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rocksaltandmountainash · 8 months ago

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Waking up in Beacon Hills - pt. 25

* Summary: The Nogitsune is gone. But so is Allison. Even away from Beacon Hills, Kara can't move forward. Set after Teen Wolf season 3, episode 24.

* Previous parts: can be found here.

* Warnings: grief after a major character death, swearing, drinking, violence.

* Word count: 3.9k

When you get anxious, you talk too much. Your mouth runs ahead of your brain, and you babble on and on towards a point, but more often, not. You think it’s your worst habit and envy people whose sentences are clear, people who can keep their shit together. People like Derek Hale.

“Thought you might need these.”

Derek hands you the bag you’d left at his place and a large coffee and sits in the sunny courtyard of the Argent’s apartment building with you, doesn’t ask stupid questions.

The Nogitsune is dead, or at least gone. You should all be celebrating. Would have liked to share a drink with Derek, maybe a meal. You can’t.

Derek clears his throat.

“I’m so-”

He decides against telling you he’s sorry, decides he’ll ask his questions another time.

“It’s important to take the full course.” he pushes the antibiotics towards you, then leaves.

*****

“Should eat something,” you say to dead air.

Chris and Isaac both nod absentmindedly.

You open the app for the pizza joint, input the usual order.

One with all the toppings for Isaac, two if he hadn’t been around for breakfast, or you didn’t hear them poking through the pantry for snacks. One sausage & mushroom, extra mushrooms on half, for her.

But figuring out the portions feels like quantum math - it doesn’t work for three. You get burgers delivered instead.

Chris watches Isaac chewing fries like they’re cardboard and tells him about his plans.

Asks gently, “Would you want to come with me?”

When you get sad, you go silent, inward. Lock yourself up and speak only when spoken to, sometimes not.

It’s quiet now. You move around the apartment with barely a sound, check on Isaac - passed out and snoring softly in her room, brush your teeth, splash water on your face. Go to Chris. Slip into his bed, pull him toward you, close your eyes and rub his back while he cries before you both fall into fits of sleep.

But your mind is so loud. Crammed full of thoughts you do your best to push away. This isn’t what you had meant, what you hoped for, when you’d been wishing to wake up in his bed.

Not now.

There are practicalities to deal with, a list of things to check off. Paperwork to be collected from the Medical Examiner, delivered to the bank and the school. Attached to an online form and sent to the private aviation company that will take her to France. Calls to make. Splitting your time between the Argent apartment and the Stilinski home, especially if Noah is working late. You go through all the motions. You try to help.

*****

“Should I go?” Isaac is watching you closely.

You tell him. Some. Enough. About what happened to you, how you never once told, kept your mother’s secret. Later, when it all came out anyway, you couldn’t look people in the eye, always wondering, do they know? Did they know then? How you’d gotten sick of the gossip at school, the furtive looks across supermarket aisles, ‘that’s her. The sister, Lily’s sister’

Tell him how you eventually left, how you’ve never gone back.

“Maybe it will help? Some distance?”

How are you so good at this? Argent wonders, days later, when you come to bed, update him on the progress of all the different plates you’re spinning. Taking care of things, only burdening him with small bits at a time, drip feeding him information he can manage. Shielding him from the world outside the front door.

“So, Stilinski called. The coroner is done.”

No. Not how. He is familiar with the mechanics of how people survive when they have to. When loss leaves it as your only option.

“Why are you so good at this?”

You look at him blankly.

“At what?”

“All this…” he gestures to the evidence. The bed you had made neat this morning, the water you’ve left on his nightstand, next to the bottle of Advil and a now half-eaten sandwich, the papers you’re holding that he needs to sign.

“I don’t know.”

Don’t tell him it’s because of him, that you’ve mentally decided only one of you can break at a time. After that first night, you curled into yourself. It’s not your turn.

“Argent, when do you want to leave? I need to book the flights.”

*****

A late night trip with Isaac to Walmart for photos. Affidavits written and applications for guardianship stamped, and a rush order on a passport.

Not yet.

Stiles and Scott text you and Isaac comes in to show you, too. They’re all going to the woods to hang out, to say goodbye to her.

You reply, tell them you’ll drop Isaac off.

Making sure they’re fed, helping them pack their bags, watching stupid TV but not laughing along like you used to.

No one sits in her spot.

*****

Not in front of him.

Gather up the piles and go down to the laundry room with Chris. Half way through sorting, you look up, see his frozen, bloodshot eyes staring at the t-shirt Isaac had been wearing. Slashed and stained red brown.

You take it from his hands, stuff it in the trash, tie the strings and take the bag to the dumpster.

Back to Walmart, the boy doesn’t have enough clothes.

*****

The three of you don’t stray too far from each other, make sure you’re always aware of where the others are. Chris is coping. Cries, but only at night, so Isaac won’t hear. It seems to happen less and less. You think it’s a good thing, as you leave to run errands and visit Stiles.

It isn’t.

You take Isaac to the Preserve to meet the others, remind him to text if Scott or Stiles can’t give him a lift back.

When you arrive home, Chris appears agitated and is frantically searching through the office.

“What are you doing?”

