#but walking in and not necessarily being pushed out or anything like everyone was nice and i got what i needed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goaskangel · 7 days ago

Text

bookie!

journalist!reader x business-man!hakari

cw...NSFW, slight manipulation, mention of intox, use of "mister" "sir" "doll", dumification, degradation, all the usual smut stuff LOL

word count...4.8k

a/n...this is my first fic ive posted publicly EEEK lowk nervy but i've read like 2 good hakari fics on this mf website and i js figured i might as well do it myself. my writing here IS NOT MY BEST, i plan to indulge into how i usually write. smut is a little harder for me to write so be patient AND NICE PLZ. mdni!please understand what kind of media you are consuming and be smart about it.

just the way hakari presented himself, it felt as if even if you didn’t suspect anything from him, it was obvious he was a secretive and cocky man. from how he dressed with his constant change between pimpy-fur coats and vulgar tanks with his ever-changing colored hair between purples, blacks, and blondes, it was no surprise he must’ve lied his way to the top.

and even with this assumption, you couldn’t deny the offer of living with him and your company's team. not necessarily living with him but staying in a private luxury hotel, and sure, maybe your job here wasn’t very important as a journalist but your boss insisted on you attending.

what kind of moron would pass on the opportunity of possibly breaking through one of japan’s wealthiest and slyest business men anyway?

something about interviews but mostly projects, maybe even a documentary went in your ear and out the other when your boss spoke to you about the expectations on this “trip.”

after being stuck on a reserved bus, you finally manage to push through and make it to a not very deserted place. matter of fact it was right in front of a busy street in the busiest city. you stretched your legs, cracked a few fingers, and headed to the entrance of the tall—what seemed to be marbled—hotel. if you could even call it that. seemed like a resort more than anything. you were told your bags full of equipment for work and clothes for the three day project would be handled by security. the front of the building were two big guards protecting any outsiders. pretty confidential for just a few days. it stays on brand with hakari’s whole attitude, a whole ass hotel in the city only allowing a few people with specific identification.

inside it looked like everybody from every corporate office in town had been messily dragged in. heavy steel tables were set randomly with even heavier bags and briefcases on top, open with papers and documents spilling out.

the man himself was sitting at one of the sturdy desks, his head down.

before you noticed that he decided to go purple, left his black blazer on the shoulders of the chair he sat on, you watched as his hand shook carefully on a paper given to him by the lady standing nearby.

his hot pink eyes dart back and forth across the page. you assume he was looking for another place to sign because he handed it right back to her after examining. hakari returns back to a binded notebook, the pen still in his fingers. he scribbles words down vigorously. part of you wonders what he’s got going on. another part wonders where your room will be.

you observe the rest of the lobby. you glance at your boss finally coming through security, the dumb, happy guy starts a conversation with almost everyone as he came. he calls hakari over as if they’ve known each other since the dawn of time, and he follows. they greet one another and you go blank on the rest until your name is called. quickly, you turn to face the men again and walk towards them.

"if the interview goes well—which i'm sure it will—perhaps the documentary could follow up.” your boss explains, still turnt to hakari.

“mhm oh yeah man i’m sure of it, yep.” he agrees, mooning. his white button up hugging him perfectly.

scrunched up sleeves, pen marks on his forearms. a few buttons undone from the neck.

“this young lady right here is the foundation of the writing department.”

“oh yeah. so i’ve read.”

he reaches a hand out, “took you a while to say hi.”

“you seemed busy, signing shit n’ whatnot.” you smile politely and firmly shake his hand. he cheeses a toothy grin, blue and silver gems shine back at you.

“pardon her words, man. you know how writers are—can write page upon pages yet their mind goes blank when they have a chance to speak—hah.” your boss shines his own nervous smile.

“ya, know what they say about business men, can talk for hours and hours, spill what seems to be almost everything, and still have secrets.” he darts his eyes to yours before closing and laughing richly with the older man.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

you spend the rest of the night cozying up into your hotel room and lazily journaling down ideas, even scraping up an idea against hakari. you stretch your arms after tossing your notebook shut, you glance over at the alarm on the desk,

11:24 P.M.

it would be a good time to grab a snack, now that everyone should be asleep. at least you hope so as you walk out in casual clothes.

you toss the room’s card from hand to hand and pass quiet rooms until turning left to the snack bar. you were told earlier that food would be available for the company whenever, so you figured it must be open now too, with all the staff asleep or at their posts.

there was an incredible aroma of columbian brew with a dash of vanilla dancing with something hot, something fresh out of the oven. you’re greeted with his strong back. shaped tightly, almost too tight, was a simple white tank. on caramel skin, his wide shoulders flexed as he took a small spoon into his mug, tossing sugar packets and singles of liquid creamers into a trash bin. but it doesn’t really phase you. what were the chances of somebody being here? let alone hakari. it’s ironic and mostly awkward.

you could’ve left but the pastry before you was calling your name. how awkward could it really be?

you walk towards the counter he was just at, he who was walking back to a two-chaired table.

“it’s almost midnight.” he speaks and you freeze as if you’ve been caught. obviously, you haven’t, so you quickly grabbed a floral napkin and the pastry.

“writers stay up late, i know that. but they’re usually alone.”

“well how was i supposed to know somebody else was gonna be up? it is almost midnight.”

“you’re the one writing stories about me and talking shit, i’d assume you’d know everything about me.” he grins as he pulls a chair out, sitting in it and slowly stirring his coffee. steam swirls up from the cup. “take a seat.”

you walk to him and pull the other chair out, sitting quietly. you break apart the food in your hands and eat it piece by piece, examining the table subtly.

he’d been sitting there for a while; papers closed a binder with a few pens spilt around. an empty chip bag, a few crumbs near the bottom of the coffee cup, his hands warming up around it.

his hands were nice.

you swallow casually and look back at him. “you read my stuff? which one of your little employees do you have search for works written about you, huh?”

“i find ‘em myself, ‘nd you're lucky i don’t report them. can’t have nasty stuff circulating around me, whether if it’s true or not.”

“—or should i call them workers instead?” you ignore him.

“your writing is admirable.”

something about that made you lose track of what you were saying.

you lay back in your chair and mumble an okay.

you watch as he takes a sip of his sugared coffee, the steam cupping his face gently and flowing up.

“so when do you sleep?”

“i’ll go in a couple,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “schedule’s got all fucked ever since i got here. my manager—and don’t tell her i said this—doesn’t understand the concept of time, or maybe she’s fucking with me. how can i get three hours of paperwork done, meetings between each pile, ‘nd make phone calls back to back, but can’t stay up late?”

“damn, you’ve even got your sleep schedule sorted?”

“gotta sneak out here like some goddamn teenager. it’s no big deal, she’s knocked out at 10. jus’ gotta keep kissing her ass and thank her for taking such good care of me. she won’t suspect a thing.”

you giggle at the irony, “might as well be your girlfriend.”

“god, more like my mom.” you can see the outline of his tongue grazing his teeth as he grins. probably feeling the gems on his smile, you cross your legs at the view.

funny and handsome.

speaking of closing your thighs—you remember you have to get back to your room.

“we’ve got just three days,” you say as you stand from your chair, “i’m sure we’ll have to work our asses off tomorrow.” hakari looks up at you.

“hmm nobody tell you wha’s happening either?”

you shake your head and carefully bite the inside of your lip.

“m’kay. have a good rest of your night, then.” he nods back down and sips his coffee. his tone indicated he practically knew you weren’t sleeping immediately. to enjoy the rest of your night.

“yeah, i’ll make sure of it. goodnight.”

as happy as you were to receive a half-vacation, half-business trip at a hotel – the benefits of not having to wake up early just to drive almost an hour to work everyday, the entire company just being outside, your hands would not suffice. you thought to yourself earlier, how great it’d be to stay in a nice, cool room and wind down from a long day. keeping dirty fantasies in your head and just when you thought the tight, small circles on your heat could master an orgasm. but the thought of him kept interrupting.

a hand crawling up your neck and the other circling underneath your panties. closing your eyes as you concentrated on silver-haired men kissing your breasts, guys who stunk of cigarettes and coffee making out with your clit, god anybody willing to run their hands on your body. you jolt at the sudden twitch of your cunt, your back arching slightly. you groan. the man you’ve been practically stalking and have to work with is now appearing in your head while you masturbate. you switch the bedside lamp off and take off-white sheets over yourself.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

on the second day, you pass new people while walking down narrow hallways. each person looking more tired than the one before. you notice just how many people could fill up the lobby and snack bar. as enticing the syrup from breakfast smelled, you keep your distance from everybody else. carefully, you lick the inner of your lips and taste the lipgloss you applied earlier.

now popping your lips, backing up slowly, still examining the room until you feel what seems to be a pillar or wall behind you.

“hey… you got a light?” behind you. tall, peeping over you – was that a fur coat? hakari watches everybody else almost as intently as you were.

you stutter before reaching into your coat’s pocket, “yeah.” he takes it and quickly lights the now-appeared-cigarette of his mouth.

“a smoke for breakfast? that can’t be healthy.” you cross your arms as he flips the lighter in the air.

“it wouldn’t have been, hun, we had breakfast this morning already. don't you remember?” he exhales smoke that passes your jaw, making you shudder.

“here, sounds like you need it.” he says the last part through his teeth, pinching the end of the cig and lowering it to your mouth. you glare to your side and lean in to wrap your lips around it, inhaling. you pull away and spew smoke out much more discreetly. he takes another, blowing it out, licking his lips, “tastes like bubblegum.”

after set-ups and mic-checks in steel stools and numerous questions, you’re sitting in front of a laid-back hakari. his legs man-spread and his hands fixing his hair every other second. a very specific rage comes back to you. the same anger that you felt staying up to post blogs about complicated, but evident-filled, theories and what you truly think is the truth about the man sitting in front of you. the feeling is nostalgic. your nerves are overfilled with different emotions – since when could a man controlling so many industries, controlling so many people and still handle an underground fight club while acting like a semi-normal person? but normal people don’t wear fur-fucking-coats on the regular, let alone keep illegal ranges where people fight like bears just to be bet on like horses.

two cups of steaming coffee are placed in the high-wooden table between you and hakari.

“this part of the interview will be audio-presented. the second part will be videotaped.” the host of the section stands above the recorder, the rest of the crew standing around or still finishing breakfast. “etiquette for the tape is pretty simple – ‘ms and mr’ is usually set and the rest is self-explanitory.”

you nod kindly and look at the man, meeting his eyes, ones that perhaps never left you.

easy, almost-boring questions are asked but it hadn’t prepared you for what was going to come. the questions slowly make less and less connection and stay focused on hakari. “ethicality is mentioned within businesses and is no exception to your work, ms l/n.” before being asked the repetitive question, the topic being how many times can we make hakari look like a god in one tape, you interrupt the host.

“morals are nowhere to be found in such work. there’s – again – no sense.” now slouched, hakari responds, “tell me, when searching for a job that pays well, were you interested in the pay or how many hours you had to work? ‘s there something you w’na say about being able to survive or how comfortable you are?”

“sometimes it just boggles me to think about how one person needs more than one business. is it for fun, mister?”

“is what for fun, girl?”

“is being a con-man to violent people and making them believe knocking each other’s teeth out will help for fun?”

the host stutters and gets shushed, “well, you’re very right. that wouldn’t be ethical at all.” he smiles very faintly. too faintly for you to lash out and not make it seem like you’re crazy.

“untruthful about being a bookie and fight-promoter. does gachinko ring a bell?”

“any more questions? how about all my employees' salaries? wanna know my salary? how’s about ‘you busy after this?’”

the recorder falls off the foldable table after being shaken, “for the love of god.” your boss yells and stops. scrunching his fat nose and pinching the bridge. “that was the fourth time. i just… you know what, we’ll continue tomorrow morning. kinji you’ve got a meeting we’ve, i’ve, been trying to hold off but it seems like everybody’s in the mood for a break.” he walks to the exit of the lobby, followed by some of his crew. hakari gets up, exhaling and cracking his fingers and wrists.

“almost as good as your writing. but writers always gotta fuck up while speaking.” he picks up the recorder from the ground and tosses it to the full cups of coffee.

“are they going to post it?”

he shakes his head.

“then what?”

“might do it all again tomorrow. a little more strict, too. it’s not like it was a bad tape either. just like you know, i can’t let shit spread around about me. i would never allow it.”

you scoff and watch him walk off, cursing under your breath.

it’s the evening when he comes back, bringing a few drunk men through the guards. you nod your head back and forth between your open laptop and the men that find their wobbly way to the lounge's couches. you tune out their slurred talk and how hakari’s joking gets belly-laughs from them. he cackles with them, clapping his hands bluntly. he sighs, tears in his eyes, as he walks past the random suitcases and desks spread-about.

you type away at your slightly dull keys, clumsily taking your gel-pen and drabbling a note down.

“workin’ hard, i see.” you feel a heavy hand land on your left shoulder and glance over to the other side of the desk, hakari’s ringed-fingers tapping away at the steel.

“what’re you writing down…” he mumbles and leans over obnoxiously. you lean back in your chair, looking at him looking at your notes.

“god, are you drunk? didn’t you just have a meeting?”

“drunk? nah, i don’t get drunk.”

“i can smell the whiskey from your breath.”

“ah-ha, you knew i drank whiskey, huh. looks like even an overworked girl like you knows how to have fun, too.” he looks at you with literal joy in his pupils. face tampered with blush while smiling like a hyena. “anyway,” he stands back up, the grip on your shoulder falling to your bare-arm. “even your handwriting is nice.”

“uh-huh…” you press your thighs together, feeling the cold metal of his jewelry on your skin. his hand so big compared to your arm. part of you hopes his long gaze is down your blouse.

it is.

“ya look good.” he speaks through the rasp in his throat but all you hear is a mutter, he gives your arm a squeeze before patting it and walking toward the corridor of rooms.

you let out a shaky sigh and feel yourself burn up, staring at your yellow-notepad. hakari strides to his room, the last room of the hallway, stretching his arms. he takes a gold card out and shoves it into the slot.

he lets out a serene moan when his back hits the bed. tossing his keys, phone, and whatever junk out of his pockets onto the nightstand. his large coat following. he groans and kicks off his shoes. something still bothering him. he reaches his hands down to his belt and unravels it, throwing it down. unbuttoning and zipping to comfort the ache below his stomach.

god, how hard could a guy get from one conversation? his slit brows raise as he grins, taking his weeping cock and holding the base.

thinking about all the things you’d say,

you’re so vulgar. not enough action recently, huh? what stress’ll do to ya…

“yeah, baby, stress.” he takes his other hand and taps the underside of his cock in his palm. closing his eyes and imagining your sweet self between his legs, those same tits in his view. your pink tongue lolling out for him. “finally shut that smart-ass mouth up… use her for something fuckin’ useful.” he groans, stroking himself.

what makes him throb is how dumb you’d gotten when his hands were on you. how fucking sweet and quiet you went when his fingers stroked your arm, weren’t you exposing him just a couple of hours ago? what a desperate girl. he swears out as he jerks spurts of come onto his clothed shirt. “yeah, hmph god, yeah, that’s good..” he pants like a dog, eyes going heavy.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

another day passes and you haven’t come. guilt swats your hand away everytime you try, anyway. you start to get sick of the syrup and eggs roaming the air. you sit at the same spot from last evening and observe the room.

half of your company is eating breakfast or still passed out on the couch. the others, probably asleep or dealing with tech. your boss walks towards you and places a cup of coffee down in front of you.

“we oughta work on you, huh? hah!” he stirs wood in his own cup.

“you’re not hungover? i’m surprised you’re up this early.”

“gotta stay professional, ya know…i only had one shot. maybe a couple. this coffee’s really good, drink some.”

“right because drinks on the second day of a work-trip is highly professional.”

“hey, come on.” he frowns and drinks a sip of his obviously too hot roast. “where is everybody? hell, where’s kinji?” he drifts off to a new group of people near the snackbar.

the lobby fills again with the occasional technical difficulty, yet no hakari to be found. you wish you could throw it off and be so disconnected that you didn’t even realize the star wasn’t here like some of your colleagues, but you kept your eyes on that same corridor. the loud bitch from the room on the tallest floor went through your ear and out the other. you didn’t even realize the fly that was constantly buzzing had been trying to get your attention.

“do you know where kinji is?” she was beautiful but still his assistant, loud and fussy like a bad mom. if she didn’t know where he was, how were you supposed to know? you put on a concerned look with a little smile, “might be in his room.” you get up and begin walking to the hallway, how the hell did they not check his fucking room? you swear your eyes roll so far to the back of your head, that if you didn’t have ears to hear the bitch’s loud heels clacking, you could’ve seen her behind you. you turn to the last door on the right and knock, remembering how many men had to carry luggage upon luggage inside.

“hello? mister, we’re waiting on you.” you knock faster than time. “hakari?” the door swings open and your hand is met with another. before you can say anything, he shushes you and looks around, pulling you into his room and says, “give me a’minute. take a seat.” he leaves. by seat he probably refers to his bed, the entire room cluttered by stuff. you sit on the edge of his bed and sigh, taking a moment to collect what just happened.

he was shirtless. the bathroom door being open and light on explains why, he’d taken a shower. the mirror was still foggy and the towel hung on the door’s hanger. there was a faint smell of vanilla and something floral. you would’ve been pissed to be in a messy room like this but you figured it was better than being out with everybody else.

the door opens again and a calm hakari walks in, closing the door and locking it.

his hair is damp but you only notice how he’s clothed in a towel. one that hangs low at his hips.

“everybody’s waiting, and you’re not even dressed yet.”

“s’fine, y/n. i bought us some time. these people, they’ll listen to whatever i say.” he says with a smile, and you look back at him with confusion.

“but the interview…?” your mouth drops gently when his hand comes to hold your face.

he sighs and looks up and away. your legs are shut and you swallow the sudden pool of saliva in your mouth as your eyes are fixated on his sharp, shaved jawline and how his adam’s apple flexes as he speaks. “this job’s real tough, i know it is, ‘nd you want a break. doesn’t everyone?” he looks back down at you, his eyes filled with what seems to be.. lust? you furrow your eyebrows and nod slowly. he carefully puts some hair behind your ear and leans down to whisper against your skin, “w’na be a good girl and take some of that stress away from the both of us?” he kisses a part of your jaw, “my good girl?”

oh god.

did you write half of your career on this greedy man just for him to be licking your ear? leading a hand to your button-up and slowly undoing the pearly clasps?

his hand now on your bare leg, going up and up your mid-pencil skirt. you feel yourself get dizzy from the thought of him feeling your lacy panties, holding a hand on his strong shoulder, his skin slightly wet. did you wear them on purpose? you can’t think. he stands back up, his hand slithering and rubbing the back of your neck. breathing heavily, you start to undo the rest of your shirt’s buttons. “yeah, there ya go.” he encourages you until your laced bra is exposed.

he hooks a finger on the side of your panties and tugs them off, you reach under your skirt and tug the other side. he takes both sides and peels away, “mhhm, always liked a matching set.” your skin burns at embarrassment, not from what he said but how wet the middle of your core was and how drenched the crotch of your panties were.

