small scream vibrating at the back of your throat once you push with every fiber of strength, you can muster.

"Breathe, breathe," Namjoon's hand hasn't once left yours- sweat pouring from your scalp while the burning agony overpowers your body.

"Is she here!?" The click of darting heels enters the room and are loud enough for it to catch your attention. "Oh, honey, I'm here!" It's your mother- scampering to your side with the undeniable blur of Taehyung's red hair following suit. You want to ask where your father is, but before a chance is given, the doctor shouts, "Push!"

"AAAAAAAGH!" You manage, body straining in all its entireness. Taehyung jolts to let you squeeze his hand along with Namjoon's. His features show nothing but fear at the sight of you being in so much strife, yet he holds it together enough to cheer you on.

"I'm- I'm so glad you both are here," you cry- another sixty seconds drifting before the shout of, "Push!" erupts.

"I'm scared," you murmur in the dimness of the room. On your knees, Namjoon's soothing hands glide along the tops of your thighs motivating you to run your hands along his forearms. You don't know where your parents are, and you're too angry to care. You're bushed of the fighting so, you sought comfort in being here, with Namjoon. Taehyung dropped you off at the fellowship hall with the promise of not breathing a word- because if your parents were to find out remotely of your whereabouts, you'd hate to discover what the consequences will be.

"Me too," his nervous eyes investigate every inch of your face. You've never been with anyone this way before- secretly hidden away from the world outside trying to suppress the revealing crave of what you're curious about. Scooting forward, you drape either leg around him, propping yourself enough to where your arms lace around his neck.

His breath hitches from the gesture- your lips erotically aligning with his in slow movements, heat rising below you when you feel the hardening of his being beneath your sense, "I want you," you whisper. He knows that you're a virgin, and with care, he lays you on the bed, hovering above your frame where your bodies align perfectly. "Are you sure this is what you want," concern consumes his countenance, but you desperately bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

"I don't think I've wanted anyone so much in my life,"

You gasp into his kiss where he slips his tongue along yours- the sensation one you've grown used to from the slovenly kisses leading up to this very night. You give Namjoon permission to sneak his large hands underneath your shirt, trailing up your ribcage before swallowing your breasts whole in his heated palms. Nipples so sensitive, your heat drenches the moment he realizes the effect it has on you just by merely brushing the rising buds, lipping at your neck while he basks in the beauty of your moans. "More," you beg, "Please, Joon, more." When clothes start to be thrown off, you're determined to pleasure him, but have not an idea on how to do so. "Show me," you breathlessly demand, Namjoon's palm leading yours to encircle his twitching being. You stroke his erection as shown, biting your lower lip from the throbbing feeling of your core- him instantly finding your entrance to fill it with his fingers as carefully as he can- both of you pleasuring each other, yet still getting lost in kissing so deeply, the two of you forget to gasp for air. The sensation of heated pressed bare skin can be the most beautiful thing, especially with the way your legs entangle with his. You're surprised the feel of his prodding fingers didn't bring as much discomfort as you would have originally anticipated, but when he brings a hand to his penis, he rubs his tip along your slit letting the sloppy sound of you leak onto it. "Holy shit," he moans from how soaked you are for him- his fingertips finding your clit while yours dig into the backs of his shoulders.

Smoldering kisses move from your lips to your breasts, down your abdomen to your inner thighs where you tense underneath his touch that slides to hold your bottom half where he can scan your heat. The tip of his tongue swipes upon your slit excruciatingly slow to the point your fingers tangle with the material of the bedsheets. The smacking sound of his lips savor your taste while his tongue circles your core- you're hyperventilating from how deliciously he flicks his tongue upon your slit, screaming his name relentlessly- the speed of his skilled mouth driving you wild from the growing climax beckoning your stiffening thighs, "Oh, Namjoon, oh- Joon- I- Oh!"

He's not ready for you to finish because there's more he wants to show you. Hovering above you once again to see you coming down from your high, your heaving chest longs for his touch, and he nearly comes undone from the smile embellishing your face. His tracing fingertips parade along the outline of your body in featherlike tickles while the sounds of panting breaths mingle with shifting sheets bring subtle music to your ears for the rest of the night. The gentle parting of his lips grasps your own in smooth movements persuading arousal streaming from your core. Your fingers now link with frilly tufts of his hair, gripping the strands in reaction to the pressing of his bare chest to yours, dreaming of nothing more than to be entwined with him for what you hope will be forever. Hips grinding into yours prompts the light moan teasing his ears for more before his mouth trails to pause above your pounding heart. His hair brushing your chin, your arms glide to wrap around him holding the hope that he will never let you go. Not even for a second.

"Alright, one more! Almost done! Push!"

Sucking in one long breath, with a compulsory scream, you push with all you have left in you. Exhaustion weakens your limbs, yet a rush of relief floods your body when the cries of an infant reverberate within the room. With heavy eyes, you turn to see your mother with tears cascading down her face and onto the back of her hand covering her agape mouth- eyes remaining locked in front of her. Taehyung's gaze doesn't drop though his fingers loosen from yours at the small bundle immediately apprehending the eyes of every individual. Right then, you move your head to your other side where Namjoon gradually rises in awe- his hand still has yours. Gathering any ounce of strength, you're ready to see the child you've been waiting to hold for nine months, so cautiously you sit up until your stare meets Dr. Seokjin's. You can see the smile in his eyes despite the mouth mask, and what he says next brings you to tears, "It's a girl,"

"Oh!" You thrill, anxious to meet her while the nurses scurry to clean her up.

"Sir, would you like to do the honors?" The doctor gestures a pair of scissors towards a stiffened Namjoon whose eyes are welled with hushed tears. He can't even speak, yet he nods from the happiness exploding beneath his chest.

"Wait," Your mom says, "Is- is?"

It's a moment that seems to fit the setting for your father walks in, as if on cue, shoulders slumped from the anticipating tension now darkening the room. Taehyung's shoulders tensed at the sight of the man he despises, but for the sake of you, Namjoon and his Godchild, he keeps his composure enough to ignore the elephant now standing in the room. The fear that used to consume you upon your dad unraveling the truth about your secret vacates you when you know that you and the two men present can conquer anything.

"Yes," the answer is to your mother, but your stern glower of warning is only connected with your dad's although your mother's stare remains on you, "Namjoon is the father."

Namjoon stands with pride while he accepts the pair of scissors from Dr. Seokjin- your father, with a shocked expression, watches as the man he hired happens to be the same man who stole his daughter's heart without his knowledge. Yet, he refrains from anger, because who is he to ruin such a precious moment about to unfold here?

Pictures are taken of Namjoon cutting the umbilical cord, his fingers gently rubbing his daughter's cheek while he wipes at the tears dripping from his eyes. Jungkook takes her into his arms to weigh her before wrapping her in a plush pink blanket, "She is seven pounds and five ounces,"

Endless joy envelops your heart from the scene playing out before you; especially, when the vision of your father's quivering chin, admiring his granddaughter leaves you speechless along with the hope of redemption entering your beating heart.

"Are you ready to hold her?" Monnie's kind eyes match her smile when she touches your arm.

"Yes," you stifle a sob, "I want to hold her,"

Monnie poses her arms to where Jungkook places your daughter, Monnie guardedly turns to rest your baby into your arms. Her small face chortles, her eyes closing while she puckers her tiny lips. "She's so perfect," you cry, love in all its beauty falling from your eyes while you watch your daughter's fingers fold individually upon her chest.

"Just like you," Namjoon whispers, locking eyes with you before inching forward to give you a loving kiss.

"I love you, Joon," you whisper, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.

"I love you, too."

"Uh," the deep serenade of your best friend interrupts, all attention abruptly turning to see him raise an index finger in the air, "So, as the Godfather, I must ask a very serious question," the room chuckles along with him as they patiently wait for his request, "What's her name?"

"Ah," you nod, realizing that hasn't been made known to anyone other than to yourself. Your mother steps forward to place her hand upon your shoulder while your father keeps his distance enough to not cause any trouble- though the two of you share a small smile to let him know all is well. Namjoon watches you in admiration- the woman of his dreams holding his child in her arms while facing her deepest fear yet holds her head with pride about the man she will spend the rest of her life with along with her daughter swaddled to her chest. You are everything he's ever longed for and more, and he's ready to defeat any storm in life if it's with you and his daughter.

To answer Tae's question though, you return to face him, tears gathering in exhilarating bliss.

"Taejun." Her eyes slightly open at the hearing of her name as a tiny smile adorns her lips,

"Her name is Kim Taejun."

158 notes · View notes

equestrianwritingsstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Promise Status, Broken

Warnings: fake death, blood, taking shirt off, drugging, hospital setting, needles,conditioned response, mention of torture

He plunged the knife into Hero's abdomen and pressed. He pressed until the hilt was hardly visible under the layer of blood that pooled around the open wound. He pressed until Hero's stuttering breaths stopped.

And he let the dead body fall to the ground with a thump. Villain put his boot onto Hero's dull face and kicked. She didn't deserve kindness, dead or alive. Villain pulled the knife out.

Suddenly, the dark shed that he committed the long overdue murder was infiltrated by an eerie white glow.

"Hero," came a breathless gasp. Then the shocked voice changed into a professional order, "Hands up where I can see them!" A gun clicked.

Villain slowly turned around. His smug attitude and cockiness was apparent as he held the bloody knife deftly between his fingers. The blood dripped to the ground with a splatter.

"Drop the weapon," a young police officer yelled. "Drop it."

Villain smirked. The police officer was so tiny. Villain was muscular and very agile. He could've just tossed the knife and mortally wound the officer if it wasn't for the sudden flash of white in the back of his head.

Villain collasped forward, falling onto his side. He blinked, trying to dispel the dizziness and stars. The dark room seemed even darker like a black abyss. The moonlight he saw earlier was all muddled into a blob.

Through his swimming vision, Villain saw the young police officer swoop down to pluck the prey off the ground. He cradled Villain's lolling head with a fake concerned look on his face. Villain blinked, squinted, did everything in his power to focus on the young face.

The officer must've realized Villain's effort because he said, "Do you know who I am?" Villain shook his head. To him, it was an effort, an effort that cost the room to tilt and Villain to sway. But in reality, it was the weakest thing.

"Recognize me now?" The officer said in a deeper voice. Villain's brain very slowly placed the voice with the face of Hero's sidekick.

"Sidekick," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Good boy," Sidekick rubbed the side of Villain's head. It sent a new flare of heated pain through his body, centering on his head. Villain tried to jerk himself away, managing to break free of Sidekick's grasp. The only thing it added up to, however, was two more arms catching him before he toppled to the ground.

"Dizzy?" Sidekick said in a babyish tone. Villain didn't answer. Everything burned and ached and it was getting harder and harder to stay conscious.

"You just murdered Hero, Villain, why?" Sidekick asked.

Villain's cognitive skills weren't one hundred percent, so his tongue spoke before his damaged mind had a chance to catch up.

"P-promise... m' status... broken," Villain whispered. He just wanted to fall backwards and die. Oh, would that be sweet. But the arms supporting him kept him up and awake as nails dug into his skin. It was a new sensation, one Villain never experienced before. Nails into the skin.

Sidekick's once serious face turned into one of pure childish curiosity. "Walk," he sneered. "We are walking to the car."

Villain felt himself being lifted onto his feet. Then, he felt all of his weight relying on those two support beams. He swayed, determined to stay upright.

Dizziness once again ran its course as Villain stepped forward- one teetering step at a time. He let out a groan, and a moan, and a whimper, and a- the list goes on.

Villain did not remember stepping into the car. The second his body touched the seat, he was out. Sidekick had to move his head so that he wouldn't break his neck going over a bump. He sighed and stared sadly at the poor Villain's head. It was necessary, very necessary, or Hero wouldn't have been able to escape.

"Thank you," came a pained voice. Sidekick spun around to see Hero limping forward. She had her hand protectively covering a bruise on her stomach. Sidekick sighed in relief and embraced her. The extra padding and fake blood worked well.

"I should be thanking you," Sidekick laughed. "If you didn't hit him, I would be dead."

Hero's happy face contorted into a much more serious expression.

"Why did you make Villain walk like that?" She asked. It was very rude, and practically unnecessary. She couldn't help but think that Sidekick wanted to offend Villain. She glanced at the sleeping, limp figure in the back of the car. Villain's blood from a nasty gash that Hero caused with a metal bar, pooled around him. She grimaced in guilt.

"Hero?" Sidekick asked.

"You never answered my question," Hero snapped. She ignored the painful bruise and glared at her sidekick.

"If we didn't have that protection on, you would be dead," Sidekick defended himself.

Hero scoffed and said, "Don't make excuses for your actions. We both know that it wasn't his fault that he turned out like this."

"He could've control his emotions, turned to goodness, not anger," Sidekick pointed out and pursed his lips. "He's not the innocent one."

Hero closed her eyes shut for a moment, replaying a memory that haunted her for a long time.

"I promise to always be there for you," Hero told Villain as she hugged him under the stars when they were nineteen, three years ago.

"Promise?" Villain's sweet voice cracked, absent of the usual sarcasm. Of course, he wasn't a villain then.

"I promise."

The next week, Villain was kidnapped by Supervillain.

"Don't look for him Hero, he's as good as dead anyways," her sidekick told her. Sidekick always saw the practical side of everything, so Hero assumed he was right.

The next year, Hero stumbled upon a broken body in an alleyway. Her heart lurched as she examimed the countless injuries. Broken ribs and nose, bruises littered the torso and his lungs struggled to take a breath. Hero tentatively pushed the skinny arm of his face and she gasped in horror. It was Villain.

Villain was alive, not dead.

Hero didn't hesitate to lift Villain's severely underweight body up and bring him to a hospital. She sat by his bed until he woke up a couple days later. She was beyond exhaustion at this point, and was so relieved to see Villain conscious that she nearly broke down in tears.

But a small, weak voice stopped her emotions from letting loose.

"Promise status," Villain murmured, his eyes already closing. Hero didn't register the words right away, she just tried to shake Villain awake. "Broken," he finished his sentence. Only then did Hero realize the meaning. She never looked for Villain. She just left him for dead, assuming the worse. After Villain's eyes slid closed, she noticed how conditioned the sentence was. It wasn't even a complete sentence. More like a robot repeating its task over and over, "Cycle One, Complete. Cycle Two, Begin. Cycle One..."

Hero, knowing she really shouldn't, laid her head on the bed, too tired to stay awake anymore. She hated the way Villain spoke to her, but was ecstatic to know he could wake up. So she slept.

Maybe two hours later, she woke to Villain scrambling up in fear. All the monitors started screaming. Without thinking, Hero pressed the HELP button, which only added to the piercing noise.

"Villain, hey, hey," Hero tried to soothe, which only resulted in Villain jerking back so hard that the IV ripped from his arm. Blood splattered everywhere, but that was the least of Hero's worries. Villain's hands went up to his mouth, yanking the oxygen mask off. In one split second, the previous rage settled into a slight panic. His chest heaved, unable to breathe properly.

Shortly after, the nurses rushed in with a syringe that contained a clear liquid.

"What is that?" Hero asked, instinctively stepping between the nurse and the terrified Villain.

The nurse hesitated before replying, "We need to calm him down before he hurts himself and others. It's just a sedative."

Hero shakily stepped out of the way. She felt useless watching the nurse inject Villain with the needle. She felt useless seeing his eyes widen in fear.

After a few minutes, the wildness in Villain's eyes were replaced with a tired look. His muscles loosened and relaxed as his breathing deepened. Another nurse rushed in with an oxygen mask.

Very soon, Villain's eyelids slipped completely shut. Hero and the nurse slowly lowered him into the bed.

The nurse laid their hand on Hero's shoulder and squeezed sympathetically. When she left, Hero sunk down into her chair and took Villain's hand in her's. She brought her finger to the bandage that covered his wrist and rubbed it. She thought of how she just left him to suffer under Supervillain's wrath. It wasn't fair.

A horrid thought struck her. What if Villain wouldn't trust her anymore? He already seemed to be terrified of her. However, that could also be due to the hospital setting.

"Hero!"

Sidekick's voice dragged Hero from her flashback and so did the repetitive snaps of his fingers.

"Oh sorry," Hero gave a half-smile and walked to where Villain was sleeping. She sat down next to him, crunching his legs so she could fit.

"Are you seriously sitting back there?" Sidekick asked, leaning against the open door.

"Yes," Hero said, bringing Villain's feet onto her lap. "Of course." When she saw the look on Sidekick's face, she added, "He can't do much at the moment."

Sidekick still gave her a doubtful look, but jogged over to the driver's side and hopped in. Hero shut the door.

They drove in silence until they reached Hero's base. It was a small buidling, but had a couple cells, medic lab, and many bedrooms. It was mainly known for the gorgeous decor, both outside and indoors.

Hero and Sidekick worked together to bring Villain into one of the medic rooms. When Sidekick rushed to find Doctor, Hero took the time to examine Villain's physical health other than the bloody wound on his head.

Hero gingerly lifted his shirt, but then put it back, too scared to actually see what was under there. When Villain was discharged from the hospital, the doctors told her that the psychological healing would take awhile, especially since he would be reminded everyday with the scars. She took a deep breath and looked.

The criss-crossed scars made her want to vomit. They lined his muscles, putting unnecessary dents into the perfectly lined abs. Trying to ignore the marks, she tried to find the positive things. He was much more physically in shape than she had ever seen. All the lost weight was returned to him.

Footsteps sounded so she put his shirt back, trying to dispel the image now engraved in her mind.

"You whacked him hard," Doctor commented, examining Villain's head. "But he should be able to recover with minimal damage, but we will see. I do want to take tests and do a scan when he wakes up." Doctor cocked his head and then asked, "Is he better?"

"What do you mean?"

"Has he recovered from Supervillain? The last time I saw him-"

"No," Sidekick interrupted. "He was trying to kill Hero."

Yeah cause we let him, Hero thought, but remained silent.

"Hmm," Doctor mumbled. "Expect confusion for a couple days." Then he left.

Sidekick and Hero hovered over Villain's bed, silently. Hero recognized that things seemed to be more quiet between them, but didn't dwell on it.

After a moment or two, Sidekick left, leaving Hero alone. Again.

She sat next to Villain and held his hand like she did a couple years ago. It was the same setting, just a different hospital.

Suddenly, Villain's hand jerked away from Hero's touch. She looked up at him, fear coursing through her body. He just tried to kill me, she told herself over and over.

"Promise status, broken," Villain said. "Promise status, broke. Promise status, broken! Promise, promise..." Villain voice trailed off as he looked around the room. "Promise status, broken," he whispered and closed his eyes. Hero gently shook him.

He looked at her, evil eyes meeting righteous eyes. Hero couldn't help but feel yet another twinge of guilt.

Villain, in his delirious state, could not recognize the figure in front of him. She was pretty, was all he could think, and the same words. "Promise status, broken," was the only thing his tongue allowed him to say. Nothing made sense, nothing at all.

But what didn't make sense the most was when the girl leaned forward and took Villain's head in her hands. He wanted to recoil backwards and escape the misery, but she was stronger and the blinding headache made little things impossible.

"Don't worry. I am gonna fix you up... I promise."

#conditioned whumpee #hero caretaker #injured villain #villain whumpee #hospital

94 notes · View notes

jalapeno-princess · 4 years ago

Text

Coffee For Your Head

(He’s so pretty)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst with some fluff and a happy ending

Word Count: 7.1K

Summary: After an exhausting and frustrating day at work, all you want to do is go home and fall apart in your boyfriend’s arms. However, a comment that is meant to be a joke turns in to a full blown argument between you and Mark; causing you to storm out of your shared apartment.

A/N: Hey guys, so this week has been pretty shitty. I had to pay $700 to get my car fixed only to have someone steal my muffler (Hawaii is not the paradise everyone paints it out to be) but I’m not letting it get in the way of my life. Anyways, this imagine was inspired by that deathbed coffee for your head song but literally just the first verse (the song is actually so sad). I also have a couple of surprises for you all! The last and final chapter of crazy little thing called love is in the works, and I’ve decided to make a part 2 to “nobody compares to you” by popular request, so stay tuned. I’m also a few followers away from 700 that’s crazy!! Anyways, happy reading!

Never in the four years of your relationship has Mark ever felt like he didn’t want to look at you. Hell, there was never a time he wasn’t looking at you. From the moment Mark first laid his eyes on you, he was captivated by your beauty in ways he has never experienced before.

Some days, he had to force himself to stop admiring your breathtaking looks so that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. After what took weeks of building up the courage to ask you out on a date, it didn’t take him long to realize that you were just as beautiful on the inside as you were on the outside. He honestly felt as if he was the luckiest man on earth to be the one who was extremely blessed to love you.

Unfortunately, the two of you had your first actual fight just a few hours prior and he honestly wishes he could go back in time and keep his mouth shut so that the two of you wouldn’t have been in this disheartening situation. Although there were a few times the two of you would disagree and have a couple quarrels here and there, this was the first time you actually stormed out of your shared apartment out of anger and frustration.

He was well aware that he went too far tonight; Mark knew you like the back of his hand. Just by your posture and the way you slammed your bag down on the counter, he had a feeling something bad must have happened at work. You were a registered nurse at your local hospital and as much as you wish you could say being a nurse was everything you could ever hope and pray it would be; it was quite the opposite.

Sure, you had the honor of witnessing many miracles such as pregnancies, watching patients win their battles against cancer—just being able to help anyone in need were a few perks that came with being a nurse. However, being a nurse also came with great responsibility. There were lives on the line and just the simplest mistake; giving a patient the wrong medication, scheduling the wrong surgery or assigning the wrong diet could really affect the lives of those you were in charge of.

Being a nurse was very exhausting; you were constantly on your feet for eight to ten hours a day and there were many people, either the patients or family members of the patients who always felt the need to take out their stress and worry on you. Tonight had been one of the most tiring and stressful days at work and there was nothing more you wanted to do than to change in to your pajamas and fall asleep in your boyfriend’s warm embrace. It was obvious Mark had other plans.

Normally, whenever you came home so distraught and obviously shaken up, Mark would do whatever he could to comfort you and make you feel better. He didn’t understand what got over him tonight though—what started as a joke about you leaving the dirty dishes from earlier that morning in the sink as his way to cheer you up turned in to hours of yelling at each other and getting at each other’s throats.

You told him he was a selfish, egotistical asshole who didn’t care about anyone but himself and he called you an aggressive bitch who takes things too seriously. As soon as he saw tears falling from your cheeks while you yanked at your purse and your keys that were still on the kitchen counter before storming outside, Mark was well aware that he fucked up. You weren’t a sensitive person; you did cry occasionally when work could be too much for you to handle, when you felt home sick being 3,000 miles away from your family or if there was a sad scene in a movie the two of you watched together then yeah—you would shed some tears, but it was only natural.

When you guys did argue—if ever—you did tear up out of irritation; but you never allowed Mark to see how much your little disputes would hurt you because you didn’t want to feel vulnerable. He may have been your boyfriend, but you didn’t want him—or anyone for that matter, taking advantage of how timorous and fragile you were as a person. It took him a while to process that you actually left. He was too focused on the fight; there were so many things he believed he wanted to say to you in the heat of the moment, but he knew it was best that he didn’t.

Now that he was all alone in the apartment, he felt like complete and utter shit. He knew the entire fight could have been prevented if he had just kept his mouth shut. What came over him that he felt the need to make such a stupid comment? You weren’t all that familiar when it came to California seeing as how you would only go out for work, with friends or with Mark.

California was different at night; it’s was more dangerous and scarier, even for your boyfriend who has been living there his entire life. Seeing as how your family lived in New York and you hardly made any friends in the couple years of living in the relatively sunny state other than a couple coworkers, he had no idea where you could have run off to. For all he knew, you were at a bar getting drunk off of your ass and someone could have been taking advantage of you—or worse, you could have been driving and got in to a car accident because of how frustrated you were.

From what he experienced with being in the passenger seat while you drove, he had to admit you weren’t exactly the best driver. You had two of the worst qualities a driver could have—impatience and anger. Normally, you were calm and collective. Even if life as a nurse could get very hectic and frantic at times, not once in your three years of working at the hospital did you show that you were on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Mark never understood how you did it—but you were very good at managing your time and completing your tasks while under pressure. Your driving however was a completely different story. As much as he could only hope and pray you were somewhere safe, it wasn’t enough to stop the many negative thoughts and scenarios that his conscience came up with. Out of force of habit, he turned on the news to make sure nothing bad happened to you—God, why didn’t he just keep his mouth shut? If he just gave up his pride and took in to consideration the stress you were under, you’d be cuddling in his arms right now while the two of you watch reruns of Cake Boss—but instead, you were out driving in the freezing cold, alone and angry. He had no idea what he should do; even if he were to give in and admit his faults first, what good would it do? You were just as stubborn as he was.