He walks straight by, like you don’t exist. Unseeing, unhearing, into the bedroom and upends your duffel onto the covers.

“Hey!”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

He rounds on you, grabs your elbows and backs you up against the dresser. You see now that he’s been searching for solace at the bottom of a bottle.

“You said the Winchesters... They’ve brought people back.”

He steps closer, crowding you, his breath sour sweet from whiskey, his fingers digging into your flesh. You stare past him with your insides flipping,

He’s scaring you.

“It’s not in any book.”

He grunts, scanning your face for lies. Your entire nervous system kicks into high gear - fight or flight - and you wait for it, the slap or the punch you think is coming.

“I wouldn’t tell you how, even if I knew.” you lift your chin defiantly. Even with your heartbeat thumping like an earthquake your brain works - calculating that he’s drunk and if needed, you could take him.

“Please.” His anger evaporates into tears.

He looks down, frowning when he sees his own hands tight around your arms. Releases his vice like grip and drops onto the bed.

“No, Chris.”

“I need it.”

“You wanna make a deal? Bring her back, make her live without you? Huh? You’d make her carry that?”

He hangs his head, collapsing under the weight of it.

“I can’t do this.”

“I know,” you exhale, let him reach his hands out, pull you to him, press his head against your stomach, “but you have to.”

You wait till his breathing evens out, but your guard is up when you tell him to go have a shower. Isaac’s dad was a drunken asshole. You won’t let that around him.

*****

Sneak up to the rooftop with a pack of cigarettes. Smoke too many to calm yourself and pray again to Samandriel. Think you did it wrong. He doesn’t come.

Isaac texts to say he’s spending the night at Scott’s.

*****

The apartment is empty when Chris finishes in the bathroom, scrubbed clean and freshly shaved. He expects you’ve gone and knows he deserves it.

So it’s hopeful, disbelieving eyes that track your return to scoop your things back into your bag. He braces for your departure, but you drop the duffel on the floor and crawl into bed. He’s scared to move, scared you’ll leave. Barely breathing.

“Don’t…don’t ever put your hands on me like that again.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t.”

You scratch through his still damp hair and he moves closer.

“Never.”

“Promise.”

In the morning, while you’re making breakfast, Chris drains the bottles down the sink.

You visit Stiles, watch as he dismantles his crime board, and agree it’s a very good idea when he says he wants to clear his head.

Let him talk it all out, the Nogitsune, the memories, how close he’d been to letting the illusion take over.

Hold his hand and take a nap together until the Sheriff nudges you awake. Try not to kick Stiles in the face as you get up to join Noah for a drink. Promise him you’ll stay in touch, and mostly mean it.

*****

Text Stiles, text Scott, text the Sheriff, text Derek. Say goodbye.

Take Isaac and Chris to the airport, get their luggage out of the back seat and slip Isaac a preloaded visa. Remind him, if distance doesn’t work, he can always come home. Hug him tight.

“Are you sure you can’t come with us?”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“She’s got work to do.” Chris says, you’ve let him think you have a plan.

He hugs you too, kisses you. You miss them before they’re through security.

Just a little longer.

Drive for 5 hours ‘till it feels like far enough, until your thigh feels like it’s on fire.

Find the shittiest motel you can and pay less than you were expecting for a week.

Lock the door and climb into bed. Lay down into your pain.

Now.

You crack. It’s your turn.

Allison.

*****

The parking lot of the Truckee Olympic Park Motel 6 has been your view for the last seven days.

Chris and Isaac are in France, all traces of jet lag probably long gone.

You get all of your meals from the diner next to the motel, leaving only long enough for the maids to service the room. Scurry back to your door, to squirrel away and eat with the curtains drawn.

Or across to the gas station on the other side of the street, middle of the night, to buy cups of gritty coffee that’s only marginally better than what you could brew from the foil packets in the safety of your room, if only you had the energy.

You avoid the curious glances from the other guests and staff and when the kind waitress begins to recognise you, calling your order out to the cook without you having to speak, you realize you need to leave.

But not yet. You’re waiting.

Crawl back into bed, clutching a small leather glove.

*****

Nothing is happening, and you are livid.

What was the point? Of all of it - hunters and Void spirits and werewolves and dark-haired girls who get run through by swords.

Of any of it? If you couldn’t bring her here, manifest something. The jacket slung on the back of a chair moves slightly. You take it as a sign. Cave and call for help.

*****

N.W.A. streams from car speakers, and you race to the window to see Garth pulling up.

He greets you with his usual bear hug, but you cut the chit chat short, leaving him frowning.

“You brought it, right?”

“Yeah,” he produces an EMF meter from his pocket, “You should probably get one.”

“I know.”

You’re tetchy and impatient as Garth configures the machine and wanders around the room.

“So what’s the deal?”

He sweeps it over the bed, where Allison’s glove sits.

“Think you’re being haunted?”

You peek over at the screen, pray the needle moves, will it to jump, just shift even a tiny bit. It doesn’t, and the fact brings a flood of tears.

“No,” you sob, “I’m not haunted.”