“a lil’ kissin’ got you this soaked, huh? you want this? ain’t you just sweet, doll.” he throws it to the corner of the bed and hums when you nod. “s’quiet when you’re needy.” hakari pushes two fingers at your lips just when you thought you could finally say something. “open.” he demands gently and grins when you comply. they find their way to the middle of your mouth and you can’t help but suck softly. “mhm that’s good, suck ‘em good. cost about’a milli’ each, heh.” he takes them out and pushes you slowly onto your back, spreading your legs, holding one up with a burly arm.

“fuck.” is the only thing you manage to let out when he bunches your skirt up to your waist.

“be quiet f’me now.” he spits a glob onto his two fingers and presses them to your clit. you gasp at the content.

“so wet.” he mumbles.

circling tight, slippery rounds on your aching bud. the guilty friction you’ve been craving finally went through. a sudden warmth and pleasure take over your pelvis. heat rises to your upper body, your hands slightly shaking and your ears burning, god, what were you doing? you watch and feel his dirty mastered hand bring you shame. your entire career faltered just for your fulfillment, the guilt so heavy, it makes you moan out.

“huuh, mister – shit, i need it.” you speak whispers breathlessly.

“yeah? you need it, baby?” he brings his focus to your pathetic expression, pushing and curling two fingers into your cunt. you moan out and watch, feel, as his fingers pump in and out of you. his hands are skilled as they break you open little by little. “sweet girl with a needy cunt, must’ve hit the fuckin’ jackpot.” your clit throbbing as you watch him grope himself and ease his own ache through the white towel.

“c’mon, please sir.” you tap the side of his waist with your heeled foot.

“patience, girl.” he pulls his fingers out and pats your vulva a few times before pulling your body close to his. his hand finally, finally pulling down the towel. the thing that kept distracting you from nights of sleep now dripping pre just above your heat. he gives himself a couple of strokes, long and heavy as your body begged, driving yourself closer ‘til your ass was almost off the bed.

“shh shh.” he rubs his wet tip against your folds as you start begging quietly, your slits sloppily kissing. he groans when your cunt flutters, pushing himself into the first tight muscle.

you writhe at the sudden burn, making you mewl ever-so quietly.

“be a good girl f’me.” he presses a hand on your lower stomach in comfort before moving his hips forward with no intent of stopping until he’s bottomed out. you moan long whines and grind your body down to try and get more, the stretch already burning. “fuck, goddamn it.” the warmth you bring him is unmatched, all he can think about is how hot you feel.

“fuck me – wan’ more.” you clench down and get a moan out of him. his hands hold down onto your plush thighs as he rocks back and forth into you, your folds swallowing him whole everytime. your throat burns at the way you choke out whimpers, drool seeping from the sides of your plump lips. “what’s your company g’na think of you now, hmm? director of the – fuckin’ writing department– their smart girl’s gotta fuck it all up cause she couldn’t resist some cock.” his hips start to fasten and he keeps a tight grip on your legs, your pretty, fucked out, face stays red. “‘s okay, pretty. you ain’t gotta say nothing, jus’ take it like the dumb girl you are and i’ll forget about all the mean little things you said, mhm?”

“uh-huh.” your head’s spinning from the grinding he’s now doing, the underside of his cock rubbing back and forth and back and forth on the rough spot inside of you. your thighs tremble as you feel yourself getting close. you get louder and hiccup about how good it is.

“ya – yesyesyes please awh fuck,” your hands groping at the back of your neck and the hard nipples of your breast as you arch your back off of the white sheets, “coming – oh god kin’ i’m gonna come, come. thank you thank you…!” the hard waves of heat and fuzziness take up what seems to be your entire body as you cream all over the base of his cock, hakari still pumping himself inside, riding your release out. “god, fuck, baby. stay still.” eagerly, he takes his hard-on out and jerks himself above your mound before coming straight, hot lines of cum onto your stomach.

he pants, “you wanna talk to me about my morals?”

“jesus fuck. shut the fuck up.”

#goaskangel #jujutsu kaisen x reader #hakari kinji #kinji hakari #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #new author #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader

37 notes · View notes

differenteagletragedy · 11 months ago

Text

I have been replaying Baxter's route in Our Life and analyzing it like I'm in English 101 (shout out to @meowzilla93 for listening to the unedited version of my rambles lol) and I've only played one moment so far (extra lol) but there are may thoughts.

-- Please play Hang first before Sightseeing if you haven't, doing things in this order is my truth and maybe it could be yours too! If you do it this way, then it's like you meet Baxter, he's a charming little weirdo and you exchange numbers and then the gang is going to the beach one day, so you can invite the new guy!

-- If you are feeling forward or nice or just have a big crush on him already (totally fair of you tbh), then you can invite him over to your room before you head down to the shore to get an extra hang in.

-- Before this, he was looking at you as maybe a potential fling, nbd, but if you are nice enough to not only include him in your plans but also to invite him into your home and also your ROOM? Well, that's pretty special, isn't it? And Baxter likes to feel special.

-- Ok listen, PLEASE don't try to convince this guy to get in his swimsuit and get in the ocean. I get it, I get it, but he is so surprised and happy if you just accept that he has a fear and tell him that he doesn't need to push himself, it's totally fine with you and not a dealbreaker. If you pick this option, then it's the one that makes him "crack his guard" for a moment, and he'll thank you sincerely instead of saying something jokey or flirty.

-- Because of this I think that he's used to people pushing boundaries with him, so much that he's surprised you DON'T do that. Not that he would think MC is being mean or insensitive if they do ask him to try the ocean, there's obviously not any sort of mean-spirited option there. But boy does he like just being fully accepted as is.

-- ALSO if you don't get him to go change, he waits for you downstairs while you do and you catch him smiling gently at a picture of you when you were a kid on the beach. Guy has got it bad already.

-- If you don't get him to change, then you can see that he's wearing little heels, and if that's not everything then what is

-- When you get to the beach, please tell him again that there's nothing wrong with being scared of the ocean. If you do, then "the tension in his face gradually softened when the 'but' he was waiting for never came." He is waiting for everyone to tell him that he's doing something wrong in some way. You gotta be Baxter's hype person, MC.

-- Ok so then everything happens, but if you play Hang first the way nature intended, then it all happens with Baxter as a crush instead of as your suitor for the summer. And that doesn't necessarily mean anything, but if you like a slower burn then that's an option!

-- He'll still put his arm around you and give you a little snuggle at the fireworks and tell you you look amazing even if you're not dating. Adorable.

-- Oh and if you aren't already dating then you get to hold his hand and walk through the sprinklers and pretend like it's raining, he's such a goof.

#our life beginnings and always #baxter ward

93 notes · View notes

prettygyalkay · 5 months ago

Text

lets make it to the morning

chapter 1

tw: choking, vvv short smut

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

the speedometer flashed between 110-120 with limited light except the red outline of control buttons dimmed in the car. the rank smell of two joints mixed with the pride of the melody that played in the car labeled itself as a pre-game.

eren was on his way to the girl's house where they got nothing productive done. where he had almost fallen in love.

♡ was a girl of beauty he had never seen before. her beautiful brown complexion underneath his skin drove him crazy, and the smell of shea butter every time he was inside of her sent him mad.

♡ was a girl he couldn't keep his mind off of.

but it was better off as co-workers with benefits.

his reputation of being a producer who built up dozens of rappers into some of the greatest. his beats gave inspiration to everyone, and youtube is filled with people who try to recreate his art.

manhattan traffic is always a mess, the constant breaking and long wait time. he told her he's 30 mins away as an element of surprise, but it's looking like 30 hours now.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

♡ laid down on her bed with her hair still out, a robe covering her skimpily dressed body. underneath the pastel pink robe was a crop white tanktop and a white skims thong.

she took off her makeup from a long day of vlogging and just had lashes and a lip mask on. eren's favorite.

not that she did it all for him! but she knew it riled him up a bit more. their relationship was complicated...

she was editing a tiktok on her ipad to hint to her new youtube video dropping tomorrow. after being a ig model for so long, she wanted to gain consistency on content creating.

she was seen as a "big sister" online, her youtube filled with tutorials and keeping it real with her supporters. she wasn't necessarily trying to get them to buy the next best beauty product, but steering them in the right way.

♡ was starting to make a strong living for herself when her first song "living room flow" was dropped. eren and ♡ struggled to stay on task for the most part, but came out with a masterpiece.

it reflected eren and ♡'s relationship too. but she didn't think he caught on to her hints. the sexual tension between them that kept them glued to each other, but anything other than that seemed forbidden.

at least to them.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

♡ got up from her bed when eren texted her two minutes ago, making him wait a little. she unlocked the gazillion locks on her door, opening it slightly.

her condominium had two people per floor, so she didn't have to worry too much about anyone seeing them. her neighbor was a nice old couple named Mrs. & Mr. Alvarez.

"who is it?"

"stop playing with me."

"who is ittttt??"

"girl."

eren pushed the door but ♡ pushed back, sending him stumbling a little. eren then pushed back, sending ♡ back.

"damn sasquatch, you could've put any more of your weight on my door?" ♡ sassed, rolling her eyes. she glanced at eren, keeping the glance in her mind.

all his tattoos were on display in that little white wife beater he has on, his chains glimmering in the dim light of ♡'s apartment. his nike tech pink sweatpants hung a bit low with new white forces. he had on his rings and his hair seemed to be messy.

like he ran his fingers thru them, or another girl had their hands in them?

what did that matter to ♡ ?

"not my fault you wanna play these goddamn games." eren said as, unlike ♡ , he shamelessly drank ♡ . his blue almost grey eyes captured the roundness of ♡ 's ass in that robe he loved so much. ♡ 's nipples peeking out thru the thin fabric.

♡ 's brown, moisturized skin glowed in the lighting decorated with shea butter and coconut oil. "so, you're just gonna stare?" ♡ said as her arms crossed, putting all her weight on her right leg.

eren's eyes slowly went up ♡ 's face, her two toned juicy lips and her captivating eyes. beautiful flat nose. he took his shoes off slowly, walking up to ♡ .

he towered over ♡ , standing at 6'2 while she stood at 5'5. he licked his lips before swooping her up by surprise.

"eren!"

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

♡ moaned into the duvet as eren thrusted into her from the back. he held her hands together on her back with his left hand while his right hand smacked her ass with each thrust.

♡ 's cunt was sopping wet and squeezing him in with each stroke he delivered to your overstimulated pussy. he had eaten her out and fucked her on every flat surface in her room, and her bed was the last one.

"rennnn!" she drawed out, his right hand snaking around her neck. he leaned down, kissing the small of her neck before nibbling on her ear. his strokes became slower but harder with each thrust.

he was hitting her g-spot with every stroke, and he tightened his grip on her neck a little.

"so what you was doin around tjay huh?" eren said in ♡ 's ear as he continued his punishing strokes. ♡'s eyes were closed as she bit her lip, letting moans slip from her lips.

♡ was speechless. he was dicking her down, and she couldn't possibly focus on his dumbass question. not when his dick was touching that spongey spot in her stomach.

when her legs were shaking from the 10 minutes ago he had his fingers and tongue deep in her pussy as she screamed for him.

no she couldn't.

"open your fucking eyes and answer me, you be slutting this pussy out?" eren seethed, his hand traveling up to her cheeks to squeeze them.

♡ 's eyes opened, looking at him dazed. eren reveled in the fact that his dick can get her speechless, but right now he wanted the truth. that's why he chose to interrogate her on her sex high.

he asked her again, and she shook her head. profusely. his strokes were so agonizingly slow but bruising. hitting her right where she needed him. "nn-no!" she screamed as she clenched around him.

"you really didn't fuck him?" he asked her again, tilting her head so she can look at him. his hips stayed next to her g-spot, stilling. "eren!" she pouted.

"no!"

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

going round for round, the two had missed each other.

more so bodies.

#aot #aotau #smut #eren yeager #aot x female reader #aot x black reader

33 notes · View notes

effloradox · 1 year ago

Text

me!; peter parker.

track sixteen of LOVER

pairing: tom holland!peter parker x gn!reader

synopsis: the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate

word count: 2.4k

From what you’ve heard, New York City isn’t that different in colour than it is in black and white. When you’re deep in the city and the skyscrapers are towering over you, the seas of blacks, whites, and greys that you can see doesn’t really affect anything. You’ve met people in the past that lived by the sea or in the country when the lack of colour is more prominent, but you consider yourself lucky that in a city it’s not that big of a deal. Sure it would be nice to be able to see the colour of your mother’s favourite flowers or appreciate the blue of a summer sky when there’s not a cloud to be seen, but it’s not necessarily impractical for you to not be able to see colours.

That doesn’t mean that a part of you doesn’t ache when yet another one of your friends sends an excited message to your group chat that she’s met her soulmate. You smile at the message and send the appropriate messages of congratulations but it’s a wistful smile more than anything, and it fizzles out the good morning you’d been having. The number in your group that haven’t met your soulmate yet is dwindling, and sometimes it’s hard to feel like you’re not being left behind. You know that you’ll meet your soulmate when the universe decides it’s time but you’re starting to feel the edges of frustration growing in your subconscious. You went through both middle and high school without meeting your soulmate, and now you’re in your second year of college, it’s starting to feel like the universe is just toying with you.

You finish the remains of your lukewarm coffee before saving the assignment you’d forgotten you were working on and shut your laptop down. The warm atmosphere of the coffee shop you’d been residing in seems to have dulled slightly at the news, and you’re more in the mood now to go and throw a mini pity party for yourself than worry about your communications assignment. You’re quick to gather all your belongings and load them into your backpack, swinging it over your shoulder as you make your way to the exit. You throw a quick smile at the baristas as you walk through the door onto the crowded street outside. It's almost spring and the warmth in the air seems to have brought everyone outside as you try to make your way through the crowd to the nearest subway station to get home.

It's the sound of a scream that makes everyone stop around you. Attacks in New York are sadly all too common so people quickly start to move on, hoping to avoid whatever maniac in a suit is causing chaos today. You manage half the walk home before the sound of something crashing into a building just down the street really sends people into a panic. You find yourself struggling to move forward as people become more erratic at getting away before they get hurt, and it feels like for every step forward you manage, people shoving past you pushes you five steps back. It finally seems to clear in front of you and it doesn’t occur to you to worry why that is, just that you should try and keep moving and get away from whatever is going on around you. It’s only when you hear a woman scream that you turn just in time to see a huge block of cement flying through the air and heading in your direction.

In what you're going to later categorise as a very uncharacteristic moment, you find yourself freezing in place at the danger in front of you. It's only a blur of grey and an arm wrapping around your waist that jolts you from your mind as you're pulled into the air and away from the slab of concrete that definitely would've killed you if it had been given the chance to make contact with your body. It takes your brain a good few seconds to process what's happening to you as you feel solid ground back underneath your feet and the arm is removed from your side. You’re vaguely aware of someone speaking to you but your brain isn’t quite caught up and it’s all you can do to not collapse as your legs start to shake as what just happens begins to settle in your mind. The words being spoken to you start to become clearer as the fog slowly lifts from your brain.

“Hey miss, are you okay? Can you hear me?” You finally feel like you’re able to open your eyes without throwing up and it’s all you can do to let out a groan of discomfort. When you finally look up to see the person who pulled you from certain doom, your first thought is that you didn’t think you’d ever get this close to the masked vigilante that’s been swinging around New York for the last few years. That thought is immediately shut down though, when colours start to bloom into your vision, starting with the deep red of his mask and bleeding out into everything else in your vision. He seems equally startled by the revelation, stumbling back from you slightly as if he’d been burned. “Oh my god.”

“You can say that again.” The two of you continue staring at each other, or at least you’re staring at him. The mask makes it difficult to tell if he’s staring at you but you have a feeling that he is. You can also tell that he’s panicking slightly about the situation that’s just unfolded in front of you both.

“You just almost died!” He takes one of your hands from your side and it’s only then that you notice how much you’re shaking. You can’t tell if it’s from finally meeting your soulmate or if it’s from the near death experience and you decide to chalk it up to both. “What’s your name?” The voice is softer now, quieter now he seems to have reassured himself that you’re physically okay.

“(Y/N). I’m assuming I can’t ask you yours?” Spiderman shakes his head slightly, and the shifting of the vibrant red hurts your eyes slightly as you still find yourself adjusting to being able to see colours.

“I have to go and stop Scorpion, but I promise I’ll find you. Is there anywhere I can meet you when this is over?”

“I’m meant to have a class later. I study journalism and communications at NYU.” Your soulmate lets out a noise of consideration at your words.

“What class do you have later?”

“Journalism 301.” He seems to contemplate something for a moment before speaking again.”

“I have that class too. I’ll meet you on the benches outside the building.” You step back at his words, and when you speak confusion is heavy in your tone.

“You’re a student?”

“If these guys with masks keep attacking during my classes I might struggle to graduate but for now my GPA is holding enough for me to stay a student, yeah. I have to go before I lose Scorpion but meet me after class later?”

“Will I know who you are?”

“I’m not sure. I guess we’ll find out later huh?” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and turning around, jumping up and sending a web towards a building to pull himself into the sky. Some passers-by run over to you as he swings away, checking that you’re physically unharmed, and then you’re being walked to the nearest subway station by a friendly older woman who wouldn’t hear of you making the five minute walk by yourself. She only leaves your side as you step onto your train, thanking her for what must be the tenth time in five minutes.

The journey back to your dorm is silent, and you’re relieved that your roommate isn’t there so you can take some time to process what’s happened. It’s nice to see your dorm as most other people see it, a multitude of colours all over the walls and the pictures of you and your friends in colour. You cringe slightly at some of the pictures from a few years ago, back when none of you could see colour and you’d all refused to let your parents tell you what colours you were wearing. You make a mental note to call your mom and berate her for letting you walk around in an outfit with such clashing colours before falling back onto your bed.

When you make it to your journalism class, you can barely focus. You take a seat at the back of the class, and you barely make any notes, too busy watching every guy in the class to see if any of them look over to you more than just for fleeing glances. When your professor announces that the class is over, you’re slow to pack up your things and you’re one of the last to walk out. When you walk out of the building, there’s only one person sitting on the benches, and he’s not facing you but you know who it is. The familiar mop of curly hair gives away your soulmate’s identity and you freeze in place. Peter Parker is Spiderman? You walk towards him, only slowing when he turns to face you.

“Hey (Y/N). I’m-“

“Peter Parker.” You see a flash of surprise on his face when you say his name before him.

“You know who I am?”

“You’re like the smartest guy in our class Peter, everyone knows who you are.” The small flush of pink on his cheeks as you compliment him is sweet, even if you were being sincere.

“I figured we could talk? About everything that happened today?” You give him a slow nod, watching as he jumps to his feet, pulling his backpack in front of him and opening it. He’s quick to pull out a small bouquet of flowers, a mix of yellow and pink flowers, and hold them out towards you. “I didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked so the florist suggested these.” His nervousness is endearing and you can’t not smile at the gesture.

“They’re lovely, thank you Peter.”

"I guess we have a lot to talk about huh? Do you, uh, wanna grab a coffee? My treat?"