Knowing your headstrong tendencies, there was a big chance you would leave his messages unread and let his calls go to voicemail. He couldn’t blame you though, if it were the other way around and you were the one trying to get in touch with him, Mark would’ve ignored your attempts entirely. His guilty conscience got the best of him only after ten minutes; he knew there was no way he’d be able to go to sleep without finding out your whereabouts.

Mark: Hey. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: I’m sure you’re still mad at me and my apologies probably mean jack shit to you right now but just know that I am really fucking sorry. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: You don’t have to return my calls, but do you think you could at least let me know that you’re safe? 11:58 p.m.

Mark: I didn’t mean anything I said—you know me better than I know myself baby. I would never do or say anything to purposely hurt you. Fuck, the last thing I ever want to do is upset you y/n. I’m sorry I’ve made you so sad. 12:03 p.m.

Mark: I love you so much y/n. Please come home soon. 12:03 p.m.

He tossed his phone somewhere on the floor before releasing a frustrating groan—where could you have gone? A lot of places were closed at this time of hour and he decided that since you were driving, there was no way you could be drinking. Any club or bar was immediately crossed off of his list. There was also no way you’d go back to the hospital; it was painfully obvious that something occurred during your shift that made your mood sour—so you probably didn’t want to get near the establishment until you had to return back to work in the morning.

Shit, that’s right.

You had another shift in less than eight hours, God, Mark really felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. Knowing that there was a huge chance he wouldn’t be hearing from you any time soon, he decided to set up camp in the living room just in case you came back home and wanted to go straight to bed. He was also secretly hoping that you read his messages and forgave him; or at least felt a little less infuriated with him.

No matter how much he tried to take his mind off of you, there was nothing that could distract him. None of the many video games he owned nor the new unsolved mysteries series Netflix had to offer could ease his unsettling nerves. Something inside of Mark was telling him to go out and look for you, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea. Honestly, he wouldn’t even know where to start. California was huge—he’d probably drive in circles for hours.

The idea of getting in contact with his friends also popped in to his mind; you’ve grown close to his group of friends over the course of your relationship to the point where you could consider them all family. However, you were the kind of person who hated being a burden to others. You also didn’t want to involve anyone in your personal business unless you really had to.

All he could do was lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling; growing more and more irritated with himself as the minutes went by. Your disheartened facial expression was imprinted in the back of his mind—this was the first time you looked at him in a way other than lovingly and with so much adoration in your eyes. He hated it; hated himself even more.

He just really wanted you home safe.

Your boyfriend had no idea how long he was waiting for you; minutes felt like hours as he continued to lie on the couch, doing nothing. As soon as he heard the click of the door sound off, he abruptly sat up; not caring if he seemed too eager. He sincerely meant everything he said over text message—your health and your safety meant more to him than his stupid ego.

His heart began to race watching you walk in; there was nothing more he wanted to do than to run over to you and pull you in to his embrace while he repeatedly apologized for everything that he said and all the hurt he made you suffer through. For his inconsiderate actions, for not running after you, for allowing his pride and wanting to be the winner of the argument get in the way. But you looked so exhausted—so tired. Your body language spoke for you; it was evident that you were probably still hurt from his words and from what he learned with past experiences, you probably just wanted to go to sleep. He was curious if you got around to reading his messages or if you listened to his many voicemails.

His heart was begging him to get up and make his way over to you, but his mind didn’t want to make matters worse. Although he wanted to fix things immediately, he was going to wait for you to take control of the situation. You slowly took off your sandals and made your way in to the kitchen. The battle going on between his mind and his heart was currently consuming his thoughts; as much as he knew it would’ve been better to continue giving you his space, his heart had other plans.

You looked as though you saw a ghost when you heard him make his presence known and only then did Mark realize it was 2:15 in the morning. His chest hurt when he saw you tense up; he began regretting his decision. You obviously weren’t ready for reconciliation.

“What are you still doing up?”

You still had your back faced toward him, but he was going to take whatever he could get. Instead of continuing to ignore him, which is honestly what he felt he deserved, you actually responded to him. It had to be a good thing—right?

“I know you’re well aware that there was no way I’d be able to go to sleep knowing you were out all by yourself this late in a city you’re not all that familiar with. Especially because I was the reason. I—I was so worried.”

The tension in the room was thick; he was practically walking on eggshells while thinking about what to say next. You were the definition of a sensitive person and it was a trait of yours that Mark was still getting used to. It was the truth though—Mark cared about you more than he did anyone else on this hell forsaken earth. If something were to happen to you, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. You were his person. That man would die for you if he had to. He found himself reaching out to you as a force of habit, but he retracted his hand as soon as he realized what he was doing.

“Can we—can we talk?”

You took in a deep breath and finally allowed yourself to turn around and face him. There was no way around this—you knew as you drove around that he would want to talk sooner or later. When you saw that he was still awake, you weren’t surprised. Being with him for all these years, you’ve grown to learn that Mark never allowed you to go to bed angry. He was the type to want to solve your problems before you were to fall asleep.

The idea of you crying yourself to sleep because of something he said made his heart hurt. Only once in your entire relationship did you go to bed without listening to Mark’s apologies and it was because you didn’t want to deal with the drama any longer. He felt extremely bad that entire day though and when you arrived home that night, there was a bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite cake from your favorite bakery and a stuffed animal all sitting on the counter.

Mark was going to make sure you knew just how sorry he was, even if it meant having to sleep on the couch tonight. You were much more calm than you were when you first stormed out. Right after the fight, you went straight to your car and sat in it for a while; allowing yourself to breathe and come to your sense before driving away. Then, you decided to go drive around the city until you pulled up to a 24-hour coffee shop.

The exhaustion from your extremely stressful day was finally taking over you; and since you planned to stay out for at least another hour or two, you were going to need something that would keep you from falling asleep—and what better than a caramel macchiato with three shots of espresso? To your delight, you were the only customer there; you didn’t want anyone witnessing your breakdown as you cried quietly to yourself while remembering Mark’s harsh words that he directed towards you.

Mark was the only good thing going for you in your life at the moment; all you wanted to do was collapse in his arms and have him comfort you—you wanted him to run his fingers through your hair while you were perched up on his lap, hiding your face in the juncture of his neck. Every single time you had a rough day, whether it was because of work, or something else going on in your life; but your boyfriend was really good at taking your mind off of any problems, worries or negative thoughts that you had.

Coming home, only to hear him complain about how you didn’t wash your cereal bowl made your blood boil. You were scolded by your manager for almost giving a patient the wrong medication and it was the mistake of your colleague in training—yet you didn’t have the heart to confess that it wasn’t your fault. You understood how intimidating it was for first and second year residents; you’ve been there before, so you were fine taking the blame for something that you didn’t do. However, hearing your manager insult you and claim that you were inadequate and had no idea what you were doing made you feel as if it were true.

The last thing anyone in the medical field wanted to hear was that they weren’t good at their job. You didn’t go through so many years of crying over how hard clinicals were on top of pulling all-nighters every single week there was a test or exam just for someone to make you feel like you had no clue on how to complete the tasks given to you. This was the first time you were scolded for something that you didn’t think was all that bad; the medication the patient was meant to take helped with soothing a sore throat. The one that the medical resident gave them had to do with decreasing heartburn—it wasn’t like it was a life or death situation.

Mark never did anything to upset you purposely; sure, he had a tendency to leave the toilet seat up every now and then and sometimes he would get crumbs all over the couch, but that was as bad as it would get. When he called you a bitch, it genuinely felt like a slap to the face. It physically hurt and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched in anger as he continued to say such hurtful things to you. At one point while you were drinking your coffee, it became bitter—which was odd considering how sweet it actually was and you found yourself no longer wanting to finish it.

Your argument with Mark was just taking up the entirety of your thought process that you were growing agitated with anything and everything. After reading his text messages and listening to a few of his voicemails, you didn’t know how to react. Mark Tuan was never the type to admit to his wrongdoings; he had so much pride and such a big ego—but not once did he ever use it towards you. You’ve watched the way he became ruthless while playing video games and said some things to his friends that you considered to be a joke; something he said to throw them off while being focused on winning.

Even at work, if he did something wrong, he’d never admit to his faults. That’s just who he was; so for him to say that he was wrong—that he didn’t mean a thing that he said and he shouldn’t have upset you at all gently pulled on your heartstrings and you found yourself throwing away the remainder of your beverage and making your way back to the apartment.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen once you were to walk in the door; he might have apologized, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was going to talk to you or apologize again in person. Your mind would not let you get any rest; it was currently in a battle with your heart—your stupid, stupid heart that belonged to the man that made you feel like you were wrong for having a bad day.

That—you had no right to lash out on him. You wished he would have heard you out first before attacking you for something so small and unnecessary; he could’ve washed the damn dishes himself if he was so bothered. But your heart wouldn’t stop telling you to forgive him. His job could get extremely frustrating sometimes. It might not have been as time consuming or energy draining as yours, but there were times where he would need you to hold him every now and then because his executives expected so much out of him.

He probably had just as much of a hard day as you did—maybe he came home pissed off from something that happened at work and noticing that there was dishes in the sink that he knew were there from this morning got on his nerves. You felt like he could have handled it better though and you couldn’t help but think like he was growing tired of having to be your backbone; having to comfort you almost every single day on top of his own problems. Your mind wouldn’t stop coming up with all these thoughts and lies you knew weren’t true and you were well aware that it was best to start heading back to your place knowing that you had to be up again in less than five hours.

Seeing him practically leap at the sight of you walking through the door sent so many emotions to your chest. You hated any time spent away from him—there were occasions where your schedules would collide and the only time you would see him was right before bed or if you were coming home from a graveyard shift while he was getting ready to leave for his job.

The dried tears on his cheek confused you; he was the one who caused all of the drama and he had no problem making you feel like you were overreacting and being too sensitive. You were upset with yourself for wanting to walk over towards him and wrap your arms around him—but it was only natural for you to want to do so.

For the entire duration of your shift, he was all you could think about; the thought of Mark was what kept you sane throughout the entire day. No matter how upset he made you, he was still the love of your life—your best friend, your favorite person, your soulmate. One fight wasn’t going to tarnish or falter your feelings for him in any way.

Arguments were considered healthy in a relationship; sure, you could have done without the harsh words being thrown back and forth to one another, but you realized in the coffee shop that you would rather bicker and disagree with Mark every now and then for the rest of your life, then to have a relationship filled with constant joy and laughter with someone else.

It was obvious that he was probably just as tired as you were, but the thought of him staying up worrying about where you were and waiting for you to arrive back home filled your stomach with butterflies. You made your way towards the dining table and took a seat; you waited for him to make the first move because you didn’t know where to start.

“Did you—uh—happen to get my texts?”

You decided to keep your gaze on the cup of coffee he placed in front of you; you didn’t even notice him heating some up for you. Your boyfriend was very observant of the way that you practically lived on coffee; on the days you had morning shifts, he would set an alarm to wake up before you and prepared all the things you needed so that you had less to worry about—coffee being your number one necessity. If you were to look up at him, you were well aware that you would probably cry just at the thought of how considerate he was even under a negative circumstance.

“Yes. I didn’t have a chance to read them though.”

That was a lie. You read every single one of his messages; each message pulling on your heartstrings the more you continued scrolling through them. Although you no longer held any anger towards Mark, you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. A part of you also wanted to hear him apologize in person rather through messages—but you felt in your gut that he would sooner or later. Honestly, you wanted to wait until you were to come home from work tomorrow afternoon so that you were well rested enough to have the right mindset if another argument broke out.

“Oh. Well, I—For starters, I want to apologize for the way I acted towards you. I don’t know what made me say the things I did—I meant it as a joke but you obviously didn’t think it was funny and I don’t know why I expected you to. I’m so fucking sorry y/n. I was an asshole and you didn’t deserve it at all. I know I said some really cruel things in the heat of the moment, but I hope you know I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not a bitch nor are you over-emotional and you don’t get on my nerves. At all. I just—hearing you say those things about me sparked something inside that I wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt me. It took every bone in my body not to run after you. I’ll admit, sure—it was because I wanted to give you your space, but I was also very prideful and still so irritated with the entire ordeal. I regret every single thing I said and did tonight as soon as I realized just how scary it is being out late at night by yourself. I’ve never hated myself more than I did in these last two hours worrying about where you could have gone and what you were doing. I couldn’t stop thinking about your broken expression as you grabbed your things and stormed out the door.”

His voice quickly grew shaky; you knew he was on the verge of crying again just by the tone of his voice. For some reason, you found yourself giving in to him and finally looked up. It felt like a slap to the face; seeing him with the most heart wrenching frown—not once in your relationship did you ever question Mark’s love for you and right now, hearing that he beat himself up for the last few hours while he was going crazy thinking of the many possibilities that something bad happened to you made you come to the realization that the beautiful man in front of you loved you more than you could ever fathom in to words.

“I know you’re tired from work—I don’t know why I didn’t just keep my mouth shut. If I could, I’d go back and prevent this entire night from happening. I was so fucking scared y/n. You don’t know California all that well; you could have taken a wrong turn and ended up on your way to Las Vegas—your car could have broken down in the middle of nowhere and someone could have came and—I don’t even want to think about it. I’m sorry for hurting you—I know you’re well aware that I would rather sit and suffer through listening to Yugyeom and BamBam screaming while playing MarioKart than to hurt you in any possible way. You don’t have to forgive me. Hell, scream at me; yell at me, hit me, do whatever you want to me. Just know that I’m extremely sorry, and I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get you to trust me again.”

He hesitantly stood up and didn’t even spare a glance at you before making his way back into the living room. You were upset that he didn’t give you any time to respond, but at the same time—you were extremely grateful. Right after he left you all alone at the table, you allowed the tears to flow freely from your eyelids as his apology continuously replayed in your mind. Whatever exhaustion you felt from earlier that disappeared right after you abruptly left the apartment was quickly returning—though, you didn’t know if you were physically tired or just mentally drained at this point.

You gave yourself a couple of minutes alone just to plan out what you were going to do. Going to sleep sounded like the most rational decision to make; especially because you were meant to wake up in less than four hours to work another long, grueling and tiresome ten-hour shift. But you didn’t want to go to bed on bad terms with Mark. If he was willing to give up his pride and raise the white flag first just to make sure you were well aware that he was extremely regretful and apologetic of his actions, then it was only righteous of you to forgive him. You got up from your seat and put away the cup of coffee before taking in a deep breath and making your way in to the living room.

The lights were off; but the lights from the hallway were still dimly lit enough for you to notice that Mark was lying down on the couch with a pillow and a blanket wrapped around him. This was the first time since you moved in together that you found him outside on the couch. A small smirk raised on your face—your boyfriend was always so courteous and considerate.

He began tossing and turning in order to find a sleeping position he would be comfortable in. Your couch was pretty spacious and the two of you have slept on it countless times while watching movies together, but you were sure he was probably bummed by your response or lack thereof. You walked over to the end of the couch and gently tapped his thigh with your knee to get his attention.

“What are you doing?”

Although there was barely enough light to even see his figure, you were able to see him shrug nonchalantly at your question—as if you already knew the answer.

“You’re still mad at me. I don’t want to make matters even worse. I’m giving you your space—“ You surprised both yourself and your boyfriend by flopping on top of him, earning yourself a soft whimper. Nonetheless, his hands made their way down towards your lower back without hesitance. His heart was racing against your chest; you had a feeling he wasn’t expecting for you to forgive him tonight let alone throw yourself in top of him. The two of you sat in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sound that could be heard was your breaths and his fingers tapping lightly on your skin. He placed a couple of gentle kisses on your jaw and gripped at your chin; lifting it up to make eye contact with you.

“I lied. I did read the messages and I cried like a baby—you ass. Okay, I’m gonna start off by admitting that there were some things I also said that were out of line and that I did not mean. You are not a bad boyfriend at all Mark—you are the best boyfriend—hell, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. A lot of what I said was because I was so pissed off at you. I had such a terrible day at work. I was scolded by my manager twice for things I didn’t do, I had to work two extra hours to help out because three people called in sick, I was thrown up on and my break was cut short because we were so low staffed today and everyone in California all seemed to have kidney malfunctions on the same damn day. All I wanted to do was fall apart in your arms and have you comfort me like you always do—but then I come home and you make a comment about how lazy I am and I just—I cracked. Normally you’re always so good at picking up on the fact that I’ve had shit days; so, for you to make me feel even worse when all I wanted to do was find solace in you—it made me so fucking sad. And then I went out and drove for a while but I came to the realization that it wasn’t a good idea for me to roam around in a city I’m not familiar with while I was fuming so I went to a coffee shop and just thought about everything.”

Feeling his grip on your hips tighten only made it evident that your words had an effect on him. Sure, you were telling your side of the story and you had every right to—Mark deserved to hear what an asshole he was towards you—the last person in his life that he ever wanted to hurt. But he could just picture you sitting in your car; sobbing and blaming yourself like you’ve done multiple times in the past even if it wasn’t your fault. You were the kind of person who had a tendency to think you were the reason why things went wrong.

Usually, it was in situations at work; but he couldn’t help but feel as if you were beating yourself up about the argument that could have honestly been prevented if he observed your posture and body language and just kept his mouth shut. You wiped away a tear that fell from his cheek before placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I wanted to continue giving you your space, but I had so many negative thoughts running through my mind. I was so, so worried about you. Baby I am so fucking sorry—“ you playfully pinched his cheek before covering his mouth with your hand.

“No more apologies okay? Our argument is in the past. I just want you to know what happened and why I decided to return back so soon. If I’m being honest with you, I was planning on staying out until I had to head in to work again but sleeping in my car is not the most easiest thing to do. You hurt me Mark—I know it wasn’t purposely but for a few minutes, I actually contemplated on staying at a hotel or something. I didn’t want to see you for the rest of the night and I hated that I felt like that—even if it was for a split second. I always want you Mark. Every second—every minute—every hour spent away from you is spent thinking about you. What you’re doing, if you ate your meals on time, how you’re doing, if you miss me the way I can’t stop missing you, when I’ll get to see you next—then I got your message and they just solidified the love you have for me. Not that I ever questioned it once in our three years of dating. I’m sorry about the dishes—I’m sorry if I haven’t been myself these last few days but please Mark—I’m not acting this way on purpose. I’m so tired. You’re the only reason why I don’t end up in a mental institution at the rate I’m going. I’ll try to be better okay? I love you too by the way—so much.”

The longer you spoke, the more tears fell from his eyes knowing how you must’ve felt so unhappy while overthinking the argument and just your entire day in general and he just felt so angry with himself. It was one thing for him to think about how much the argument must have bothered you, but it was another thing to hear you confess what had happened at work before coming home to a nagging and complaining boyfriend.

He felt sick to his stomach and it was even more upsetting because he didn’t have the right words to explain just how sorry he was nor did he know what to do to make it known that he was regretful of the entire situation. Your boyfriend didn’t give you any time to prepare; he cupped your face in his hands and roughly connected your lips together. His lips were chapped and dry and tasted like salt from the tears. However, his movements were dominant and quick; his desire and need to kiss you was all that was on his mind at the moment.

He wanted you to feel how much he loved you and how remorseful he was through the kiss. His tongue pushed down all but gently against your bottom lip before bringing it in between his teeth. The kiss continued to deepen the longer your tongues battled for dominance; any anger you held for your boyfriend was completely gone at this point. As much as you loved the way his lips melded perfectly against yours, you were finally feeling the wave of exhaustion re-enter your body and to Mark’s disappointment, you pulled away and placed your forehead against his.

“Babeeeee—“

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

You got up from off of him and reached your hand out in order to help him up. Mark was the definition of a clingy boyfriend—everyone who knew the two of you both witnessed and heard just how possessive he was over you and how he constantly had to be touching on you. But nobody ever complained—it was so adorable. He wrapped his arms around your stomach and placed his head on your shoulder while letting you guid the two of you towards your shared bedroom. You attempted to escape his hold in order to move around freely, but he had other plans and continued to cling to you like a sloth.

“Babe, I have to get ready for bed—“

“You can get ready while I hold you.”

“I can’t take off my scrubs with your arms around me.”

“I guess that means I have to take them off for you—it would be my pleasure baby.” You rolled your eyes and gently shoved him while grabbing one of his shirts and making your way towards the bathroom.

“Baby?” You hummed in curiosity and gingerly smiled at him.

“It’s already 3 in the morning. Maybe you should call in sick. I don’t like the thought of you going to work with barely any amount of sleep and I know we’ve moved on from our argument—but it’s only human for you to think about it again. I don’t want you getting yelled at again if your manager senses that you’re tired. Plus, you’ve been working so much this last month. I know you love your job, but it’s okay to take a well deserved rest once in a while—“

He had a point. Besides Mark, work was your ultimate priority. Sometimes, you put the hospital before your own health and private life. There were occasions where Mark would invite you out with him and his friends, but a lot of the time, you would either be at work or sometimes be called in as you started getting ready. Working so much led to over exhaustion every now and then but no matter how sick you felt—whether it was a cold, the flu or nausea, you would still find yourself tending to patients. It was something Mark wasn’t all too fond of; especially because your boyfriend seemed to be the only one genuinely concerned about your well-being.

As soon as you finished your nighttime routine, you wasted no time making your way towards where Mark was sitting on the bed and crawled on top of him. He gave you a tired yet toothy grin and pulled you close to his chest. His hands returned to your lower waist and he even playfully pinched your butt; earning himself a slap to the shoulder. You brought one of your hands in to his hair while cupping his cheek lovingly with the other.

“I know you don’t want me apologizing anymore, but I just want to say sorry one last time. I can’t promise we won’t argue again—we’re both stubborn as hell—but I promise to be more patient; more understanding. And I don’t want you leaving—you really did worry me baby. I love you so much y/n. I’m sorry if what I said earlier made you question my love for you—but I love you. I’ve loved you for the last three years and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.” You placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth before smashing your cheek against his chest.

“I love you too. A lot more than I get around to telling you. Fine. If I stay home tomorrow, you owe me.” He gently pulled away from you and began wiggling his brows.

“Oh, and what do you have in mind? You know babe, we don’t need to wait till tomorrow, I can give you what you deserve right now. I’ll take such good care of you—“

“I don’t mean sex you horny ass, I meant you make me breakfast in bed or prepare a bath for me. If I’m calling in sick, I want a relaxing day off.” He gave you an adorable pout while playfully hiding his face in between your breasts and whining softly.

“Making love can be relaxing. Come on Y/n, it’s been almost a week since I had your pretty lips around my cock. I’m sex deprived. As much as I prefer you topping me and riding my cock like the professional cowgirl you are, I’ll take the lead. I’ll eat your pussy out until you cry—fuck you till you scream. Might as well you call out for the entire week. I think you and I both know angry makeup sex is the best sex. Don’t lie y/n, you miss having me inside of you just as much as I miss feeling your tight walls wrapped around me—“

“I think I made a mistake telling you to come in here. Go back to the couch.”

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

101 notes · View notes

downwiththeficness · 3 years ago

Text

In the Bond-Chapter 21

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~4,100

Warnings: Gore, violence, knife play, blood play, blood drinking, smut

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

Start from the beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Read on AO3 Masterlist

To be fair, Lilah had definitely not been expecting the explosion. Sitting at the bar, nursing a bourbon with a single cube of ice, she had been scrolling through her phone while she waited for Brasa to be done with his meeting. The meetings were endless—finance, marketing, general council, outreach—they all meshed together, one right after the other, until she stopped keeping track.

When the elevator door opened and the bomb went off, Lilah had experienced something more than surprise—shock, possibly. Her ears were ringing, the left side of her body bleeding, shrapnel embedded in her arm and leg. She couldn’t speak, could barely see over the dust and smoke.

It took four attempts before Lilah could stand, her limbs refusing to obey the commands of her brain. She leaned heavily against the bar and looked around. The booths nearest to the elevator were destroyed, along with a few of the tables. The bar top was shattered at the far end, glass from liquor bottles dusting the broken wood. The bar tender’s torso was torn in half, the top end blown into the shelves behind the bar.