Garth guides you to sit at the rickety table, hands you a fistful of napkins he finds littered about and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

When your crying has slowed to hiccups and sniffs, he moves to sit across from you. Begins asking questions, trying to drag the truth out. You’re not meaning to be secretive, you just can’t make yourself say the words.

Garth speaks slowly, keeps his tone gentle and calm. You figure out why when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror - you’re a mess.

Had forgotten to shower. Your hair is somehow greasy and dry at the same time, sitting flat in lank strands. Usually, you collapse into bed without bothering to change, so your clothes have become creased. You think about it and realize they might be the same ones you arrived in.

You haven’t seen proper sunlight in a while, and only manage to sleep for a handful of hours at a time, then read old messages from Allison until your phone’s light makes your eyes hurt. So you stare out with haggard eyes, rimmed with dark circles.

He asks about cold spots.

“I’m not a case, Garth.” you snap, meaner than he deserves.

“Well…what then?”

“I’m...”

Waiting.

Grieving.

Running.

“…just having a bad day.”

*****

Garth leaves, after you’ve showered, and treated him to pancakes as an apology for dragging him all this way just to bitch him out. It still takes a lot of convincing.

You thank Carol, the waitress, leave a fifty under your plate and linger in your room a few more hours, till you know the office is closed and you can drop the keys in the box without conversation.

Gas up the car, head east.

*****

Life passes you by in a series of useless numbers. Counting how many miles to the next motel, the gap between getting a text from Stiles and replying, the time ticking on until you go to bed.

Try to keep to a reasonable schedule so you don’t feel so lost. Fake a smile at people you encounter and mask yourself with politeness.

You know how to do this, to pretend. To be good. Like there’s someone watching, keeping score, who will decide you’re worthy of a break in the pain and the guilt and the shame. Some days you want to spit it all out onto strangers. It’s bullshit. It’s all you’ve got. So you just stay quiet.

Somewhere after Salt Lake, but before Omaha, you’ve stopped crying, given up your begging. You feel nothing, but it doesn’t scare you. Nice to be empty. Too easy to sink into it, the familiar way of shrinking yourself. Raise no red flags, pique no one’s interest. Move around undetected, untethered.

*****

You think it’s days later, but it’s been weeks. Garth calls, asks if you will lend a hunter a hand in a town just outside of Minneapolis. Check the map, zoom in on the roads you’ll take and calculate.

“I’ll be there by 9.”

It’s a nothing job, one wraith against four people. Just something to do, split up the days.

You shake their hands and decline their invitations of a drink. Jump back in your car and keep heading east, no destination in mind.

*****

Arrive in Illinois and remember, you’d always wanted to visit the places Mohammed Ali had lived and trained. You don’t manage it.

Lay on a lumpy mattress in another musty motel and let your thoughts swirl. All time ever does is pass, and all you can do is think. Puzzle over your memories to find the turning point, as if it matters, as if you can go back.

*****

Maybe it was your 16th birthday, when it all went wrong?

Vibrating with excitement all day at school, laughing with your friends, thanking them for the cards they’d made you. Bashful inquiries to the boys, checking they’re coming to the party on Saturday. And Luke? He’s still coming?

Walking home in the rain, bundled up and glad to enter the house where the fire is on. Mum is in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on your cake. There’s a family dinner planned, just the three of you, like always.

But Lily doesn’t show. No phone call, no answer on her landline. So you wait, and wait. She has to catch a train from the city and then a bus over the hill, after all.

You check the website for train cancellations while Mum is ringing Lily's flat over and over. They haven’t seen her. She’s most likely on the way. Calling her friends from high school, maybe she got distracted, waylaid at the station.

Finally, Mum dials 111 with shaking hands and a mouth full of apologies. She’s sure it’s all a misunderstanding, but you never know. Right? Better safe than sorry.

You didn’t ever really feel safe again after that.

*****

No, not then. Surely, it was later, when you’ve put it behind you (mostly), don’t flinch as much at her name or loud noises.

Years spent building a life for yourself where you’re no longer defined by the loss of your sister, not stained with everything that happened after. Your boss calls you into her office and tells you there is a Police Officer in the lobby who needs to speak with you, and couldn’t get in touch any other way.

A face you pinpoint from your hometown, plumb your memory for his name and feel the hope rising.

“Sergeant Nelson? Did you find her?”

“No, sorry. I’m not here about Lily.”

“Oh.”

You take him to the break room, make tea and let him speak. Hear him say your Mum is sick, explains how she asked him to track you down.

He keeps in touch with the families of the cold cases. Any other time, any other person, you’d think he was kind.

“I don’t want to see her.”

Feel all your protective layers coming off you, pulling you backwards to that ashamed, defenseless little girl sitting in a police station begging them to leave you alone. You don’t want to lay charges, they’re just making it worse. Nelson, the other officers, and the social worker all tell you it’s not up to you.

“I understand,” he nods. “Only said I’d try.”

Try to bring at least one of her daughters home; a small favor for a dying woman.

*****

Not even that had done it, all the mess she’d left you to deal with. Knotted up on the inside with strings of missing her and hating her. The burden of funeral arrangements, and lawyers, and coroner’s reports. You accept your boss’s offer of a week of bereavement leave, though you tell her you’d only need a few days, so optimistic.