"Coffee sounds great. I'll buy though, I owe you for saving my life after all." It surprises you that the walk to the coffee shop is filled with conversation, like you’ve known Peter for years. It’s almost uncanny the way you seem to finish each other's sentences and are on a similar wavelength. It’s even stranger that you realise that you’ve shared a number of classes in the past few years, and how the two of you have never run into each other before feels like a mean twist of fate, to have him so close and yet so far away.

The two of you spend six hours sitting in the coffee shop talking about anything and everything. The time passes without either of you properly realising and it’s with an almost embarrassing lack of awareness that one of the baristas has to ask you to leave because they’ve reached closing time and you’re both still there. You spend the walk back to campus laughing about it, poking fun at each other for it. It’s even stranger when you work out that your dorm buildings are practically next to each other. You both decide to head up to his dorm since Peter doesn’t have a roommate so you can talk about everything that can’t be discussed in a public setting, or at least somewhere with prying ears. You’re vaguely glad you’re not going back to your dorm, you’d left it in something of a state before leaving this morning and hadn’t felt mentally up to tidying after almost dying and meeting your soulmate in the same event.

Peter’s dorm is small but cosy, decorated with pictures of him with his friends and an older woman whom you’re assuming is a relative. You can’t help but smile at how happy he looks, and a part of you is so excited to meet all these people that he holds most dear to him. You try not to make it too obvious how you’re trying to absorb everything about Peter but when you look at him and see the fond smile on his face you know you’ve been caught. He invites you to sit on his bed whilst he pulls the chair out from under his desk and turns it so he can face you. It’s the first time you’ve had a moment of pure silence between you since you met after class and it seems like neither of you are sure who should go first. You decide it should be you to speak first.

“So, are we going to speak about this afternoon?”

“Yeah, I guess we should. Are you sure you’re okay?” You break the eye contact you were holding, eyes shifting down to the floor as you think about how today could have ended. You could’ve died today. You’re lucky that Peter had been there to save you, the whole thing still doesn’t feel real.

“I think so? I mean I don’t think it’s hit me yet? Not properly anyway.” Peter nods at your admission, a look of understanding on his face.

“That’s understandable.”

“Thank you for saving me. I completely froze when I saw that concrete coming at me and I just…I dunno, thank you.” You’ve noticed that Peter gets bashful whenever you compliment him and you make a mental note to keep doing so, he’s clearly not used to receiving praise for what he does, probably because of his need to stay anonymous.

“I was just doing my job.” His humility is clearly a knee-jerk reaction to any and all attempts to credit him for just how much he’s doing to keep the people of this city alive and safe, and you make it a personal mission to spend every day of the rest of your lives together making sure he knows he’s amazing.

“Your job is incredible. To do all of that on your own whilst being a full time student? I don’t know how you do it.” You gesture for him to join you on his bed and, when he does, you take one of his hands into your own. He seems to melt into your touch and it’s in that moment you know that this is exactly where you’re meant to be and exactly who you’re meant to be with.

#my writing #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #gn!reader #mcu x reader #marvel x reader

133 notes · View notes

ravencoloredroses · 1 year ago

Text

All That Matters

Nyx x Reader (Eris’ daughter)

Summary: Nyx and Eris’ daughter have known each other their whole lives. With a new alliance forming between the Autumn Court and the Night Court, their hatred towards each other will be challenged as they are forced to grow closer.

Word Count: 6,445

Warning: Swearing

A/N: request by anonymous: “Nyx and Eris' daughter!!!! Idk why but the idea of it is just so exciting for me. Since there dads are friendly (kinda) high lords they've known and seen each other around alot but are enemies to lovers” I love these characters so much! I might make another story with them… something like romeo and juliet maybe??

——————————————————————————

The last time my father wanted to see me in his office was when I was being sent away to boarding school. I’m not as naive as I was back then, but I know that whatever he has to tell me, I will have little to no say in. That's how it’s always been and always will be.

Being the only daughter to the High Lord of the Autumn Court, I’m widely considered a spoiled brat who gets everything she asks for, which isn’t necessarily false. But people don’t realize, or don’t even want to realize, that every decision is made for me. What I wear, what I eat, how I talk, how much I talk, what events I go to and who I’m allowed to be seen with.

My older brother is the heir, the golden child, he can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants without anyone questioning anything. It pisses me off and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

I take a few deep breaths to try and calm my nerves, emphasis on try, then push open the office door. My father has an unreadable expression on his face as he tells me to take a seat.

“Good morning sweetheart, how did you sleep?”

He’s stalling

“Good morning father, it was alright.”

I take note of his stiff posture, the stacks of documents on his desk and the mountain of crumpled pieces of paper in the garbage can. This can’t be good.

“As you know, it is my responsibility to ensure the safety of our people here in Autumn and sometimes that responsibility falls onto you. Alliances are an important part in ensuring our people are safe, especially in times of war.

“I’ve spoken with my advisers on this matter, but the final decision is mine to make and I’ve decided an alliance with the Night Court is in our best interest.”

I’m not quite sure what any of this has to do with me and my confusion must show on my face because my father elaborates.

“Rhysand, Feyre and I have come to an agreement that you will marry their son Nyx, before the week is out.”

“W-what? Father, you can’t be serious.” This has to be a joke, there is no way he’s actually suggesting I marry that Night Court piece of shit.

Nyx is slightly older than I am, meaning we’ve seen each other at almost every event for our entire lives. He’s never been nice to me, not once. Even when we were really little he was a bully, the type of kid to ‘fall’ off the swing set and then go crying to mommy blaming you for it.

As an adult he’s not any better, walking around like he’s better than everyone and has girls practically falling at his feet when he just looks at them. I don’t blame them though, when you look in his eyes it’s like you’re deep diving in the ocean and will never run out of air. I’ve never seen anything like it and if he ever looked at me the way he does some of them, I don’t even know what I would do.

But he only looks at me with eyes of disgust and hatred, which is fine by me, the feeling is mutual. He might be the most attractive male I’ve ever seen, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s one of the worst people I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. And now I’m marrying him.

“I know it’s out of the blue and a little rushed, but this has to be done, it’s already been decided.”

Right. It’s not like I’m gonna be spending the rest of my immortal life with him, so why does it matter what I think?

“Nyx is okay with this?” He shrugs his shoulders.

“You will be moving to the Night Court with him and when Rhysand and Feyre pass on, you will be expected to rule alongside Nyx and produce an heir.”

There’s nothing I can say or do that will make any of this better, so I just put my head down and shut up. I can, and will, cry my eyes out later.

“Yes, father.”

“Perfect. Now, go and enjoy your day, the weather looks lovely.”

This day is going to be anything but enjoyable. As I make my way back up to my room I pass a couple members of our staff, they must be able to tell that I wish to be left alone because they don’t even make eye contact with me. I’m appreciative of that, I don’t think I could handle sympathy looks right now.

Closing and locking my door behind me, I collapse on the ground and let my tears fall, holding my hand over my mouth to control the noise. I sit like this for hours, at least it feels like hours, and when my tears have finally dried up, I head over to my bathroom. I avoid looking at myself in the mirror, turn the faucet on and start to undress.

Normally, a bath with my favorite soaps will soothe me, but this time it does absolutely nothing. I wait for my fingertips to prune to get out of the tub, then change into my nightgown and head to bed; I just need this day to be over.

“You look lovely, dear.” My stylist asks me to twirl so they can view my whole look. I have to admit, I do look lovely, but none of that matters right now, today is the day where I lose whatever remains of my freedom.

“Can I have a minute with my sister?” My brother slips into the room and I give a small nod to my staff.

“Did you know?” I’ve been curious about this since my father told me, he always talks to my brother first.

“I did.” He looks down, ashamed. “Nyx is a good male, he won’t harm you.”

“You can’t possibly promise me that.” He closes the distance between us and grabs my hand.

“You are my favorite sister, if he even pulls a hair out from your head I will knock a few of his teeth out.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m your only sister and you won’t even be living with me anymore, how will you know if he harms me?”

He cracks a smile and releases my hands. “I have my ways dear sis, I have my ways. If you need to, look at me in the audience, I’ll be in the front row.” He winks and walks back out the door, which is soon opened again by a staff member.

“It’s time, my lady.”

I’m handed a bouquet and suddenly I’m walking towards the altar on a flowered path. I round the corner and I feel about 1,000 pairs of eyes on me so I look down and focus on not falling. I make the mistake of looking up and see Nyx standing there waiting for me. His eyes run over my body and I swear there was a smile on his face, but it’s quickly replaced with a blank stare when we make eye contact.

He extends a hand to help me up the small staircase while a member of my ‘bridal party’ takes my bouquet and fixes my dress. I’m mad at myself for the way my heart beats faster because I know it’s just an act for him to appear like a gentleman. I stare down at our joined hands and zone out for a while until I hear Nyx’s deep voice say “I do.” My eyes jump up to meet his and I realize everyone is waiting for me.

“I do.”

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Fuck. I forgot about this part. Nyx pulls me close and presses his lips to mine. I try not to think about how soft they are or how long this is lasting, but it’s pretty damn hard to do that as his hand moves to the back of my neck and presses me closer.

Is this all for show too?

When he finally pulls away and faces us towards the audience, my eyes search out my brother. He’s watching me with somewhat of a proud expression. I notice Nyx’s family -my new family- looking at us with watchful eyes, that’s not surprising based on the little knowledge I have of these people. I’m surprised Rhysand agreed to this if I’m being honest. The Autumn and Night Courts have never gotten along, but once my grandfather died of ‘natural causes’, Rhysand and my dad became friendly with each other.

Nyx walks me back down the aisle without dropping my hand and then we head off to my new home, the Night Court.

It takes longer than I thought it would to get there, but it might have just been because it was dead silent the whole time. I thought that we would be living in the same house as the rest of Nyx’s family, but apparently we have our own place. Maybe it will be better this way, maybe this will give Nyx and I time to get along.

On the outside it looks like just a small cottage nestled into the mountains, but the inside is incredibly spacious and already filled with everything we will need. Newly renovated kitchen and bathroom, a cozy living room, an office and a bedroom with a walk-in closet and an attached bathroom. A bedroom. Singular.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He announces while walking past me into the bathroom. Well, that settles that I guess. I change out of my uncomfortable dress and into a large sweater and leggings, then begin to unpack my things. When Nyx re-emerges from the bathroom he has changed as well, trading his tuxedo for a simple cotton t-shirt and sweatpants. I meet him in the hallway and start to ask about what’s next, but he doesn’t let me.

“I don’t care what you do, so long as it doesn’t involve me. I will be gone all day and only return for sleep to appease my parents. Do whatever you want.” He walks out the front door and flys away. Isn’t your wedding supposed to be the happiest day of your life?

I noticed multiple bookshelves when we first arrived, but I didn’t get the chance to see what books were on it. I find one that looks good and sit down on the couch to begin reading.

I didn’t notice the sky getting dark, but as I finish my book my stomach growls and I realize I haven’t eaten since this morning. I go into the kitchen and find a can of chicken noodle soup in one of the cupboards. I grab a pot and start to warm it up. Once it’s at a good temperature, I grab a bowl to pour it in and sit down at the table to eat.

Just as I get up to wash my bowl, Nyx marches through the door. He walks right past me into the bathroom without even a glance. When he comes back out, he plops down on the couch. I sigh and start to get ready for bed. Is this what the rest of my life is gonna be like?

Three days. The same routine for three more days. It’s been almost a full week since our wedding and he’s completely avoiding me.

It’s around dusk when a loud knock sounds at my front door. I mark my place in my book and open the door to find my brother standing there.

“Hey! What are you-“

“Where is he?” He pushes right past me into the house.

“Nyx? He’s. He’s um.”

“You don’t know, do you?” He spins around to face me and I shake my head in embarrassment. “How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

“Three days.”

“That fucking asshole. Who does he think he is? The fucking king?” He starts to pace around the room and keeps spitting out insults about Nyx.

“Why are you here, brother?” I ask to stop him.

“I told you I’d be checking up on you, I’ve been seeing you doing the same thing everyday. That male has no right to keep you here locked up while he goes out doing mother knows what!”

He’s right. I know he’s right, but why do I feel this urge of protectiveness towards Nyx? He’s probably just busy, right? He’s the heir so he has a bunch of important things to be doing. But all day?

“Don’t worry, I’ll go find him and put an end to this.” He doesn’t give me a chance to reply before he’s storming out the door and slamming it behind him.

It’s not until I’m about to go to bed that I hear the front door open. I sit on the bed and listen for footsteps. They stop outside the bedroom door, I hear a sigh and then a light knock.

“Come in.” I call out, Nyx slowly pushes the door open and steps inside. He looks like he just got punched in the face. His left cheek is already starting to bruise and his eyes are red and puffy. Has he been crying?

“Nyx! What happened?” I go to get up but he puts his hand out signially me to stay sitting.

“I’ll be okay, but-“ He takes a deep breath. “We need to talk.” No good conversation ever starts with that phrase.

“Oh- okay. About what?”

“I want to apologize.” He says as he sits down on the bed next to me. I was not expecting that. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. It’s not fair to you and it was wrong for me to treat you that way. I know you have no obligation to accept my apology, but I’d at least like to have the opportunity to start over. If that’s okay with you.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at me.

“Did I do something to make you hate me?”

“No!” He rakes his hand through his hair and sighs. “When we were kids, I was intimidated by you. You had everything I’ve ever wanted, independence, confidence and I hated you for that.” He looks up at me. “I treated you like shit to make myself feel better. It was dumb and I was an idiot and I’m so sorry. I know that this relationship was forced on both of us, but if you would allow me to, I’d like to actually give it a try. I’ve um- I’ve had feelings for you for a while, and for the longest time I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t true. But it is true and I feel like I ruined any chance that we had and I completely understand if you want nothing to do with me anymor-“

“Nyx.” I cut him off and slowly move my hands to grab his, giving him enough time to pull away if he wanted to. He doesn’t. “I accept your apology. I’m not going to lie, a lot of the things you did hurt me.” I take a deep breath. “But it’s nothing that we can’t work past and I feel like starting over is a great idea.”

I give his hand a slight squeeze and then let go. “Would you like me to grab the first aid kit?” His face has only gotten worse since he came in. He gives me a small nod, I go into the bathroom and come back to hand him the box.

“Thank you.” He whispers and I know he’s not just talking about the kit.

“You’re welcome.”

It’s around time for dinner when I finish putting all my stuff away. I haven’t seen Nyx since we've talked, but I think he’s in the office, so I gently knock on the door and wait for an answer. I hear soft footsteps approach and he slowly opens the door. “I was just wondering if you wanted to eat dinner… with me… soon?”

Nyx looks behind him at the clock on the wall and then steps out into the hallway with me. “Sure.”

I must have been staring at the kitchen for a while because Nyx moves into my vision.

“You’ve never cooked before, have you?”

I shake my head and look down at my hands. “No.” I only know how to heat things up. I’ve never cooked anything so I can already tell this is gonna be embarrassing.

“I can teach you. If you want.” I look up at him, shocked. “My mom, she taught me. It’s not as hard as it seems.” He walks over to one of the cabinets and pulls out a pot. “How do you feel about spaghetti?”

“I think that sounds great.” He gives me a small smile, places the pot on the stove and walks back over to me.

“Okay. Step one, you're going to have to pull your hair up.”I subconsciously reach back to touch my hair.

“Right. I- um. I don’t have a hair tie…” He gets up and walks into the bedroom, then comes back with a scrunchie in hand. I expect him to just hand it to me, but he twirls his finger asking me to turn around. His fingers graze the back of my neck as he picks up my hair and I hold in my shiver. He separates it into three sections and begins braiding. It doesn’t take long before he’s securing the end with the scrunchie and then steps back to view his work.

“T-Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He coughs then steps around me and heads to the stove.

“Step two, boil water.” He picks up the pot, goes to the sink and turns on the faucet. When it’s full he carefully carries it over to the stove and turns on the burner. We stare at it for a while in awkward silence until I hear bubbles popping, which I assume means it’s boiling.

“Step three, noodles.” I remember seeing the box of spaghetti in the pantry when we first arrived, so I go grab it and hand it over to him. He grabs a handful and drops them in the water. “Now we wait.” He says as he puts the box back and grabs a jar of sauce.

It was actually really interesting to see how the noodles slowly fall into the water as they soften up. “How do we know when they are done?”

He looks over at me with a smile on his face and grabs a wooden spoon. “Like this.” He picks up a noodle and throws it at the wall. It falls straight to the ground. “Ah. Needs a couple more minutes.”

“Um… What did you just do?”

“If it sticks, it’s done.”

“Oooooh.”

He laughs. “What did you think I was doing?”

“I honestly have no fucking clue.” Now we’re both laughing and it feels amazing. “Can I try the next one?”

He nods and hands me the spoon. “Go for it.”

I fish around for one in the pot, then fling it onto the wall. It sticks.

“It worked!” I place the spoon back on the counter and turn to face Nyx.

“You didn’t believe me?” He asks, jokingly and grabs a strainer from the drawer behind me. “Can you turn the burner off?” While I do, he dumps out the water leaving just the spaghetti in the strainer. “Okay. Step four, sauce.”

I try to be helpful and open the jar, but I guess I’m not strong enough so Nyx comes over to help me.

“Here, let me.” He opens it on the first try, then pours it over the noodles. “Now we eat.”

I grab two bowls from the cabinet as we head over to the table to eat.

“Thank you for teaching me. I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook.”

“You’re welcome. Spaghetti is pretty easy, next time we can try something a little more difficult if you’d like.” I smile as we continue to eat in comfortable silence. When we’ve finished Nyx offers to do the dishes while I clean up the table. After we’re done we get ready for bed and I come into the bedroom, finding Nyx staring at the bed.

“You don’t have to, anymore.” He looks at me confused. “Sleep on the couch, I mean. The bed is pretty big, so we can share it.” He gives me a small nod and heads into the bathroom.

I’ve already changed into my nightgown by the time he comes back. “Um, because of my wings I have to sleep on my stomach. I hope that’s alright.” I look over to find that he’s shirtless, just wearing loose sweatpants that are basically falling off. My eyes trail over his defined abs and the v-line that leads down to his-. My eyes jump back up and I see that he’s smirking at me. I turn my head away and clear my throat.

“Ye-Yeah that’s fine.” I never thought about how Illyrians sleep, but it makes sense that they can’t sleep on their backs. He pulls back the covers to get in and I follow shortly after.

His wings are tucked in and it looks super uncomfortable. “You can let your wings rest. I won’t mind.” He looks up at me surprised, I give him a small smile and a nod. I lay down on my back and he flares his wings out as we both drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight.”

I wake up to the light shining in through the window and a heavy weight on top of me. I slowly open my eyes to find a huge wing laying over my chest, then I notice that I’m pinned underneath the body that wing is attached to. We’re Cuddling. Even if I wanted to push Nyx off of me I couldn’t, but for some reason I don’t even bother to try. His face is nuzzled into my neck and he’s wrapped an arm around my waist. He smells so fucking good.

I lay there wide awake for who knows how long before he starts to stir. He wakes with a yawn and hugs me closer. He must realize what he’s doing because he quickly jumps up, scaring the shit out of me.

“Oh- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ His face is bright red.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind.” He gives me a nod and heads into the bathroom. I get up to fix the covers on the bed while I wait for him to finish. He comes out with sopping wet hair and a towel thrown loosely around his hips. I hurry into the bathroom before I can do something I’ll absolutely regret later.