The more she looked, the more Lilah was overcome with the sight of scattered bodies, staff and visitors, alike. She wobbled on her feet, pain working its way past the adrenaline, throbbing all over. It pulsed behind her eyes, threatening to blind her.

Struggling, Lilah tried to gain her bearings. It took considerable effort to make the first step towards the back door. The second step was exponentially worse. Her fingers left the bar, and all she could do was fall to her hands and knees, bile rising in the back of her throat.

Dry heaving, Lilah couldn’t keep her eyes open. The earth spun around and below so that not even the solid foundation of the floor could ground her. A soft sob reached her ears, and she realized that it was her. She was crying, hot tears dripping down her cheeks.

“Lilah.”

She reached for him blindly with her good arm, her fingers meeting leather and heat. He was saying something, but she heard him as if through deep water. It was here that whatever strength she had gave out. Her body crumbled, rolling limply to lay on her side. Through blurred tears, she saw his face hover above her, felt him cup her jaw.

Offering no resistance, Lilah let him gingerly open her mouth. A moment later, she tasted his blood. Sweet and warm, Lilah swallowed it down, the stream so fast that she nearly choked on it. He must have cut deep. Desperate to live and for the pain to stop, she took whatever he was willing to give.

It was a long time—or, it felt like a long time, Lilah had no real sense of the minutes passing—before she could open her eyes without pain. The room was dark. She could hear the faint ripple of water. The floor below her was cool stone.

He’d moved her into his public office.

Lilah didn’t dare try to sit up. Her left side still burned with pain, her stomach rolling with nausea. Her ears, however, were perfectly able to hear the conversation happening not far away.

“I want his people dead, Javier. I want him found and brought to me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“No mistakes.”

“Of course.”

“Go. Now.”

“Immediately, my lord.”

Footsteps walked past her, beautifully tailored slacks swimming past her field of vision. Lilah remained where she was, though she followed him until he turned towards the door. She felt Brasa move closer, saw him kneel down and sit beside her.

“How are you feeling?”

She took her time with speaking, “I hurt. I feel...tired.”

That was accurate. Though his blood was helping with the pain, her left side still throbbed, her head aching. She was exhausted in a way that told her she might not wake up if she slept.

Brasa hummed, acknowledging the statement, “If you’re feeling well enough, I will take you home.”

Lilah probably wasn’t quite up to the trip, but the possibility of sinking into their bed was too tantalizing to put off. She nodded, helping him to gather her into his body. He lifted her into a firm cradle, walking through to the back hallway. They took several turns, until she’d lost the ability to navigate, finally climbing up a set of steps.

It was near dark when he carried her out, and she recognized the far end of the garage. Brasa moved through and across to where they’d parked a few hours earlier. He eased her to stand so that he could open the door. The movement jarred her side, a grunt working its way out of her unwilling throat. She drew a breath and steadied herself.

Lilah looked over to the primary elevator, smoke seeping through the doors. She wondered how fast they could get the repairs in place, how many patrons had died, which staff she would never see again. The consequences of the attack were clear. Brasa would personally see to Benny’s end. It would be both vengeful and violent. She didn’t have the energy to sympathize with Benny, not when her legs shook beneath her weight.

Brasa hoisted her into the car, closing the door and moving around the back to the driver’s side. The engine turning over, the air kicking on, the familiar way the wheels rolled beneath the carriage. It was both normal and surreal.

Lilah was glad for the sunset, glad that the light was beginning to fade. Her head was still hurting, though it had dulled down. The low light let her keep her eyes open, let her focus on the landscape as it passed.

Not long after they left, Brasa’s phone rang. Lilah listened to him speak, worry building in her chest. Something had happened, possibly others were killed. He relayed the incident at the bar, relayed that Lilah was alive, though hurt. He relayed that he would see to her and then meet the other party later. Then, he hung up.

“What happened?”

Brasa’s hands gripped the wheel tightly, “Benny hit Jackknife’s as well.”

Somehow, she was both surprised and not surprised at the same time. It made perfect sense to hit both places at the same time, take out as many of their people as possible. He might have hoped, in the act, to have knocked down some of the major players. He almost succeeded with her.

Lilah gasped, “Was anyone hurt?”

“Richie was burned across his back, but the others are safe.”

Relieved, she asked, “Same technique?”

Brasa nodded, “In a liquor shipment.”

“Fuck,” Lilah breathed. “Fuck.”

He’d told her. Brasa had told her that Benny was going to resort to violence, that he would start making more aggressive moves. She was stunned at her own naivete. All along, she’d thought she knew how to plan, how to maneuver so that everyone got what they wanted. All along, she thought she knew what she was doing. Lilah had to finally admit to herself that she didn’t know shit.

“That is my feeling, as well,” Brasa murmured, taking the turn off the main highway.

“What are we going to do?”

He cast her a stern look, “You are going to rest. Javier is tracking him down. I will handle this.”

Lilah’s mouth thinned, “We can’t wait anymore. We have to close it. We have to stop this.”

“I know,” he said, one hand landing on her knee, “I will.”

Her chest tightened, her eyes watering again, emotions that she couldn’t describe pulling at her for her full attention. Lilah worked to calm her breath, one hand covering her eyes.

The car pulled to a stop, Brasa’s hands falling onto her shoulders, “Lilah, look at me.”

She shook her head, the tears coming faster. Emotions bubbled up, unchecked. She didn’t have any hope of keeping them inside.

“Please look at me.”

Reluctantly, Lilah lifted her gaze to him. His dark brows were drawn together, his mouth turned down in a frown.

“You’re alive, and I will ensure you are safe,” he told her in a soft, reassuring voice, “Your friends are safe. I will end this. I promise you.”

Blinking, tears touched her lashes, rolling down her cheeks and jaw, dropping to the hands folded in her lap. Brasa brushed them away, kissing her on the forehead.

He held her for a moment more, then leaned back to look her in the eyes, “It’ll be over soon.”

“I know,” she croaked.

Taking another second to check that she was, indeed, at a place where they could continue, Brasa released her and put the car back in drive.

When they reached the entrance, Brasa helped her out of the car, then picked her back up to carry her to the elevator. He held her all the way down and through the hall to their door. Gently, he eased her to standing, opened the door, then picked her back up, taking her directly to their bed.

With the greatest of care, he laid her down, taking off her shoes, socks, shirt, and jeans. Her clothes were shot through with her own blood, the fabric sticking. Every little hiss, every jerking moment, was noted. He watched her face for signs of further injury, hands barely grazing her skin as he revealed cut after cut, most of them on their way to healing.

Brasa continued removing clothing until she lay before him naked. He then went to the bathroom, returning with a bowl of water held between both hands, a towel over his arm. He cleaned her wounds, washing dirt and blood from her skin. Afterwards, he dressed her in an oversized shirt from her pajama drawer.

He let her rest against the pillows, hands pulling at the tails of his button up. He pulled free his cuffs, then worked down the long line at the center, tossing the shirt into the laundry. Turning from her, he worked at his belt, throwing it on a nearby chair, his slacks going the same way. Stepping into a soft pair of sleep pants, Brasa joined her on the bed, laying near enough that she could feel his body heat, but not touching her.

She turned her head to look at him, the hand by her face stretching out to touch two fingers to the skin just beneath his chin, “Thank you.”

The calm of his expression cracked open, his eyes flashing with something on the edges of grief, “I almost lost you, and you’re thanking me.” He sniffed, taking her hand, “I found you on the floor, bleeding. I felt your fear.”

She turned to her side, bringing his hand to her lips, kissing it, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, “This wasn’t you.”

“I know.”

She tamped back the urge to apologize again. His pain was playing out in front of her, emanating through the bond in a ragged, crawling ache. She could feel how much he cared for her, how scared he was to see her hurting amongst the chaos of the explosion.

“I’m okay,” she said, eventually. “I feel better already.”

That was the truth. Her injuries were healing, the pain still present but no longer so piercing that she couldn’t think. He’d done what was necessary to not only ensure her safety, but her comfort—a fact that had not escaped her notice.

Brasa nodded curtly, rising up a bit to kiss her. Another, slower kiss followed, touched with sweetness and relief. She took the kisses as eagerly as she ever had, glad both for his support and for the fact that she was still alive.

He pulled away, looking her over, “I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay.”

He sat up, turning to pull open the nightstand. When he faced her again, he was holding his preferred knife. Lilah looked from the blade to Brasa and back, confused.

“I know I said that I would do this slowly, but I am...desperate to see that you are strong enough to withstand whatever happens while I close the portal.”

Fortified. The word rang in her head, bouncing off memories that were tainted in amber and smoke.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” she confirmed confidently.

Letting loose a held breath, Brasa set the blade aside and wiggled his hands beneath her, pulling her to sitting, and then astride his thighs, one arm circling her waist to help her balance. He’d held her like this over and over throughout their relationship, pulled securely into the comfort of his arms. Lilah felt more tears try to escape as she thought about how she might not have been able to do this again, how close she actually came to real death.

She had to shake herself free of the feeling, wanting to be strong for him. Bracing her hands on his biceps, Lilah relaxed her hips, all her weight resting on him. When he handed her the knife, she took it, looking to him for direction.

“You need to be able to do this, when I cannot,” he explained. “Cut deeply.”

Mouth open, Lilah regarded him with both shock and hot embarrassment. All the incidents where she’d needed to open a cut rushed by her, followed by the feeling of failure. She squeezed the knife, any further action aborted.

With practiced, easy movements, Brasa opened the blade, curling her fingers over the handle so that they fell into the grooves. Then, slowly, he set the sharp edge against the smooth skin of his chest.

“You can’t hurt me,” he murmured, his forehead touching her hairline, a physical support.

Lilah held still, her heart beating loudly in her ears, teeth tearing at the inside of her cheek. It took more willpower than she would ever care to admit to press the knife into him. She kept going until she felt the skin split apart. From either side of the blade, little beads of blood welled up. She looked up at him for signs of pain, finding none.

“Take,” he rasped, a hand at the back of her neck guiding her down.

Lifting the knife, Lilah followed the guidance of his hand, tongue sliding up the length of the cut, drawing the line of red into her mouth. She did it again, pulling back to swallow. Her fingers traced the mark as she watch it heal in real time.

“I heal quickly,” he drawled, as if it weren’t immediately obvious, “I need you to go deeper than that.”

Flushed and nervous, Lilah put the knife back to the same spot, allowing herself to push harder, past the point of the skin breaking, into the meat. He bled freely, if slowly. Lilah gathered it up, her mouth settling over the cut and sucking gingerly.

Brasa shivered under her mouth and hands, his chest expanding with an indrawn breath. She looked up at him, checking for signs of discomfort. He only nodded at her, taking her wrist and bringing the blade back to his skin.

The mark she’d made was no longer bleeding, though the area was raised and angry looking. She switched sides, cutting a longer line. This time, she’d gone deep enough that blood flowed heavily from the wound, dripping down over his stomach. Panicking, she pressed a hand over the cut, dropping the knife onto her thigh as she tried to gather the river of red onto the fingers of her other hand.

“Sorry, sorry,” she whispered, her voice reed thin.

Brasa laughed as he helped her clean the sticky mess across his chest and stomach. He drew her wet fingers into his mouth, tongue lapping at her palm and over her wrist. She swallowed, pushing back the first bloom of arousal in her belly. Her attempt was effectively thwarted when he tapped her lips with the pads of his first two fingers, sliding them into her mouth and over her tongue.

Lilah drew them deeper, sucking on them as she held his eyes, the warm brown already flooded through the whites with black. Behind the open seam of his lips, she could see the points of his fangs. With deliberate slowness, Brasa pulled the hand still on his chest away, giving it the same attention as he had the counterpart.

Skin tingling, Lilah watched him lick her clean, becoming more and more aware of the heat that seeped into her body where they touched, of how he burned against her.

Pushing the knife back into her hand, Brasa directed, “Again.”

The next cut marked a line from his massive shoulder down and over his collarbone. She tongued it, listening to him check a groan in the back of his throat. Beneath the thin fabric of his pants, she could see the outline of his erection, half hard.

Tempted as she was to touch him, the pleasure of watching him react to every cut, the feeling of her mouth on him, was more attractive. His hands massaged her sides, flexing over her body as if he were just barely overcoming the urge to pull her close. If she sucked hard on him, he’d emit a high, choked, moan, his eyes closing as he fought for control. Behind and underneath her, his legs shifted restlessly, sliding against the sheets.

The more she drank from him, the hotter he got, his breath coming in gasps and shudders. Lilah felt herself wondering how far he would let her go, how much he would let her take. The wounds on her body no longer ached in quite the same way, her fatigue fading similarly. Lilah could feel every drop of his blood working its way through her veins, overcoming injuries her human body couldn’t hope to repair so quickly.

She’d lost count of how many cuts she’d licked from him, most of the marks already healed. Brasa had started leaning into the blade, forcing her to push deeper. Blood had dried in some spots, in the creases of her hands and on the metal of the knife. Lilah looked him over, noting the glassiness of his eyes, the relaxed muscle in his frame.

He kissed her, tongue rolling along hers, his nose pressed into her cheek. Lilah held onto him, the rising tide of her arousal working its way past her defenses.

Pulling away, their foreheads touching, Brasa breathed hard. They remained like that, the air sizzling around them, until Lilah brought the knife up to lay against his neck, the point indenting but not puncturing the skin.

“Go on,” he urged, his eyes watching her intensely.

She pushed it in. Lilah had cut him deeper in other places, had opened him wider not minutes before. But, as she pulled the knife free and fixed her mouth over the wound, Brasa’s head fell back, a feral sound rumbling in his chest. She anchored herself with a hand behind his head, fingers tangled in his hair. Mouthful after mouthful passed her lips. She drank until she had to pull back for air.

He’d wrapped both arms around her waist, pulled her so that their chests were pressed together, her hips resting intimately in the cradle between his thighs. She couldn’t help but to rock against him in small circles, the friction of his pants against her folds tantalizing and delicious.

“Can you…?” He asked, body shaking as he held himself as still as possible.

It didn’t really matter to her whether or not she physically could, Lilah needed to be closer to him. She needed to have him inside her, feel the safety of being in his arms.

“Yes, yes,” she said airily, “Please.”

His weight shifted, and she knew he was going to put her on her back. Lilah stopped him, both hands on his chest, pushing him down. He went, his dark head landing on the pillow. She kissed him as she worked his pants down, freeing his erection. With one hand, she held him steady, balancing on his chest with the other. And then she was sinking down on him in one slow, unrelenting thrust that drew him in to the base.

Brasa pulled his lips between his teeth, strain at the corners of his eyes. The hands on her thighs squeezed, an entreaty to end the agony of delayed pleasure. She rose up, letting her body fall back down a few times, until she built up a rhythm. Her hips worked, his cock dragging against her walls as she tried to find the right angle.

Her slick dripped down between them, the sound obscene in the all too quiet room. Despite the fact that his blood was coursing through her, she felt her muscles begin to burn with the movements. Frustrated, Lilah rested her body against his chest with a defeated whine.

Arms coming up to hold her to him, Brasa kissed her, saying against her mouth, “Let me help you.”

Below her, his core flexed, broad ropes of muscle working to ease his cock in and out of her. He tilted her head to the side and bit into her neck. Lilah winced, her whole body tensing at the intrusion. He drank slowly, his teeth holding their place inside the bite.

The first tingle of venom ran along her arm to her fingers. Then, it moved down into her chest, before it burst outwards, exploding all over her body. He kept feeding it to her, kept pushing more and more of it into her veins. Lilah’s eyes rolled back as her arousal, already at a boil, overflowed the containment of her body.

She ground down on him, the movement catching her clit and scraping against the flushed lips of her folds. The firm bracket of his arms kept her from moving to freely, kept her focused on the way he intermittently hit her g spot.

“There,” he praised, licking at his bite languidly, “So good. So fucking good.”

Panting, Lilah buried her face into his neck, digging her nails into his shoulders. Little moaning gasps left her with each thrust, every time he filled her bringing new higher sensations. It rolled upwards, unstoppable, until she keened against him.

With a gratified rumble, Brasa palmed her ass, holding her in place as he fucked her harder, seeking his own release. He came on the tail end of her orgasm, meeting the slowing spasms of her body with a hard, circling grind.

Lilah might have passed out, she didn’t quite know. But, when she was able to focus again, she was laying atop Brasa, sweat cooling on her body, a little sore, and smiling.

“I need a shower,” she murmured, salt and dried blood dotting her skin.

“In a moment,” he replied, pushing her hair back from her face, “Let me get the feeling back in my legs.”

Lilah laughed, easing off him and to her side, “We’re gonna have to change the sheets.”

“Tomorrow.”

She had to agree with that. Anything more the absolutely necessary could wait.

From the floor, Brasa’s phone rang. He sighed heavily and rose, answering. Lilah watched his expression turn stormy, watched his eyes grow red in anger. He said a few words in Xibalban and hung up.

“What happened?”

He glanced at her, “They’ve lost track of him. I’ll have to hunt him down myself.”

The way he said it. The way he was already pulling out clean clothes told Lilah all she needed to know about his intent.

Lilah sat up slowly, “Be careful.”

There was no use in attempting to set him off track, not with the way his shoulders and jaw had set.

“I will.”

Brasa dressed, his hands and body covered in leather he hadn’t worn in days. She kissed him goodbye, her gaze following him through the bedroom door. When the front door clicked shut, she sagged against the pillows, drowsy. Petulantly, she pushed to standing and showered. Pulling on one of Brasa’s shirts and a pair of underwear, she crawled back into the bed and let herself doze.

The smell of smoke awoke her. It billowed down the hall from the direction of the living room. Lilah rushed from the bed, choking as she found the end of the hall completely engulfed in flames. Without thought, Lilah turned and hauled ass to the door leading to the caves, thankful that he’d left it unlocked following their little game of hide and seek.

With quick feet that slammed against uneven stone, Lilah moved, trying to retrace the path to the hole in the ceiling. It took four dead ends and the sudden fear that she’d gotten irreparably lost before she saw it.

Lilah crawled up the ramp, dragging herself through the opening and out into the dark of the desert. On her knees, she caught her breath, one hand on her chest.

“Well, this isn’t how I thought smoking you out of hiding would go, but I’ll take it.”

Lilah looked up, startled.

Benny.

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #Brasa #In the Bond

7 notes · View notes

joshslater · 4 years ago

Text

Durag

A little rewrite of The Durag by bodilychanges.

“Ella! Where the fuck is today’s mail?” David shouted before even having sat down at the breakfast table. He was firm in his view that vigilant scrutiny and immediate punishment was the source of his wealth, allowing him to have a maid in the first place. David had many other firm views. “Homosexuals are all gay” he often joked, but he was an equal target offender. Homosexuals, Muslims, people of color. Although he would call them “the blacks” and the gays “people of color”. It often got a laugh at the club or at parties. In truth it didn’t really matter how poorly made his jokes were, people would laugh anyway. That’s the thing with money.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Cohen, but this just arrived.” Ella came rushing as quickly as she could, without running, from the front part of the mansion with a few small letter envelops and a larger DHL plastic envelope.

“What is it?” “It must be from one of your secret admirers, sir.” Ella suggested. “Good save.”

David snatched the bunch of envelopes from her hand, and she left almost as quickly as she entered, knowing David hated seeing any service personnel around. It had to be a secret admirer as no one would ever admit to like you, she mused on her way out.

David downed his ginger-lemon-honey booster shot and looked at the DHL envelope. It was more of a plastic pouch than a real envelope, big as a pocketbook and with something soft inside. There was no corporate sender on the address sticker, but just said DHL dropoff service point and “Tristan″ as sender. Sounded to him like some of the new ad companies with their hip names. Perhaps it was some T-shirt or something someone wanted him to have. He started to pull the plastic, which only stretched from his efforts. “Fuck!” he exclaimed and reached for a fruit knife from the bowl of exotic fruits, cut open the envelope and reached inside.

The shock was far worse than a normal static electricity shock. He dropped the knife on the floor and involuntary sent the envelope with its content across the room. All of his right arm hurt, and he could feel tingles as if the arm had fallen asleep and was waking up. “Motherfucking what the hell!” he shouted, and stood up. He walked a few steps to the envelope on the marble floor, grabbed one corner of it, and shook out its contents. Something black and glossy landed on the floor. The arm didn’t hurt as much, but the tingling sensation was spreading and he started to feel hot.

Carefully he gave the piece of cloth a quick pat with his hand. Nothing. He grabbed it and twisted it around in his hands, working out what it was. It took him a while to recognize it as a durag, though he had never heard that name. He was boiling with rage. Who the fuck would send black paraphernalia as some kind of sick joke, he thought. Was the electrocution also intentional?

He didn’t want to drop it back on the floor for Ella to pick up, or throw it in the trash himself. He wanted to incinerate the shit out of it, right now. The outdoor grill, or fire pit, or the ballroom fireplace, or the kitchen burner, all good options. He decided for the gas burner in his study, where he got rid of documents and USB sticks he didn’t just want to shred.

Somewhere in the stairs though he did something that he wouldn’t be able to explain. It was like an involuntary reflex, or a compulsion. Almost without knowing it himself he put the cloth on his head over his grey hair, put one of the smaller bands in his mouth, and pulled the other one flat around the front of his head. Then he took the first one out of his mouth, pulled it the other way around, and quickly tied them both behind his back. Finally he pulled everything tight, twisted the neckcloth, and tied it into a knot in the back.

As he entered the study he was almost surprised his hands were empty. He was breathing heavy, sweating profusely, and feeling like he had gotten a fever. He stepped over to the art deco mirror from 1922 he bought at an auction. He looked different, tanned like he had been out sailing all of last week, but somehow different in other ways. For a brief moment the thought “Why is there a fucking rag on my head?” caught his attention, until just a moment later he was more concerned about what was happening with his body.

He lifted the front of his black tank top and stared aghast. He had tried to take care of his body, it’s simply a matter of discipline after all, but there is only so much you can do to prevent skin from aging. But the skin, his skin, looked nothing like it did mere minutes ago. Glistening from sweat, the now hairless, young skin was slowly turning darker and darker, as if someone was pouring coffee into milk. He didn’t care if it so made him immortal. If it made him look this filthy it wasn’t a trade he wanted. Without noticing he lifted the front of the tank top over his head and placed it behind his neck.

His lean body was visibly gaining weight. His pecs grew and he could see abdominal muscles filling out his midriff. His arms and legs were also stacking up pounds. The tingling sensation in his arms didn’t diminish at all, and he did a few muscle flexes, which made the veins pop and sent a wave of relief through his body, along with a massive dose of testosterone. The low key itching that had been growing in his groin and armpits crescendoed into feeling like a rash, as wet hair visibly grew out under his arms.

All his senses were bombarded with an onslaught he couldn’t cope with. There was too much information to sort through. He scratched his armpit and looked at disbelief at his wet fingers as the testosterone boosted armpit stench reached his nose. He was confused, revolted, scared, and just wanted all of this to stop, whatever was going on. Something inside of him cracked and he moved his hand up to his nose and took a deep whiff of his armpit sweat. It was like his brain decided to like what was happening as a coping mechanism. Right there and then David believed the scent from his pits to be the most arousing thing he had ever experienced in his 54 years on earth. He took another deep breath and felt his dick stir.

He unbuttoned his Eddie Bauer shorts and started to climb out of them. It was a struggle to get out of both them and his briefs, and looking at his lower body it wasn’t a surprise why they were getting tight. His legs and feet had undergone the same transformation as the rest of him and were slowly settling in its new shapes and sizes. His ass was a pair of round basketballs of a bubble butt. Massive athletic thighs led down to hard calves, which ended in a set of size 16 feet.

His dick and balls were however of the same size as before, but now the same dark color as the rest of him. He let his left hand fingers run through the wet pubic hairs. He started to masturbate with his right hand while inhaling deeply from his sweaty fingers. It was good, but not as good as the armpits. He coated the back of his left hand in the sweaty right armpit. How he wished he could stick his nose in there, or lick it. He moved his gaze up in the mirror and saw a young, muscled man who looked anything but David. Alluring dick sucking lips, the strong bone structure of African descent, strong, muscled, sweaty. He could not think of anything he wanted more than to be fucked hard by the man in the mirror.