But you barely made it halfway up the driveway before your breath turned to dust in your lungs. You grabbed your best friend’s arm.

“Can’t do it. Reuben, I can’t go in there.”

“All good.”

He’s not thrown by the hysteria on your face, takes you back to your flat where you eat mince and cheese pies for dinner and he texts his girlfriend, Priya, to join you after work.

She brings wine, and you both get buzzed while she helps you make a list. They take over, and you love them for it.

They sort everything - send emails, make calls, arrange between them who will accompany you to all the appointments, and by the end of the week it’s like your mother’s death had never ripped through your meticulously curated life.

The house is paid off, you could sell it if you wanted, the solicitor advises, but you direct him to keep it. Divide the inheritance in thirds, one for you, one in an account for maintaining the property and the last in a trust.

Just in case. For Lily, if she ever comes back. Illogical, the lawyer thinks but draws up the papers, regardless.

Reuben calls some of his boys, quickly finds someone who will do the lawns and occasionally check the gutters for cheap, says it’s just until you decide what you’ll do with the place.

They empty the fridge, collect the mail, leave the urn on the sideboard and lock the doors after them.

You go to a party on the beach, sit with your back to the wind and try to forget about it all. Forget about her. Push aside the memories of her sneering face, spitting cruel words that hurt you more than her fists, and keep a taut grip on all your broken pieces.

On a quiet Friday night weeks later, you eyeball the stack of mail from your Mum’s. Sitting on your desk where it’s been since Reuben brought it over.

Glance at it every day, think “Gotta sort that”, as you rush off to work or the gym.

Might as well get it over with. Reuben and Priya are having a date night, and it’s too cold to go to the pub.

You watch crime documentaries as you tear at the letters. Trashing the junk and putting aside anything related to the house or the estate to send onto the lawyers. You find a handwritten envelope addressed to you in the pile and frown at the cursive writing you don’t recognise. Skim the first paragraph with one eye still on your show. Then pause the TV to re-read the first page more closely. Flip the pages and think the paper should be heavier, or scented, gold edged, for the news it contains. You pick up a tiny slip of paper that falls out from the sheets.

*****

That might have been it. The moment that your life pivoted from being kind of sad but relatively normal to whatever it is now. An impulsive choice to grab your laptop and research how to get to Sioux Falls. Note how you’ll need to fly from Wellington to Auckland, cross to the International terminal and board a plane bound for Houston. Catch another flight from there to Bismarck, connecting through Dallas. Places you know nothing about. Then you’ll need a car.

It seems possible, do-able. Stupid, but achievable. A plan to latch onto. You could resign from work, and get paid out six years’ worth of unused annual leave. Could tell them you’re off on your OE, a well-deserved holiday. The owners of your place want to sell the building anyway, something about land values and townhouses.

Money won’t be a problem, you think, looking at the eye-watering cost of flights, there’s the barely touched savings stashed away in sensible term deposits and stocks. There’s your portion of the inheritance.

You have a passport - had to get it as a form of ID so you could get your security clearance at work. But it has no stamps - you’ve been nowhere. Never really done anything. You could. Other people do it, travel, explore. Nothing here for you any longer, nothing to stop you, keep you in this town, no family left.

Dig out your credit card while you consider it and hedge your bets. Decide that even if you don’t get to South Dakota, you can still cross some things off your bucket list.

It took less than half an hour to book everything. Insane, really, that just a handful of keystrokes changed the entire momentum of your life.

#chris argent fanfic #spn x tw #tw x spn #chris argent x oc #teen wolf #supernatural

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1kook · 4 years ago

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new parent syndrome

— kim namjoon x (f) reader

SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.) WARNINGS dilf!joon, dreamy husband joon, loving parents au, jimin is also a dad, bathtub sexy times, exhibitionism 😳 kinda sorta, tiny praise kink, joon calls her wifey TT, fingering, cunninglingus, doggy style, it’s kinda cheesy n romantic /.\, unprotected sex, …. impreg kink RATINGS m (18+) WC 9.5k

NOTES writing parent fics is harder than i thought :/ i had this idea last week n was like yes, lets write this fic that absolutely no one asked for... except me! <3 so here we are, fantasizing about dreamy dad joon.... as always i have to thank rumu ( @kigurumu ) who is kind enough to edit these n b like that don't make no sense -_- anyway lemme know what u think !! enjoy !!

No matter how hard you try, the letter f refuses to fit itself into Hyejoo’s phonemic understanding. She’s a growing toddler so it’s only normal that there are sounds she still can’t pronounce, words she doesn’t quite get. But her inability to say food or family or friends, which are undoubtedly the three most important things in her three year-old world right now, is definitely a setback you didn’t see coming.

Your worrywart husband has taken matters into his own hands, using the power of Google and about twelve parenting books to create an extensive, one-hour-a-day, mini lesson to try and increase her pronunciation skills. Of course, Hyejoo already attends daycare in the mornings while you and Namjoon are off at work, and gets sufficient learning done there. So she can’t exactly sit through Joon’s lectures, no matter how pretty he tries to decorate her flashcards. She’s still tiny— she’s still your baby, and you want her to enjoy the last of her daycare years before you’re forced to submit her to the worst twelve years of her life (also known as compulsory education).