I splash cold water on my face about twelve times before I actually begin getting ready.

When I come back out, Nyx is sitting on the bed holding a note. “What’s that?”

“It’s from my mom, she wants us to join them for dinner tonight.” He looks up at me and hands over the letter.

My dearest Nyx and Y/N,

I hope this isn’t too late of notice, but we would really love to see you both at our family dinner tonight. The table isn’t complete without you.

~F.

I sit down and give him the letter back. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I can come up with an excuse, it's no big deal.”

“We can go.”

“Something like we have obligations elsewher- wait what did you say?”

I turn my body slightly to face him and lightly chuckle. “I said, we can go. It will be nice to meet your family.” I think. Actually wait on second thought... No, it’s gonna have to happen eventually, might as well get it over with.

“Okay, yeah. We can go. Um, I just feel like I should warn you.” Uh-oh. “My family is different from most, it can be overwhelming. Everyone has very watchful eyes, they will be tracking your every move, especially my uncle Azriel. He has… history with your father and will probably not like you at first. The same thing goes for my aunt Mor, so please don’t be offended if they don’t open up to you right away, it’s nothing personal.”

Nothing personal. I’ve heard stories of the hatred between the Autumn and Night courts, but I normally just have to deal with rude stares or nasty side comments. I’ve never eaten dinner with people who hate me.

He grabs my hand and looks over at me. “If you ever want to leave, just tell me and we'll go. No questions asked.” I nod and slightly smile. I wasn’t nervous before, but now I’m second guessing saying yes. “I promise nothing bad will happen.”

You can’t possibly promise me that.

“I have nothing to wear.” I say standing up.

“That box is addressed to you, from my mom.” He points to a box sitting on the floor that I never noticed. I place it on the bed, undo the ribbon and open the lid. Inside is the most stunning dress I’ve ever seen. Dark, navy blue suede with ¾ length sleeves. Night Court colors. Beneath a layer of tissue paper are matching heels, that thankfully aren’t too high.

Nyx leans over on the bed to peer into the box. “Oh I have something that matches that perfectly!” He runs over to the closet and returns with a suit the exact same shade.

“It’s perfect.” I look up to find him already staring at me.

“Let’s get ready, shall we?”

I brush out my curls to loosen them up a bit and move over to look in the mirror. The dress fits me perfectly, it accentuates my curves but still looks elegant. Unfortunately, even looking as good as I do does absolutely nothing to help my nerves. My hands are slightly shaking and I doubt there is anything I can do to stop it.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Nyx softly knocks on the door, his way of letting me know that I’m taking too long. One glance at the clock behind me says he’s right, we have to leave soon.

I turn around and head towards the door, Nyx has already opened it and is staring at me with an expression I can’t quite determine.

“You- You look beautiful.” His eyes roam over my figure in a way that seems far too intimate, but I love it anyway.

“Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.” I feel my cheeks getting hot, but that’s the least of my worries at the moment. I reach out to take his hand, but hesitate when I see that mine are still shaking. “Are you ready?” I just need to get this over with.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He extends his arm out for me to take and then winnows us off to his parents house.

“Remember, you want to leave and we leave. No questions asked.” Nyx assures me as we walk up the pathway. I give his arm a squeeze as my response because I’m saving all my energy for what’s to come.

He doesn’t knock on the door, just walks right in and the chatter that I heard from on the porch abruptly stops. Silence. Just the sound of my heels clicking on the tile.

Two dark figures round the corner, one shorter than the other but both exude power. I already know who they are before they come into the light.

“Mom, Dad, thank you for inviting us over.” Nyx lets go of my arm to give his parents a hug while I stand by myself awkwardly.

Rhysand breaks away first to greet me. “Y/N, welcome to our home. We’re so glad you could make it.” He gives my hand a slight shake and then escorts me towards what I presume to be the dining room. I’m greeted with seven unhappy faces, each one more angry than the first.

Four females, one who is doing her best to not meet my eyes, one who looks ready to chop my head off, one who looks like she has better places to be and the last one seems to be as terrified as I am. There are two winged males at the table as well, one with long hair who has a watchful gaze and the other who seems to be assessing all the ways he can kill me while these black things float around him. I already hate it here.

“Y/N, these are the members of our family. Mor, Nesta, Amren, Elain, Cassian and Azriel.” Feyre says behind me as I give a smile and take my seat between Nyx and Cassian with Azriel across from me.

“Alright. Now that we’re all here, let’s eat shall we?” Rhysand gives a small gesture towards the table and all the plates are filled with food. I don’t even bother to see what it is, I just need my hands to be doing something before I go crazy, so I begin to eat right away. Everyone else follows suit and it takes about 5 minutes before Feyre breaks the deafening silence. “Have you been enjoying the Night Court since your arrival?”

“I haven’t seen much of it, but what I have seen is beautiful.” I take a small sip of water.

“Oh that’s a pity! Nyx, why haven’t you taken Y/N out to see more?”

“We really haven’t had the time, Mom. We will soon though.” And the game of silence begins again. This time it’s broken by Nesta slamming down her silverware.

“So, Y/N. How is your father doing?”

“Nesta.” Rhysand warns.

“No, I want to know. Because he puts everyone through so much shit just so he can keep living the high life. So tell me, how is ‘Daddy Dearest’?”

I choke on my water slightly while I’m desperately trying to come up with an answer. “I’m not quite sure what you are referring to. My father is well respected in my Court.”

She scoffs. “He is, is he? You don’t even know what happened, do you? What he did to Mor?” Everyone is staring at me now and I have no idea how to respond. I’ve heard that my father and Mor were in a relationship when they were very young, but nothing more. I glance over at Nyx to try and catch his eye, but he’s looking down at his plate.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been told much of my father’s past.”

I feel a brush of something swimming up my leg, my side, then wrapping around my throat and I suddenly can’t breathe. Azriel stares at me with so much hatred in his eyes, I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner.

“All you Vanserra’s ever do is lie. You know exactly what your father did. Your father hurt Mor, left her for dead, you and your brother are the exact same as him, evil. Why did Nyx have a black eye the other day? Did you honestly think we wouldn’t find out?” Nesta stands up from her seat.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks as my hands grab at my throat, desperate for air. My vision starts to get blurry and then Azriel releases his shadows. I gasp for air and quickly stand up. “Can you excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.” I run off crying.

Splashing cold water on my face does absolutely nothing for me. I slowly sink to the floor to sob and sob and sob. No one comes to check on me. No one believes me. Not even Nyx. Why hasn’t he said anything? Done anything? He knows that I wasn’t the one who hurt him, yet he stays silent.

Gods. I feel like the world's biggest idiot. I thought Nyx and I were getting along. He promised nothing bad would happen. I should have known better.

I notice a rather large window that I can easily fit through. So that’s exactly what I do, and then I’m running. I have no idea where I am, but I know where I need to go. Home.

I’m passing through some sort of market and nearly run into someone. I take a second to catch my breath. “Excuse me, sir. Could you please tell me how to get to the Autumn Court?”

The male points me in the direction I need and then I’m off again.

“Y/N!” I stop. I’ve been running through this forest alone for over 3 hours, who is calling out for me? “Y/N! It’s me!”

My brother. He runs right up to me and pulls me in for a hug. “What the fuck are you doing?!!” And that’s all it takes for me to break down again.

“I can’t do it anymore! I don’t care what alliance this marriage brings to father. I can’t be married to him, I just can't!”

“Shhhh. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Take a deep breath.” He rubs a comforting hand up my back. “I’ll take you back home, okay?” I feel a slight gust of wind and look up to see that I’m in the home I share with Nyx.

“No! Why did you bring me back here? I can’t stay here! I need to go home, back to Autumn!” I start to panic.

“You can’t go back to Autumn. Father will find out and everything will only get worse.” He lightly pushes me down so I sit on the couch and then brings me a glass of water. “I need you to stay here. I will be back to check on you, but you must stay here.”

“I will, thank you.” I’m too tired to argue. Now I’m alone, again. I know Nyx will come home eventually, but I can’t even think about that right now, I just need to go to sleep. I triple check that the doors are locked, then grab every knife from the kitchen and barricade myself in the bedroom.

I wake up to the sound of pounding on the bedroom door. “Y/N! Y/N I know that you’re in there. Please, just come out and talk to me.”

“Go away!” The banging stops and then he’s standing in front of me. “What the fuck? You can’t just winnow in here?” He kneels down on the floor as I sit up.

“Please. I just need to talk with you.”

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about. You left me there! You left me there while he was choking me! I trusted you! What happened to ‘we leave whenever I wanted’? What about your promise that nothing bad would happen? Was that a lie too?” I take a deep breath and continue.

“Was everything a lie? Everything you said? How you were sorry, that you wanted to start over and your feelings for me? Everything was a lie!”

“What? No! No, I didn't lie about any of that!”

“Then why didn’t you help me? You sat there and watched me get choked and then never bothered to check on me.”

“I wanted to! But they wouldn’t let me. The minute you left, uncle Az pinned me to the chair with his shadows. I couldn’t get to you.”

Is he lying to me right now? “From the second we walked into that house, you acted like I didn’t exist! Why?”

“Because I was scared.”

“Scared? What could you possibly be scared of?”

“I was scared that my family would find out.”

“FIND OUT WHAT?!?” If he doesn’t get to the fucking point-

“THAT I LOVE YOU!”

“You- you what?”

“I love you. I have for a while, but I thought that you hated me. I figured the only way to be with you was to have an arrangement made, so I asked my dad to-“

He looks at me with wide eyes, he's said too much.

“You asked your dad to do what?” I ask slowly, scared for his answer. He takes in a deep sigh.

“I asked him to ask your dad about arranging a marriage between us. He’s the only one who knows, not even your father. I- I’m sorry. I should have told you.” I take a step back, this can’t be happening. “Y/N, please. Let me explain.”

“No.”

“Please. I understand that I-“

“Nyx. I don’t want you to explain. Just give me an answer to my question. Just one.”

“Anything, I’ll tell you anything.” He’s begging now.

“Do you love me?”

“W-what?”

“Do you love me? Truly love me?”

“Yes! Yes, I love you!” He stands up and faces me. I can’t explain it, but I believe him. Maybe all that running I just did is messing with my head. Him asking his father to arrange our marriage is fucked up and I hate him for it, but I love him too.

“Then kiss me.”

He hesitates for a second and then slowly moves closer to me, giving me enough time to change my mind. Then finally, he places a hand under my chin, closes the distance and he softly places his lips on mine.

His lips are so soft, so gentle, like he’s afraid I’m going to break. My hands find their way to his hair as the kiss deepens. I trail my tongue across his bottom lip causing him to moan and move his hands to my hips.

We break for air and just stare at each other. Our foreheads pressed together, breath mixing between us, eyes searching the others. “I love you, too.” I realize I never said it out loud and based on his reaction, he wasn’t expecting me to. “I don’t want to start over. I just want to keep moving forward.”

“That sounds perfect.” He caresses my cheek with his thumb and gives my forehead a kiss. “Would you like to go to bed?” I nod as my response and he lets me go to pull back the covers. I get in first while he gets undressed.

There is so much we still have to work out. So many difficult conversations we have to have. But as I lay here with my head on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat, I can’t help but smile. I’m looking forward to those conversations. Looking forward to finding out as much as I can about Nyx. Regardless of what his family thinks of me or what mine thinks of him. We’re going to be happy, and to me, that’s all that matters.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel #cassian #feyre #mor #nesta #rhys #nyx #nyx x reader #high lord eris #eris vanserra #vanserra #Elain #night court #autumn court #sarah j maas

113 notes · View notes

asher-agere · 17 days ago

Note

I, once again, have no extra text to add before my request. There needs to be more interesting things happening in my life that aren’t very dreadful…

Request time!! Can you share some thoughts on caregiver Shirase with a little who tries to ignore their regression as much as possible because they hate not being useful. Of course, as usual with most of my requests, no specific character in mind ^_^

You say most of your requests have no second character in mind right after we did that little Stormbringer character series- But either way no worries! Don’t need a second character for simple headcanons hehe

Caregiver Shirase + Little Neglecting Regression

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

✮⋆˙ Shirase can be a selfish guy. He’s not necessarily rude or anything! But let’s be honest, he knows how to put himself first. He thinks that everyone works that way! So when he starts taking care of a little one that pushes off their own needs just to make his life a little bit easier? He’s confused to say the least. Obviously he wants his little one to take care of themselves! Neglecting your regression isn’t good ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡ )

✮⋆˙ For awhile Shirase lets it go. It’s perfectly reasonable that they just haven’t felt like regressing! He doesn’t want to make them feel bad about not regressing or push them into it! But overtime he’ll notice signs that they really need it. Spacing out, fidgeting with stuff a lot, maybe talking less. He’ll notice! It might take him some time… But he will notice eventually! Once he’s onto what’s going on he can be relentless!

✮⋆˙ Shirase tries talking about things calmly. He’ll just ask his little one “Sooooo why haven’t I seen my baby in a while? I miss them a lot y’know?” If they hesitate to answer he’ll shower them in praise, explaining how much he loves his baby and misses them, then once they’re nice and flustered he’ll ask again! Hopefully this works, they’ll admit the problem, and they can talk it through! Shirase will explain that he loves taking care of them of course! It’s a comfort for him too, remember? But sometimes a little one can be stubborn. Insisting that they’re fine and walking off. Shirase moves onto phase two!

✮⋆˙ A stubborn baby gets a bit more forceful treatment! He knows that they need to regress, even if they’re denying it. So he’ll help them get there! He’ll walk up behind them and tackle them with a blanket! He’ll pick them up so they can’t run away! Baby is quickly wrapped up in a swaddle and carried to the couch! Shirase will put on some cartoons for the little one and bounce them, cooing at them and placing a pacifier in their mouth!

✮⋆˙ If the little one is stubborn enough to insist they don’t need to regress then they’re probably stubborn enough to object to obvious babying treatment. However! Shirase can be even more stubborn. Anything the little one says to object Shirase just nods his head and hums as if they’re babbling. He doesn’t speak baby! He soothes any thrashing as if it’s a tantrum, gently shushing them and rocking them side to side “Calm down now bud… Want your paci? Look at the super cool cartoons! Oooo I love this episode, settle down so we can watch”

✮⋆˙ The little one can object all they want, he’s getting them to regress forcibly. Then whenever they’re out of headspace (Usually after a nice nap) He’ll actually talk about things! Ask them why they don’t wanna regress, why they’ve been avoiding it. He’ll explain that he loves taking care of them too! They think he’d do something he doesn’t like? They must not know him very well then. In fact the little one is very rude for not letting him do his favorite activity which is taking care of them! He’ll punish them with a tickle attack!

✮⋆˙ Obviously that self doubt isn’t the kind of thing that’ll disappear over night though. He gets that! So he’ll encourage them to regress constantly! He’s always keeping up with cartoons (He gets emotionally invested in the plot), he’ll buy any cute plushies he sees, and whenever he’s bored he’ll just go and baby his little one. An adorable little baby will surely cure his boredom! If they object he’ll beg them with puppy dog eyes, his childish behavior may not seem fitting for a caregiver, but he’s so playful! It encourages a happy drop session!

✮⋆˙ Constant reassurance! It’s like. Daily for him. He’ll give his little one a hug and say how much he loves them, send them silly stuff saying it reminded him of them and he’s looking forwards to next time he gets to watch the cute baby, he makes sure that if he’s complaining (Which he does a lot) he mentions how it would be so helpful to just take care of someone else. Tiny things, he tries not to be too pushy! But the constant reassurance can help a lot

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Sorry I haven’t posted today ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა We had no power and no WiFi and no water and I was trying to conserve my battery and not waste data? But like I also didn’t really… It was very frustrating and I’ve been on the verge of a tantrum all day (>﹏<) But I got at least one post in today! There’s also a Comic Con this weekend where I’m selling my first wig… Very busy times! I’m also going both days so I get to use both of my cosplays :0 But yeah a lot- Sorry for the yap hehe. Have a lovely day/night everyone!

#age regression #agere #safe agere #sfw agere #agere sfw #agere caregiver #bsd #bsd agere #safe age regression #agere positivity #sfw age regression #age regression sfw #bungo stray dogs #bsd shirase

9 notes · View notes

ra-archives · 8 months ago

Text

The Inconveniences of Resurrection

- - -

3/? Chapters Posted

Part 3 of 'Breaking Point'

- - -

TW: Past Character Death, Blood, Gore, (Others to be added with updates)

- - -

The first few weeks of traveling together are a learning curb, to say the least.

Its not necessarily bad, just... complicated. A group of heroes with strong personalities is bound to clash when their forced to live with eachother for the next however long. People make friends and bonds, and some people start to work wonderfully in moments. Some people clash, arguing over leadership, tactics, the lot of it.

Legend finds himself on the more, argumentative sides of things. He finds himself butting heads with Warriors most often. The captain is too commanding for his taste, treating them more like soldiers than equals or even acquaintances. So Legend pushes back, and perhaps he's a bit of an asshole, but its all a learning curb. Warriors lets his commanding nature slip, and Legend stops picking fights at every tiny thing he says.

The first month or so is like a puzzle, trying to find where everyone falls and fits without bumping elbows and stepping on each others feet. Its not a pretty dance, and Warriors is far from the only person he's had fights with, but learning to adapt is a necessary skill in a heroes arsenal. And he does, he compromises and works together, so as those first weeks are coming to a close, he finds himself much more comfortable in the dynamic the Chain has made for themselves.

Thats not to say there aren't still things to learn after the first few rocky weeks. There's plenty more bumps and bruises afterwards. Like the first night Wild spent on the ground. Thats something he won't be forgetting any time soon.

- - -

When they first stumbled through a portal into Wilds era and met him, Legend had clocked him as... odd. The champion had plenty of weird mannerisms, refusing to sleep on the ground, offering everyone bananas, a knack for setting things on fire 'accidentally', but nothing was that out of the ordinary. At least, nothing out of the ordinary when you're using a group of heroes as your baseline.

Wild hasn't really done anything to earn himself distrust, but Legend can't help the few steps to the side he takes every time the Champions around. He makes something in Legends chest twist, and its made worse by the way no one else sees it. The rest of the Chain interacts with Wild nicely, even delightedly in some cases. Even Hyrule, who's known for being skittish, doesn't seem bothered by their new addition. So Legend keeps his mouth shut.

That doesn't mean he's not curious though. He spends a lot of downtime staring and studying Wild, probably too much. The Champion catches him sometimes and shifts uncomfortably, and Legend shoves his nose into the book he's been pretending to be reading for the past twenty minutes. They never talk about it.

Todays one of those days. They're walking another old dusty path, headed some place he doesn't know or care for. So the vet spends his time at the back of the group, staring at the back of Wilds head.

- - -

Read More Here!