He let a moan slip from his lips. It was the deep rumble of an African American bull in heat. The sound he made made himself even hornier. What if the hot man in the mirror was a sex-addicted jock who wanted nothing but fucking him as deep and as hard and as long as he could as often as he could. But he wanted him to have a monster of a cock. To his delight he could see that every stroke made the cock in the mirror a little bit longer and a little bit thicker, but it also became more and more difficult to resist to climax. He wanted both to enjoy it more and enjoy it for longer. He shut his eyes and tried to think of something else, but all he could think of was dark, sweaty skin from different parts of the body.

The first thing he felt was a sharp tug on his nutsack as his balls suddenly exploded in size and mass. It didn’t hurt, but it surprised him, and made him unprepared for wave after wave of pleasure as he shot load after load of cum on the mirror, screaming in ecstasy as he did so. Exhausted but euphoric he just stood there with his eyes shut, trying to not think of anything but just savor the moment when a shriek knocked him out of his trance.

In the mirror he saw Ella by the door, her face completely drained of color. She was in by the desk, pressed the panic button, and out again before Darius had time to react. It felt like syrup to think. What was the response time for the police again? He couldn’t remember. He should go, but where? Away. He should bring something. He looked at the too small shorts below him he was dripping cum on. He had cash in the safe. No, you can’t open it when the panic alarm is active. What was the response time for the police again? He couldn’t remember. Was his name even Darius?

“FUCK!” he shouted and almost in panic ran down the stairs, out the patio, passed the pool, rounded the pool house, went past the BBQ area, around the smaller pond, rounded the hedge, came around the tool shed, down the access road, and ran to the garden entrance.

“Perhaps he split the front.” Malcolm thought out load. “Relax man. He’s still David inside. He just can’t get enough black cock, that’s all. He knows he can’t come runnin out the white folk side.” Tristan was sitting in the driver’s seat in the City Gardening truck they’d lent as a favor. They hadn’t seen any security driving up the access road, but they came prepared with excuses. “Perhaps cops shot him” “You just jumpy, man. We talked all this before. Police wont shoot nobody out here. Goes on public records and fucks with the value of the hood. Besides, we’d hear if... There!”

Stumbling out through the gate was an athletic man wearing nothing but a durag and a tank top pulled over his head. His eyes were wild and he was staring at the car like a deer in oncoming traffic and his mind was a jumble of contradictions. Why the fuck did those black fuckers park here, he thought. The police will have to deal with them. I want to suck them off, both of them. I want one to fuck me while I blow the other, and then have them swap places. No, why the fuck would I even touch them. The police is on their way. I wonder what they smell like. It looks hot in that truck.

“Remember, we need to get it on him before he clears up.” Tristan told Malcolm. “On it.” he lowered the window, waved and shouted. “Hey borther! Hurry! Come here before anyone sees you. There are clothes in the back!”

Darius was shaken into action and quickly ran and entered the truck.

5 months later.

Darius looked at the purple stud. It would look so good on him. Perhaps he could ask Tristan to buy it for him, since he didn’t have any money himself. Every time he raised the question with Malcolm and Tristan they just brushed it off, saying it was too early. He needed to take care of himself and focus on remembering anything from before his memory loss. Besides, if he worked he wouldn’t have time to have sex around the clock. They did have a point there. There probably wasn’t a black dick above 5″ in town that he hadn’t had inside of him. All of the squad, and Malcolm in particular were regulars, but Tristan had a way to get almost anyone, straight or gay, to fuck him. He once asked Tristan what he tells people to have sex with him, but he just smiled and said it was a secret.

Jammal was one of them. He wasn’t gay, but something Tristan told him made him make an exception for Darius. Jammal worked in the docks, and every time they fucked he made sure to show up sweaty. Darius loved nothing more than to inhale deeply from Jammal’s armpits, lick them, suck his dick, and finally have him ride his ass for as long as possible. He would like to get the purple stud and wear it next time they met. It was just a piece of glass on a needle, but he would love to wear it for Jammal.

“Hi. Can I help you?” the girl in the store asked. “Yo. I want to... I can’t...” “You want to try it on? It’s no problem. I have disinfectant.”

With a bit of hesitation Darius started to unscrew his stud from its plate. He’d had it in place for as long as he could remember. Just as the needle left the hole of the pierced ear lobe his mind was assaulted.

Everything from before the car ride came rushing in. How he put on the underwear and sweat pants. How he had been sniffing the clothes and Tristan complained that they should have used clean ones. How he had been running from the mansion. How he had transformed from racist, bigoted, multi-millionaire into the hot, dark meat he was now. The old memories mixed with the new ones, how he had lived together with Tristan and Malcolm in their trashy place. How he had spent every hour over the past months sucking, fucking, and working out with anyone willing. He was filled with nauseating disgust for them, what he’d done with them, who he was. At the same time he could feel his large dick getting hard, and it wasn’t despite what he was thinking of, but because of it he realized.

“Are you alright?” the girl said with a concerned look. “I think I... I know what is wrong.” he said and carefully put the needle of the stud back in.

136 notes · View notes

alovesthis · 4 years ago

Text

All Things Must Pass - Dean Winchester CHAPTER TWO

Dean Winchester x Read Fic

Fanfic Summary: Reader and Dean Winchester reunite after not seeing each other in a few years, ever since he told her to leave him and his issues behind. Reuniting wasn't what you expected it would be like because of past feelings, memories and a life threatening situation that was placed upon Dean Winchester.

Warnings: None? Angst, Flashback

Word Count: 2.5k

CHAPTER TWO

The drive back to the motel after picking up more greasy diner food and coffee isn't quiet between Sam and you. You aren't letting the excruciating news of Dean's deal get in the way of catching up with Sam. Although there isn't much to talk about but all the cases you haven't been on together and the many girls Sam and even you have connected with in the two years, it's nice to see him again after these past two years that flew by.

Having Sam around is like having another younger sibling and you knew that Stevie felt the same way about him, except they were best friends. They're metaphorically joined at the hip, despite the distance that was kept between the Winchesters and you all these years. For them it's easy probably because they weren't ever sexually and emotionally attached like you and Dean. Even if it is unsaid, it's still nothing but the truth.

Dean's love for you never faltered, and neither did yours for him.

Arriving at the motel, you let Sam go ahead as you stay inside the impala alone with your thoughts. You watch as he goes inside but leaves the door cracked open as if you were going to be right behind him. You slide from the passenger seat and sit in the seat where Dean would always be blasting rock music and occasionally a love ballad. Minutes go by and you decide that it was time to head inside. Once you reach the red chipped motel room that had a green plastic wreath around the room number, you push it open and stand in the doorway. Sam and Stevie are talking as they organize weapons and books, but you don't hear exactly what they're saying as your eyes are focused on Dean.

As you hesitate whether or not to walk completely inside and get prepared for the hunt, or muster up the courage to confront him, you wrap your arms around yourself in comfort. Gazing up and down, watching his body move around the motel, busying himself with whatever, reminds you of the cases the two of you used to go on. The way he rolls up his Carhartt button ups to his elbows, when he hunches over with his eyebrows furrowing in focus makes you swoon every time.

Going on hunts together and all the moments before, after, and everything in between. Being around him again started to make you reminisce about the years being alone with him while Sam and Stevie were at school alone. While John was off leaving Dean, you were there for him as he was there for you. Memories of times where you were both young, alone, and acting like you could take on the world together and save everyone.

The blissful moments of stolen kisses, both soft and rough touches begin to make your heart start aching. Even the drunken nights from the past are making you feel warm inside, aching for him and to get back to the way things were before he pushed you away.

"Happy birthday to me!" You yell as Dean is holding your side squeezing tightly as you two are walking out of a road bar and to the Impala. You listen to his contagious laugh and it begins making your cheeks heat up. That, or it was the alcohol that had consumed your body just moments ago.

"You know," Dean says, opening the passenger door. "We've been drinking since we were fifteen, why is it any different now?"

"Because it's my birthday and it feels damn good!"

"Alright there little lush, get in." He guides you to the seat and carefully closes the door, then walks around to the drivers side.

As soon as he sits down and slams the door, you turn to him and roll your eyes.

"I'm not little, I'm extremely tough just like you, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah whatever you say." Dean chuckles as he reaches for a cassette tape and pushes it in. A familiar song begins to play, the light guitar strings of a Zeppelin song echoes throughout baby and although you're both drunk, the two of you smile to yourselves.

'If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you...'

It was your song, the one that seems to always play whenever the two of you threw on music. Although many songs could easily be considered your song with each other, this one was it.

As the song continues on playing, the down pouring rain begins to slowly fade and the stars of the night begin to shine. Your twenty first birthday had completely gone over your head and it wasn't until Dean surprised you with a few birthday banners from a dollar store, beer and paper party hats lying around in the motel room. Despite being a bit bloody, dirty and exhausted from the hunt just a few hours ago, it made you feel special that he remembered, even if it did lead to a rundown bar.

With the song playing a bit too loud at the moment, you reach over and turn it down which earns you a disapproving look from Dean. Your mind begins to take you somewhere else, as you remember your sister's birthday is just a few weeks away and you haven't seen her in a while.

"I...um, Stevie hasn't been answering my calls, I figure her and Sam are busy with school? I just want to know if you heard from them? I was thinking of seeing them tomorrow and making sure they're okay."

"I haven't heard from Sam much either." Dean says after a few seconds. "Just told me him and Stevie have been hitting the books."

"Right." Your face scrunches up in sadness, missing your younger sister as she's probably sleeping at this time in the motel she shared with Sam, not just a few towns over.

"Look, they're fine." Dean rests his leather covered arm behind you on the seat. "They're two nerds in high school with a shit ton of work. We don't gotta worry, they're teenagers."

You nod your head, "Do you remember when we were seventeen?"

"Sure." He shrugs. "Pretty much did everything we're doing now back then. Except less broom closets and more beds."

"Yeah," you look out the window and watch the drizzle fall down on the glass as your face heats up. "And now, a lot more monsters, spirits and everything in between."

"Lighten up sweetheart," dean moves his arm from the seat to your shoulder, "it's your damn birthday, our siblings are fine."

He was right. You didn't want to think about anything else that could get in the way of your twenty first birthday. You just wanted to have fun with one of your favorite people in the world.

You reach up and hold Dean's hand that was hanging off your shoulder, squeezing it as you smile. Your eyes shift from the window and stare at your hands that are intertwined together. Letting out a sigh, your cheek comes in contact with the back of his hand, trying to warm up and just to try and feel okay.

"Hey," he whispers and you turn your head around and stare at him. "Happy birthday."

It was clear that it was him who made the first move. The arm around your shoulder giving you goosebumps, the sudden mood change for your birthday and the green eyes staring through your soul made it all clear. Dean drops his arm from your shoulder and wraps around your waist, pulling you forward practically on his lap but not quite. It isn't hesitation, but right before either of you go any further, his lips hover right over yours almost as if he's afraid.

"Dean..."

Your heart is thumping against your chest, your head running with so many thoughts. Why did tonight feel any different from most drunken nights? Perhaps it was because it was your birthday, or it might've been Dean finally making sense of the feelings he felt everywhere, for you.

"Like I said," he says as he squeezes your side gently, "lighten up, Y/N."

His lips finally press against yours, they're soft and plump against your own and it felt like nothing you've experienced.

All the other drunken times were fast paced, lips sucking and gliding over each other's mouths and necks. But this time it's slow like time began to stop. Your breathing hitches in your throat as he grabs the back of your neck with his other hand and brings you closer. His tongue running over your bottom lip wanting to take it further. Moaning into it the kiss, your mouth widens in invitation for his tongue which he so happily accepts and slowly inches it in.

Before you could get to the rest of that night of all the electrifying touches and the birthday well spent in the back of the impala, a loud thudding snaps you out of the trance. Looking to the other side of the motel room, Stevie and Sam are packing up bags and throwing together weapons and books for tonight.

You were thinking maybe it would be better to wait until after, but your mind was beginning to swarm with scenarios with how the hunt tonight could go. You can die tonight by a vampire or get bit, and never live to tell Dean how much you love him with every fiber in your body. You could live but then end up staying quiet and never see him again until he would be given a hunter's funeral when his time is up.

But the thought of all of that made your stomach start churning. The flooding memories the two of you shared, the scenarios and that damn deal. It was all becoming too much, and you weren't sure what to do anymore, except confront him. Now better than later, you guess.

"Uh, Stevie? Do you mind grabbing some med supplies out of the truck?" You raise your brows and tilt your head back signaling her to leave.

Stevie stares at you for a moment, trying to understand if that's what you wanted her to do until she looks at Dean minding his business and then back at you. She realizes you want a moment with him, and she'd be more than happy to leave you with the man she knows you love.

"Yeah, of course." She bites her lip in amusement. "Come on Sam, got some new books to share with you."

Sam picks up the bag from the floor and follows Stevie.

"Are they books you've complained about or are they books about creatures?" He asks as they pass you and out the doorway of the motel room.

"A little bit of both!" You hear Stevie say and you snort quietly to yourself.

Once they leave the two of you in the room alone, you take a few steps and close the door behind you. The sound of the click makes Dean look up in confusion as he glides a red towel over his gun, cleaning it.

"Where they off to?"

"To the cars." You answer walking to the table where he sits. You're unsure whether or not you want to sit down for this, or if you want to stay where you are and stand your ground for whatever happens.

"Can we talk?"

"Gotta make it quick, sweetheart. You know how much I hate vamps."

Sweetheart.

"Yeah sure," you mutter quietly as you almost choke on your words. The word, the nickname you haven't heard from him in years sends shivers down your spine and the butterflies start going crazy.

Your left hand swipes your right arm up and down, trying to warm and calm your body down. Dean rises up from sitting as you walk to the middle of the cheesy decorated motel room, standing much closer to him than before. He doesn't look up, instead he nods his head waiting for you to continue.

"Look, I'm just gonna say it and you're gonna listen. I know about the goddamn deal."

"How did you," he pauses and sighs, placing his fingers on the bridge of his nose. "Sam."

"Yeah he told me. He told me you did it to protect him. You took a deal with a demon and now you're just fine with dying?"

"The deal has been made for some time," Dean shrugs. "Don't have to be so mad about it. I'm fine."

"I'm not just mad about the deal! I'm mad about everything that's happened between us. We were practically family, Dean."

"We still are." Dean protests. "Which is why I was protecting you. You and your sister didn't need to be there."

"I told you then and I'll tell you now. We can hold our own, I don't need to be protected. We help each other and we don't do that by shoving people out of our lives. If this was me sacrificing my life for my sister, I'm pretty sure I would come to you guys, go to Bobby. Figure out something, anything."

"You don't get it." Dean says, pacing back and forth. "If any demon or anyone gets even a sniff of someone trying to figure out this deal with Dean Winchester, I am toast. Gone. So would you please drop it and move on? Find the goddamn vamp or vamps!"

You look away from him and drop your head into your hand as you sigh.

"Are we doing this just so you can apologize to me? So that you don't feel guilty in pushing me away? Is this what this is all about, letting me and my sister come on this case with you? One last hurrah for you, isn't it?"

He stays quiet, his eyes glancing at the floor.

"Ah so it is. You're such a stubborn dick." You turn to him and shake your head in disapproval, hands now crossed over your chest.

He watches you intently with furrowing brows and his lips pursed. Before he can talk, you walk to him standing a few inches away.

"But then again so am I." You smile wickedly. "I'm sticking around after this, and you're gonna deal with it."

"Please," He walks around the table to stand in front of you. "I just-"

"Look, you wanted me far from what you were trying to do back then. That's over now, right?"

He nods, "That's done."

"You have a year left? Fine, let's get over all that shit that happened and you make it up to me. Or else that deal won't be the one to kill you."

Dean nods his head, "Yes ma'am."

"So now we can get those fucking vamps." You turn your back on him and storm out to the Impala, an impending fear and sadness creeping up on you.

You're not thinking about the vampires you're about to hunt down. Not about the hunt, or anything about the last two days. The only thing that stays on your mind is the deal and how Dean Winchester will be out of your life for good and that it was death coming for him. You think about losing him forever would mean you could never have the chance to love him in the right way.

- so. much. angst. comment please, nice feedback welcome too! it motivates me and I like interacting with other readers and writers!

TAGS:

@akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @canonboobs

19 notes · View notes

bulletballetarchive1 · 4 years ago

Text

@tcpimpabutterfly said : ✩—Travis & Delores 🙈

Okay so this is a novel.

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Travis, specifically if he’s having an episode. Delores usually doesn’t raise her voice unless she’s finally reached the end of her temper. Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Travis will go drive his taxi if he’s heated, so it’s him who ‘never really leaves.’ Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Delores -- did it once! They weren’t a couple anymore. 😰 Who trashes the house? Leave Travis alone in his utter anguish and see what happens. Do either of them get physical? Travis has never hit Delores and Delores has never laid a hand on Travis. Thought of it once. But changed her mind. How often do they argue/disagree? When they’re young, it’s not untypical for them to disagree. I mean, we have quite a few threads where Travis is open about his thoughts on people and society and all of that, and Delores is like “I don’t think that’s right at all” and gives her perspective on it which, of course, he doesn’t agree with because he’s rooted in his stubborn, gloomy thoughts. To be honest, Delores never gets angry during these disputes, she’s very calm and willing to hear his perspective. But eventually she comes to realize it’s sad and that it shows no one has ever properly loved Travis before. Their more passionate arguments come from Delores being worried about Travis’s insomnia, paranoia, if he’s taking his meds!! And these are even MORE reoccurring later in their relationship and cause their initial breakup. Who is the first to apologize? Depending on the sort of argument that was had, it’s both of them. Sometimes it was Travis who got out of line, sometimes it was Delores who got out of line and deep down...they know who started it first.

Sex:

Who is on top? Sometimes Delores rides him. Sometimes Travis is at the bottom because it's a nice view Who is on the bottom? ^^ Who has the strangest desires? I don’t know what Travis be watching in those porn theatres. I also don’t care to know. Any kinks? 😠 like I said Travis be watching porn and I don’t care to know what it is. Who’s dominant in bed? Technically Travis. Is head ever in the equation? Yes. If so, who is better at performing it? Travis is good. Delores gets steadily better over the course of their relationship because she asks him what he likes. She really wanted to please him. Ever had sex in public? Nah, they got a little handsy in a taxi cab but they didn’t get too far. Delores deserved better than a crusty cab. Who moans the most? Delores. Who leaves the most marks? Travis. Who screams the loudest? Delores if it's rough. Who is the more experienced of the two? I feel like they were both a little inexperienced when they got together, Delores had already had sex. She wasn’t a virgin, but they were not good experiences. Later, she and Travis broke up and she got with some upper class dude, then got with Sal...then got a new gangster...so technically Delores. Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? 😤 they’re deeply in love so they make love. Or somethin’ like that. Rough or soft? Dependent. How long do they usually last? 30-45 minutes. 😒 Might be less when they have children living in the house, though. Is protection used? It’s incorporated, yes. Even though Delores actually doesn’t like condoms. Does it ever get boring? Early on, Delores eventually thought it was boring because she was trying to be classy and hold back with certain curiosities she was having with like, roleplaying and sex in front of a mirror. There were also things in these cheesy books that she read about and fantasized about, but was too shy to say anything. Eventually she opened up, and everything was okay. Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? A motel. 😲😲 Also, Delores found Travis’s original apartment pretty strange lmao. It was a place she did not want to have sex at because she thought it would be ‘regretful’ afterwards.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? while Melissa was unplanned, Cecilia was planned. It was just a whole different experience going on. When they’re young, the idea of having kids with Travis kind of intimidates Delores because he’s so troubled and the old ladies she hangs around don’t help matters any by asking questions like, “would your children be proud of a taxi driver? would he really be able to provide for them?” If so, how many children do your muses want/have? They have two and they think it’s a nice number! Well, that and Delores hated dealing with Melissa’s jealousy when Cecilia was born. She worried about Cece having the same disdain for baby three, so that wasn’t happening. Who is the favorite parent? Delores and Melissa have a VERY strong bond, even when she’s scolded her! And while Cecilia loves her mom, she gravitates towards Travis. This is because Delores was ALWAYS getting on Cece for something and idk, she was just always fascinated with her busy dad. Who is the authoritative parent? Delores. Those girls had chores and responsibilities and most importantly, manners. She never hit them or anything, but her scolding and manner of discipline could be saddening for two children. Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Travis. Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Also Travis, but then again he could be sleeping when Cece decides to raid the kitchen for snacks. Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Delores, all the time! Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Delores, and she gets Travis to dress up for it too. Who changes the diapers? Delores. Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Travis can be working at night, so there’s always the chance it could be Delores who was feeding the baby. With Cecilia things were different, he was feeding her more, but still Delores was the primary caretaker. Who spends the most time with the children? Delores! Even during the summer she has taken the girls to work with her. They didn’t have to sit in the ballet studio, though. They were free to wander the building and see what other creative/artsy things were going on. Who packs their lunch boxes? Both. Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Travis and Delores did it together, but they were stressed out doing it. 😔 With Melissa, it was difficult but things went according to plan. With Cecilia it was extra uncomfortable because she HATED the atmosphere of sit downs. (and of course, in the aftermath, she asked how did ferrets have babies. then she asked why was the bird and the bees called that? How did birds have babies? How did bees have babies? They were mentally exhausted) Who cleans up after the kids? Delores, though she tries to teach them to clean up after themselves. Who worries the most? They both worry for similar reasons. I mean, Travis knows about how young girls can be coerced into sex work and Delores - well, she becomes a mama bear at the slightest threat. Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? I want to say Travis, but I’m also going to say neither. Cece in particular heard it from her favorite, beloved alcoholic teacher! The woman spilled her coffee and said, “For fuck’s sakes.” Afterwards, Cece said it at home when Slink was misbehaving and Delores gasped.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Both! But Delores especially. She likes feeling tended to. Who is the little spoon? Delores likes being the little spoon, but there are many, many moments where its she who has her arms around Travis. Humming something to soothe him. Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? They're not going to fuck in a diner or nothing, so I'm going to say neither. Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Delores, sometimes. Travis, usually. How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Hours upon hours until they have something to do. Who gives the most kisses? Delores initiates them. What is their favorite non-sexual activity? Laying side by side, talking and all that. Where is their favorite place to cuddle? Couch or bed. Delores was sure to get Travis a better bed than the one he had in his apartment whenever they’re living together. Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Delores when she's being sly. How often do they get time to themselves? Usually all the time they get to themselves is at the early hours of the morning. Or sometime at night when the kids are sleeping.

Sleeping:

Who snores? Travis, but its pretty soft. If both do, who snores the loudest? I said they're soft. Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share a bed. Even if that motel room had two beds, they would still choose to be side by side. If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Cozy up together. Who talks in their sleep? Neither. What do they wear to bed? :/ Delores has so many cute nightwear, or lingere. Travis ain't got nothing special. Are either of your muses insomniacs? Fuckin Travis. Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Yes. For Travis. Delores contemplated taking some while pregnant because her anxiety would surface at night, but he convinced her not to. Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Varies, but usually their limbs intertwine. It's almost subconsciously! Who wakes up with bed hair? Travis. Who wakes up first? Delores. Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? ...Delores because on the real? she just wants to make him so, so happy. What is their favorite sleeping position? Delores likes to be in his arms in some form or fashion. Who hogs the sheets? Delores. Do they set an alarm each night? Delores has one - and she feels bad about it because it can take Travis so long to sleep before it goes off. Can a television be found in their bedroom? When they're older, yes. But it's only local channels. It’s a room where Delores can escape her daughters and watch television in peace, but unfortunately Cecilia enjoys being in there when Melissa is hogging up the living room tv. Who has nightmares? Travis! Delores too when they're on the run! Who has ridiculous dreams? Both. Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Travis. Who makes the bed? Delores. Also she feels that a clean bedroom has a positive psychological effect on others, so she makes sure Travis can come home to a proper bedroom just for him. What time is bed time? So, Delores falls asleep before Travis even comes home which can be at 10 pm. Then ultimately he arrives back at a very late hour and Delores wakes up for awhile. Tries to get him to go to bed. They stay up forever until sleep finally takes hold. When they're older, Delores is trying to sleep by 10/11 pm and doesn't wait up for him as much anymore because she's so worn out. Any routines/rituals before bed? Delores does too much before bed, I'm just going to say that. Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Travis, especially if he had just fallen asleep.