But as you’ve mentioned before, Namjoon doesn’t quite feel the same way.

“She can’t sound out the letter,” he mopes in bed that night. He’s laying down beside you, face smushed against your thigh. The lamp on your side of the bed is the only thing on, casting a faint golden hue on his cheeks.

This conversation has occurred a variety of times these past few weeks, and you’ve just about ran out of every comforting reassurance possible. You settle on stroking a hand through his hair. There are emails to respond to and clients to check in with, but there’s also a huffy husband in bed beside you who quite pitifully crawls up into your arms.

It’s with his face between your boobs that he speaks again. “What if she’s getting made fun of at school? Or her teachers think she’s dumb?” You roll your eyes. “My baby is not dumb, __,” he says, as if you don’t know. “Her IQ came back above average when I took her to the development specialist that one time, remember?” You have half the mind to tell him an IQ test on a three year old isn’t exactly valid, but there’s already enough stacked on his plate. Finding out he wasted a hundred bucks for an invalid test would just be the cherry on top of all his worries.

Water clings to the very tips of his hair, remnants of his bath with Hyejoo. Namjoon is getting older now, nothing like the dashing grad student you had met what feels like a lifetime ago. There’s bags under his eyes, bags that surpass any all-nighter-pulling college student’s, induced by none other than the sheer power of becoming a parent. And still, he retains his beauty, looks like a doll with his skin so dewy from his skincare routine, lips puffy and red and kissable.

He looks up, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his lips, his familiar scent making you melt into his arms. When he pulls away, there’s still a subtle furrow between his brows.

“Hyejoo is fine,” you reassure him, carding his brown hair out of his face. He leans into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Our girl is the smartest three year-old out there,” you huff, feeling the slightest bit annoyed that he could even insinuate otherwise. “And if she was having problems at school, you know I would be the first one in there, fighting all the other moms.”

Namjoon relents, face falling back into its haven between your tits. “Okay,” he mumbles, muffled from the way his plush lips drag against the soft skin over your sternum.

The subject of Namjoon’s worries is in the other room sound asleep, not the least bit concerned with measly letters and sounds. It’s really only Namjoon who is, his stack of letter flashcards glaring at you from on top of the dresser. “Your mother hen is showing,” you tease as he slips beneath the covers, leaning over you to flick off your lamp. Just like everything else in your house, his t-shirt smells like him. It’s a natural, woodsy scent that floods your nostrils and makes your toes curl when he comes so close.

Namjoon snorts as he settles beside you, beefy arm pillowing your head as he pulls you close. “I’m not a mother hen,” he says, hand on your waist, the tantalizing expanse of his neck before your eyes. “I’m the rooster— the cock,” he snickers, and you reward his terrible attempt at a joke with a pinch to his side that has him retreating to the other end of the bed.

Hyejoo’s best friend in the entire world— or, as she says, her best pren in the entire world —is none other than Park Yerin from daycare. As the universe would have it, Park Yerin is also the one and only daughter of your college philosophy seat neighbor, Park Jimin.

Crossing paths with him later down the road was not something you could ever anticipate, especially when you and Jimin were never that close in college to begin with. It was the only class you had with him in all four years, one where you had quietly acknowledged his charisma and occasionally shared homework answers, before never speaking to him again. You could have greeted him on campus, as you often crossed paths. But Park Jimin was a walking friendship magnet who seemed to bring with him a parade of followers everywhere he went, and approaching him required three layers of strategic planning if you wanted to catch him alone.

So bumping into him at the entrance of Hyejoo’s daycare six years later comes as a bit of a shock. You had never pegged him as the type to settle down so quickly— you don’t mean to label him, but there were certain college stereotypes that he fit like a glove —but there he was, carrying the tiny love of his life who’s currently dressed in a bright pink Minnie Mouse dress.

Unsurprisingly, just like her father, Park Yerin has the same enthralling personality that makes everyone in the three to four year-old daycare class want to be her friend, and your sweet little Hyejoo is not exempt.

Long story short, out of all the kids at Sunny Side Daycare, Yerin is Hyejoo’s favorite, and Hyejoo is Yerin’s favorite.

So now it’s been a little over a year since the two girls have established their friendship, which means it’s been a little over a year of acquainting yourself with Jimin again. He’s a house husband, something you never expected, and he loves his daughter like no other. Some afternoons after daycare are spent with Jimin and Yerin at the nearest coffee shop, watching the girls haphazardly scribble over every piece of paper they can get their hands on while the two of you catch up.

Overall, you’re happy Hyejoo can have a friend like Yerin, and secretly, you're also happy you can finally befriend a fellow parent as nice and put together as Jimin. On top of that, Namjoon’s liked him on the few occasions he’s met him; the two have even gone out for drinks.

However, befriending Jimin and Yerin comes at a cost, and that cost is seeing your little girl grow up.

It’s your turn to mope.