- - -

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wild #lu legend #lu fic #lu fanfiction #my writing

20 notes · View notes

dufferpuffer · 6 months ago

Note

Can I get your take on some er.. interesting discourse I saw today? There was an ask floating around asking if Remus would be an abusive partner. Now I personally think literally anyone is capable of being abusive as humans, but putting that aside for a moment, I don’t necessarily think of Lupin as being anymore likely than the average joe to be abusive in a relationship (atleast not physically, I could possibly see emotionally). This is a very hypothetical question with a lot of factors at play so I also think it’s very hard to answer. I think your pretty fair and balanced and I trust your judgment on the character and their relationship dynamics so I came to you for your thoughts on this one. (Though if it’s too dark you can skip it, id totally get it)

Yes. ABSOLUTELY - if not reigned in. But not intentionally. Remus naturally does things to defend himself, even if the ideas he is defending against are unrealistic and anxiety/paranoia based.

-- Would he hit/hex his partner? He had the shortest argument in the world with Harry and hexed him into a wall. He has 'physically lashing out' in him... but only a short burst before he is crying down the hall. He HATES tension. He would want to run away before he gets that heated. Harry surprised him. I could see him breaking a plate or something, but only the one, and not as a way to intimidate. He is just angry. Fuck this plate.

-- But if his manipulative habits aren't kept in check... ...He manipulates people to like him. He makes himself the sort of man they will think positively of. He holds his tongue on his true thoughts and tells lies so people perceive him how he wants. See: How he treats Harry... especially vs. how Sirius, or even Severus treat Harry. Remus bases his behaviour on how Dumbledore acts... but while Albus is doing his best to play magical 5D chess before a war. Remus is only nursing his own anxieties. If his partner is weak to this: he will abuse that. Constant white lies, sweeping problems under the rug... The more he gets away with the more he does. He will make himself seem better than he is, more responsible and in control, gaslighting his partner to believing lies - telling himself: 'I will become like this. It's ok if I lie now, because my intentions are good... and I don't want to lose their trust early before I'm good enough for them...!' Even if his partner can call him out whenever he starts - and he can trust that they love him even at his worst... ...other people can't love him at his worst.

-- He will try and control what his partner says about him in public. ...beyond a 'don't talk about my toilet accident at the party' request. It starts out more reasonable, 'please don't bring up that little fight we had...' But the more control he feels, the more his anxiety wins: + 'Don't bring up your depression... everyone will think I'm not doing enough!'+ 'Why did you talk about the new shirts I bought...? Yes I know they are nice, but... but what if they think I'm shallow?!?' + 'Look, just don't talk about my work - let ME talk about my work.' Eventually his partner is scared to say anything to anyone, because Remus wants to be in charge of conversations so he can control how he is perceived through his partner... all the way to asking them to act certain ways for certain people. And if they upset him...

-- He is a guilt-trip king. Remus isn't the type to blame everything on his Lycanthropy. On the contrary - he will push himself when he really shouldn't. 'No, no - I should pull my weight and go do the shopping, like I promised.' But he does like to feel accepted and his pains appreciated, like a grumpy old man whinging and fishing for compassion: '...I'll go do the shopping. But oof, my back is really killing me after last Full Moon... and these cuts on my armpits sting when I lift my arms up - see? Look at that - they pull! New scars for sure. I'm still getting dizzy spells... oh, but I'll go, I'll go! I'll walk all the way to the shops and back.' ...perhaps hoping he doesn't have to do the shopping without feeling selfish for asking. But that's not abusive, just somewhere between cute and annoying.

What is abusive... are threats. Threats to himself, to the relationship. eg. His partner says they aren't going to avoid talking about their depression - just because he worries it'll make him 'seem bad'. + 'Oh, so we can talk about all our little problems to anyone now?? Well then I'll go and make sure EVERYONE knows that I am so stressed out, all the time, and your clothes are always on the floor of the bedroom, and-' (not the best example ik - I'm just trying to get across that he will make a big deal of tiny things because he is worried that they will go poorly if he can't control them.)

And of course, ever the classic: "Well if I'm such a bother then I'll go. I'll leave! Goodbye! You won't have to see me again, or deal with my 'problems'..." He feels the relationship is always teetering on the edge, even when it isn't - so there is catharsis for him in having the power to 'end' it. Of course the only way to deal with such behaviour is to give him the agency to do that if he wants... but let him know he is wanted. His partner can't bend the knee and give in to the demands, nor FORCE him to stay... but they can wave goodbye and say the back door will be unlocked whenever he wants to come back. ...I think there is a case to be made that leaving without much contact is abusive in its own right.

-- Basically: I think Remus is highly susceptible to being abused. Once he gets genuine affection he wont be able to quit it even if it turns cruel... ...But he is also very likely to be the abuser. The type of abuser that justifies all their actions as being needed, because they are all born from him trying to manage his anxieties.

He knows they are 'wrong', but the more they work the more necessary they seem. He see's himself as a 'special case' and that dating him will NEED some unconventional methods. It all comes back to his Lycanthropy, but indirectly. His anxiety is caused by him not wanting to be distrusted for his condition - but it has seeped its tendrils into everything.

I think anyone who dates Remus needs to be very emotionally mature and have a thick skin because they can't let him engage with this bullshit... while also helping to shoulder his anxieties. He can't just stop freaking out about how he is perceived on a dime. He will likely ALWAYS be anxious about it, as its born from a real source: People will treat him like shit if they find out he is abnormal.

But he needs to know his partner is on his side. That they can be trusted not to sabotage his image. They like him with all his imperfections and struggles. And threats won't work on them. Trust and communication will.

All of these issues are 'they started as small favors and comforts... and then as they worked, they grew bigger and bigger'. None of them are 'Remus wants to control and hurt.'

I think the essence of what I want to say is that Remus has lots of poor coping strategies and unhealthy behaviors he has had to lean on to survive... and he needs to be shown betters ways, and supported.

#remus lupin #love you remus #remus my beloved #hp #headcannons #tw: abuse

15 notes · View notes

stevethehairington · 2 years ago

Text

just,,,,, nancy/carol enemies to lovers college au

i'm thinking about nancy, who has a plan — who has had a plan for years now. to go to college, to pursue her dream in journalism.

i'm thinking about carol, who doesn't have a plan. not really. just sees college as a way to push off the inevitable — a husband, a white picket fence, a house full of kids — a few more years.

nancy is ambitious, she's studious, she takes it seriously.

carol is not. the only thing she's studying are the boys, and the only thing she's taking seriously are the parties.

nancy is shocked to see carol, but she figures that she'll be easy to avoid; after all, they aren't part of the same social circles, and there's no way their schedules are going to overlap.

except, to nancy's annoyance, she keeps running into carol despite wanting nothing to do with her. she sees her in the library, at the campus coffee shop, in the quad. they see each other in the concession line at the football game, they bump into each other in the bathroom, they walk past each other at the club fair.

carol's not surprised to see nancy here — she always knew she'd end up at a place like this, if there's one thing nancy wheeler is its persistent — but she is surprised that in a campus this big they keep crossing paths. it annoys her too.

and the thing is — carol thinks, and has always thought, that nancy wheeler is such a priss. that nancy is so drastically different from her — and not in a good way.

but, really, underneath it all, the two of them are so much more alike than either of them could ever think.

the biggest similarity being that they both have this preconceived notion of what their life is Supposed to look like — a husband, kids, a career as a wife and a mother and a homemaker, not anything else. it's one that's been forced onto them, by society, by their parents, by everyone else around them.

nancy has obviously rejected that. but carol is still very much stuck in that thinking, and she doesn't necessarily see a way out of that expectation (whether it be because of familial obligation and parental pressure or the fact that she just doesn't know what she wants to do with her life in the first place).

that is just another reason why carol is so bitter towards nancy and "hates" her so much — because nancy has done what carol hasn't, what she can't.

and, nancy is the same as she was in high school — driven, focused, precise — but she's also soooo different too — looser, more confident, more self-assured, still sweet but she's sharper with it, like she knows what she wants and knows how to get it now.

and carol is (still) outrageously jealous of that too.

so they keep seeing each other on campus, and i haven't decided how it happens — perhaps there is some sort of confrontation? one that happens at a party maybe? where both of them have had a little too much to drink maybe? — but one thing leads to another and they end up angrily making out eith each other.

carol's not gay — she's never given being with girls much thought, any thought before. not for herself anyways. but theres something so magnetic about nancy wheeler that she just cant help but tug on that thread.

and then keep tugging on that thread. because it keeps happening after that. and it keeps escalating too. kissing leads to touching and touching leads to falling into bed together. only its not anything sweet or nice or lovely. it's fiery, it's clashing, it's rough around the edges.

it's hate sex through and through.

it becomes a release for them both, something to do when the disdain becomes too much and bubbles over. something to get all their animosity out.

there is, of course, some flavor of denial that gets thrown into the mix from carol — an "im not into girls just because im sleeping with you. it's just sex, you're just a convenient body to me" type of sentiment (one she learned from tommy, evidently, because it's one he used back in high school to excuse his attraction to men and the times he'd fool around with them behind the bleachers or in the locker room after everyone went home).

nancy, though, has already gone through her denial -> self acceptance phase — she and robin had a brief fling at the end of high school after they'd started getting closer and robin, who knew she was a lesbian and was pretty secure in it, helped nancy realize it herself and figure it out. things didn't work out between them romantically, but they're still good friends.

and this thing with carol — nancy's just in it to have a little fun. to fulfill that part of her that wanted to be more out there in college, to be more experimental. and, well, carol's a good lay. so she goes along with it.

and maybe they end up hanging out a little more outside of their hookups. instead of leaving right away, carol loiters, going through the things on nancy's desk, because she's always been nosey like that. she sees some of nancy's flash cards, and what do you know? carol's in that class too, just a different section of it. so they end up studying together. and that turns into grabbing lunch on occasion, or sometimes coffee. and they start to talk more, in between the studying, in between the screwing. they start to learn more about each other. they start to peel back the incredibly complex layers.

and, naturally, ✨️feelings✨️ start to get involved — feelings that aren't just hate.

then, of course, things all come to a head at some point. conflict must arise (most likely something to do with nancy going after what she wants (which is carol) and carol having to face the music here — the double whammy of having feelings for nancy wheeler, who is, in fact, a woman.) and it gets resolved eventually (the two reconcile and decide to give things a go).

i haven't thought much further about that part of this yet and how exactly it would play out. but. y e a h. just, nancy/carol.

(also important to note that carol goes in undeclared, but eventually changes to pre-law because nancy helps her realize that she would make a damn good lawyer, and the idea of that sparks a fire inside of carol because she has finally Found Her Purpose.)

#nancy wheeler #carol perkins #stranger things #nancy/carol #nancy wheeler x carol perkins #nancy x carol #nancy wheeler/carol perkins #mack writes #ty swissh for putting the concept of these 2 (& the college ETL idea) into my head back in april i have NOT stopped thinking about it since

73 notes · View notes

uncleasriel · 3 months ago

Text

via @atamascolily

#thunderbolt fantasy#wuxia fantasy puppet epic#tbf meta#conversations like this are why I love fandom so much#we're all playing in the same sandbox and having a blast trying to figure out what it all means#deep thoughts about puppets

I m SO flattered by your words! I do like to over-analyze media, and seeing someone take my prolix natter and making something robusts from it really makes me smile.

Doomed By The Narrative is the perfect phrase here, since absolutely the case for anyone who is not Lin, Sheng or Lang. Xie, who doesn't choose pride over expediency is ultimately at odds with the narrative itself. We, the audience, are here to see the characters live their ethos to the fullest, and test it - failing to live up to it means "you just won't be that interesting if we keep you around anymore". Characters, for all their likeability, are ingredients and tools the Urobuchi uses to tell the story. If all the juicy bits are used up when a season ends - no point in keeping the empty rinds around, yeah?

The timing of the poems is such a crucial thing here. That distinction - revealing them at the most interesting moment to reveal them - is a nice shift from tradition in away that suits the serial nature of TV quite well. Juan Can Yun's reveal is a key moment for him, and it cements his relationship as the Young Lover over the Young Apprentice, and paved the way for his relationship with Dan Fei to bring them together - the loving but bickering married couple, with Dan Fei as the serious and stern wife, with Juan Can Yun as the amorous, idiot husband. The moment of pursuing the ethos is transformative, turning a punchy shounen lead into a comic relief wife guy - still an archetypal role, but one not limited by strict boundaries.

Lang Wu Yao's growth is especially guaranteed since character design is basically Urbobuchi buttering up his voice actor and the performer of the show's themesong with a super sepcial OC. ;) Snark aside, though, I like that angle of ideological & ethical flexibility- of Lang not being so rigidly defined by his own definitions. By being able to re-interpet his ethos in ways that harmonize with his world rather than conflict against it, Lang is able to achieve character development. I still think he works best as a romantic hero (beautiful, talented, traumatic childhood, being torn between an evil woman and a good one), but one who can leverage his role into being proactive in his life, instead of reactive. $5 says it culiminates in him usurping the throne of Abelizpher through demon law and a refusal to let himself being walked over once he figures his shit out.

As an aside: your discussion in Lang Wu Yao's growth and his views on good & evil, especially through the lens of demons vs humans, tickles me. II find it especially delightful in East Asian media how creatures that are fundamentally devils/demons are shown to be much more human-like than I'm used to in Western fantastic traditions. The cultural Christianity I was steeped in held demons to be a fundamentally different order, incapable of anything like personal relationships and teleologically oriented towards inflicting misery. Seeing a character like Xing Hai be politically loyal to the invading faction that wants to do war, but she personally has no quibbles with individual humans (beyond Lin Xue Ya, but then again, so does everyone) . I rather like how the femme fatale demoness is actually pushed around by both her sister, her sister's awful boyfriend, the Divine Swarm,Lin Xue Ya - and I get the strong impression that she'd much rather be left alone to play with her corpses in peace. In a similar, fanficcy way to my Xie Ying Loa musings, I sometimes wonder if she might defect to humanity if she ever had a good enough motivation to do so. It's a bit of an ask to necessarily have her be morally decent and upstanding and penitent, but having Lang see that humans and demons are similar - and not turn that into an edgy take - could stand much to see someone from the Hell Realms who just can't catch a break and flip off the institutions the come from.

Having gotten my Fanfic impulse out,I think I want to return to Lin Xue Ya and his dangerous level of genre savviness. I think he's something of Urobuchi's author avatar, in a way - he's someone who's frightfully aware of the narratives people tell themselves to get through the world, and using that to play them how he desires. It's very much how an artists work their craft ("All storytellers are liars," as Tanith Lee teaches us). Seeing Lin break the fourth wall IS him screwing with us, as it's Urobuchi doing the same.

I do like that this doesn't make him necessarily infalliable - we've seen him misjudge several people and the kinds of stories they told themselves - and there is a bit of hypocrisy undergirding his conceit that he understands everyone in this show better than they themselves do. I think Lin just might truly be flummoxed and vulnerable to any true soul. Someone who understands their role in the story, and how they fit into it, and openly embraces their desires and misgivings and still does the right thing anyway is just the kind of fool who can overcome someone as cynically conceited as Lin.

You're absolutely correct in your final paragraph, especially: Urbobuchi loves this bonkers little budaixi, and you can tell that he's frolicking as he plays with a centuries-old theatrical convention and gets to play without the same franchise demands that something like Kamen Rider or Fate compels him to uphold. it's Urobuchi's world, and everyone - audience, characters, and production staff - are along for the ride. And I for one couldn't be happier

Some Thoughts on Power Levels in Thunderbolt Fantasy

@jafndaegur got me thinking about this, so strap in because this is a long one!

tl;dr: Narrative casuality is linear for characters and the audience, and non-linear for writers and analysts; power levels in Thunderbolt Fantasy are a perfect illustration of this, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

Fight scenes are a major component of Thunderbolt Fantasy, but who wins and who loses is determined less by the absolute power levels of the respective parties, but by the needs of the narrative. There's a tendency to think of it as the other way around because that's how it initially appears to us as viewers--we see the outcome and think one caused the other. However, this is an illusion caused by the way we experience media. From a structural and compositional standpoint, the reverse is true--the story dictates the outcome, not the other way around.

For an example, let's look at Lian Qi's ill-fated fight against Sha Wu Sheng in Season 1. On the surface, it looks like Wu Sheng is considerably stronger, since he was able to kill Lian Qi in one blow. However, consider that Lian Qi's death is required for the story to work--if he survived and Wu Sheng didn't, it would be a different story entirely! This isn't what is usually meant by the phrase "doomed by the narrative," but in this case, it's an accurate description of the situation--there is no power level Lian Qi could possibly possess that would save him from Wu Sheng, since Wu Sheng's presence is required for the story as it stands to work.

Lian Qi's narrative role is to serve as a sacrificial lamb for Wu Sheng--that's his one (1) job and he's very good at it. We know that Wu Sheng is powerful, because he was able to effortlessly destroy a man of considerable skill and power whom Lin Xue Ya had just spoken highly of in the preceding scene. Saying that this means that Wu Sheng is thus a stronger fighter may be true, but it's not particularly interesting as an isolated factoid; what matters is what the fight reveals about the characters (that Wu Sheng is ruthless and determined) and how it advances and serves the story (gets him the Soul Echo Flute and a chance to reunite with Lin Xue Ya).

In other words, strength/power is correlated with victory, but correlation is not causation, even though we tend to interpret it as such because we experience narratives linearly, where cause comes before effect.

The other important thing to consider is that characters in Thunderbolt Fantasy are not simply discrete individuals--they also represent specific moral or philosophical positions. When they clash, the "strength" of the character has as much to do with the strength of this position as it does their physical prowess. This is true for most if not all of Gen Urobuchi's works, but it's more explicitly textual in Thunderbolt Fantasy, because in-universe, the character's "sword" is viewed as an extension of the self; it is primarily through conflict that this self becomes fully revealed.

Perhaps the best example of this is Lin Xue Ya's fight with Mie Tian Hai, in which the latter is fighting to preserve his philosophy that strength through the sword can only be attained a certain way. His physical defeat and the shattering of that worldview occur simultaneously; furthermore, his identity is so wrapped up in this particular point that he immediately kills himself in response.

[As an aside: Mie Tian Hai's suicide out of spite is foreshadowed by Can Xiong doing the same thing in the first episode when Shang Bu Huan defeats him. Can Xiong is not merely a loyal subordinate; he is enacting the teachings embodied by his master. Say whatever else you will about Mie Tian Hai, at least he isn't a hypocrite--he practices exactly what he preaches. There's a reason I refer to the Xuan Gui Zong as a "death cult"!!]

Taken together, these two factors--narrative purpose and philosophical position--provide a useful framework to make sense of conflict, and thus power levels, in Thunderbolt Fantasy. Here are a few examples:

-Shang Bu Huan vs. Lang Wu Yao in Bewitching Melody of the West -- Shang is older and more experienced than Lang in many respects, so it makes sense that he would win out here. However, what settles his victory isn't his physical skill, it's his moral clarity and sense of purpose; he knows who he is and that his cause is righteous.

Meanwhile, Lang is powerful, with martial arts from his unique upbringing combined with the magic of his innate heritage, but he is also confused and morally compromised through his allegiance to the corrupt Xi You imperial court, which ultimately gives Shang the upper hand. Note that this fight ends when Shang directly calls out Lang's ideas of good and evil, and Lang loses the will to continue; his doubts and uncertainty make it impossible for him to win. The climax of the movie is Lang coming to an emotional realization and gaining a corresponding power-up/magical boy transformation to go with it. Changing his philosophy increased his strength, not the other way around!