Work:

Who is the busiest? They both are, just in different ways! Who rakes in the highest income? Okay so I actually went to google for this question. Annually, ballet instructors can make $32,000 while taxi drivers make $26,453. So Delores makes more lmao Are any of your muses unemployed? Nope Who takes the most sick days? Delores, I think. Travis can’t stand to be sick and do nothing. Who is more likely to turn up late to work? On default, it’s Delores. But she still aims to be prompt. If it’s anyone keeping her late, it’s Cecilia who had to tag along for whatever reason. Who sucks up to their boss? Neither. What are their jobs? So Travis drives taxis and when they were first together, Delores was a ballerina. She was doing very well for herself until they killed her abusive boyfriend and had to go on the run. Her whole career in New York went down the drain.🤐 Once she and Travis became very settled and felt like they could live a normal life, Delores decided to become a ballet instructor. Had to put that skill to use somewhere. Who stresses the most? They both equally stress. Travis is out here seeing the worst of the worst of humanity while Delores has to be a second mother to girls of varying ages. Hearing, “I think I’m pregnant, should I have an abortion???” “I’m being abused by my family/boyfriend,” all sorts of stuff she has to help out with! Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? I think that Travis has mixed feelings for his occupation, while Delores believes that the pros of her job outweigh the cons. She gets to see young girls be themselves and be free even at the price of knowing their personal business. 😌 She doesn’t know if she would still be doing this if life played out different though. Are your muses financially stable? They’re doin’ okay.

Home:

Who does the washing? Delores. Who takes out the trash? All of them, at one point or another. Who does the ironing? Delores, but sometimes Travis will have to iron his own attire. Who does the cooking? Delores. Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? That damn Travis. Who is messier? That DAMN Travis. Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Travis. Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Travis -- would, if Delores didn't make him learn from the error of his ways. Who forgets to flush the toilet? Travis, initially in their relationship because he wasn't use to living with someone. Who is the prankster around the house? Slink the Bandit who has nearly killed Delores and was nearly killed by Travis. Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Delores. Who mows the lawn? Travis. Who answers the telephone? Anybody, really. Who does the vacuuming? Both. Who does the groceries? Both, but usually Delores as she remembers to purchase the essential things that are nutritious! Who takes the longest to shower? Delores. Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Delores.....Melissa. and Cecilia.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Admittedly, Delores has never been in a financial situation like the one she is in with Travis (when they're all settled that is) because her family is filled with criminals and they always had cash. But she's so in love with him and happy that they're just alive that she doesn't consider money to be an issue. How many cars do they own? One. Not counting Travis's taxi. Do they own their home or do they rent? Own. Eventually. I can imagine that before Cecilia was born, and they finally got out that motel, Travis and Delores managed to rent a decent house that served its purpose. Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Nope. Do they live in the city or in the country? City! There's people to drive around! Do they enjoy their surroundings? Technically? Delores misses New York a lot, but she also has a lot of hate for New York due to their previous experiences. What’s their song? Vikki Carr's cover of Strangers In The Night, also I'll Be Seeing You by Billie Holliday. What do they do when they’re away from each other? Work...Delores handles the children. Gossips with her friends/goes out to lunch with them. Where did they first meet? In his taxi cab. How did they first meet? Delores was leaving a party that she had felt very isolated at. She was also intoxicated. She came into his cab, sat in the backseat...then talked about how lonely she was and spilled her heart out. After that Travis was always present, and she got attached, although she worried about him one day stalking and murdering her. Who spends the most money when out shopping? Delores. God knows she has dug into bill money to get Melissa or Cecilia beautiful dresses for special occasions/holidays. Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Delores technically because she believes you are what you wear and that affects how people see you. Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? This question is trifling. Any mental issues? Travis has a ton of 'em. Who’s terrified of bugs? Delores! Who kills the spiders around the house? Travis. Their favorite place? Together. In their home. Away from people, where they can be themselves. Who pays the bills? Delores handles a lot of that. Do they have any fears for their future? Delores fears Travis engaging in violence. Just as she has worried about him being in so much despair that he kills himself. She just always worries about his wellbeing. Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? I feel like Travis would, if/when he had the money. While Delores is inclined to do that for him at the house, because she wants him to be happy. Who uses up all of the hot water? Delores. Who’s the tallest? Travis because Delores is only 5'4. Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Delores. “Innocently.” Who wanders around in their underwear? A childless Delores, if she is feeling particularly sly. Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Travis ain't tryna embarrass himself and neither is Delores. What do they tease each other about? Travis has teased Delores about how she is tense during their daughter’s school photos that she paid good money for. she trusts Melissa to look perfect but Cecilia? She doesn't know. She never knows. And the certain reactions (or gasps) Delores has had looking at Cece's awful photos have caused Travis some great memories. Delores has teased Travis about small things, like whether he'll be able to tie a tie or if she needs his help. Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Delores when Travis's jacket begins to fall apart and he still wears it. Honestly she's the type of wife/gf who's like, "why aren't you wearing the shirt I bought you?" Do they have mutual friends? Delores always knows June from when they were young girls in ballet class together, but I feel like she would just get on Travis's nerves. But even with that said, June made the vow that she would ensure no harm came to Melissa [or Cecilia] when they came to New York. Who crushed first? I'ma say Travis. Delores thought he was cute in his own, messy way, but she thought nothing of it. Any alcohol or substance related problems? I'm going to say no because Travis should probably be taking his pills more than he is. Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? what's travis doing drinking and driving ON THE JOB?? I'm going to say neither. And even if it happened, they'd be together on like a date night. Who swears the most? Travis on default.

#RE. / DELORES & TRAVIS.#tcpimpabutterfly #boom!

4 notes · View notes

mcsmmafia · 4 years ago

Text

MC:SM Mafia - Round VI 🧠

THE 6TH ROUND OF MAFIA

On a chilling, but not yet snowy december day, a bus drived through the thickness of the swamp to transport eight patients to a asylum to which they have been relocated.

It was a confusing swamp… trees and vines everywhere, no proper roads… but the occupants felt confident that this was no problem for the driver. He was experienced… probably. I mean, he was responsible for the safe arrival of mentally ill patients, of course they wouldn't assign an intern with such an important task, right?

Anyway, the trip lasted the whole night, but just as the sun was rising, you finally arrived at the new asylum! … Which turned out to be a surprisingly old and bedraggled looking mansion? Geesh, talking about healthcare inequality.

Anyway, even though it was not snowing, the trees had frost on their leafs and the wind blew really cold, so you made your way inside without thinking about it too much. And thank goodness, it was actually warm inside! Ah, and there stood the receptionist, a girl with long red hair and a grey, comfortable looking beanie. You went on to line up - but suddenly, the girl turned around and activated a lever on the wall behind her. Huh? What was that all abou-

AND THEN IT WAS DARK AND YOU COULDN'T SEE AND OH MY GOSH I THINK I'M SEEING PUMPKIN FACES AND THERE WERE VOICES TOO, WE'RE ALL HEARING VOICES-

Oh, wait, that might actually be just your own voice… ahh, wait, you got a pumpkin stuck on your head! Well, how did that happen?? You sure didn't know!

… wait WHY ARE WE ALL WEARING PUMPKINS, WHAT IS GOING ON, WE CAN'T GET RID OF THEM, AHHHHH!!!!!

Meanwhile, it seemed like the red haired girl was trying desperately to announce something, but nobody would listen to her. She gave us a very annoyed glance and, in the next second, she put herself in a pumpkin too. And it didn't took a second for everyone to forget where the stranger was.

Dear patients, it is time.

To freak out.

AND-

GET REALITY AND HALLUCINATIONS MIXED UP AND BE EXTRA PARANOID AND PANIC!!!! A LOT!!!!

Oh, and also maybe you should watch out for stranger-danger.

☀ Results of Day 1:

After the patients were done freaking out, they played a nice little introducing game of saying hello to each other, but became bored quickly afterwards, so they split up to explore their new home on their own - I mean, they don't remember which one of them was the receptionist, so there was no other option really.

(Just for fun, I thought about why the MC:SM characters were in psychatric treatment in the first place for a bit: Stella has overwhelming seperation fear, Warden is not really mentally ill but a stalker, Nell has chronic fatigue syndrome, Harper has schizophrenia, Radar is not a patient but the bus driver XD, Ellegaard has bipolar affective disorder, Cassie is still a murderer, and Lukas has depression. (Sorry, Lukas, I couldn't think of any other interesting disorders 😂)

🌑 Results of Night 1:

Lluna wanted to stay in the entrance hall to monitor the front door. When Ellegaard and Lukas joined, Lluna noticed only an iron weapon in the room, so Stella knew she could trust her roommates and told them that she has the Flint & Steel. When she learned that Ellegaard has the iron sword, she asked for protection and stayed in the entrance hall to groom Lluna all night.

Warden ran after Winslow to pet him, and ended up in the attic, where he finally could give that good lil' boy Winslow a pet and happily fall asleep soon after professionally dabbing to his roommates.

Nell didn't have the energy to explore more than the surroundings of the living room, but when she spotted Radar entering, she decided the attic was probably a better place and used all her remaining energy to climb up there and hit the hay.

Harper desperately tried to outrun the creepy pumpkin faces she saw in all windows, and ended up in the attic, where there were no windows. Finally feeling safe, she was able to sink into a deep slumber.

After quickly peeking into every room to make sure nobody else was living in this mansion, Radar went back to the living room to sit down on the comfortable couch and spent the whole night trying to figure this blasted roadmap out…

Ellegaard did her best to protect Stella from stranger-danger.

CASSIE grinned when everybody decided to split up, so she wanted to make the best out of it and followed Warden and ordered Winslow to follow PAMA - but they all ended up in the attic together. Well, crud. With the night wasted, CASSIE decided to just grab her kitty and go to sleep.

Lukas didn't say anything to Stella's revelation, but didn't flee either; he just sat in a corner, silent all night.

☀ Results of Day 2:

The patients argued all day about who should cook breakfast. Before they knew, the sun was already setting, so everyone just grabbed whatever they saw first in the kitchen and scattered to find a good place to sleep. Very productively spent day.

Lukas has been suspended from the round due to inactivity.

🌒 Results of Night 2:

After Lluna reassured herself last night that the front door was indeed very safe and effective against the night monsters outside, she pushed Stella to go to an extra safe place to catch up on some sleep tonight, so she followed her to the attic. She was surprised to only see Radar there, but took the chance to ask for his identity. However, he did not respond… Stella eventually gave up asking and snuggled up to Lluna to visit the land of dreams.

Warden went to grab a snack like the others, but was disappointed by the insufficient selection… a few potatoes, some mushrooms… blergh! Where's the good stuff?? THEY DEMAND THEIR BREAKFAST CAKE! EVEN IF IT MEANS SEARCHING ALL NIGHT FOR IT!! 🍰 …However, they eventually got bored and fled to the gallery in hopes for more danger. (Little did they know that danger was coming right their way, had they only stayed!)

Oh great, Nell was already always tired, and now she's also gonna be hungry because nobody volunteered to cook the stupid breakfast! So, to conserve brain energy, she just went back to where she was last night and enjoyed her sleep in sweet solitude.

Harper couldn't shake the feeling of being closely watched by someone or something… she tried her best to hide her worries, but when night came, she skedaddled to the most isolated room she could find! …And, of course, that ended up being the gallery, because nobody cares for art, sigh. …But the feeling of being stalked remained - but now at last she realized where it was coming from: This weird calico cat in the corner over there with it's evil green eyes was watching her! What a creeper! 😼 She placed PAMA directly in front of Winslow to try and cover his glance, but this darned cat just walked around it. Welp, there was no way she would sleep with him around!

Oh gosh, everything is chaos… it's Radar's fault the patients are not safe in an asylum, and don't have regular meals, and now they can't stop arguing!! This is the absolute worst… and he was still really exhausted… maybe he should just go to sleep for a night. Perhaps, in the morning, things are gonna be better. So he chose a safe place to sleep, which of course only really can be the attic, and rested for a bit, after doing their best to ignore Stella's questions.

Oh my, Ellegaard was in full flow today! Was it the lack of sleep, or is she on her way to go hyper? Wherever this energy is coming from, it sure made her heat up the argument about breakfast today. Well, at least she snatched the only mushroom stew she found premade in the kitchen. Success! After being so harsh to everyone, however, she realized that she probably should try to calm down somewhere alone, so she went to the bed chamber. A big, nice pillow helps for meditation, you know? In fact, the pillows were so comfortable, ellegaard fell asleep almost immeditaly. That's how meditation works, right? 💤

CASSIE really had to contain herself to not burst out in laughter under her pumpkin mask when hearing the argument today. They're all distracting themselves, and CASSIE didn't even really have to do anything! Anyway, while the discussion was nicely heated, she had things to do. She needed to make sure that the next night would not be wasted! So she kept an eye on Warden to see where he would go this time. …And, as it turns out, he didn't go anywhere. He just stayed right here in the kitchen, searching for better food, CASSIE figured. So she ordered Winslow to patrol the hallway between gallery and bed-chamber and snuck up on Warden to cat-nap him… and was surprised when her hands could only grasp air! With the night wasted - again - she could only sleep her frustration away.

☀ Results of Day 3:

A new day dawned, and before anyone had the chance to address any hard feelings left over from yesterday, Harper spoke up to tell the patients that Winslow was following her everywhere she went. She also mentioned who else was in the room with her the past nights, skipping PAMA.

Stella then stated that she wanted to be locked up, and asked Harper to vote for herself too. Warden was quick to offer guarding them. Nobody else voted.

Warden also warned the group that he dabbed threateningly, and then tried to catch Winslow to throw him into the closet too, but he was fast to jump onto some high-laying shelf where Warden couldn't get him. 😼

🌓 Results of Night 3:

Stella had a hard time to going apart, but Lluna accomponied her all the way to the closet, and assured her with a bleat that she will reliably return in the morning to pick her up again. And she kept her word, to Stella’s great relief.

Warden regretted it a little to have volunteered as a guard, since he would rather do some detective word, but in the end he did not retreat from his duty and made sure to poke the prisoners the whole night through, even though he didn't really suspect them to be Cassie.

Nell just went to the living room again and slept like normal. She is really not afraid of traps.

Harper was just glad to be safe from Winslow for one night, at least.

Radar took the chance and went to the entrance hall to see if there were any pets around. He could spot Lluna and PAMA, but also CASSIE - so he waited for a bit to see wheter CASSIE would leave and if one pet would go with her. As it turns out - Lluna and PAMA must belong to someone in the closet!

Ellegaard went back to the bed chamber, but when she saw that Winslow seemed to now be targeting her, she toyed with the idea of trying to figure out if she could activate a trap on Winslow - but of course, that grown kitty would be too smart to fall for his owner's traps. 😼 So Ellegaard dropped that plan and just climbed up to the attic instead.

CASSIE followed Radar - but of course he wouldn't go anywhere. CASSIE sighed in her streak of bad luck and sneaked away to the bed chamber to sleep.

☀ Results of Day 4:

Stella started the day by immediately confronting Warden about the sleeplessness-ordinance which he put her and Harper through, to which Warden apologized, stating that he didn't really suspected them to be Cassie.

Stella then went on to state that she suspects either Nell or CASSIE to be Cassie, since they are the only ones who haven't been checked by her best friend and pillow Lluna. Ellegaard vouched for this claim, only stating that she knew a thing.

Nell was about to vote Stella for the closet, but promptly retreated. Warden then voted to throw Nell out, stating that he is about 65% sure that Nell is Cassie, and 35% that it's CASSIE, which he subsequently voted into the closet.

Nell tried desperately to convince the others of her innocence, but had nobody who could vouch for her.

Stella voted for Nell to get thrown out too, but then retreated, saying that she wanted to lock her up first. CASSIE, Ellegaard and Harper agreed that there was not enough evidence yet. Harper then voted for the same thing.

(Oh my gosh, no offence to the person playing CASSIE, but I could hardly stop laughing about how they kept referring to Cassie and how nervous they were about her - and everybody just talked over that! I was so sure their cover would blow 😂😂😂)

🌔 Results of Night 4:

Stella realized that she has TWO arms, with which she was able to poke both Nell AND CASSIE at the same time! So she did that because IF STELLA COULDN'T SLEEP, THEY CAN'T EITHER! Also, it helped to distract her mind from Lluna and how she's doing.

Warden thought about sneaking to the closet and spawn-killing Nell… but realizing he had no weapon to do this anyway, he just went up to the attic and let the dream be a real dream.

Nell was really mad about being locked into a closet, and sang a song in order to try and annoy the guard so much that she would let her free - but was exhausted quickly and ended up just enduring the acupuncture. Stella really was NOT a great masseur.

Harper was paranoid when going to the gallery, but couldn't find a kitty anywhere - has he actually stopped following her? Harper was still a bit nervous, so she inspected some dusty, pixelated art about seven people with white pumpkins on their head before realizing how boring the pictures really were… but they freaked her out anyway, so she started counting all the pixels until she fell asleep.

Radar could barely follow the discussion that was going on… he was just too tired. He longed for the sun to set, and when it finally did, he concentrated all his strength to climb up to the attic before basically fainting on the floor face down.

Ellegaard was a little freaked out by seeing Winslow with her in the library, of all places. But she went to sleep anyway.

CASSIE very imperceptibly wishpered Winslow to patrol the hallway between dining room and library before she discontentedly followed Stella into the closet and endured being poked all night.

☀ Results of Day 5:

CASSIE started the day by complaining about being poked the whole night, which Stella interrupted saying that she didn't have Lluna with her in the closet, which was a problem. She also stated that Nell was singing "something about tissues", and that that was a crime because they were a Duck.

Note: The person playing Stella has a username referring to ducks.

After that, they realized that they (and it was totally not my fault) had overlooked a list that revealed that Warden and Radar were having a slumber party in the attic last night!

But that was quickly forgotten again when Warden decided to yell out loud that he wanted to throw Nell out. But when a voice from above told them to vote then, they retreated.

Stella went on to vote CASSIE into the closet, instead - but immediately rectified themself to Nell. Freudian slip? Warden voted for the same and asked Radar to guard, but Harper volunteered right after. They agreed to let Radar do it (even though Radar didn't use @Game Master ARRRGH but let's overlook that… this time.)

The patients then talked about cat-crazy people and the fact that PAMA was with them, but nobody claimed to own it, although Stella and CASSIE claimed to know who Harper is.

However, Radar revealed to have written the note last night. And then continued to ask if he could pet Lluna, because passing out is very exhausting. And thus, Lluna was promoted to stress therapy pet!

Warden also tried to vote to lock up the voice in his head. It wasn't very successful - Oh… nevermind. They put Alexa into the closet.

Radar also tried to order McMurder Fries. (Oh god, now he's losing his mind too…)

Nell brought them back on topic by loudly concluding that Cassie must be one of the people who have been locked up in the toilet, and that she's suspecting CASSIE.

Radar and Stella overheard everything but toilet and were so inspired that they wrote a survival guideline on how to survive murder and get rich. 🚽💰

Nell ignored them and voted to throw CASSIE out, to which Stella heavily disagreed.

Most patients were confused by Nell's use of the word "toilet" for the closet, but Warden approved the use of "toilet" for "closet" by saying how cruel society was for not letting him do his business in closets.

Stella brought up how she wanted to feed the zombies the flint & steel, and how a smooch would cure them… she was in her own world, for sure. She wondered if she could eat the zombies, and CASSIE too pondered how'd they taste.

Finally, the voice from above had enough and sent them all to bed. SERIOUSLY. This was long, but I had so much fun - doing this round in an asylum was the best idea ever. 😂

The Last Night 🌕

All Cassie ever wanted was to live a happy life with her 372,026,931 calico cats… but nooo, society had to declare that that was not "normal" and a sign of "mental illness" and that she should be put in an asylum for therapy. It was really their fault, not hers - the other patients constantly got on her nerves, and the staff wasn't much better as they treated everyone the same, no matter if they were sane, like her, or really crazy. So Cassie might have put up a few traps that killed a patient or two and maybe also the whole population of the house. It happens! She could impossibly have stood another second in this madhouse! Why does nobody ever seem to understand…?

Anyway, so she went outside - only to realize that she was stuck in this whole swamp dimension that was just created so that patients could never escape on their own. But the staff had to be able to get out somehow, right? She went back to the asylum, but it seemed like all their drops had disappeared already. Crud, she should've rushed to get them as soon as these people were dead!

She certainly wouldn't ever make that mistake again - but for now, she had no way to return to her home… luckily, however, her most beloved cat Winslow came to help. He risked being stuck in this mad-dimension with her for eternity! He was such a good cat. And he brought friends! 😼 😼😼😼😼😼😼😼😼

Although that really cheered Cassie up, she still didn't want to accept her fate of living here forever. Maybe some day new patients would be admitted, then someone would have to bring them there and get out again afterwards…

And, look at that, they indeed came. Five more patients and one quite young looking bus driver.

Cassie spent days thinking and plotting how she could effectively eliminate them without being noticed… because even though this is an asylum we're talking about, the patients were not yet crazy enough to just let her do her thing. So she tried to cat-nap them, but it didn't quite ever work out.

As the days passed, the patients managed to narrow down who could be responsible for not cooking them breakfast and dinner - and they almost unanimously agreed that it's either Nell or CASSIE. And in night 5, Lluna followed CASSIE to the living room - she knew that was practically her death sentence, since everyone so far seemed to unquestionedly believe Stella everything she said.

So Cassie took her chance, and finally went to the secret passage ways to activate a trap on Stella, Warden and Ellegaard - all or nothing!

And, look at that… when Cassie went to collect their drops, she found the FLINT & STEEL where Stella was. That was… easy.

Well. Cassie wasn't complaining.

Finally. Finally she can get out of this dimension and back to her other 372,026,922 cats who surely are still patiently waiting for her to return home! (And feed them.) 😼😼😼😼😼😼😼😼😼

Oh, and also, she may or may not have lit the mansion on her way out just for celebration. What, now that's making her a pyromaniac? OH SHUT UP, SOCIETY! SHE JUST WANTS TO MAKE SURE THE PATIENTS ARE WARM INSIDE!!! ��🔥🔥

Cassie has won the game! 🧠

#mcsm #episode 6 #mafia #this was a really fun round #the most fun of them all even

2 notes · View notes

sneyrwrites · 5 years ago

Text

|2| |Ace| Levi Ackerman x Reader

✘Ace : BloodSport ✘

|Wordcount: 6081 | Previous: ✘

Inspiration Song : You’re gonna go far kid -The Offsprings

Even tho Annton didn’t lie when he took me to the abandoned house, he wasn’t completely honest.

Yes, it was true that the people who went to the fights as spectators placed bets on the fighters, but he failed to mention that the betters were nobles, from the high society, escorted by a few members of the Military Police and the Garrison. An enormous part of them even took their lovers along, girls way too young to be their wives, barely above 17 years old, wearing tight and colorful dresses, looking like they were about to assist to a big gala or something.

Eventually there was the middle class man in the crowd too, but The Basement was majority concurred by some of the most wealthy people inside the walls. Hypocrites that assisted with the sole purpose of satiating their thirst for depravation and violence . The basement was a place where everything was permitted, a law free zone where one could take the decency mask off, and just succumb to their most primal state of violence.

It was pretty obvious to anyone with more than two brain cells that the Basement wasn’t a proper place for a thirteen-year-old girl. The first time I stepped a foot in the dark room I almost peed my pants. Everything from my posture to my shaking hands screamed that I didn’t belong there, but the firm grip of Annton’s hand on my wrist impeded me to leave. I don’t even remember the wrestlers’s names, too focused on the stench circulating in the humid air to care about what was going on inside the circle. With thirteen years I didn’t recognize the smell, but at nineteen and with six years of experienced i was an expert pinpointing the metallic smell of blood mixed with the sweet touch of ale.

Men with expensive looking suits and their escorts filled the subterranean floor, their clothing contrasting with the dirt floors and the blackened walls because of the torches smoke, that gave what little ilummitation they could in the chamber. The spectators crowded around a white circle that was painted on the floor, elbowing one another to get to the front row, where the most sadistic hoped to get sprayed by the loser’s blood. Up and against the walls there were a few rows of bleachers, reserved to those who could afford it, they were a sign of wealth and status.

My first fight took place two weeks after Annton showed me the basement for the first time. When we were there they settled the date. One soldier from the military police had found another brat my age to face down. Apparently when two kids fought, it was a special treat, The basement hosting the double amount of people it usually would.

The last Saturday of September got earlier than expected. I had used my time to fiscally prepare, running laps and lifting heavy things I found around the house, doing sit-ups and pushups and all the exercises you could imagine. I hanged a pillowcase filled with heavy stuff to make it contendent and used it to practice my punches, trying to dodge the bag when it came back full force towards my nose. Keyword being ‘try’.