“Yerin asked her to sleepover,” you groan, sadly patting in your skincare routine the next night. Namjoon is somewhere behind you, his naked back glaring at you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. He’s so broad and big, sleep shorts clinging to his waist as he lotions up his body post-shower. There’s a thin gold chain around his neck that glints everytime he moves around, biceps flexing and bulging in plain view until he finally slips his shirt on. There was a time in your life where his back could not go more than two days unscathed, your rabid (read: horny) claw marks painting rosy trails down his spine. These days, you can barely remember the last time he’s held your hand.

“Who?” he asks once he’s settled beneath the covers with whatever book he’s reading now and his thick-rimmed reading glasses.

“Who else,” you say, tugging your night robe closer to your chest as if it’ll prevent your heart from breaking anymore than it already was. “Hyejoo’s first sleepover,” you sigh.

You take it harder than you imagined. In the back of your mind, you’ve always known your little girl was growing up— hello, you were literally watching her grow more and more inches every single day —but you had convinced yourself she would stay your baby for a little while longer. As much as you wanted her to see and learn about the world, you selfishly wanted to keep her home too. She was your baby, your only one at that.

At least Namjoon feels the same way. “Absolutely not,” he squawks, abruptly slamming his book shut. He’s usually really meticulous about lining up his fancy bookmark right on the line he left off on, so his sudden carelessness tells you all you need to know about how he feels.

You sit down beside him, hand over his. “It’s Yerin’s birthday,” you inform him in what you hope is a comforting tone; unbeknownst to him, you’re trying to reassure yourself as well. “And Jimin said he and his wife are gonna be there the whole night.” You trust Jimin, you really do. If there’s anyone who’s more in love with their kid than you and Namjoon, it’s Jimin. He would never let anything happen to his Yerin, and by extension, he would never let anything happen to your Hyejoo. He’s a good dad.

Namjoon rubs at his eyes. In the span of two minutes, he’s aged about five years. “No,” he sighs softly, squeezing your hand tightly. “Once she starts going to sleepovers she’ll start wearing makeup and getting into relationships and having her heart broken—“

A kiss is enough to silence him when he gets like this, his warm breath fanning across your bottom lip when you pull away. “She just wants to wear tutus and sing Baby Shark right now,” you murmur, hand creeping up over his chest. His heart is beating fast as hell beneath his t-shirt, feels like it’ll burst straight out of his chest if you don’t calm him down.

He’s the bigger worrier out of the two of you, has a classic case of paranoid parent syndrome.

It’s no secret that Namjoon has a big brain; he’s an educated man with a respectable job. For every problem he encounters, he can procure a variety of solutions with different approaches. He’s always prepared and part of you thinks he’s a huge reason you managed to survive those first few weeks as a mom. Unlike you, who had attended a whopping two mommy classes in preparation for your upcoming child, Namjoon had studied up on parenting. A lot. He had read books and reviewed scientific studies, had learned about development on the chemistry level and the social level, did all he could until he was confident in his own dad abilities.

But, for every solution Namjoon can find, there are always twenty-eight other factors to worry about.

“What if she has an allergic reaction and Jimin doesn’t know what to do,” he pales, death grip on your hand. His matching wedding band digs into your skin and you have to wrestle his hand away before he accidentally breaks your finger. He nearly broke your neck once when you were in college, had almost sent you to the ER mid-thrust because he had underestimated his own strength while trying to choke you.

“Hyejoo doesn’t have any allergies,” you remind him, giving up on your awkward half-seated position as you clamber over him. His thighs are full beneath you, tense up as you move over him and he manhandles you into his chest.

He’s not done. “What if she asks Jimin for a fizzy drink and he can’t understand her?” His eyes are owlish beneath his glasses, covered in what you can only describe as a visible sheen of absolute terror. “What if he thinks she’s saying ‘pissy’ not ‘fizzy,’ __— what then?” It’s amazing, really, how a man who graduated cum laude can hypothesize this many disasters pertaining to a four year-old’s sleepover.

In the other room, Hyejoo calls for you, so you gladly take the opportunity to remove yourself from Namjoon and his spiraling thoughts. “Look,” you say, tightening the sash of your robe as you get back up. “I’m gonna go tell her that she can go to Yerin’s sleepover tomorrow,” you tell him, giving him exactly three seconds to groan dramatically, before continuing, “and you figure out how to turn that big brain off by the time I come back.”

Luckily, the cause of Hyejoo’s sudden wake up is a tiny bug bite she got from playing outside that just won’t stop itching. “Mommy, it hurts,” she whines, digging her nails into the tiny red mark by her knee.

“Uh huh, lemme see,” you order, turning on her bedside lamp to illuminate the space. Her room is the prettiest shade of yellow, fitting for a ball of sunshine such as herself. “Were you playing by the flowerbeds?” You ask, running a finger over the mark a little too weird looking to simply be another mosquito bite.

She knows she’s not supposed to play near the flowers— the bugs like her a little too much. It’s with a hesitant little nod that she confesses to it. You give her a pointed look. “You’re not supposed to play too close to the flowers,” you remind her, a tiny scolding for now.

With a sniffle she responds, “not by the plowers.”

A little bit of anti-itch cream has her settling, and by the time you return to your bedroom, Namjoon is out cold.