As Season 2 demonstrates, Lang's narrow-minded focus on good and evil have not changed by the end of Bewitching Melody, he's just altered the definitions so that Shang is now one of the good guys, and taken agency over his decisions instead of being a mindless tool for anyone else. This rigidness will continue to hold him back until he adopts a broader and more mature philosophy. This is especially important, because the Huo Shi Ming Huang fight in S3 demonstrates vividly that Lang's powers are fueled by his emotions; when unchanneled, he is capable of incredible destruction. (There's so much about that scene that is wonderful from an analytical standpoint, but my favorite part is Ling Ya muttering, "Oh, buddy, no" [paraphrase] right before all hell breaks loose; Ling Ya, as Lang's self-appointed mouthpiece, knows what's up.)

-Speaking of Huo Shi Ming Huang, the flashback in S3x06 is one of the few times we've ever seen Shang on the back foot. Not coincidentally, this fight is also characterized by Shang's hesitation and doubts as to the best course of action, which create a cascade of consequences leading to a Bad Ending of Mu Tian Ming's blindness and Shang's subsequent departure from Xi You. I've written elsewhere about how this outcome is also narratively determined in advance by the events of Season 1, which were written first even though they occur later in-universe, to the point where there's an entire mini-arc devoted to showing just how necessary this particular loss was; for better or worse, the entire story of Thunderbolt Fantasy rests on it.

-Xie Ying Luo vs. Shang Bu Huan in S2x09, "The Path of the Strong" - Up to this point, Xie Ying Luo's fighting style has been the opposite of the standard wuxia code of honor--she uses illusions and poisons and takes hostages rather than fight one-on-one. As Lin Xue Ya wryly points out in 2x04, this is the best way of dealing with a powerhouse like Shang Bu Huan (he even says it would be how he'd take Shang down!!!) but it's strongly implied that Xie Ying Luo relies on these methods because she doubts her own strength. [How much of this is due to misogyny is unclear, but there's no question it's a factor; Ba Wang Yu's character in S4 suggests she has taken the opposite approach to the same systemic forces with her emphasis on physical strength.] Xie's arc is characterized by her uncertainty and doubts, which send her on an increasing downward spiral (exposure to Di Kong's nihilism does not help!); even wielding Seven Blasphemous Deaths isn't enough to overcome it. However, after freeing herself from the demonic sword's thrall, Xie Ying Luo makes the unexpected decision to fight Shang one on one with her sword, something she has spent the entire show up to this point avoiding.

This makes no goddamn sense from a tactical perspective, but it's not about tactics or even victory. On a practical level, Xie Ying Luo is saving face--she knows she can't win, but if Shang defeats her and takes Seven Blasphemous Deaths, she can at least say that she didn't completely abandon her duties. She may have lost the fight, but she retains her honor, even if it means she can never return to Huo Shi Ming Huang's service.

Shang recognizes this, which is why he is so gracious to her after her defeat--he respects the courage it took to show up in the first place, and encourages her to redefine what it means to be strong in the first place. Again, we return to the idea that true strength isn't physical prowess, but moral clarity and certainty, which Shang possesses in abundance--and is also willing to pass along to others. Season 2 goes to a lot of effort to demonstrate Shang's mercy and compassion are strengths, not weaknesses, and this scene is further evidence of this.

Shang also believes that fate is not fixed and that people are capable of growing and changing if they choose to do so, which again gives him power over those like Sha Wu Sheng and Lou Zhen Jie, who believe themselves to be instruments of inevitability. (This is also what makes Shang Bu Huan endlessly surprising and therefore interesting and entertaining to Lin Xue Ya, but that's a whole 'nother story.) Unfortunately, Xie Ying Luo is tragically murdered by the very weapon she gave up (and by a man she trusted!!) and never gets to fully realize this, but she tries, damn it, even if it wasn't enough to save her in the end. This is one reason why Lang Wu Yao buries her even though they were enemies, because on some level he recognizes and honors that attempt, despite the fact he wasn't there to witness exactly what transpired.

I should also point out that while moral strength is a source of power, it's not the be-all, end-all--one reason why Lou Zhen Jie is so terrifying is because he no longer doubts. His logic and reasoning might be unsound, but he is so single-mindedly focused on his goal that he can plow through any obstacle single-handedly (pun intended). This is also what makes him such a great foil to Shang Bu Huan on multiple levels; Lou Zhen Jie is what would happen if Shang were evil/misguided/less ethical than he actually was. This is why Shang fighting alone can match Lou Zhen Jie but cannot win without something else to tip the scales.

Here's a fight that's interesting precisely because it didn't happen: Lin Xue Ya vs. Sha Wu Sheng. One reason why Lin Xue Ya refuses to fight Sha Wu Sheng at any point in Season 1 is that it would require Lin to reveal himself openly and intimately in a way he has no desire to do. Furthermore, it would also clash with the needs of the story, i.e., the big reveal of Lin's abilities in the final episode. Lin is so confident in his own abilities that he has no need to "prove" himself by fighting; just as his narrative foil Shang has no need to "prove" his own strength by picking stupid fights and does everything he can to avoid them. The primary difference between the two is that Lin spares his enemies so he can savor their suffering, while Shang spares his enemies so they can do better in the future.

This is why Shang repeatedly and emphatically insists that he and Lin have nothing in common--he sees the commonalities but the differences repel him even more because of it. Note that Shang indirectly critiques Lin's approach when he tells Xie Ying Luo that a truly strong person can spare someone's life and not have them come after him in revenge.... in essence, arguing that Lin's whole approach is fundamentally misguided. (This is also the second time he's done this in conversation with Xie Ying Luo; the first time was in 2x01 when he unfavorably compared her technique to Lin's. For someone who claims to want nothing to do with this guy, he sure thinks about him a lot!) Shang also has no intention of killing Lou Zhen Jie in the climax of S2; all he wants is to take Seven Blasphemous Deaths away from him.

[This leads to fascinating questions like "How will Shang deal with Huo Shi Ming Huang?" and "Can the guy who believes in the supremacy of fate and seeks to become Fate itself ever break free of it?" which I think we'll see in the final movie, so TBD.]

I'll also note that there is a tendency in modern storytelling to have power as the limiting factor for characters, whereas myths and epics give their characters free reign to do whatever they want, and as a story about archetypal characters with superhuman abilities, I think Thunderbolt Fantasy leans more towards the latter in many respects. Characters have exactly enough power to do what narratively needs to get done, no more and no less, so in that sense, it's a very efficient system.

I'll stop here because this is very long and rambling and I think I've demonstrated my point: for something so seemingly obvious and matter of fact, "strength" and "power" in Thunderbolt Fantasy, let alone comparing that of one character to another, is far more challenging than it appears on the surface, and contingent upon both the character's moral stance and the larger narrative of which they are a part. It's both deeper and far more interesting than "Character X is stronger than Character Y" (even if character X is stronger than character Y!).

#thunderbolt fantasy #deep thoughts about puppets #tbf meta #wuxia fantasy puppet epic #I hope this holds up #I fell asleep writing the last few paragraphs

17 notes · View notes

theharrowing · 2 years ago

Text

Collateral 🗡️ 7: I have questions

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader

🗡️ word count: 8.8k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+

🗡️ warnings: past trauma mentioned, gossip, drug use & drinking, non-explicit drunk sex

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🗡️ posted july 2022 | read on ao3

You wake up sometime in the evening to an empty bed. At various intervals, the sound of Yoongi getting up, showering, and getting dressed had roused you just enough for you to acknowledge what was happening before you crashed into the pillow and continued to dream, so it is not a startling realization to turn over, arm outstretched hitting the mattress and feeling a cold comforter. But you still let out a deep sigh and wish Yoongi was home, if only for a kiss.

Flashes of last night come back to you, and you squeeze your thighs together, willing the inkling of arousal that licks at your core to hold off just a while longer. It has been entirely too many hours since you have eaten anything, and you tell yourself that you should at least take care of that basic need before moving on to others.

As you stretch and get out of bed naked, you decide to pad over to Yoongi's closet and steal some of his clothing rather than put the dress back on or greet Felix and Changbin in the nude. The soft rug beside Yoongi's bed feels nice under your toes, but the hardwood is cold as you open the closet door and step inside, feeling around the wall for a light switch.

Yoongi's closet is mostly black clothing, which makes you giggle. There are strips of color here and there, especially in the suits and dress shirts, but most of the casual wear is black. You grab a pair of thin, soft black lounge pants and a black tee from the front left side of the closet and put the clothing on before deciding to walk around and look a little more closely at some of the garments.

At a glance, everything seems pretty standard, but amongst the dress shirts are thin, satin button-up shirts and sheer tops, and hanging in the very back right corner are various harnesses, similar to the one he wore to Serendipity. Some of the leather strappy items appear to be leg harnesses, and you push each hanger forward to view one after the other, biting your bottom lip while imagining Yoongi adorning any number of these.

You wonder about the rest of his accessories, but a tug on one of the handles on the island in his closet tells you that not only is that drawer locked, but they probably all are. You imagine Yoongi likely keeps more than just clothing and jewelry in there, and it is not necessarily your business, so you leave the rest of the handles alone. Of course, you are curious, but since you are on Yoongi's good side, you decide you would rather ask to see his accessories and let him show you himself.

Beneath the hanging clothing are various shoes and boots, and you note an impressive sneaker collection—some of which even match the more colorful suits under which they sit. And with that, you feel satisfied with your snooping and make your way out of the closet, shutting off the light as you go.

When you open the door to Yoongi's bedroom, it strikes you how quiet it is in the house. You remember Yoongi saying something about an event at the casino and assume the family men are there, but you were not expecting nearly everyone else to be gone, as well.

Changbin greets you with a smile and a wave from the cozy bench beside your bedroom door, and Felix shoots up onto his feet and waves excitedly.

"Good mor…er…evening!" Felix calls.

"Hey," you respond, walking over with a yawn. "What time is it?"

Felix checks his watch and says, "7 PM!"

"Wow," you respond, taken aback. You wonder what time you and Yoongi had finally fallen asleep. "When did Yoongi leave?"

"You just missed him, actually; he left around 6:30."

You sigh. "Damn."

Changbin stands and says, "We took the liberty of getting dinner prepared. Well, we asked the chef to. So whenever you're ready, it should be done soon!"

Just then, your stomach growls, and you chuckle, thanking the guys for being proactive before entering your room for some slippers. Even with the sun setting, your room is so bright, and you squint at the white and yellow accents, considering which colors you would like to change them to, as you toe into some slippers and leave the room that hardly feels like yours at all, deciding that you should just leave slippers in Yoongi's room, too.

Felix and Changbin follow you downstairs, and you glance around in awe of how quiet it is. Nobody is at the pool, and there is nobody milling about in the main hall where the family men meet. It is actually kind of nice.

It is nice because familiar faces are here to make you feel less alone. It is nice because this time, you are not just abandoned without word of when anyone you know and somewhat trust might come back. You feel like you are a part of the house now and not just some random variable nobody knows how to account for.

There are times when you think back to when you were left in the empty house, and you still wonder if it was a test of some sort or a punishment. After all, it was just the other day that Yoongi and his men returned. The thought of it forces a brick of various emotions to sink heavily inside you and dissolve into acidic sadness, so you do your best to push the memory out.

There are still many things that you need to discuss with Yoongi, and one good fuck will not cancel out all the upset and confusion he has caused. At least, you tell yourself that.

At the foot of the steps, you stop in your tracks. You had been walking toward the kitchen, but there is no dining table in there, so you are not sure where to go. Felix takes a left rather than a right, and you follow him a short distance into a doorway that opens into a large dining room.

A long, dark wood table sits at the center of the space, surrounded by twelve chairs, each made of matching dark wood and upholstered with brown leather. The legs of the table and chairs have intricate leaf patterns carved into them, and atop the table sit dishes, utensils, cups, and napkins, as if a party is expected to dine at any moment.

Dark wood wainscoting and deep red wallpaper line the walls, and there are brass sconces throughout, along with a large brass chandelier in the center of the room, which gives the space a dim, yellow glow. The room might be cozy if it weren't so empty.

"Wow," you mutter.

"This is the main dining hall," Felix informs. "There's a much larger one at the end of the hall, but it's not used often, so we don't keep it open."

There is something so disarming about a giant, empty table, and you turn to Felix and Changbin with an uncomfortable, toothy smile. "Is there anywhere smaller?"

Changbin chuckles. "You can eat in the main hall. On the couch, where the guys meet. They won't mind."

The main hall is a more comfortable choice, but it is still a huge empty room. Your dilemma must be written all over your face, and Felix chimes in, "I have a better idea, come with me."

Felix leads the way past the stairs, down the short hall, and into the kitchen. The room smells amazing, like starch and vegetables and spices, and you take a deep inhale and smile. You convene with Changbin around the large kitchen island while Felix goes into the large dry storage cabinet and brings out three tall stools, folded flat.

"We can just sit at the counter here and eat if you'd prefer."

Your eyes widen with excitement at the realization that they will eat with you, and you nod happily as Felix sets up the stools. The chef begins bringing over food, starting with a large bowl of japchae, and Changbin grabs some dishes and utensils for everyone.

Once banchan is set out, you thank the chef and dig in, unwilling to wait another moment before eating. Changbin brings everyone glasses of water, and you thank him with your mouth full, half distracted with savoring your bite. Everything tastes so good, you groan with each new flavor that hits your tongue.

Although you and Felix have been slowly getting to know one another, this is the first time you feel like you are sitting amongst equals—daresay, friends. Sure, they are hired to follow you around the property, but they never treat you like they work for you, and you could never imagine treating them as anything but your friends.

Nobody talks much during the meal, aside from small utterances from the guys while they offer each other bites of things, placing banchan on each other's plates and muttering about how the flavor of something reminds them of something else. There seems to be a lot of history between the two of them, but they are subtle about it, and you never feel like a third wheel or that you are intruding on something that is meant just for them.

You would like to know more about Changbin & Felix, but you decide not to ask. Potentially bothering someone with intrusive personal questions is something you learned long ago to do without—largely because you hate it when others do it to you. And although you have a lot of questions, you would rather the information get offered to you directly from them. If Felix and Changbin view you the way you view them, then you have no doubt that one day, they will offer you personal information.

"That was great," Felix says with a loud, satisfied sigh, slumping forward on his stool. You nod and hum in agreement, taking a sip from your water. Changbin groans what you assume is a satisfied sound and stands up, rubbing a hand over his belly.

"I'll clean up," Changbin offers, reaching for everyone's plate.

"Thank you," you say with a smile and slump forward as well, since there is no back to the seat, so you can’t sit back and let your tired, full body relax.

The food is left on the counter when you all get up and return your folded stools to the dry storage closet, and when you follow Felix's lead and begin to leave the kitchen, you ask, "What about the rest of the food?"

"The chef will eat it," Changbin says. "Or he'll put it away."

"Oh," you respond.

You hope you left him enough to enjoy and make a mental note to always have food leftover when you eat in the kitchen, just in case.

With the night still young, you decide to swim. Yoongi probably won't be back for quite some time, and you don't really feel like going back to bed, so you choose the next best thing. Felix seems excited about the idea, and you part ways at the top of the stairs, going into your separate rooms to get ready.

You change into your black bathing suit and grab a towel from your bathroom, and when you leave your room, you find Felix is already in his shorts and exiting his room.

"Changbin is tired," Felix mutters, and you nod and accept the explanation with no further questions and lead the way back downstairs.

One staff member you were not expecting to see is the bartender out at the pool. He is even playing music over the speakers, and when you step outside, he asks if you want to change it to something else. Currently, he has Bibi on, so you smile, shake your head, and tell him it is perfect.

"Want something other than champagne to drink?" Felix asks as you set your towels onto two lounge chairs. Truthfully, champagne sounds nice, so you shake your head once more and sit on your chair to wait for the drink to come.

"Are you settling in a little better?" Felix asks.

Your mind instantly goes right back to Yoongi's bed. Yoongi teasing you for how easy it is to make you cum. Yoongi pulling you close and making you feel safe.

"I am," you say, trying not to make a big show of it, but you can feel your cheeks warming, and you struggle to hold down a smile.

Felix's eyes widen. "Oh gosh, you're getting shy. Did you two—you did, didn't you?"

"Maybe," you mutter, feeling your face become impossibly hotter.

"Oh my gosh," Felix loudly whispers. "How was it? Wait, is that invasive? Never mind, don't tell me how it was!"

Felix is absolutely giddy, waving his hands around while he speaks, and it makes you feel giddy, too.

It is nice to giggle and whisper with someone, so you nod and quietly say, "It was very good."

At this, Felix pulls his hands over his mouth, and his eyes become even wider.

You let out a loud, boisterous laugh, and reach out to give Felix a playful smack on the arm. The bartender drops off two glasses of champagne and the opened bottle, and you both reach for a glass.

"To getting laid," Felix mutters quietly, holding out his glass, and you shake your head in embarrassment and tap yours to his.

The champagne is cold and slightly bitter with a sweet finish, and you take a nice big drink of it. It feels as if the bubbly liquid moves throughout your body, causing tiny waves of carbonated excitement to wash through you, but it is likely just the thrilling moment you are sharing with Felix.

"I'm glad," Felix says after taking a drink from his glass. "It's been a bit since he's…well, at least since he's had someone who seems like a consistent person in his life, other than—” he clears his throat, as if he has caught himself saying something he shouldn’t and continues, “—he was beginning to get a little cranky and unpredictable."

You swallow all this information down in an attempt to digest each bit, one by one. "Back up. I have questions."

"Uh-oh," Felix says with a grin.

"Uh-oh, indeed," you giggle and dump the rest of your drink straight back into your mouth.

"First of all," you say, holding up your index finger. Felix holds his finger up too, with a mischievous smile. "A consistent person. There have been inconsistent persons?"

Felix chews his lip as if he's trying to find a way to put his words delicately, then rolls his eyes and says, "Okay, I mean…he owns a brothel, so it's not like…it would be silly to assume he doesn't…"

"He gets high on his own supply," you say, trying to keep from laughing.

"Something like that."

You squint your eyes and you wait for Felix to elaborate.

"He wasn't fucking his own employees or anything like that; even he knows that would be morally grey," Felix giggles, shaking his head emphatically. "But he would take people back to the rooms and use them rather than bringing them here."

"People?" you ask with a raised eyebrow.

Felix raises his eyebrow, as well. "Yes, people. I don't want to elaborate; you'll have to find out more from him."

You note that the word choice may suggest that Yoongi does not only fuck women, and you nod, allowing Felix to move on.

"It's a process. Everyone is screened, vetted, tested, the whole nine yards. By the time he's run a full background on someone, it seemed like it was taking the joy out of the process, and none of them were long-term candidates or anything, so he wasn't fucking around very much."

This raises a question that you keep to yourself, which is, of course, how Yoongi knows your tests have come back negative and that you are on birth control. You reach for the bottle of champagne to refill your and Felix's glasses while you mentally go over the facts.

Fact number one being that Yoongi did not use a condom, and you let him cum inside you. Yoongi knows you are protected, and you file that away in the little box in your mind that is labeled Yoongi Definitely Knows More About Me Than He Admits and move on.