I tried to mimic the progression of hits my father had taught me in front of the mirror in the living room. My movements were sloppy, and my technic was nonexistent. There was no chance in hell I would win the fight. The fear was consuming me. If I came home with a black eye or a few teeth missing my father would notice just how fucked up i was, if I made it home after, Annton was prone to throw my sorry and beaten ass inside a prison cell as soon as i were conscious again. But the other option wasn’t good either, If I won the fight it implied beating another kid unconscious, another boy in the same predicament i was in.

An hour after my father left to the wall to keep guard i sneaked through the door, an old black cape that Mrs. Argón had given it to me a last winter draped around my shoulders, protecting me from the chilling wind. Annton had instructed me to take some spare clothes to fight with in a bag, so i packed the most basic things i had, a white tank top and some old black cotton pants that had a few holes on the lower end, so i ended up cutting them up at the knee.I also packed a pair of handwraps, the more injury’s i could avoid the better, that way it was easier to keep the fights a secret from dad.

The streets were silent and a layer of frost was forming in the windows I passed by. I would be lying if I said I didn’t have another way out. Annton was extorting me with prison time, but realistically I could run away and he would never find me, he didn’t have my address or my actual name, if I disappear it was game over.

Then why was I on my way to the lion’s den willingly? The idea of finally being able to stop begging on the streets for food was appealing. If I won I would get paid, besides for once in my life I was having the control over something, it didn’t matter that it could potentially get my nose rearranged. The fear was undeniable, it was there, lurking in the back on the back of my mind, but at thirteen years old I could be tempted by the idea of a better life.

At the end of the street, almost in front of Wall Rose I could distinguish Annton’s figure, leaning against a cart attached to two horses. The diver’s back was facing me, him not paying attention to us at all. The sound of my foots steps alerted Annton, who lifted his gaze from the ground and smiled at me.

“I thought you had backed down in the last minute.” He joked, I didn’t answer, the silence stretching between us. “Anyway, get in, it’s a long ride, the guards on the door knows about the event, so there’s no need to worry”

Without emitting a word I got in, Annton following right after. The sudden jerk of the cart because of the horses starting to run made me fall face first onto the wood planks. Heat crawled up my neck as Annton bursted out laughing. if the driver had reacted the same way, I would head dived out of the cart.

I got up and Annton grabbed me by the arm, trying to stabilize me.

“Thanks” I scoffed once I could finally sit on one of the apple crates that functioned as stools.

“You’re welcome kid” He said, looking at the narrow street we were traveling, leaving wall Rose behind.

The road seemed remotely familiar, the only other time I transited it I almost fainted from the panic, so i couldn’t recall much, a few buildings were familiar, but come on, every building was a copy of the one next to it.

The ride was lengthy, grazing the two hours of travel. Half of the time I spend it snoozing off, the constant rocking of the cart lulling me. Every now and then a rock on the wheel would shock me awake. Resigning my slumber, knowing full well I would not rest, i opted for talking to Annton. I could barely make out his face in the darkness, the moon nowhere to be found, only a few stars illuminating us.

“Annton...” I started, a grumble from him told me he was paying attention, so i continued “Who am I going against?”

Curiosity was one of my flaws. Ever since the date was settled I couldn’t stop imagining the fight.

“From what I’ve been told, you’re going against a kid from the underground city. “Annton turned to me " I think they found him fighting for food down there, the guard offered him money if he assisted the fight, and I heard there’s even the citizenship on the table.”

His words took the air out of my lungs. That kid had it ten times worse than me. A sudden wave of guilt hit me. Annton noticed my change of demeanour and he let out an exhausted sigh, rubbing his forehead.

“Why did I even opened my mouth…” The muttered words left his mouth" Listen kid, I choose you because I thought you were desperate enough, you are a decent fighter, you could handle yourself against a man almost the double of your age.” He said matter-of-factly. “If you feel even a little of remorse for that kid, he will break your nose. You two are not enemies, but he will not hesitate. He wouldn’t mind killing you if it meant he could take off from that shithole. Do you want to die? " I shook my head, stunned by his logic " Good, then you must fight. If you don’t fight you don’t win, and if you don’t win you won’t survive ¿Understood?

“What if I lose? " I asked, my voice low, almost imperceptible. Everything had been an awful idea. The whole “doing something for myself and taking the reins of my life” thing was going south.

“It all depends on how you loose. If it’s for you not trying, then I’ll find out the coward you really are and I’ll throw you in a cell to rot myself.” The harshness of his words slapped me across the face. “ However, if you lose from lack of experience, you’ll do better next time, and you’ll keep fighting until you can pay you debt.”

I nodded, understanding his words.

“I trust on you Ace, there’s a reason I chose you… Don’t let me down”

His words did something in my interior. Maybe it was because it was the first time someone had said anything like that to me. No one had had faith in me before. My resolution to fight came back ten times stronger.

I could do it, I was going to give my all into this fight, no matter what.

The remaining of the trip we spend it on silence, only stopping twice to switch horses. Before I even knew we were right in front of Sina.

We both got down from the cart and he dismissed the driver, setting the meeting point for the way back. Once the sound of the hooves dissipated in the distance Annton walked up to the concrete wall. He looked up and whistled like a bird. My eyebrows went up. What an amazing dumb skill to have. Another identical whistling responded, and an elevator started to descend, I could distinguish another person on it.

Once it got to the floor, a woman got out of it and throw herself into Annton’s arms, smashing their lips together. I could feel a blush invading my face, I wasn't used to those kinds of affection, and the level of intimacy they shared made me really uncomfortable. I adverted my eyes, trying to give them some privacy.

Once they separated Annton called me over, I walked over to them and he gestured towards the girl with his arm.

“Ace this is Hale, my… Friend” I couldn’t stop my sceptic look. Friends didn’t kiss that way from my understanding. Apparently she agreed with me because she slapped the back of his head, annoyed.

“Charming as ever Ann.” Her frown dissolved into a smile when her eyes found my own. “Oh god! You’re so pretty!” Her big blue eyes shone with enthusiasm. She grabbed my hand, leading me to the wooden lift. “Try to keep your face intact tonight. Let’s go”

With a pull on my arm, she got me inside. Annton following behind and closing the door.

“So… how’s Wall Rose doing Ann” Hale Aked, her black hair slapping me in the face because of the wind. I took her in, the patch on her jacket displaying a green unicorn. Military Police.

“Meh, same as always. There’s nothing interesting” Annton placed his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. “My last two weeks consisted on waiting for Ace’s first match” The excitement on his voice sounded authentic.

“First match? Oh honey, you must be so nervous.” One of her hands patted the top of my head “Don’t worry, we won’t leave you on your own. I’ll even bet on your favor.”

That didn’t help at all.

They kept talking and I shut them off. Once we were on the top of the wall another guy received us, greeting Annton with a friendly hug. He looked me up and down.

“So… this is the renowned Ace huh?” He said with a deep voice. “She’s smaller than what I pictured. How old are you, girl?”

“I’m thirteen…” I said, Annton looking at me with a shocked expression.

“Shit Ace! Why didn’t you said anything!? You’re still a kid, i woul’ve thought twife before offering the deal.” Since when was he considerate " I thouth you were at least fifteen.”

“Dean is fifteen” Said the other guy " Though luck Ann, seems like you made a poor decision” He chuckled, palming Annton’s back.

Annton rubbed his face with his hands a few times and he sent a confident smile my way .

" As if. Ace is going to kick his ass. Right, kid?” I didn’t answer, this asshole was sending me to my doom.

“That’s Enogh Ivo. Don’t try scare her. Cant you see she’s already nervous? " Hale intervined, tying to defend me.

Ivo got down to my level. He was big, enormous, around 6’2. His hand found a place in the top of my head, petting it as if I was a dog. With him in that position I could appreciate his features. His green eyes studying me with the same intensity as I was. He couldn't be older than nineteen, his face was young, without a beard or wrinkles, only smooth and healthy looking skin.

" I’m sorry kid, I know you will be just fine” He pissed me off. He was underestimating me, and with a reason, but still, it was annoying.

I slapped his hand away.

“Thanks.” I said dryly. Annton and Hale laughing at Ivo’s flabbergasted expression.

“Huh… she’s got an attitude, I like it. She’s definitely going to be okay.” He said, getting up. He turned to the couple. “I wouldn’t be too worried about her.”

The four of us descended to the other side of the wall. I limited myself to observing them. Anyone could see they got along just fine, as they were comfortable with each other, joking around and pushing one another. A longing feeling made its way into my chest. I never had the chance to make friends, with my father often away and my constant begging on the street’s there wasn’t much time left to socialize.

Hale turned my way and smiled at me. Almost on instinct I smiled back, and hers grew bigger. She was young too, around the same age as Ivo. The doubt on how these three soldiers ended up on the illegal world of The Basement was eating me away, but i tried to ignore it.

As I was walking down the streets of the wealthy town I realize just how much of an outcast I was. The children with lucky enogh to have been born inside wall Sina would never have to go through what I had. The exasperating need, and the dependence on other people’s goodwill to survive.

Annton was guiding the group, leading the way in the dark as if he knew it like the back of his hand. We made it to the entrance of a tunnel and without missing a beat he got in, descending the steps.

A long and dark hallway stretched out in front of us, seemingly going on forever. We made our way in silence, the only sound was the tapping of our footsteps on the stone floor.

“This tunnel connects with the ones leading to the underground city. “ Hale’s voice broke the quiet " The basement is right in the middle. You’ll know when we get there” Her hand found my shoulder in the dark and she squeezed it, comforting me.

Hale was right. After fifteen minutes i could hear the commotion. Lug voices and laughs, people stomping their feet in sync, almost like a heartbeat.

“Seems like they already started” Said Annton, quickening his pace.

“Come on Honey, you need to get ready. We better hurry” Hale took my hand and made me follow her lead, mi shorter legs trying to keep up.

I could see a few feet away the light of a torch slicing through the darkness. As we got closer, the fuss grew louder.

Once we got there I noticed a hole in the wall, almost as if someone knocked the tunnel wall with a hammer. Next to the jagged edges of the entrance there were two metal rings that supported the torches.

Annton got inside, with Ivo following behind him with a spring in his steps.

I hesitated for a moment. Hale clenched my hand, giving me a little of security.

“Be careful, there’s a step.” She said, smiling at me.” Don’t worry Ace, I’ll be right behind you.”

I took a deep breath in and I felt around with my foot until I found the step she mentioned. A few steps in and a heavy curtain stopped me in my tracks, the deep red colour out of tune with the gray of the walls. A man was in front of it.

“Hey Mick” Greeted Hale

He nodded in acknowledgement.

“Who’s the brat?” He asked, a thick finger pointing at me. “Spectator or Youngblood?”

“This is Ace.” She said. It only took my fake name for him to let us trough, stepping away from the opening on the curtains. I looked perplexed at her and she just winked an eye at me. I thanked the wardrobe of a man, and he nodded once again. A man of few words it seemed. " The perks of being a competitor”

“How did he knew my name?” It was the first time I saw the man. The first time i assisted we entered trough another set of tunnels on the other side of the city, the ones the nobles used.

“Annton putted you on the list, the guards memorize the names to make sure no one who shouldnt be here get’s in, otherwise the business could be ruined.” Hale had to raise her voice above the cheering of the swarm of nobles.

The place was packed, everyone crowded around the circle where two girls were sparring. A knot formed in my stomach with only watching them, and I tear my gaze from them quickly. Swallowing was hard, the nerves getting the best of me. Hale noticed my anxiety, and taking my hand she dragged me to a less transited area.

“Let’s go to the backrooms so you can get ready. Okay?” She didn’t wait for my anser and she dragged me straight to the opposite end of the place.

The backrooms where only a few small compartments with the same heavy fabric as the entrance separating them from the rest of The Basement. I touched the curtains with the tip of my finger, and my eyes opened like saucers. It was velvet. Someone had to sell their kidneys to afford them. Velvet was expensive as hell, a luxury only a few could pay for.

Throwing my embarrassment out of the window, I took the fabric to my face, petting my cheek with the soft material. It was almost like touching a cloud. My pillow back at home seemed filled with nails in comparison.

Hale noticed my amazement and giggled.

“Those were donated by Lord Reiss. He comes around quite often” She said ”You better get changed, there are only two fights left before yours, and for what I could tell, this one is about to end.” As soon as the word left her lips, the sound of a gong filled the air, which I supposed it meant the end of the match.

Once I was in my comfortable clothes, I took the handwraps and tried to wrap my joints, but they came undone each time I tried. The injuries on my knuckles had healed, a fresh layer of slightly pink skin covering them. The scars would stay there for sure, but oh well, what could you do?

When she saw me struggling with the wraps Hale took them from my hands and proceeded to do it herself. Her fingers worked expertly on my hands, tightening the fabric just the right amount, trying not to constrict the blood flow too much. When she finished with both of my hands, she gave me a friendly squeeze.

“Your hands are freezing.” Hale stated, rubbing my fingers i between her hands, trying to warm them up. “It must be the nerves”

I nodded.

“You know you can talk to me if you want to, right?” Her eyes were gentle.

“Yes, it’s just that I’m a little anxious, I don’t want Annton to regret his decision” I expressed my fear out loud for the first time. Hale’s grip on my hands tightened up.

“I know it seems like Annton is only getting advantage from you. But ever since he found you he wouldn’t shut up about how excited he was for your fight“ She said. “I don’t want you to think I’m only defending him because we’re together. But Annton knows what is like to live on the streets, and when he saw you I think you reminded him of his past. It’s not my story to tell, but by bringing you here he is, on his own twisted way, trying to help you. If you win you get paid, and that’s better than not knowing when you’re going to eat tomorrow or not.”

Shit. So Annton wasn’t only interested in the money. A new flame of determination ignited in my chest. I was not only going to win for myself, i would do it for Annton and his younger self too. I didn’t understand how a young and beautiful girl could be interested in someone much older than her.

“Come here, let me braid your hair, if it’s loose like that someone could grab it, and trust me, it’s not a nice feeling.” Her hands digged into my hair, braiding it with an amazing level of skill.

I couldn't hold back my curiosity any longer.

“Hale, How old are you guys?… Isn’t Annton a little too old,” I asked. “Not like there’s anything wrong with that… it’s just that i found it a little odd… not that it’s odd.” I was just rambling, too embarrassed to think straight.

She bursted out laughing. The shame intensified.

“You’re funny, Ace.” She said, finishing the braid, letting it fall over my shoulder, a simple ribbon holding it together. The intricate pattern that she twisted the hairlocks in brought a smile to my lips.

I had never learnt how to braid my hair. With a decease mother and living with a grown up man who barely knew how to wash his own socks I never had the chance to.

I turned to face her, and she had moved to the wall, leaning against it, watching me, amused from my previous nonsense.

“Annton is twenty-one” My eyes opened with surprise, damn he was rough on the edges. Hale laughed at my expression. “I know what you’re thinking, but try not to mention it, he’s sensitive about his looks. Ivo and I both are twenty years old. The three of us had been together since we joined the military, and we’re as close as we were back then.” I nodded in understanding.

Hale opened her mouth, about to sai something only to be interrupted by the gong.

The fear rushed through my body, chilling my core. It was my turn, the time had come. I was supposed to go out there and beat some other kid, and I thought I was ready, but my feet were nailed to the ground for some reason. I was unable to move.

Hale’s arm circled me.

“Hey Ace, don’t worry. Annton Ivo and I are going to be on the crowd, and if things get ugly, Hitch will stop the fight.” She shook me a little, almost like she was trying to get the anxiety out of my body, and snapped me out of my trance. “You’re going to do just fine. And if not then it’s all right, you get up and you try again. If you don’t fight, you can’t win.”

Her last sentence brought me back to my conversation with Annton in the cart, and the deep desire to make him proud gave me the strength I needed.

I felt like I could understand Annton a little better he wasn’t mean only for the sake of it, it was his way of helping me out. He was projecting his younger self on me, he wanted to be for me the person he needed so desperately and didn’t have.

With a leveling breath I stepped out of the backroom. I wasn’t sure of what i had to do, but Hale didn’t leave my side. Holding my hand, she pushed her way through the sea of bodies, until we reached the front row, almost inside the circle. In the middle of it there was a man with the Military Police uniform on.

His presence was imposing. Standing taller than Ivo, around the six foot five inches, he smiled at the roaring crows, mischief shining in his eyes. He took his hands to his face and shouted.

“Are you ready!?” The response from the mob was deafening.

Shoulders collided with mine, making me lose my balance. My eyes searched the rows of heads. Right in front of us Ivo and Annton were making their way trough, pushing and insulting the guards that tried to resist them. Once his eyes found us, Annton Smiles at me and nodded one time, Ivo on the other hand screamed my name at the top of his lungs, clapping along.

A chuckle slipped trough my lips. For once in my life I had someone cheering for me, instead of pitying me. A warm feeling made its way through my chest. I was not about to spoil the start of something good.

The guard on the circle opened his mouth once more

“I said… Are you ready!?” This time my cheers joined the rest, my hands up in the air.

The warm laugh of Hale resonated by my side, and my eyes were on the other two dorks, my smile widening when I saw them laugh too.

“Tonight we have a little treat for all of you.” The crowd went wild again, and Hitch tried to calm them down with a finger on his lips, his other hand signaling them to quiet down.” I know, I know. You must be wondering Hitch? What are you talking about? " The smile on his voice was obvious " We have two youngbloods in here tonight, and they’re going to fight for the first time in The Basement” If I thought the spectators were nuts before now they reached a new level, jumping around, and pushing one another. y eyes went to the bleachers, where a few nobles were nodding their heads, leaning forward with interest.

“Is Dean anywhere around?” Hitch asked.

From the far end of the crowd a figure was coming trough as the people kept screaming. He shoved Ivo and Ann away with his hands and he got into the circle.

Dean was fifteen, but he could easily pass by as a thirteen year old. I knew about the rumors of the habitants of the underground city. Because of the lack of sunlight they didn’t grow that much, Dean was barely half an inch taller than me, his body build almost the same as mine, the only thing that told us apart was his eyes. There was no doubt on them, he had his eyes on the prize ad he was going for it.

The people chanted his name as Hitched grabbed him by the wrist and parade him around the circle. When he passed by me he winked an eye at me and he sent a crooked smile my way.

“Oh honey, I think he is underestimating you, so you better go out there and kick his butt.” Hale shook my shoulders.

A fraction of my stress dissipated with her light tone.

“Alright alright.” Hitch returned to the middle, Dean right behind him. “Is Ace in here with us tonight?”

When i heard my name i didn’t even had the chance to react, Hale’s hand shoving me forward, almost making me fall face first. I thought I heard a ‘Sorry’ from her, but I couldn’t be sure, the roaring crowd drowning her voice.

Hitch repeated the same process of circling me around, some people clapped and cheered me on, others looked at me from head to toe, their eyes screaming what their mouth didn't. They thought I was going to be crushed by Dean.

When I passed by them Ann and Ivo extended their hands, and I gave them a high-five.

Once we were done Hitch placed me in front of Dean. His green eyes analyzed me, sizing me up. The thought of how many times had he found himself in the same position, jus about to fight in the crime-ridden underground city? His black hair fell on his forehead, a few loose curls brushing his brow. I trailed down my eyes and i noticed his shirt was nowhere to be found, I tried not to let it affect me, but i couldn’t help my lingering gaze on the pale skin of his chest. Dean noticed it and he smiled brighter, a set of dimples on his face.

“You like what you see Girl?” He asked, getting inside my personal space, his voice barely above a whisper, only for me to hear. Hitched grabbed his face with a hand and pushed him away.

“Leave the teasing for later Boy” Hitched laughed “Rules are simple kids. No biting, unless you want to sweetheart” he winked “No low blows, no spitting, and leave the claws for another occasion. The fight stops when one of you can't keep up or gives up. Fists up, and clash them.” He took a few steps back.

Dean’s wrapped up hands collided with mines with a little more force than necessary. it was his way of intimidating me. And it was working.

Without another word, Hitch signaled the start of the match with a gesture of his hand.

I raised my guard up as Dean got closer to me, the nerves bubbling up in my tummy. Three blows made their way to my face, but I avoided them, messily and with no technique whatsoever, but they hadn't strike my head, so i was satisfied.

People’s screams were loud, spitting loose words like “Come on” And “Hit him” into the air.

I tried to throw a punch to Dean’s face, but he took my arm and swiped my feet from under me. My back collided with the ground and my spine reverberated from the impact. He lifted his fist and directed it to my head, trying to knock me out, but I rolled away and jumped to my feet. The crowd was roaring his name and he took a step back, spreading his arms, as saying ‘What are you waiting for?’

“Come on cutie, we don’t have all night.” he said, his guard up once again.

I din’t respond, too busy searching for an opening. With two steps he was infront of me, winging a punch to my face, i dodge it, but the moment i did his hands grabbed me by the soulders, and he brought his knee up, smashing it against my abdomen, the pain exploded. I thought he woul let me go after one punch, but he kept going. i needed to get him off of me and fast.

I resisted on last knee and when he retreated his leg to throw another i traped his elbow against his chest, linking my free arm around his other arm i twisted my hips and bended my legs, sending him to the floor with a heavy thud. Ivo’s cheer made it’s way to my ears, but i didn’t have much time to rejoice on my little victory.

My stomach was aching from the blows and i could feel a bruise forming. Dean got up and started to throw one fist after the other, all to my head. I waked back, trying to avoid them, until the hands from the spentators stopped me.

“Don’t go out of the circle, sweetheart. First warning.” Hitch’s voice sounded, but I barely registered what he said.

A fist punished my cheek and I felt the skin tearing, the warm and slow trickle of my blood going down the side of my face. It was going to hurt in the morning, but at the moment the adrenaline rush subdued the pain.

His merciless blows came fast and steady. I would like to say I dodge them all, but I would be lying.

Dean was repetitive and predictable, so taking my chance when he retracted his fist I took a step forward, going under his arms and flooring him.

Once we both were on the floor, I immobilized him with my weight and threw punches at his face. A few of them impacted, but the big majority didn’t get through, his arms covering his head. I made the mistake of letting my arms too far away from my face, and Dean shot his arm up, hitting me straight in the chin. I fell sideways, and the taste of blood was in my mouth.

Shaking my head I got up and lifted my arms, covering my bruised face, Dean rushed to me and threw a right hook, trying to hit my temple, but I blocked it with my elbow, grabbing the back of my neck. The impulse of his blow made him end up in my personal space, so I smashed my opposite elbow straight into his nose. The crunch raised the hairs on the back of my neck, and the blood started to gush out.

Screaming with pain Dean grabbed his face, and at the moment he took a step back I kicked him in the middle of his chest, sending him on his back to the floor, his head hitting hard against the floor, disorienting him. With a conviction I didn’t know I had I threw my body into his, my hips holding him still, and as if he was the same drunken bastard from the alleyway, my fists unloaded all of my weight into his face.

The whines of pain that came out of his mouth made my heart coil with guilt, but it was a fight, we both had agreed to it and he had no problem on beating me senseless. I closed my eyes and kept going, waiting for Hitch to put a stop to the fight, Dean wasn’t even defending himself anymore.

A heavy hand on my shoulder halted my movements. The gong sounded and the screaming from the crowd erupted.

Once I was on my feet Hitch grabbed my wrist and lifted my arm in signal of victory, a dull ache traveling through my limb.

The spectators got into the circle surrounding me. Congratulations and praises were said by unknown faces, the shiny jewelry on their necks blinding me slightly. Slaps on my back and shoulders were delivered my way as well as a few jars with ale. I felt lost, Hale and the others were nowhere to be found. With a shot stature I felt like I was drowning, the high from the fight retreating, causing the pulsating pain on my face and torso to surface.

Out of the blue a pair of hands grabbed me from under my arms, lifting me up in the air, and putting me down on someone’s shoulders. When I looked down, I recognized Ivo’s dark hair. From my new perspective I founded Hale and Ann out of the crowd.

With a few long strides Ivo made his way to them, leaving the exited mob behind.

Annton had an arm around Hale’s waist, and a smile on his face. Hale was the first to speak.

“Ace! You listened to me and kicked his butt!” She clapped, like a little girl high on sugar “I told you it would be fine”

“Thank you” I said, still on Ivo’s shoulders, he was not putting me down.

He patted my calf, calling my attention.

“Now let’s go get the prize!” He exclaimed, rubbing his hands together, almost tasting the money.