“How old is Yerin turning?” Namjoon asks her at the door, heartbreak clearly painting his features as you help Hyejoo into her shoes.

“Pour,” she beams, her tiny hand held up to show four stubby fingers. She has Namjoon’s pretty smile, an honest look in her eyes that makes you want to put her in your pocket and never let her go. Alas, Yerin’s sleepover party starts at five and Hyejoo has been trying to leave since noon.

“Pour,” Namjoon repeats, shooting you a pointed look as if to say see. He had fought the decision up until the end, had even tried to tactically convince your daughter to stay home by getting a head start on preparing her favorite food. And well. She said no. So now the two of you are stuck having dinosaur chicken nuggets for dinner without her.

She’s got her little travel bag on now, tiny feet stuffed into her ladybug rain boots because it had rained last night and she’s awfully addicted to jumping in muddy puddles. She’s absolutely adorable, your little girl, and you think Namjoon might’ve let out a tiny sob earlier. (Or maybe it was you.)

Namjoon joins you at the front door. “Be good,” he warns her. His eyes are suspiciously wet, but you don’t say anything because yours are too. You’re both crouched in front of her, her big eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you without a care in the world. Mixing your self-assured personality with Namjoon’s (mostly) composed attitude was quite possibly the worst genetic crossover to ever happen; Hyejoo doesn’t even seem remotely bothered by the fact she’s spending her first night away from home. Meanwhile, you and Namjoon are on the verge of a joint breakdown.

Anyway, Namjoon gives in first. “Love you forever, princess,” he tells her, their ritual expression, and kisses her forehead.

She accepts it and then, in an unexpected turn of events, surges forward to hug him around the neck. “Love you pporever, daddy,” she repeats, and your heart feels so painfully full at the sight, like you just unlocked a new life achievement from seeing your daughter and her father be so cute together. You don’t get to coo at them for long, because then she’s giving you a warm hug as well, the same phrase muttered in your ear.

It’s the hardest thing about parenting.

Seeing your kid slowly broaden their horizons, meeting new people and learning new things. Leaving home. (Granted, she’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon but even that feels like an eternity away to the dramatic parents you and Namjoon have become.) The second goodbye on Jimin’s doorstep isn’t any easier, especially when Hyejoo tugs on your arm and asks you to “say night to daddy please” for her, and your heart breaks just a little more. Jimin flashes you an understanding smile but all you want to do is punch him in the nose for ever telling Yerin what a sleepover is.

You get home and Namjoon is in a calmer state by now, some old sitcom he hates playing on the TV. Usually, this time of day is reserved for his daily phonemic lessons with Hyejoo, drilling the f sound into her tiny brain, so you guess this is his preferred method of coping in its place: torturing himself with some boring television show.

“Hey,” he says, and you crawl into his lap with a sad sniffle. “Shh,” he soothes, hand on the back of your head as he guides you into his chest. You’re actually crying now, which is super embarrassing in itself considering you scolded Namjoon for this exact behavior last night. He doesn’t mention it as he pats your back, stupid sitcom paused in favor of soothing you with the deep vibrations of his voice. “Hye’s gonna be back tomorrow, baby.”

“I want her back now,” you huff, vaguely aware of how childish and silly you sound. The tables have turned, and you find yourself wishing you had the same emotional fortitude as Namjoon now. All those parenting books have clearly amounted for something. Somehow, you will the feeling back into your body and pull away from his chest. You must look a mess because he doesn’t even try to hide the amusement on his face. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Namjoon laughs, deep and hearty, with his eyes squeezing shut from the force. “Come on, wifey, those chicken nuggets aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

It’s quite possibly the most boring evening you’ve had in years.

(The internet calls it new parent syndrome, where you’re so undeniably in love with your first child and the parenting experience that the rest of the world is put on pause.)

You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)

Kids are prone to asking weirdly philosophical questions, a fact that had greatly delighted you when Hyejoo first started speaking. Who am I? What’s money? Why not? It could get annoying sometimes, trying to answer all of Hyejoo’s curiosities. But as you begin on your second batch of dinosaur chicken nuggets, all you can think about is how Jimin gets to answer them tonight.

Anyway, seven rolls around and you and Namjoon are bored. You can only watch so many episodes of Seinfield before you get tired of feigning interest, so you retire from the living room for the night. “I’m gonna take a bath,” you tell him, but he’s as brain dead as you by now.

A second later, “lemme join.”

It’s been a while since the two of you have squeezed into the bathtub together, usually assigning each other days to individually join Hyejoo. So it’s really not either of your faults when you realize a second too late how small the space is. One on each end, feet bumping into each other with every movement, it’s like trying to squeeze two feet into one shoe. You try to readjust yourself, but the bath flooring is slippery and you nearly take away Namjoon’s procreative abilities with a mighty kick.

To make a long story short, you end up pressed against his chest, Namjoon’s thick thighs framing you as you relax into the steaming water. Instinctively, he reaches for Hyejoo’s bottle of baby shampoo that sits on the tub’s ledge and only catches himself just as the first droplet is meeting his palm. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs, quickly closing the lid before he can waste any more precious product. “Shit, I’m so sad.”