As it turns out, there was just one fact to mull over, and you set the champagne bottle down and clear your throat.

"Okay, I accept that explanation," you say as you bring your glass to your lips for another sip. "So the last consistent person in his life must have been Ryujin?"

Felix licks his lips, thinks over his next words, and says, "Not exactly."

"N—"

"But I can't divulge more about that," Felix continues in a bit of a panic. "It's nothing crazy or dramatic; it's just…it goes back to the earlier point that I do not wish to say more about, and…it's just better if some of this stuff comes from him."

You nod and accept Felix's response, tucking away the idea that, if your suspicion about Yoongi also liking men is true, the last consistent person was most likely a man, and you move on.

You wait for Felix to take a drink from his champagne before you ask, "How long ago did he split from Ryujin?"

Felix looks up and pulls his mouth into a tight, cute little thinking face, and you study his features—soft yet sharp and covered in pretty little freckles. "Seven years?"

Your mouth drops. "Wait…seven years?" Felix nods, and you cock your head, studying him. You are in your mid-twenties, which would probably make Yoongi older than you. "How old is Yoongi, then?"

The look on Felix's face is a mix between surprise and confusion. "You don't know how old Yoongi is?"

"It hasn't come up!" You whine defensively. Your heart is pounding, and you feel a bit foolish.

"He's twenty-nine. He was twenty-two when he called off the wedding."

This is shocking. "But it seemed like they had a long history together? I mean I know he said they were high school sweethearts, but I thought the wedding was called off like, last year?"

"I mean, they grew up together."

"Oh." You suppose that makes sense.

"They were best friends until some time in their teenage years when they decided to date. Or maybe they decided to fuck; I'm not sure which came first. And that was that; they were inseparable until they weren't."

"I have questions," you say, and Felix nods.

"Go ahead."

You drink from your glass, then clear your throat.

"Okay, so first of all, how has this grudge between them lived on for so long? Like why is she still bothering him to marry her if it's been seven years? Because I have seen her—she is hot! Can't she just, I don't know, find some man of equal hotness to marry her?"

Felix watches you with a wide, excited smile, then shakes his head. "Oh sweetie, you have a lot to learn."

"Educate me," you say incredulously, finishing your champagne.

"She's the head of a mafia family; she can't marry just anyone. It's a business strategy, and most men—or women—aren't worth the investment."

You squint at Felix and challenge him, "But I am?"

"You are."

You swallow hard, knowing exactly where this is going, and ask, "But why?"

Felix finishes his champagne and studies your face before saying, "You know why."

"My background?"

"You'll have to talk to Yoongi more about this; I've said too much."

“Okay, but did you know about my background before I told you about it that night in Busan?”

Felix hesitates and says, “Sort of, but not really. I wasn’t told any of the details.”

“Did you happen to tell anyone else about it?”

Felix squints and cocks his head, looking confused, so you continue.

“Jimin said something this morning that made it seem like he knows something.”

“Ah,” Felix responds. “Jimin likely knows because he is one of the men who tends to know more than everyone else, with the exception of Seokjin. You will have to talk to him about it.”

You sigh and accept Felix's explanation; it is clear that you are not going to get more out of him than that. Despite getting closer with him, he still has a job to do and a boss to protect. It is frustrating to be left hanging, but it is not as if you can force Felix to say more than he feels he is allowed to.

"Swim?" Felix suggests, and you nod, abandoning the rest of the champagne and questions for the time being.

Despite having slept for so long, you are tired by 1 AM. Yoongi and the men still have not come home, and although you are not necessarily worried about them, you wish he would return soon. Knowing what it feels like to fall asleep in Yoongi's arms makes it difficult to climb into his big, cold bed alone.

At least the bedding still smells like traces of Yoongi, and you wrap your arms around one of his pillows and hold it close while you close your eyes and picture Yoongi's sharp little smirk and wide, eager eyes. It is not long before you begin to fade and fall asleep.

The sound of shouting wakes you first, but it is distant enough that it does not fully rouse you. You are not even certain that you are awake, and you roll back onto your side and grip onto the pillow you had been holding before and try to fall back asleep.

But then Yoongi's bedroom door slams open loudly, and you jolt awake, sitting up, worried at first that you might find an intruder at the foot of the bed before a disheveled Yoongi comes into view. Yoongi is head to toe in black, with a silver bolo tie around his neck, and his hair is sticking out in all directions, messed up.

"Yoongi?" you ask, sleepy and still trying to process what is happening.

Yoongi grins and leans into the end of the bed. "Darling! The evening was a roaring success, and our man won! Oh, shit, were you sleeping?"

His voice is slurry and a little too loud, and now that everything is coming into sharp focus, it sounds like there is a party downstairs.

"Yeah," you grumble, "I was asleep. Who won? What time is it?"

Yoongi shrugs and looks at his wrist, squinting as if to focus on it a little better, then shouts, "4:42!"

"In the morning?"

"No," Yoongi slurs with an eyebrow raised, attempting sarcasm, "in the evening."

Oh, he sure has jokes. You scoff to yourself and roll your eyes.

"Had a few drinks?"

Yoongi hums and sighs. "A few too many. I'm exhausted. Wanna fuck?"

This time you laugh openly and shake your head. "Wow, you sure talk a hard bargain, Yoongi, but I might have to pass."

Yoongi cocks his head and stares at you incredulously, then stands straight and makes his way around the bed to your side. You watch his very valiant attempt to walk like a sober man and bite your bottom lip to hold in a laugh.

"Did you at least miss me?" Yoongi asks as he gets near. His breath wreaks of whiskey and cigars, but you lean in to touch your lips to his.

"I did," you mutter softly, watching as Yoongi smiles and rubs the tip of his nose against yours.

"Good," Yoongi responds and takes a step back. "And I see you made yourself comfortable in my clothes."

You nod in agreement.

"Did you snoop around my closet while you were in there?"

"I did," you respond with a grin. "I found some very interesting accessories."

Yoongi tongues the inside of his mouth and chuckles, then his lips pull into a smirk. "You should see the ones I keep locked up."

"Is that so?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Yoongi nods and bites his bottom lip. "I could show you...are you sure you don't wanna fuck?"

You giggle and reach out, grabbing handfuls of Yoongi's shirt. The material is satin, and it slides in your hands as you gently hold him close. "You're drunk, Yoongi."

"I consent!" Yoongi whines.

"Thank you for that, but that's not what I mean. I just—I don't feel comfortable being sober while you're drunk."

"Trauma?" Yoongi asks softly, and you hum in agreement. "I would never do anything to hurt you, but I understand. I'll earn your trust first. And in the meantime, I will sober up."

"We could sleep," you suggest.

Yoongi hums, eyes trailing between yours, left and right. "I wish I could, but I still have a lot of energy from tonight, and the guys are here, celebrating. Maybe a swim will sober me up."

A swim sounds nice, but you are still quite tired and not sure you want to join him. Plus, the house sounds crowded, with shouts echoing up the stairs from time to time, and you are not sure you want to bother with being around others.

"Maybe Namjoon will swim with you," you suggest.

Yoongi shoots you a questioning look and stands straight, creating distance between you. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The shift in Yoongi's demeanor makes you nervous, and you chuckle. "I don't know, it was just the first name I thought of," you say, watching as Yoongi's expression doesn't soften. You continue, "I assume all the family men are here."

Yoongi continues to stare, eyes sharpening, then he shakes his head and scoffs. "Maybe one of them will swim with me," he says and turns toward his closet.

You sigh and fall back against the bed. It is exhausting how you never seem to know what will trigger Yoongi to get upset. Light shines from the closet, and you decide you should just ask Yoongi what you said to upset him, and you sit up once more, throw the comforter off you, and make your way from the bed to the small room.

Yoongi has a drawer on the far end of his island pulled open, and he looks up when he notices your presence, sends you a soft smile, and goes back to rummaging through what you assume is a pile of swim shorts.

"Did I say something wrong?" you ask, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

Yoongi tongues the inside of his mouth and pulls black shorts from the drawer. As he pushes the drawer shut, he stands straight and rests one palm on the marble island.

"You had no way of knowing," Yoongi mutters. "Namjoon and I—" he appears to be searching for his next words, then he smiles and says, "Namjoon and I have always been really close. But it's nothing worth getting into. Sorry I reacted so strangely."

The first half of his statement and the second half definitely do not match up, but you mutter, "Okay," and let it go. You hope that, as you get closer, whatever it is that Yoongi is not telling you now will be something he feels comfortable telling you later.

There is a knock on the bedroom door followed by a nasally voice calling, "Knock knock! Are we decent?" It distracts you from giving the matter too much more thought.

"In here, Seokah," Yoongi grumbles loudly.

You turn to find Hoseok approaching in small bright blue swim shorts. His body is much more muscular than you expected for how willowy he is, and you pull your gaze away quickly; you are not trying to check out one of Yoongi's men. Not to mention, Yoongi has begun to unbutton his shirt, and you find your eyes glued to his slender fingers and the strip of skin that is revealed the lower they go.

"Someone said something about swimming. Are you joining us, darling?"

Hoseok's voice sounds playful, and you are surprised to hear the familiar pet name come from him. You turn your head in his direction but do not look back at him as you shake your head and say, "No thanks, I'm pretty tired still."

"Bummer," Hoseok says. "We're all in a pretty celebratory mood, and it would be nice for the other guys to see more of you. But rest is important, and we will have other opportunities to hang out."

You hum and mull it over. It would be nice to get to know the family men a little better.

"I'll consider it," you concede. "Maybe if I can't sleep."

Yoongi strips his shirt off and tosses it onto the island, and you hear Hoseok wolf whistle before saying, "I'll take this as my cue to exit. See you soon, hyung!"

You can't help but stare as Yoongi undoes his pants and pushes them down. Although you can only see as far as his hips, you know what the rest of him looks like, and you are beginning to regret declining sex earlier. He is still clearly drunk, however, and drunk men plus sex equals memories you do your best to block out.

"Are you staring at me, darling?" Yoongi mutters, and you pull your gaze to meet his, realizing he is standing still and smirking.

"Maybe," you respond with a grin.

Yoongi hums and grabs his shorts. "Well, maybe once I have sobered up, I will show you what you are so clearly longing for."

"Maybe?" you tease.

Yoongi bends to put his shorts on, and when he pulls them to his hips, snapping the waistband, he meets your eye again.

"Yeah," he says, "maybe."

You hum in response and shrug. "Maybe I won't be interested later."

Yoongi's gaze is both playful and dangerous, and you do your best to hold your composure, attempting to appear unaffected and playfully disinterested.

"I could make you interested, darling," Yoongi rasps. "Don't worry."

You cock an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Yoongi hums. "With your consent, of course."

You giggle and shake your head, feeling a swell of affection. There is that word again, and you feel your heart flutter with how, even when he is trying to play the part of the dangerously sexy heartthrob, he is worried about your boundaries. What a babe.

Yoongi chuckles and chews on his bottom lip while rounding the marble island, and you stare at his chest, reminding yourself to one day ask about all the scars. One day when you have the kind of relationship where he feels comfortable telling you things like that. Or when you have any sort of relationship at all—you still have no idea what you are.

With a sweet, chaste kiss, Yoongi leaves to go swimming, and you climb back in his bed and pull the blanket up to your chin and attempt to get some rest.

Sleep had actually come fast, but once the sun rises, the house gets even louder, and you struggle to stay asleep long enough that you finally give up and get out of bed. With a big stretch and some grumbling, you decide to go to your room for a bathing suit. If everyone is determined to party all morning, you may as well join them.

You are surprised to find the hallway absent of Felix and Changbin, though you imagine it is still pretty early for them. That, or Yoongi told them you would be asleep for a while. You are also surprised by how few people are in the pool area, considering how loud they are, as you make your way to your room and close the door behind you.

You pad through your room and into your closet, to the drawer in the island where bathing suits are stored. Some of them came from your apartment with your clothes, but others, you imagine, Namjoon or Hoseok bought for you, with the rest of the newer clothes.

One suit has a retro fit with a high-waisted floral bottom and frilly yellow top, and you pick that one to wear since the men downstairs are celebrating something—it feels like a celebratory look, anyway. Then you slip on some black sandals and go into your bathroom for a towel, which you wrap around your hips.

The towels in your bathroom are always stocked, and you often wonder who is in charge of the laundry, and when they come into your room; you have never seen a single person carrying towels. In fact, you have no idea where laundry facilities are inside the mansion. Your clothing simply goes from being worn to clean, and what happens in between is a mystery.

You make your way through your room and out into the mezzanine. At a glance, it appears that all of the family men are in or near the pool, with several other men you do not recognize. It does not seem like the crowd that hangs out just for the sake of hanging out, for which you are grateful, and you head down the stairs toward the door. A large grandfather clock in the main hall, near the couch, tells you that it is just after 6 AM, and you shake your head.

The doors leading out to the pool are all open, so you are not surprised by the loud hip-hop music playing poolside, though once you are outside, it is much louder. The area is somehow heated, but the cool morning air still hits you, giving you goosebumps. Men shout and cheer, and you scan the area, looking for Yoongi.

"Little dove, you've joined us at last!" Jimin calls, and you turn to find him standing near the bar with a champagne flute in hand.

Jimin is not the man you want to see, but he is a man who you know, and you want to try to make nice with all of the family men, so you head his way first. He is joined by a man you have never seen, who is handsome and a bit shorter than him, and you wave to them both as you say, "Good morning."

"We didn't wake you, I hope?" Jimin asks with a coy smile.

The bartender leaves his post to bring you a glass of champagne, and you mutter a thanks before taking a sip.

"You did," you finally reply, "but I was restless in the first place, and it's a nice morning to miss out on sleep. Plus, who can turn down a celebration?"

"Ah, yes," Jimin responds, looking past you. "Wonho really is something. We may have started out too strong with a fighter as good as him."

You turn to look for this Wonho fella who Jimin talks about and see a very buff blond man at the far end of the pool, surrounded by others. He punches his fist into the palm of his hand, and those surrounding him cheer and raise their glasses.

"Well, good for him," you say, turning back to Jimin. "Whatever he has done, he seems to have made a name for himself."

Jimin squints, studying you as he slowly raises his glass to his lips. You hate being under his scrutinizing gaze and raise your eyebrows, humming at him questioningly.

"The things he tells you versus the things he does not tell you..." Jimin trails off, sharpening his gaze. "I find it fascinating."

You down the rest of your champagne and straighten out your posture.

"Can I ask you something?" you challenge, feeling bold.

"Please," Jimin responds with a smirk.

"Do you pick on me, or is being snide just your personality?"

The person beside Jimin scoffs and turns away from him to giggle, and Jimin smacks him on the chest while looking at you incredulously.

"Both," Jimin responds. He cocks his head and nibbles on his bottom lip, then says, "I pick on you, yes. Not because I dislike you; in fact, I like you quite a bit, little dove. I think you fit in here better than any of us anticipated."

"But?" you nudge, picking up on how Jimin's tone suggests he has more to say.

"No buts," Jimin pauses and grins. "Being snide is a defense mechanism, dove. The way you are always a little cold and observant, holding back your thoughts until you learn to trust someone, I like to pick and prod but never reveal my hand fully, to see how I can get people to react. Two sides of the same coin."

You hum and accept Jimin's explanation. "I don't really mind it, to be honest; I just hoped that it was something like that and not because you didn't like me."

"I like you," Jimin repeats softly, almost sweetly, and you feel your cheeks warm.

"That makes one of you," you mutter, looking down at your empty glass, considering a second.

"Namjoon and Hoseok like you too," Jimin says, and you look up at him, feeling pleasantly surprised by the information. "The others will come around. Well, the Kim's will—Seokjin and Taehyung. Jeongguk...don't expect him to like anyone. He has a lot of baggage, and he has built up walls that he does not let any of us scale. I don't think even he knows how to scale his own walls at this point."

You sigh, feeling how relatable that is. You have been working on letting others in and allowing people to know the real you, especially while working at the dive bar over the last few years and becoming close to customers, but there were years when you were a lone wolf, determined to never trust another human again.

Sometimes you feel the urge to stay that way creeping up, and you have to remind yourself to try to relax and at least let others in, even if just a little. Which is why, when you consider how much affection you feel for Yoongi, you are still surprised by yourself.

Speaking of Yoongi, you still have not found him. The bartender approaches to exchange your empty glass for a full one, and you thank him, then turn to Jimin to wish him a good day. He doesn’t introduce you to the man by his side, and you do not really care to ask.

Turning toward the pool, you scan the area, looking for men you recognize. Taehyung is in the pool, arms on a large swan floaty that Seokjin is laying on, and they appear to be laughing about something.

Jeongguk is on the far end with his arms crossed, talking to Hoseok, and it looks like Namjoon is beside Hoseok with his back to you, so you make your way over there. All of the men are shirtless, in black shorts, aside from Hoseok in blue, and you are surprised by how muscular they all are, although perhaps you should not be.

You consider that Yoongi could be hidden behind the wall of the man Namjoon is, when a familiar pale hand snakes around Namjoon's side, grabbing onto his back. Namjoon's arms are bent, presumably holding onto something, and your steps falter before you push forward and continue to approach.

Jeongguk sees you, and his eyes widen. He turns to the group but does not appear to say anything, but the hand around Namjoon slips away. Namjoon turns to you and smiles widely with his dimples on display, and with his body at the new angle, you can see Yoongi just past him, talking to someone off to the side before his eyes meet yours, and he smiles.

"Fellas," you call, holding your flute of champagne as if to toast them. "Don't let me interrupt."

You wink and smirk at Namjoon, and he flashes you a glance that is indiscernible before clearing his throat and excusing himself, telling the group, "I'll go get us another bottle."

"Hey darling," Yoongi says with a grin, stepping forward to meet you.

Yoongi appears just as drunk as he was earlier, and high as shit on cocaine. You roll your eyes and pull him in for a one-armed hug as you mutter, "Hey there, jitterbug."

"Is it that obvious?" Yoongi mutters.

"Yeah, it's pretty obvious," you respond with a giggle. "But it's also just after 6, so I guess you have to do what it takes to stay awake."

"Did you come all this way to nag him?" A voice you do not recognize cuts through the noise, and you look to your left to find Jeongguk glaring at you.

"Jeonggukah," Yoongi mutters, and Jeongguk scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"You should be thankful you're allowed to live under his roof," Jeongguk continues.

"Excuse me?" you respond, turning your body to face Jeongguk. You cock your head and knit your eyebrows, surprised by his attitude. "I was joking. Do you know what that is? Have you ever smiled before?"

Yoongi grabs you by the arm and tugs you away from the group muttering, "Okay, that's enough."

You half expect Jeongguk to retaliate, but when you look back, he is smirking while Hoseok watches you with a worried expression. The champagne blends beautifully with your sleep deprivation, and you feel the urge to turn back and give Jeongguk a piece of your mind, but Yoongi continues to pull you toward the other end of the pool.

"Ignore him," Yoongi says. "He's an asshole."

"But why?" you ask, turning back to face the direction you're walking.

"Doesn't matter why, just don't encourage him. You two are likely never going to be friends."