Before the giant i was on could turn around Annton called me.

“Hey Ace!” My eyes took in his gentle expression " Nice work you did…You’re gonna go far Kid”

I smiled at him, grateful. Ivo turned around, taking me to the women who recollected the bets.

Next: ✘

✘ Taglist ✘

@regalillegal Omg, i hope this is what you meant for “Tagging”, i’m new on the blogging thing. Sorry i’m such a mess ;u;

#Ace levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #fanfic #levi x reader #chaptered #attack on titan reader insert #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #Reader insert #Levi x Ace

25 notes · View notes

joonbug21 · 5 years ago

Text

Beyond the Facade | knj

Pairing: HandyMan!Namjoon X Pregnant!Reader, BestFriend!Taehyung X Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 11k

Genre: fluff/smut/angst

Warning(s): strong language use, childbirth, mention of infidelity, alluding of a love triangle, evidence of a sheltered background, angst involving family matters, smut, oral (f receiving), nipple play, hand groping

It’s been four months since you deemed the fellowship hall your home, and appreciatively, the area has been vacant since the falling of the church which saves even more stress than what you’ve been in since moving here. Achingly, your legs stretch to move off the bed before your feet land onto the grainy carpet. Your right-hand slips to steady your back, maneuvering your body to scoot to the bed frame, which has become a daily routine, weak fingers gripping the wood until your digits become pale white. Letting out a steady sigh, with all your strength you lift yourself to where you can stand, “Oomf,” a small whimper escapes past your lips, tensing at the cringe plaguing your shoulders.

Being seven months pregnant sometimes has its perks, but this isn’t one of them. Bending your body forward slightly, you step sluggishly toward your dresser, pulling out maternity clothes lent to you before the move.

“So, when are you going to tell us?” The soft murmur belonging to your mother echoes from the driver’s side. Her expression submits an evident mixture of exhaustion and exasperation; though it’s been a month since the announcement of your pregnancy, your mother is currently driving you to a doctor’s appointment for a checkup on the baby to make sure everything is okay, “we have a right to know.”

Arms crossed over your chest in mild annoyance, you bite the corner of your mouth until the side of your head meets the window, getting lost in the line of trees zipping by.

Waddling into the bathroom, the vague memory fades, your hand reaching to turn the knob of the shower. The squeaky sound along with rushing water splatters against the shower curtain sending a soothing jolt of excitement. Chilly air springs goosebumps over your limbs once you’re freed of your clothes, waiting patiently for the water to warm before inching into the tub. When steaming liquid soon dribbles among your frame, a grin of satisfaction sparks brief happiness you needed an escape to. The heat of the downpour eases your aching bones, fingers clasping behind your neck to lean your head back, “Oh!” You gasp in surprise when the instant feel of a kick happens within your tummy. Eyes flutter down in the direction of your swollen belly, palms moving to caress it, “Look at you, what are you trying to do? Escape?” Cooing with a light giggle, when the baby kicks again, you can’t help the giddy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Now, this- this is what you love about being pregnant. Finishing up, you dry your hair before swiftly dressing along with brushing your teeth.

Thoughts still pertaining to the small life growing inside you, you’ve decided since your first doctor’s visit that you do not want to know your baby’s gender until the day that you give birth. When you presented the idea to your mother, she was all on board, proclaiming how she had done that with your younger sibling. Running a brush through your hair, you skim one final look into the mirror formerly then head to exit the bathroom.

Gradually sauntering through the mini hallway, you’re more zoned on the way your hand pats upon the wall in some form of maintaining stableness to the point you hardly notice almost slamming into a tall figure.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” A deep voice panics, raising his arms in a way to catch you though your arms mirror the same. Heart ramming, a breath of relief winds past your parted lips- your eyes scanning the slim legs that follow to the handsome face of Kim Namjoon. His eyes enlarged apologetically.

“Oh Namjoon, you scared me,” a tender chuckle sets the feel of calm for he sees the amnesty etched in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N], I was about to head out to mow the lawn, but just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay,” he timidly scopes the view of your huge abdomen, gulping once his hands rest loosely at his sides, returning his eyes to search yours before a sweet grin spreads upon your face.

“It’s no biggie. Thank you for checking on me,”

Kim Namjoon works for your father, making sure the church grounds continuously stay clean and cut creating a pretty environment to the eye. Protecting the land is another part of the job description- protecting it from any loiterers, wild animals, protesters, etcetera- maintaining flower bushes encircling the area as well as mini projects your father will want Namjoon to build. The swing set, including the shed, happen to be plans that Namjoon successfully constructed due to your father’s wishes. In return, Namjoon is provided a place to live- the room that once held your father’s office, is now changed into a bedroom.

It’s strange for you to think about it now- how so much has changed in just seven months, when a year ago the church was thriving, unaware of the secrets that clouded within the audience. Squeezing your eyes shut, a reminiscent from the beginning of your pregnancy rears its head causing a tiny brink of nausea to form.

Taehyung’s arms drape around you tightly, embracing you in all entirety that your eyes shut against the crook of his neck. Your fingers squeeze his shoulder, legs bent across his thighs while tepid tears spill onto your cheeks.

“Shhh,” he tries to comfort, his breath tickling your exposed ear- your face still buried beneath his chin, “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers just as soft as the flicking fire burning amongst numerous candle wicks. Scents of vanilla blends with birch fitting the dimly lit bedroom that you’re thankful exists other than the man refusing to let you go until you feel better.

“How?” You choke back another sob, “How am I going to tell my parents? How am I supposed to confront the church if that’s what it comes down to? Shit… My dad is going to fucking kill me,” Taehyung’s shirt is soaked, but he could care less, tangling his long fingers into your hair to stroke the back of your head.

“Okay, now, you’re being dramatic,”

“So, maybe I am? But you know very well that my parents aren’t going to take this lightly,”

“Yeah, but I think it’s safe to say that telling your parents you’re pregnant is far better than if you were to tell them how you truly feel about religion,”

“Okay? Perhaps, you’re right,” a snippet of a frustrated huff leaves your trembling lips, “especially not with what’s been going on with the church, I don’t know how much more they can take,”

“Well, your dad should have thought of that before he had an affair with my mom,” Taehyung’s icy tone brings chills to your frame before he loudly swallows, lips firm from the anger boiling behind his almond eyes. Tendrils of his bright, red hair glow regardless of how dark the atmosphere is, and you hardly hold back the sheer pain stabbing your heart from the guilt you can’t help but endure.

“Tae, I’m so so sorry,”

“Hey,” he peers down at you, realizing he may have taken his comment too far, even though you’re just as angry towards your father as your best friend is, “you didn’t know,” sniffling back the remaining mucus clogging your nostrils, you desire to face Taehyung no matter how foolish you think you may look, scooting your body to where your palm indents in his mattress next to his legs, his arm now rests around your waist, and for a split second, you’re close enough to where the tempting appearance of his striking face beckons the strange glimmer of longing. A longing of curing whatever loneliness you’re going through, but you’re not the only one experiencing this moment for Taehyung’s lips part just enough to plead your attention.

You can’t stop yourself, and you don’t, because before either of you comprehend, you close the gap letting the delicate wave of his kiss caress yours. “Tae,” you breathe against his lips, reuniting with his kiss almost immediately while a dizzy spell of want travels through your chest. You know this isn’t right. He knows this isn’t right, but too many pent-up emotions between your hearts have gotten out of hand, and for now, all the two of you have is each other. His fingertips move to tenderly trail your jaw, gasping into his mouth when the tip of his tongue circles yours before you move to trap him in a perfect straddle. You need something, anything to feel whole again- something to forget about the people you lost and the people you will lose. And, if there’s anyone in this world you do not want to lose it’s him.

There’s no refraining, there’s no hesitation, just the growing pace of the kisses, and the way you’re so enthralled with how beautiful he feels squeezing you tighter to him. “[Y/N],” he moans, hating himself for how far he wants to go with you, yet he craves your touch, nearly supplicates for it. You want to feel his skin, and the aching throb below you seems to deafen any other screams of stopping, and yet, your fingers move to the end of his shirt, peeling it just enough to expose the solid wall of his abdomen. “[Y/N],” he stops you, breaking the final kiss, his hand covering your wrist, while your eyes frantically search the side of his face, “We- we can’t,”

You haven’t seen him since, because of the boundaries that were crossed and would have been farther crossed if Taehyung had not had the strength to stop. The pair of you have been best friends since childhood, and neither of you wants to take anything beyond for the sake of feeling empty, but he assured you that night, even after your panic of apologies pouring from your mouth, after the humiliation that shackled your system, even after the daunting assumption that your friendship was over- he cupped your cheek, promising that he was still here and that he would never end your attachment over something, you both will never regret.

It’s a secret you’ve suppressed for some time. Taehyung calls every so often when he can; dealing with his broken-hearted father on top of two jobs consumes every bit of his time. Yet, you can’t help but miss him, the one person who loyally stayed by your side even when you came forward to your friends about your pregnancy. And, the one friend who still loves you all the same, even after discovering his mother’s affair with your father.

Rage isn’t enough to describe the resentment against your father, and ever since you told your parents that you were expecting, and ever since your move, you haven’t spoken to him. You’ll never forget how torn your mother was- depression weighing heavy on her, and that’s something that’s hard to forgive.

Your mother looks frail as she twiddles the crumpled tissue in her hands. Tears brim her eyes through the silence in the car, sparse sniffles breaking your heart into a million pieces. The two of you had just come back from the grocery store to restock the kitchen in your recently new home and are now parked at the church’s back door to drop you off. You hesitated upon leaving because the thought of your mother having to return home to a place of remorse is the last thing you want for her. The promise of a car was granted to you, but you turned it down, refusing to accept anything from the man who caused so much pain to your family. To Taehyung’s family.

Running the tissue underneath her eyes, she speaks, “[Y/N]?”

“Yeah?” Your voice is barely a whisper, but the guilt from how stressed your mother has been is something you wish you could carry instead of her. After the betrayal of your father as well as him resigning from the church to send people away from the place they once sought refuge in- on top of her oldest daughter being pregnant with her first child is already a lot to handle. The other frustration you bite your tongue from expressing is the fact of your parents refusing to let you get a job until the time after you give birth. You want to make the money to provide for yourself and your son or daughter without the dependence upon your parents- your mother especially, yet you’re grateful for her adamancy on keeping you from any risks outside of the walls of your home.

It takes a moment before your mother gathers her words, “Do you- do you think you could ask Namjoon to help take you to the hospital? Whenever it’s time… for you to have the baby?”

It was easier for your mother to ask that of you because he lived in the same building, and if any emergency of your water breaking happened earlier than expected, at least you would have someone available to take you to the hospital. Your gaze clears from the zone out you’ve had the whole time standing in the entrance of the hallway before Namjoon left. Turning on a heel, you decide to return to your bed, slipping under the covers- you’re too wide awake to sleep as of now, yet the foam of the mattress eases the soreness of your back once you lean against the pillows.

-Four months earlier-

Queasiness envelops your abdomen to where you recognize the cue, rushing to the porcelain throne to heave whatever yellow liquid is left- spurting it into the toilet while you grimace through the pain. The door swings open behind you mixed with heavy footsteps quickening to you. When large hands swoop to hold your hair back, you don’t have the strength to look at the intruder due to the continuous retching that deems you defenseless.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the deep voice is soft, and relief brings tears to your eyes when you recognize it to be Kim Namjoon. You’re embarrassed once your stomach gives you a break, your palms pressing to your forehead while you slump against the wall.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, swiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Namjoon scatters to find a tissue, patting the corners of your mouth.

“You don’t have to be sorry,”

“That… wasn’t what I was apologizing for,”

A knowing glance is all he must give for you to share whatever thoughts you can’t bring yourself to voice. He was your friend before all of this, yet you failed to mention to him about the pregnancy, and with him being the worker of the Church- he didn’t discover your budding stomach until the day you moved in. His eyes flicker away from your stare toward the slight protrusion of your baby bump due to your ruffled t-shirt. He settles on the floor across from you, silence being the only conversation held. He isn’t one to hold anger, and though you kept him unaware until your third month of pregnancy, he refuses to leave your side, making a pact to himself he will do whatever it takes to provide the care that you will need. As well as the little one.

Despite the emotional roller coaster, you remain amazed with how he keeps his patience with you. A day of depression to a random bout of laughter- memories turning of the betrayals of close friends who judged you immediately the day you put your trust in them- the freedom you craved away from the sheltered life your father forced upon you- even days where you can’t seem to put your tears on pause, yet Namjoon holds you through every grieve.

“What if… what if I’m not good enough?” Your voice shakes between sobs- you had been dreaming restlessly yet another night, tossing within your bed to the point Namjoon came to check on you- rushing to pull you into his arms the moment your eyes fluttered to reveal pained tears. Your words nearly shatter him- pulling away just enough to where his eyes lock with yours.

“How can you say that, [Y/N]?” The faint light of your lampshade causes his face to glisten- angelically, you decide, yet the shadowing doubt of motherhood plagues you still, because what if you genuinely can’t care for the child that you’re six months away from holding? Fears encompass you like an ocean, smashing along your mind in harsh waves. “Look at me,” are the words that snap you from whatever sea you were suffocating in to realize you had unintentionally switched your gaze from him. It’s the calming effect the warmth of Namjoon’s eyes bring when he exposes whatever faith he has in the woman you are and will become. “You’re going to do just fine, believe me, I know it,”

Sniffling, you run the back of your hand along your chin where an escapee of a tear dangled, “How can you be so sure?”

“Because when have you ever given up on anyone that you care about,” it’s not a question, he’s stating what he knows to be a fact. Something he learned of you when he first was hired to tend to the property. “You’re stubborn when it comes to winning someone over. I was determined not to befriend anyone here. But you changed that for me, remember?”

A knowing tug of a smile trembles into a stretch upon your lips, “I do,”

“Same with the baby. I know you will love that little one more than life itself. It doesn’t have a choice, and you’ll let him or her know the second they’re born,”

When a hearty snicker leaves your mouth, you notice the sticky feel of your drying face- you are no longer crying.

“You don’t have to do this alone, [Y/N]. You showed me that even when I didn’t know what else to do. Now, get some rest, okay? You have a doctor’s appointment bright and early,” the bed creaks from the gradual movement of Namjoon standing,

“Wait!” You speak before you can stop yourself, Namjoon immediately pausing- the heat of his arms is felt beneath your palms from your pounce of panic, and with evident chagrin, you shyly stare at his chest, “Can you uh, … Can you stay in here with me tonight?” You’ve refrained from asking sooner due to the shame of not telling him the news that’s become apparent, and even now, you haven’t been able to comprehend how he’s not the slightest bit angry with you. When his arms encircle you closer to his frame, no words need to be said because he’s already answered by just this gesture. Nuzzling into his embrace, the side of his chin pressed to your forehead, “Whoever it is, I hope they grow up to be half the person that you are,” you whisper, squeezing him tighter, infinite smiles now ending the night that cures any ounce of uncertainty.

By the fifth month of pregnancy, you finally come to the realization of how selfish you have been- it’s no longer about you and your needs; it is now about the needs of your son or daughter growing within you. Namjoon catered to every grocery store trip, stocking the kitchen and in return, you choose to cook for him every meal, hoping to show as much appreciation to him that you can.

“Have you thought about any names?” Taehyung’s voice muses on the other line of the phone, the sound of him bringing a small smirk upon your face. You’ve missed him terribly so, yet the acceptance of surprise phone calls is all you can settle with for now. At his question though, you pause with the tilt of your head, taking a quick sip of the broth that you’re currently heating on the stove.

“No?” It’s a brief question of guilt, something you haven’t been ready to ponder, “Honestly… haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” you add in the vegetables to boil within the broth.

The familiar, deep chuckle is all you hear to gain an idea of what your best friend is about to say next, “I should have known,”

“Alright, Birkenstocks. What do you mean by that?”

“Breezing past that mistake. You named your Parakeet, Bird,”

“Well, in my defense, I was seven years of age,”

“And in my defense, playing basketball in Birkenstocks was supposed to start a trend,”

“Since how? I-”

“Ask Hoseok,”

“You lost a bet didn’t you-”

“And, I will pay for it for the rest of my life, now won’t I?”

“With me around, you will,”

Hoseok is the deacon’s son who’s dream of fashion has been shunned by his family, yet he designs in a sketchbook Taehyung hides for whenever Hoseok and he share the same work shifts. He’s not one you have had the opportunity to communicate much with, but you’re thankful Taehyung has someone to maintain a friendship with while you two have been apart. A short response of silence settles while your cheek and shoulder squeeze the phone for a moment as you stir the steaming vegetables.

“You could have named the bird, Tweety at least-”

“Oh!” You playfully growl, “Back with that again, huh?”

“Do I need to send you a link of baby names-”

“I promise you, Tae, I do not plan on naming my child, Kid, okay?”

“You’d be surprised-”

Taehyung’s excitement for his future Godchild brings a simmering joy to the surface of your pattering heart. Almost as equal to the eagerness, your mother has shown with this being her first grandchild. Graciously, your mother has never been as strict as your father, hence why the past five months have gone much smoother then they would have if your father had never had an affair with Mrs. Kim.

Small talk ensues with the typical questions of how each of your days has gone once the pair of you take your seats. One secret, yet another you and Taehyung have harbored, is the awareness of Namjoon’s atheism- something your father must never learn of his worker. Namjoon, who will not admit it, works on the church grounds in order to provide for his family who lives a few miles up the road. Ultimately, there are many secrets not worth sharing to your parents, not only for the sake of sanity but for the protection of the ones who you’ve kept close, especially Namjoon. With your father being the tyrant of a priest, he used to be, there is still the potential distress of him firing Namjoon over the mere difference of beliefs. Something you refuse to let happen while you’re around.

Clinking spoons replace conversation, for how long, you’re uncertain; the fog of your thoughts seem to consume upon one in particular- something that has remained festering long enough, yet you have never said it aloud- figuring this moment may be the time that you do. Namjoon confided in you and Taehyung once he found comfort in trusting the pair of you- even subjects that one would have never expected him to open about. Guilt presents itself to the point your eyes squeeze shut, opening them to move your spoon to play at a piece of broccoli swimming in the potage.

“They don’t know,” your words are careful- slow even- continuing your vision on the dinner before you. You can feel Namjoon’s soft eyes on you, his expression confused. “They don’t know who the father is,” that’s when your gaze trails to meet his eyes just for more guilt to manifest behind them. By they, you’re referring to your parents, as well as every other soul excluding Taehyung, “I won’t tell them.” Namjoon slowly nods with the sense of understanding, knowing the cost that will be taken if your father were to know who you’re trying to bury beneath this web of fear. “Besides,” you sigh heavily, “I’m surprised my father was lenient enough to let me live here,” you confess, “if he wasn’t so guilty over the affair, I would be homeless-”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Namjoon says suddenly, destroying whatever anger you were dwelling upon. Your mouth falls open in shock at his words and the frilly flutter of your heartbeat is hard to ignore. After living here for two months, he’s proven time and time again that he means what he says; what he just said. Speechless, the rest of dinner continues in fond silence, your heart refusing to steady for the man slowly captivating your heart.

The sixth month of pregnancy gifts swollen feet and aching bones on top of your belly growing heavier by the week. Namjoon has stayed loyal- tending to your pregnancy cravings in the dead of night, aiding to your discomfort whether it involves a heating pack or a cup of ice, slipping under the covers on nights you want him to hold you, driving you to every doctor’s appointment without any hesitation; with all that he’s been doing for you, it’s like your feelings have blossomed deeper which you know shouldn’t be happening with the peril of your father finding out. The unexpected visits from your father are few, yet you usher the reminder to yourself of protecting Namjoon, though he carries the weight of facing your father instead of you who avoids the confrontation.

Night comes quickly after a day spent cleaning up the nursery that seems to be coming together, other than the crib Namjoon’s been building- something you accidentally discovered when strolling close to the shed one sunny day. He’s so dedicated to the unborn infant, it nearly brings you to tears, glancing around the elegant hues of multiple pastel colors painted across the room with stuffed animals, blankets, and furniture he continues to gift you amongst different items your mother has added to the collection. You always enjoy the sporadic visits from your mother, because she’s free to celebrate the life that she refuses to consider as a sin.

“Are you thinking boy or girl?” Your mother elbowed your side earlier today after moving around the furniture.

“Hm,” you hummed happily, thankful for the relationship that’s being redeemed with her, “you know? I’m not very sure,”

“I can tell from all the colors you’ve chosen,” she teased, “it looks beautiful,” she cooed, pulling you into an accomplished side hug. You didn’t want to stick to just pink or blue, so you chose every other shade in between, colliding the space with colors that could go for either or. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother,”

“Hiya,” you greet, trying to ignore the subtle increase of your heartbeat. Namjoon flashes a kid-like smile once he shutters out of his jacket, “How was your day?”

“It was good, thank you,” he replies, taking long strides until he makes it to you, “How was yours with your mom?” His right-hand steadies the small of your back while his left one clutches yours to help settle you into your seat. It’s hard to focus on the question he just asked when the scent from outside seems to heighten the attraction you already feel towards him, “It was good,” you manage to say, reaching for the silverware to begin digging into your food, “Thank you… For helping me,” the distance between your stomach and the table now is something you’ve been trying to get used to as well as the turmoil of trying to stand and sit.

“Anytime.”

“It’s okay,” you chortle at his reaction, “it’s just the baby kicking,” his response reminds you of the moment you felt the baby kick for the very first time- similar to a weird flutter that’s hard to describe, and it had taken you a second to realize what it was exactly- just your baby making its presence known to you. Namjoon swallows the bite of food in a nervous gulp, the pang of his silverware mutes from where he lays it on the napkin.

“Here,” you murmur affectionately preparing to stand to your feet. Namjoon immediately jolts from his chair, rounding the table to gather your hand in his. Instead of relying on his strength to help you position yourself, you plop back onto the seat, sliding his hand to the area where the baby kicked a few minutes prior. Namjoon kneels to level with you, his plump lips ajar mirroring the widen stance of his eyes while he patiently waits, his nervous heart pounding in his temples. It’s the exuberant joy in his smile that meets his eyes in a dazzling glow the pure second the baby kicks again, and the bliss of delight smothers your heart in so many ways imaginable at this moment the pair of you are capturing together. Your hand remains resting upon his while your eyes lock repudiating from breaking contact.

“I told you that you don’t have to do this alone,” he whispers, and it’s then you come to the awareness of how near his face is from yours, his dimples visible from his smile to the point you press your lips to each one, shocked at your act of boldness, but you can’t refrain. He’s too handsome and too wonderful to stay away from any longer. That’s all the invitation needed, for Namjoon’s lips brush yours igniting the sparks of what you’ve been trying to suppress for way too long. Your fingers find his hair when he leans to deepen the kiss, moving his hands to rest on the chair, fingers pressing into the wood until pale white.

At this moment, you don’t care what anyone thinks.

You are in love with Kim Namjoon, and there is nothing in this world that’s going to scare you away from that.

-Present day-

The pitch black outside the window brings frustration when you awaken to scold yourself for how long you’ve slept. Gathering yourself once the fatigue rolls off, you cautiously sit up, scooting to the bedpost until you’re on your feet. Taking a trip to the restroom, you notice upon exiting the clock on the wall reads seven pm, and you wonder if Namjoon has made it inside for the evening. It’s eerily quiet save for the air conditioning, but you pause when you see the lights are on in the main area of the building. Shrugging, you waddle around the corner until the sudden shouts of, “SURPRISE!”, nearly knocks you to the ground.

Gasping, your eyes widen while your hand flies to your chest. A prolonged second interferes before your brain deciphers the two individuals cheering before you. Numerous pink and blue balloons hover to the top of the ceiling matching the colors of a cloth decorating the one table now adorned with a cake and wrapped gifts. “What?” You can barely speak from the light headiness taking over, but the tears that well in your eyes when you see the boxy smile of your best friend sends you in an attempt to run just to crash into his arms. He meets you halfway, surrounding you within his embrace as he rocks you back and forth muffling your wails of joy into his checkered sweater. Your soaked cheeks are wiped away from the material as been done countless times before, and his tepid palms squish your cheeks when he steps back to gesture toward your belly.

“Wow look at you! Your belly is huge!”