Not that you would want to be friends with a prick like Jeongguk anyway, but it bothers you that he was so quick to try to call you out for something when you were just trying to joke with Yoongi. You stop walking once you have reached the opposite side of the pool, near the diving boards.

Yoongi approaches Namjoon, who sits on a pool bed despite telling the others he would return with champagne. He reaches out his hand, and Namjoon gives Yoongi a metal vial, which he hands to you. You take the vial, knowing full well that it is cocaine, and unscrew the top, which already has a tiny spoon embedded into it.

Two small piles of the drug enter your nostrils, and you hand the vial back to Namjoon, assuming that Yoongi has probably had enough. Yoongi does not try to correct your choice, and as you pinch your nose to inhale any stray powder, Yoongi takes your free hand and tugs you further along until you are in a shaded area, away from everyone else, in a far corner.

"I have some questions for you," you say as you sit in a bed and hold onto the remainder of your champagne tightly. This feels eerily familiar to your chat with Felix, though this time, you are jittery with aggravation rather than excitement.

"Okay," Yoongi says, sitting across from you, sideways on the bed with his elbows on his knees.

You hold up a finger for each question. "Why do you keep Jeongguk around if he has an attitude like that? What did Wonho do that was so impressive? Was there anyone you dated seriously between Ryujin and...whatever it is that we are doing? What are we doing? I think that's all...for now."

With four fingers held up, you watch Yoongi, whose expression grows from amused to anxious, and he holds up a finger.

"I took Jeongguk in when he was a kid, maybe around thirteen. I found him orphaned and on the streets. I won't say he is justified in his behavior, but he has never had it easy. He is one of the hardest working men I have ever met, he absolutely never fails at anything, and he is like a little brother to me."

You swallow thickly and accept that response, knowing first-hand how hard being unhoused can be for a teenager. Yoongi holds up a second finger.

"Wonho won a bare-knuckle boxing match tonight and made me a lot of money. Also took a rival gang member off the streets."

"Is he dead?" you ask, and Yoongi smirks, cocks an eyebrow, and holds up a third finger.

"There was one person between her and you. It did not pan out the way we wanted it to, and we are friends instead."

Your stomach does a flip, and you feel the cocaine course through you as you mull over his words. You wonder if that person is Namjoon, based on Yoongi’s reaction to your mention of him earlier, and how touchy he was with Namjoon moments ago, but you do not wish to pry.

"Okay," you say, attempting to take everything in.

Even if the person is Namjoon and they are just friends now, you do not think he would do anything to come between the two of you, so you try not to think much of it. Except maybe you would like for him to come between you—tangled between you and Yoongi on his bed, specifically. But that is probably the drugs and champagne talking, and you keep that thought to yourself.

Yoongi holds up a fourth finger and asks, "You still don't know what we are?"

His voice sounds sad, and you chew on the inside of your lip.

"Are we dating? Am I training to be your wife?"

Yoongi sighs and drops his hand down onto his lap. "If you want to become useful to the house, then yes, we are dating. And if not, then you are a pretty piece of collateral, and we will cross that bridge when we come to it."

Once again, you are regarded as something other than human, and it annoys you. You chug back the rest of your warm champagne and place the glass on a table between the ends of your and Yoongi's chairs.

"I'm a person," you say slowly since clearly, Yoongi needs a reminder. "I am not a machine and I am not collateral."

"I understand that darling, but that is simply not how things work in my world. Everyone has a use, or they are cut out. Believe me, I do not want to cut you out."

The bartender comes along with two full glasses of champagne. Yoongi holds up his hand to decline his, and you grab both glasses, slamming one back and handing the bartender the empty glass. Once the man leaves, you turn back to Yoongi, feeling even tipsier and rather brazen.

"You know about my past," you challenge, "so you already know I would be useful. Is that why you wanted me in the first place?"

Yoongi blinks and studies you, then clears his throat to speak. "Of course I know about your past, darling. That is not why I want you, but it is part of what makes you good for me."

"Why?"

Yoongi leans forward. "Because you are smart, you come from the streets, and you have killed a man before."

"How do you know about that?"

Yoongi’s lips tug upward ever so slightly. "I know about a lot of things."

You lean forward, cradling your champagne flute between two fingers.

“Do you know how I killed him?” Straddling his hips with his cock nestled inside you while you pulled a knife from under his blanket and drove it straight into his chest.

"I do. And by the sound of things, he deserved it."

"He did."

"The men I kill often deserve it too," Yoongi says, eyebrows high on his forehead as if he is challenging you.

"Often? So some don't?"

Yoongi shrugs. "Sometimes people are in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"What are your scars from?" you ask before you can stop yourself.

Yoongi's jaw juts forward, and he scoffs.

"Most of them are from my father," he says in a low voice, eyes softening, almost appearing sad. “I guess I was born in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Your eyes trail over those you can see, thick and dark scar tissue, some inches long, across his ribs. What the fuck could his father have done to him?

"Sorry," is all you can say, but Yoongi rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"Are you done interrogating me?"

You feel guilty for bringing up what is clearly a painful memory after already having a somewhat charged conversation and slump forward, feeling as if the wind has been knocked from your sails. You never even got into the pool, and now all you want to do is retreat back upstairs and go to bed.

"I am," you finally say, glancing around the pool area. "I think I'm going to go back upstairs."

Yoongi hums and nods then stands.

"I'll join you," he says, holding out a hand for you to take. You accept and let Yoongi tug you to your feet, and you set the rest of your champagne down on the small table.

You are led inside, with Yoongi waving at Namjoon and Jimin along the way, and then up the stairs. Yoongi does not give you a choice in where you are going, taking you straight to his room—though, you would have gone that way, anyhow.

"Let's save the rest of that conversation for when we are sober," Yoongi mutters, closing the door behind you. You nod and walk toward your side of the bed, but Yoongi tugs you into the closet.

"You are not sleeping in a bathing suit, darling," Yoongi mutters, and you remember you are still dressed for the pool with a towel around your hips.

Yoongi lets go of your hand and grabs two sets of night clothes. He begins to change, so you do the same, feeling a bit apprehensive about stripping in front of him, despite how naked he has seen you. You both watch each other undress, and before you can begin to put the clothing on, he reaches for your hand and pulls you close, standing naked.

"Now that we are both intoxicated, will you let me fuck you?" Yoongi pleads, jutting his bottom lip in a pout.

You are tired, but you want to feel Yoongi on and inside you so badly, and you smirk.

"Fine," you say playfully, as if conceding to his demand and doing him some sort of favor.

Yoongi grins.

"Good. Then let's skip the clothes and go straight to bed."

You are exhausted. But the moment Yoongi crawls between your legs, all thought of sleep leaves your mind. Yoongi makes you cum again and again, each time more intense than the last, and by the time he is moaning into your mouth, kissing you deeply as he fills you with his release, you are both trembling and covered in sweat.

You instantly fall asleep wrapped in Yoongi's arms.

Once again, you wake up in Yoongi's bed alone.

The sun is still up, and you stretch, still feeling sore from how hard Yoongi fucked you earlier. You consider getting up to see if Yoongi is nearby, but you do not want to get out of bed just yet, and you roll over, pull the comforter over your head and fall back asleep.

The next time you wake up, the sun appears to be setting, and your body feels stiff. You go to Yoongi's closet to put on the clothing you had abandoned before and make your way to the hall. Changbin is asleep on the bench beside your door, leaning against the wall, and you feel a bit guilty for letting him sit out there and wait for you.

You approach Changbin and tap his knee gently, whispering, "Hey," and he jolts awake, eyes wide and nervous, before scrambling to his feet and bowing his head.

"My apologies, miss! I can't believe I fell asleep."

You giggle and shake your head, "No, really, I'm the one who is sorry. I slept all day; I should have peeked out and told you not to wait for me."

Changbin stands straight but appears displeased. "Still, I should not have been so careless."

The clock in the main hall begins to ding, and Changbin turns to you with wide eyes. "Wow, great timing. You have to get dressed! Yoongi wants you to accompany him tonight at House of Cards."

"Oh," you say, surprised by this information. You were just about to ask Changbin if he wanted to order a pizza or something from the chef. "Did he mention anything about how fancy I should dress?"

"I'll take care of all that for you, dove," Jimin's voice calls from the bottom of the stairs, and you turn to find him walking toward you with his trusty makeup case in hand. "I hope you are excited for your first event appearance on the boss' arm. We are going to make you look like a proper mafia wife tonight."

Oh, I just came back from the moon Found myself looking right at you Violins playing into your tune My moods are swinging for you

🎵 visit the playlist

I feel like this chapter was a bit boring, but there was a little more information I wanted to pass along before things begin to tailspin, which they are going to starting in the next chapter.

tags: @btsiguess-kpop, @btsstan12, @dasexydevitt13, @giriiboyy, @illnevertrustmyselfagain, @leanimal90, @likeshatteredrainbowglass, @mayeolorie, @mwitsmejk, @sleepilysworld, @svgahigh 💜 comment or dm to be added to the tag list!

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

#btswritersclub #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi mafia #bts smut #bts mafia #fic: collateral

350 notes · View notes

lily-drake · 3 years ago

Note

Are you going to adda part two to Bargain?? I wont pressure u into it but If u want to can you pleasee do a part two??

Fulfilled

Time was an ever present, never ending, unhaulting force that was always neutral. It was never time’s fault for when things were good and bad, for it always went on for everyone. It didn’t do favors for good or bad people, it didn’t do redos, it always went forward. So time passed, time passed and things were different because change and time work together.

“Hey Marinette, how are you feeling today?”

Tim asked gently as he sat next to the girl on her chaise. Marinette looked up from her embroidery work and smiled at him, carefully taking his hand into her own.

“Better now that you're here.”

She said brightly. It had been 1 month since he had shown up, two weeks since there was a new Cat Miraculous holder, and it was no coincidence to Marinette. Tikki was the one to make the reveal between the two happen as she flew in front of him and demanded that he simply hold her hand. Apparently being in physical proximity with her balance had helped her, but little bits of physical affection now that he was wearing the ring would help her even more. It reminded Tim of Ivy’s Cuddle Pollen, and that made it easier for him to understand the events that were thrust upon him so quickly.

“Did you go to school today?”

He asked as he rubbed small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Yea, can’t say I liked it very much. It really took a lot out of me to stay conscious.”

Tim could tell she wasn’t telling him something, that there was more to the story than she was letting on. He wouldn’t push though, they really hadn’t known each other for very long and he didn’t want to intrude.

“Alright, do you feel well enough to go on a walk? From what I’ve been told you need to get some strength back.”

Marinette sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder tiredly,

“Do we have to? I wouldn’t mind just taking a nap.”

Tim chuckled and began to slowly stand up pulling her up with him.

“We need to get you moving again outside of the suit. Tikki said that going outside and being around nature should help your healing process. Besides, it's a warm day. It will be nice.”

Marinette sighed as her legs wobbled under her due to the lack of usage. It had been almost two weeks since she had even moved without the help of Tikki’s magic as Ladybug when Tim had first come. Then after that it took another week of him visiting before she was able to even climb out of bed to move to her chaise without feeling like she was being burned alive from the inside out.

“Alright. Just to the park, once around, then we come back.”

Tim smiled and nodded,

“Yea, we could also sit on a bench when we’re done, and relax under some shade. You’re about as pale as me, and that’s not necessarily a good thing.”

Marinette let out a small giggle as he helped her slowly down the stairs.

Marinette liked Tim, he was a support and a person that she didn’t realize she needed. He was always so kind, patient, and it felt like he really cared for her. He was so unlike other people she was friends with before. When she was friends with Alya and the others they were always pushing her to do things she was uncomfortable with, expecting things from her she just couldn’t give. It was toxic and felt almost suffocating. Tim felt freeing, she knew he would never force her to do anything she didn’t want to, and he would support her with whatever decision she decided to make.

Tim held her hand through the walk, sometimes letting go and taking a few steps ahead of her as he encouraged her to take some steps by herself.

“You did great today!”

He cheered as they sat down on one of the park benches. Marinette gave a small smile breathing in deeply as she tried to catch her breath. Marinette opened her mouth to respond, a high-pitched voice cut through.

“Look who finally decided to show her face.”

A shrill laugh,

“Still pretending to be sick I see.”

Marinette ducked her head as Lila and Alya mocked her, not noticing the confusion and disdain that filled Tim’s face.

“What, nothing to say?”

Lila mocked as she leaned in while placing a hand on her hip.

“It’s not like you’ll listen to or believe anything I say.”

She mumbled to herself, no one else but Tim heard what she said. Tim’s gaze hardened and he knew why Marinette often came back from school tired and defeated. It didn’t look like anyone defended her.

“Excuse me ladies,”

Tim began, as he stood up and walked towards the two. Lila’s eyes seemed to brighten and gleam in a manner Tim had seen far too many times at galas. She thought that she could manipulate him into liking her.

“I’m Miss Marinette’s physiatrist. The pain she is in and facing is not some façade. We have only recently discovered what has been the cause of her ailment and are currently in the process of helping her heal.”

He said in a cool professional manner, trying his best to stay as neutral as possible. Plagg had mentioned side effects of being slightly more protective of Marinette than he would for others. It didn’t help that his vigilante need to protect was also heavily weighed into it.

The girls simply rolled their eyes,

“Wow Marinette. I didn’t realize you were this desperate for attention. You seriously paid some random person to pretend to be your doctor. This is a new low, even for you.”

Marinette could feel some of the aches and pains from earlier return, and though it wasn’t the burning it was before, it felt like she was being stabbed by pins and needles all along her body. Tim opened his mouth to say something but the small hiss of pain Marinette made when she reached up to tug at his hand had him turning around immediately and making sure she was okay.

“It’s okay Tim, let's just head back.”

Tim nodded and slowly helped her stand up, letting her lean on him to support her weight as pain flared through her body. The two girls kept “whispering” to the other, but Tim ignored them in favor of helping Marinette get away from them. There was no doubt in his mind that they were at least partially responsible for Marinette’s condition. Before they even made it into the bakery there was a loud crash from somewhere deeper in the city.

Tim glared at where smoke was rising as they walked towards her room as he grumbled about how villains always had the worst timing and how it just wasn’t fair. Once the trapdoor was closed Marinette quickly called on her transformation letting Tikki take over for the time being. Tim knew the protocol by this point as he promised that he would return tomorrow to pick her up for her actual physical therapy appointment. He promptly left the building to go somewhere else to transform so it wouldn’t be suspicious.

They had made a cover story that the reason that Marinette was in the pain she was in was because she had Rheumatoid Arthritis. To make the healing process seem believable Tim brought her a specific “medication” she would have to take. This medication would be made from the instructions from the Book of the Guardian’s along with some help from Zatanna to make sure it wouldn’t be too much of a magical strain on her already magically overstrained body. Tim visited her often to make sure everything was going well as her “special doctor” (caretaker) that her parents hired full time to make sure that their baby girl would never have to go through that amount of pain ever again.

The fight was over rather quickly, but the destruction caused in the interim was massive. The Akuma had been throwing explosives all over Paris, an upset demolitionist who lost their job, and had been blowing up whatever building or structure was in sight. The amount of energy it took from Marinette to heal everyone and everything took almost everything out of her. She collapsed and fell onto her knees as she gasped for air that seemed nonexistent and unobtainable. Ombre fell in front of her and quickly placed her hands against his chest as he tried to get her to breathe again. He was calm and collected, but as she stared into his bright silver eyes, she knew that he was just as afraid as she was.

“It’s okay Ladybug. You need to breathe, I can’t help you if you don’t breathe first. That’s it, come on. Breathe in 2, 3, 4; hold, 2, 3, 4; and out 2, 3, 4. You’re doing so well, that’s right, can you repeat the pattern for me?”

Marientte did her best to listen to Tim, to follow the pattern he spoke and did himself; but it was so hard. Even though she wasn’t wearing more than the Ladybug Miraculous for this fight the strain she felt was as if she were wearing all of them at once all over again! She could feel gentle hands pick her up, and she knew that if it wasn’t for Tikki’s magic surrounding her she would have screamed from the pain of being moved. She knew that as soon as she called off her transformation she would feel as if she were burning in a bath of lava once again.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ll drop you off on your balcony then I’ll disappear, call me and I’ll come right over.”

“Alright.”

Ladybug whispered as she leaned into her partner's shoulder. It only took a few moments before they reached her balcony where he quickly set her on her beach chair before hightailing it out before anyone could spot him. Marinette didn’t even need to call for her de-transformation as only a few seconds later it ended by itself causing her to shout out from the intense agony that slammed down against her entire being. Her parents or someone must have heard her as soon enough both of them had raced up to check on her, her mother calling Tim for her as each movement she took caused her to gasp for breath from the sheer intensity of the pain. She could feel the warm tears trail down her face like a waterfall as small sobs escaped. Tim was there in less than 5 minutes.

_________ She wasn’t able to go back to school for another two weeks after that incident, and she was thankful that Tim stayed with her to help her to do it online. Maybe it would be best for her to just finish high school online completely. No drama, no bullies, and it would be easier to escape for Akuma Attacks.

“What are you doing?”

Tim asked one day as he walked into the apartment only to see Marientte baking.

“What are you doing?”

Tim asked as he walked up and placed his head atop her shoulder. Marinette smiled and tilted her head slightly so it rested against his for a second as a small greeting.

“I’m baking two galettes, one for the kwamii and one for you.”

“Why me?”

He asked quietly as he tilted his head, his dark tresses brushing against her bare neck. Marientte smiled mischievously,

“I think it’s time I follow through on our little bargain, and this is one of my favorite desserts.”

Tim stared at her in confusion for a second before his eyes widened and shined brightly with happy realization.

“I forgot about that. There’s just been so much craziness going on.”

Marinette hummed in agreement as she continued to work on the delicacy.

“Does that mean you believe that you’re going to live through this?”

Marinette paused and tilted her head so they made eye contact.

“Yea, I think I will. As long as you stay by me that is.”

She whispered with a small smile. Quickly she leaned down and placed a small kiss to the top of his head before turning back to her work. Tim’s cheeks flushed slightly, a grin spread across his face. Things weren't going to be easy. Both knew that very well. Marinette would always struggle with the magical strain due to how long she was forced to be surrounded by it, Tim would need to go back to Gotham sooner or later, and they were both heroes and both knew the life or death risks that were lurking about every corner. But for now, they enjoyed the peace and calm that surrounded them. Marinette hummed a gentle song while Tim continued to hug her from behind, asking her quiet questions and passing small jokes that only they would understand. Things would never be certain, they never fully be okay, but they were content with the knowledge, the fact that they would never be or have to suffer alone ever again.

Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog @snow-leopard-777 @fidget-eep @sometandomstuff333 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shreeing @achaoticmess1 @miraculous-ninja @liquid-luck-00 @buginetye @stainedglassm @prettylittlebutterflie @laurcad123

333 notes · View notes

erodasfishtacos · 4 years ago

Text

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame.

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels.

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers.

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless.

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom. Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,” Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear.

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her.

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again.

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat.

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction.

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?”

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END

#harry styles #harry styles fic rec #fic rec #harry styles masterlist #harry styles writing #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles imagine #fanpic harry #harry styles prompt #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb

2K notes · View notes