“I’m still in denial of how fast this pregnancy is going!” You say breathlessly, you’re so happy to see Taehyung, you can hardly contain your composure. Namjoon steps forward with his hand reaching to squeeze your best friend’s shoulder. Taehyung’s fiery strands are curled upon his forehead, lustrous beneath the lights as it always has before, “Your father let you come?” There’s a seriousness behind your voice at the question because you are cognizant of the fury Tae’s father has against the church from the events that occurred what, in some ways feels like a lifetime ago.

“Well, no,” Taehyung winces mischievously, “I told him that Namjoon and I were going to a basketball game,”

“Of course, you did, you sly fox,”

“You know you love me,” Tae pecks your forehead before leading you to the table where the sweet whiff of cake flatters your nostrils.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” you’re still wiping tears off your face, though it’s evident that your crying is from untainted gratitude, “What did I do to deserve the two of you?”

Namjoon kneels, intertwining his long fingers with yours, using the tip of his thumb to tickle circles upon your skin, “Taehyung mentioned how when you were kids that you loved surprises, especially if it involved a small party of some sort so,” he tilts his head toward Taehyung, “And I knew how much you missed him, too. I just wanted to do something to celebrate you. And, the baby,”

It doesn’t take much to smother this man in kisses nowadays, and once you express your thankfulness to the men before you, Namjoon reads your mind, snatching a small kiss in return.

“You two are on kissing terms, again?” Taehyung teases while you poke your tongue at him in mild embarrassment. Namjoon does not know of the moment you and Tae shared, and that’s something you’re not ready to talk about, and with the cutesy scrunch of Namjoon’s face, the memory escapes to the back of your mind for now.

By the end of the night, the frosting had met all three of your faces- some smushed into Taehyung’s hair while some swiped across Namjoon’s neck, and your eyebrows are smeared along with the possible suspicion of some getting up your nose. Cleaning the mess takes a while, but nobody in the room would trade it for anything, and it’s good stalling to prevent the night from completely ending.

Walking Taehyung to his car is the only dread overwhelming your system because you’re not sure of when you will get to see him next. Tears flood your eyes, breaking Taehyung’s heart as an awe of shame gusts past his lips, “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. My dad’s expecting me home soon,”

“I don’t want you to go,” you choke, on the brink of bursting at the seams- Tae fumbles to tighten his arms behind your back- him trying to be mindful of your abdomen being pressed too firmly against his frame.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers near your ear, “Please, please don’t cry,” His lips curl from the tears burning within his own eyes wishing with all his strength he could rid of the aching hurt that has kept your friendship separated. Tae swiftly pulls away when he remembers another present, he meant to give you earlier, whirling around to unlock his car, bending into the vehicle while his hands shuffle around the floorboard in a desperate search for whatever he wants to show you. When he turns to face you, a sharp inhale of glee echoes into the night- the lopsided plush of a heart is attached to a blue body ornamented with yellow polka dots that match its mouth. “Oh my gosh!” You squeal, “Tae, it’s adorable! Where did you find this?”

Wiggling his eyebrows in pride, he hands it to you, “I made it myself. And,” he pauses for effect, “since you have trouble naming things, I did the honors and named it for you. I introduce, Ta Ta.”

“Ta Ta?”

“Yeah, like ‘Ta Ta… for now,’”

“Just when I thought I couldn’t love your dork of a self even more,” you exhale, slamming your eyes shut just to bury your face further into his chest, not able to breathe in his scent from the clog of mucus stuffing your nose.

“I love you, too.” His voice thickens with emotion, “Now, quit saying it like you’re never going to see me again, because you know I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” Your cold nose moves to press into the corner of his jaw where steady breaths move between your parting mouth. It’s a serene moment where he turns just enough to glimpse at you, engaging in the beauty he’s always found within your heart. Taehyung’s agape lips now rest centimeters from yours when his large hands raise to rest his fingertips along your flushed cheeks- the curls of his frizzy hair pressing to your forehead, prickling your closing eyes. You discover your free hand enfolding around his wrist from the daunting desire looming from what’s been left unspoken, and the shiver in his breathing brushes your chin once the light touch of his nose cuddles to yours. You both stand there for a seeming reel of eternity, battling the inward mayhem of choice that’s displayed itself on the invisible line tempting to be traversed.

“I promise.”

He hadn’t kissed you, but there was no denial that he wanted to, especially with the way your face has haunted his dreams since the night your lips met in emotional patterns of sorrow. But, deep down, he knows it’s too obvious of a choice if the one for him is to be you, but the love that has been kept for you will never go away. The same as a tether of your heart will forever be his no matter how deep your love goes for someone else. Kim Taehyung will always be your poise- your muse- the soulmate of a friendship that you will always need.

Toddling to the nursery upon Tae’s departure still presents the boiling tears from your tired eyes dripping off your cheeks as you set Ta Ta beside the koala plushie Namjoon gifted you; the humor involving the struggle of both Taehyung and Namjoon carrying the crib Namjoon built for the baby taunts a smirk at the corner of your lips. It’s dark besides the faint light of the hallway behind you, giving you just enough to admire the scenery around you- sniffling back what you can before reaching to cover your quivering chin with your hand. You’ve missed Taehyung. You miss him. And, how beautiful of Namjoon to surprise you with your best friend’s presence? Reuniting the three musketeers from once upon a time?

Little do they know, from the unearthing of your pregnancy to now, the two men have mended your broken heart and stitched it back together again piece by piece. You’re highly uncertain of where you would be without them, and just the thought alone is one you refuse to dwell on. While memories turn like a spindle of loosened thread, a revelation halts you in your tracks. The thought rings loud and clear gracing a wide smile on your face while one more set of tears dampen the corner of your eyes.

After scolding yourself for so long for not thinking hard enough on the subject,

right here, hands grasping the handlebar of your future child’s cradle,

you finally have a name picked out for your little one.

2 months later….

“Namjoon, I’ll be fine,” the pointed look you flash him prompts a nervous chuckle once his hands rest to rub gently along your sides. He’s concerned as he’s been almost the entire pregnancy, but of course, now his worries are heightened to an extreme, “I’m not due until next week. Don’t worry,”

“I know,” he groans, tugging you closer just enough to plant a warm to kiss to your neck, “But, I can’t help it.”

“I’ll be fine,” you drag the word with a teasing sound of a whine. Namjoon shaking his head at you with a smile you’re now feeling upon your lips. “Mm,” you hum into his kiss, your hands sliding to squeeze his shoulders in reaction to how impeccable it feels. You end the moment simply to gaze at him, “You’ll be back before you know it,” you assure him- his trip to the grocery store being the plan for the afternoon.

“Okay,” he says tenderly, eyes flickering to your lips once more before leaning to brush them to his own, “I love you,”

There’s a small pause, one that entails warmth smothering your chest in giddy sensations when his eyes steal yours after pulling away, “I love you, too, Joon,” watching him head out the door until the truck disappears along the road.

Of course, the day doesn’t go accordingly the way you expect, because on carefully prodding to the kitchen in preparation to cook breakfast, a slight ache ensues within your abdomen. “Oh,” you groan, stroking the area with your fingertips before deciding to lay down for a bit instead. When reaching your room, the sharp pain of a cramp returns causing a harsh cringe as you lean against your bedpost, hardly able to concentrate on the attempt of climbing onto the mattress. You remain hunched over for five minutes, forcing slow breaths to prevent from panicking, and when you find the coast to be clear, you straighten yourself out.

Suddenly, before you can comprehend what’s happening, a gush of water splatters onto the carpet soaking your feet in the process.

“No,” you whisper, eyes frantically scanning your room for your cell phone. Namjoon shouldn’t be far with the grocery store only being a few miles away, but in order to get a hold of him, you must find your only way of contacting him. Hands pat your bed, thrusting off the bed covers and shaking them roughly, yet no ’thump’ is heard before you cast the covers in a pile onto the ground. The next destination leads to the restroom, with no luck of your phone being in your bedroom- when another wave of pain shoots within your stomach, you gasp, trying to endure through the discomfort with all your might.

Leaving a water trail behind with every step you take, you desperately search the countertops before stepping into the area that holds the kitchen, wondering if there is any possibility it may have been left behind there. Your feet meet the cool surface of the tile floor, your gape scanning the entirety of the space before a pant of relief escapes past your dry lips the second your shaking hands gather the device. “Agh!” A contraction surges, hands squeezing your phone unintentionally, yet you grimace just enough to maintain your focus on the task at hand. Managing to get the phone ringing, it doesn’t take long until you hear the man of your dreams at the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Joon, it’s time,” you choke, voice thick with pain.

“Oh, shit! Hold on tight, I’m on my way, just hold tight, I’m coming-”

You just happen to be running by the church in favor of dropping off the work truck keys to your father when he unintentionally introduces you to the new employee you assume he plans to hire, “[Y/N], this is Kim Namjoon. He’s going to be taking care of the church grounds for us, isn’t that wonderful?”

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you,” you greet, underlyingly suffering from the attraction swarming to your reddening cheeks. When your father mentioned of hiring, you never anticipated the person to be this overwhelmingly breathtaking.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ma'am,” Namjoon’s polite nod mirrors the dimples evident from a soft grin, his hand reaching for yours to shake before your father continues the tour of the place you’ve grown up memorizing. But something initiates you to stay, eyes lingering on the back of the tall figure decked in a turtleneck covered by a green jacket complementing a pair of jeans along with brown shoes. There’s a spark of intuition that day, one that ignited the prominent determination that you want to get to know this person even if your father ends up finding out.

Namjoon busts through the door with pure alarm etched in his voice, “[Y/N], I’m here! Baby, I’m right here,” he immediately jumps to where you are, keeled over on the floor, throwing his arm around you until he lifts you out of the fellowship hall and into the work truck. Words you attempt to form are muted by whimpers, tears brimming your eyes from the pain that doesn’t end, “I’m going to grab the suitcase, I’ll be right back,” time must be faster than you can measure for Namjoon arrives, slinging the suitcase into the backseat before slamming into the driver’s side.

It takes a while for the newly found employee to warm up to every opportunity you take in order to get to know him. One thing he’s slowly but surely learning is that you’re not one to give up so easily- something you’ve noticed him picking up on, especially on days, you annoy him when he’s on call to build a project. You make it clear to talk to him nonstop until he acknowledges your existence, and the times he doesn’t breathe a word results in a call to Taehyung.

“Come help me,” you plea hearing Taehyung’s exasperated sigh on the other line.

“You are so annoying,”

“You know you love me, fool,” you gloat because with defeat, your best friend reluctantly joins you, even accompanying a basketball just in case if Namjoon happens to fancy sports. Your girlfriends, Luna and Jo, were informed of your undying crush on the mysterious worker, crossing their arms in jealousy that you half-heartedly ignored.

“He doesn’t even come to the services,” Jo droned, “Don’t you think it’d be best to get to know someone that’s more… active in the church? Like the pianist’s son, Min Yoongi. You two had such a cute relationship when you were three-”

You can’t get past why no one seems to understand that you must win Namjoon over, and though Luna and Jo have seen the world along with you since childhood, you roll your eyes, turning on a heel, “I’ll catch you later,”

Tires screech along the road while Namjoon swerves past cars on the highway, hands ghost white from the tight grasp he has upon the steering wheel. Meanwhile, your hand grips the bar above you while your other rests upon your belly- the keenness of getting to hold your baby in your arms is all you’re thinking about other than Namjoon who’s keeping you sane.

“Just a few more miles and we will be there. Just breathe,” his voice is unsteady from the fright of this situation, but he upholds his enlarged gaze upon the road. He fumbles for his phone- trying to contact anyone from your family in order to tell them the news.

“GAH!” Leaning forward, a wail echoes within the vehicle as another contraction attacks.

“You guys aren’t going to stop until I’m your friend, am I right?” Namjoon’s elbows are folded from the hold he has on the basketball meeting his chest. Tae jumps sporadically in front of him with outspread arms preparing to prevent the ball from flying into the hoop.

“Damn straight,” you shrug your shoulders in observation of Namjoon’s tilting head.

“I thought church girls didn’t cuss,”

“And I thought you’d have more game than the basketball,” Tae halts, straightening his frame, eyes flickering between you and a quiet Namjoon, “Now hurry up. If you win, I will leave you alone for good. If Tae wins then we treat you to dinner and a movie. How does that sound?”

With an incredulous shake of his head, Namjoon smirks, “Okay,” the scuffle of his converse is heard on the pavement when he briefly turns to toss the ball toward the hoop. The basketball pangs the ring, twirling ferociously to the point, your heart begins to sink, but to your pleasure, the ball tips off the rim, landing in a rejoicing Taehyung’s arms.

“HAH!” You sprint, colliding into Taehyung’s embrace while Namjoon tries to stifle the smile overtaking his lips, “Looks like it’s going to be a burger and fries’ kind of night,” you wink, unaware of the hope that Namjoon has of wanting to gain your friendship just as much.

The hospital entrance appears after the rush of Namjoon turning into the parking lot soon helping you out of the truck. The suitcase will have to wait being he can retrieve it later, his ultimate goal is getting you within the building to where you’re safe. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he tries to appear relaxed, but everything becomes a blur until a nurse with fluffy, black hair approaches with a wheelchair to help settle you in. His nametag reads 'JIMIN’ – him rolling you quickly down the hall when the presence of a female nurse whose nametag reads 'MONNIE’ helps you change into the nightgown upon arrival of the hospital room. Voices are mingling together from the pounding in your temples, but Monnie keeps her hands gentle on your back to lead you to the bed where she hooks you up to what seems like a million machines whilst providing as much comfort to you as possible.

Namjoon’s calloused hand covers yours when one other nurse, Jungkook, floods the room, bringing a chair for him to sit in. You’re not sure of all the commotion that’s overwhelming the room, but you steady your breathing as Namjoon directs, squeezing his hand through each contraction. You recognize the doctor, Kim Seokjin, a tall man already dawned in a scrub hat, mouth mask and gloves, scurrying to where you are, “Alright, I am going to check your dilation Ms. [Y/N], just breathe in and out.” Slamming your eyes shut, you whimper from the discomfort, “Alright, she is dilated three centimeters. Once you are at ten centimeters [Y/N], you will begin pushing. No worries, I will alert you as soon as I need you to begin. Keep breathing. Everything will be okay,”

“Taehyung… My mom… Dad-” you murmur deliriously between breaths, the foggy sense of your conscious outweighing how to speak properly.

“No worries baby, they’re on their way. They’re on their way right now,” he sweetly kisses your perspired forehead, running his free hand through your tangled hair.

The three musketeers were official after the day at the basketball hoop, eventually learning of Namjoon’s atheism as well as him providing for his family.

“My dad couldn’t find a job that pays enough, so I promised him that I will do whatever it takes,” it had been six months since Namjoon had been hired, and currently is finishing his final paint to the shed while you and Taehyung sit Indian style in the grass. “Thanks to the job here, I can afford the rent for my parents as well as give them my car since here, I just use the work truck…” Namjoon sharing more in-depth with his life story- you finally get what you’ve been determined to gain since meeting him.

It’s weeks later that you’ll never forget, leaning against a mini, red monkey bar after sharing your feelings toward the man you’ve grown so fond of. There’s no denying the feelings he’s had for you, and once he inches closer, the crave to hold his hand has never been stronger. Boldly, your fingers trail to intertwine with his, your nerves close to getting the best of you despite the persistent smile that hasn’t left him. When you find the bravery to look up at him, he swallows calmly before leaning in, you stand on your tiptoes to meet halfway until your lips touch. The slide of his arms encompassing your frame feels so inviting when he presses his body to yours. The world is put on pause to you and nothing else matters other than the way his lips move so elegantly- your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he sways you from side to side.

Time doesn’t seem to speed up through all this pain, but the adrenaline swimming in your veins peaks when Dr. Seokjin prepares to check your dilation again. “Ten centimeters-” He confirms, “Alright, [Y/N], the baby’s coming. When I say push, you push. Okay,” he positions himself though you can’t see anything past your gown and raised knees, “One, two, three! Push!”

“AGH!” You grunt, a small scream vibrating at the back of your throat once you push with every fiber of strength, you can muster.

“Breathe, breathe,” Namjoon’s hand hasn’t once left yours- sweat pouring from your scalp while the burning agony overpowers your body.

“Is she here!?” The click of darting heels enters the room and are loud enough for it to catch your attention. “Oh, honey, I’m here!” It’s your mother- scampering to your side with the undeniable blur of Taehyung’s red hair following suit. You want to ask where your father is, but before a chance is given, the doctor shouts, “Push!”

“AAAAAAAGH!” You manage, body straining in all its entireness. Taehyung jolts to let you squeeze his hand along with Namjoon’s. His features show nothing but fear at the sight of you being in so much strife, yet he holds it together enough to cheer you on.

“I’m- I’m so glad you both are here,” you cry- another sixty seconds drifting before the shout of, “Push!” erupts.

“I’m scared,” you murmur in the dimness of the room. On your knees, Namjoon’s soothing hands glide along the tops of your thighs motivating you to run your hands along his forearms. You don’t know where your parents are, and you’re too angry to care. You’re bushed of the fighting so, you sought comfort in being here, with Namjoon. Taehyung dropped you off at the fellowship hall with the promise of not breathing a word- because if your parents were to find out remotely of your whereabouts, you’d hate to discover what the consequences will be.

“Me too,” his nervous eyes investigate every inch of your face. You’ve never been with anyone this way before- secretly hidden away from the world outside trying to suppress the revealing crave of what you’re curious about. Scooting forward, you drape either leg around him, propping yourself enough to where your arms lace around his neck.

His breath hitches from the gesture- your lips erotically aligning with his in slow movements, heat rising below you when you feel the hardening of his being beneath your sense, “I want you,” you whisper. He knows that you’re a virgin, and with care, he lays you on the bed, hovering above your frame where your bodies align perfectly. “Are you sure this is what you want,” concern consumes his countenance, but you desperately bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

“I don’t think I’ve wanted anyone so much in my life,”

You gasp into his kiss where he slips his tongue along yours- the sensation one you’ve grown used to from the slovenly kisses leading up to this very night. You give Namjoon permission to sneak his large hands underneath your shirt, trailing up your ribcage before swallowing your breasts whole in his heated palms. Nipples so sensitive, your heat drenches the moment he realizes the effect it has on you just by merely brushing the rising buds, lipping at your neck while he basks in the beauty of your moans. “More,” you beg, “Please, Joon, more.” When clothes start to be thrown off, you’re determined to pleasure him, but have not an idea on how to do so. “Show me,” you breathlessly demand, Namjoon’s palm leading yours to encircle his twitching being. You stroke his erection as shown, biting your lower lip from the throbbing feeling of your core- him instantly finding your entrance to fill it with his fingers as carefully as he can- both of you pleasuring each other, yet still getting lost in kissing so deeply, the two of you forget to gasp for air. The sensation of heated pressed bare skin can be the most beautiful thing, especially with the way your legs entangle with his. You’re surprised the feel of his prodding fingers didn’t bring as much discomfort as you would have originally anticipated, but when he brings a hand to his penis, he rubs his tip along your slit letting the sloppy sound of you leak onto it. “Holy shit,” he moans from how soaked you are for him- his fingertips finding your clit while yours dig into the backs of his shoulders.

Smoldering kisses move from your lips to your breasts, down your abdomen to your inner thighs where you tense underneath his touch that slides to hold your bottom half where he can scan your heat. The tip of his tongue swipes upon your slit excruciatingly slow to the point your fingers tangle with the material of the bedsheets. The smacking sound of his lips savor your taste while his tongue circles your core- you’re hyperventilating from how deliciously he flicks his tongue upon your slit, screaming his name relentlessly- the speed of his skilled mouth driving you wild from the growing climax beckoning your stiffening thighs, “Oh, Namjoon, oh- Joon- I- Oh!”

He’s not ready for you to finish because there’s more he wants to show you. Hovering above you once again to see you coming down from your high, your heaving chest longs for his touch, and he nearly comes undone from the smile embellishing your face. His tracing fingertips parade along the outline of your body in featherlike tickles while the sounds of panting breaths mingle with shifting sheets bring subtle music to your ears for the rest of the night. The gentle parting of his lips grasps your own in smooth movements persuading arousal streaming from your core. Your fingers now link with frilly tufts of his hair, gripping the strands in reaction to the pressing of his bare chest to yours, dreaming of nothing more than to be entwined with him for what you hope will be forever. Hips grinding into yours prompts the light moan teasing his ears for more before his mouth trails to pause above your pounding heart. His hair brushing your chin, your arms glide to wrap around him holding the hope that he will never let you go. Not even for a second.

“Alright, one more! Almost done! Push!”

Sucking in one long breath, with a compulsory scream, you push with all you have left in you. Exhaustion weakens your limbs, yet a rush of relief floods your body when the cries of an infant reverberate within the room. With heavy eyes, you turn to see your mother with tears cascading down her face and onto the back of her hand covering her agape mouth- eyes remaining locked in front of her. Taehyung’s gaze doesn’t drop though his fingers loosen from yours at the small bundle immediately apprehending the eyes of every individual. Right then, you move your head to your other side where Namjoon gradually rises in awe- his hand still has yours. Gathering any ounce of strength, you’re ready to see the child you’ve been waiting to hold for nine months, so cautiously you sit up until your stare meets Dr. Seokjin’s. You can see the smile in his eyes despite the mouth mask, and what he says next brings you to tears, “It’s a girl,”

“Oh!” You thrill, anxious to meet her while the nurses scurry to clean her up.

“Sir, would you like to do the honors?” The doctor gestures a pair of scissors towards a stiffened Namjoon whose eyes are welled with hushed tears. He can’t even speak, yet he nods from the happiness exploding beneath his chest.

“Wait,” Your mom says, “Is- is?”

It’s a moment that seems to fit the setting for your father walks in, as if on cue, shoulders slumped from the anticipating tension now darkening the room. Taehyung’s shoulders tensed at the sight of the man he despises, but for the sake of you, Namjoon and his Godchild, he keeps his composure enough to ignore the elephant now standing in the room. The fear that used to consume you upon your dad unraveling the truth about your secret vacates you when you know that you and the two men present can conquer anything.

“Yes,” the answer is to your mother, but your stern glower of warning is only connected with your dad’s although your mother’s stare remains on you, “Namjoon is the father.”

Namjoon stands with pride while he accepts the pair of scissors from Dr. Seokjin- your father, with a shocked expression, watches as the man he hired happens to be the same man who stole his daughter’s heart without his knowledge. Yet, he refrains from anger, because who is he to ruin such a precious moment about to unfold here?

Pictures are taken of Namjoon cutting the umbilical cord, his fingers gently rubbing his daughter’s cheek while he wipes at the tears dripping from his eyes. Jungkook takes her into his arms to weigh her before wrapping her in a plush pink blanket, “She is seven pounds and five ounces,”

Endless joy envelops your heart from the scene playing out before you; especially, when the vision of your father’s quivering chin, admiring his granddaughter leaves you speechless along with the hope of redemption entering your beating heart.

“Are you ready to hold her?” Monnie’s kind eyes match her smile when she touches your arm.

“Yes,” you stifle a sob, “I want to hold her,”

Monnie poses her arms to where Jungkook places your daughter, Monnie guardedly turns to rest your baby into your arms. Her small face chortles, her eyes closing while she puckers her tiny lips. “She’s so perfect,” you cry, love in all its beauty falling from your eyes while you watch your daughter’s fingers fold individually upon her chest.

“Just like you,” Namjoon whispers, locking eyes with you before inching forward to give you a loving kiss.

“I love you, Joon,” you whisper, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.

“I love you, too.”

“Uh,” the deep serenade of your best friend interrupts, all attention abruptly turning to see him raise an index finger in the air, “So, as the Godfather, I must ask a very serious question,” the room chuckles along with him as they patiently wait for his request, “What’s her name?”

“Ah,” you nod, realizing that hasn’t been made known to anyone other than to yourself. Your mother steps forward to place her hand upon your shoulder while your father keeps his distance enough to not cause any trouble- though the two of you share a small smile to let him know all is well. Namjoon watches you in admiration- the woman of his dreams holding his child in her arms while facing her deepest fear yet holds her head with pride about the man she will spend the rest of her life with along with her daughter swaddled to her chest. You are everything he’s ever longed for and more, and he’s ready to defeat any storm in life if it’s with you and his daughter.

To answer Tae’s question though, you return to face him, tears gathering in exhilarating bliss.

“Taejun.” Her eyes slightly open at the hearing of her name as a tiny smile adorns her lips,

“Her name is Kim Taejun.”

7 notes · View notes