You snort, sinking farther back into his chest. He’s warm and soft in all the right ways, the hot water making him slippery. “What did we even do before Hyejoo?” you ask, reaching into the deepest crevices of your mind for answers. Namjoon’s hand comes around, fingers sprawled out over your knee, the one you have propped up and breaking the water’s surface

He makes a rather vague sound, something like I don’t know, as he lolls forward, forehead on your shoulder. “Go on dates,” he responds eventually. “Fuck like crazy.”

You roll your eyes. “Besides that,” you chide, pinching the back of his palm. “Don’t we have any hobbies? Any interests?” He doesn’t answer, which is all the answer you need. Why didn’t you get into puzzle solving back when it was a trend? “Is this what our life has become? Crying in a bathtub at seven pm because our emotional support child isn’t here?”

“Our only child,” he corrects. Namjoon tries to placate your looming existential crisis with a kiss to your shoulder, lips against wet skin, that he trails up to your neck. “And what’s wrong with going on dates and fucking?” he murmurs, hands around your stomach. “That’s how we got here,” he teases, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm water or the way his voice is like melted chocolate dripping down your body, but you become all too aware of his presence at that moment. Particularly, of the plush lips mindlessly kissing your shoulder, the wet smack of their motions.

Another kiss, this time right below your ear. It has your head rolling to the side, exposing more skin for him to kiss up on. There’s still that overwhelming cloud of worry in the back of your mind, but it’s gradually nudged away by Namjoon’s warm hands on your skin. Sensing your weakening resolve, Namjoon strikes again. A hand slips down over your stomach, brushes over your belly button and finds itself between your thighs. “You used to love date nights, baby,” he says, the pad of his pointer finger grazing your clit.

It’s been so long since you and Namjoon have been alone like this, months since you’ve been able to touch him beyond a simple make out session, a halfhearted grope beneath the sheets. Your daughter, as much as you loved her, made intimacy impossible for the two of you. She was always around, always looking for one or the both of you, so there was never time to even think about getting frisky.

Only now, with his finger circling your clit, do you realize the blessing in disguise that was your daughter’s first slumber party away from home.

His finger nudges your clit, flicks it teasingly. “Why don’t you let me take care of you, hm?” he hums, the hand that had been soothingly stroking the inside of your thigh coming up to rub at your breasts.

“Yes, please,” you whine. Resting your head on his shoulder leaves Namjoon with a clear view down your front, lips kissing and sucking along your neck. His huge hand palms your breast, massaging the sensitive skin. You hadn’t realized how sore you’d been until now, his nimble fingers pressing deliciously into the skin. If your nipples weren’t already hard before, they certainly were now.

He traps one pearled nipple between two fingers, the sudden pinch making you hiss. “Easy, now,” he chuckles, his low tenor paired with his wandering hands making your eyes roll back.

Namjoon liked to use a higher tone around the house. He read somewhere that children prefer lighter, sweeter tones, so the last few years have been spent listening to him lighten the tone of his voice for the sake of your daughter. The deeper, growlier voice that had first made you fall in love with him became a rarity in your household, reserved for quiet nights in the living room or long drives where Hyejoo was asleep in the backseat. Only then does he unleash the gravelly qualities of his voice.

Then, and apparently, now.

His doll-like lips press against your jaw, suck lightly enough to make your body tingle. “Do you remember how it was the first time?” he says suddenly, his hot breath against your neck.

Namjoon’s got your clit trapped between two wandering fingers, has your pussy twitching with the vibrations of his voice alone. And for some reason, he’s trying to reminisce about your first time sleeping together.

“N- Not really,” you confess, subtly reaching down. You cover his palm with yours, hoping your touch will encourage him to carry on with his actions. It doesn’t. It just leaves both your hands hovering over your pussy, your thighs instinctively closing in on them to keep him there. Namjoon responds to that, releasing the breast he had been gently massaging in order to pry your legs apart. He does it so easily, despite the way your legs feel tight as hell, and the fact makes you whimper.

Once he’s got his hands back between your thighs— this time, he uses one hand to carefully part your quivering lips, the other one gingerly pressing down against your clit to draw the most heavenly sensations out of you —Namjoon feels the need to dive into a recap of your first fuck. “You were so cute,” he laughs, and you don’t know if you should take offense. Well, considering you're married and have a kid now, it’s probably too late to say anything anyway. His hand suddenly switches gears, three fingers joining together to begin caressing them over your throbbing clit. “Kept talking to me so politely, even when you were creaming my cock.”

You scoff, but it gets cancelled out by the moan he draws out of you. “D- Didn’t know you that well,” you remind him, your thighs twitching. You desperately want to buck forward into his giving hands, want to feel the true power of those long, pretty fingers on your cunt.

Behind you, Namjoon’s cock grows thick, his breathing a slow and steady pace by your ear. You can already imagine how heavy he is, the vein that runs along the underside and throbs with each new bit of stimulus he receives. Normally you would reach back and try to offer him the same helping hand he gives you, but your thighs feel wobbly already. Your libido has been dormant for so long that even just the barest flick of his thumb has you dissolving into his arms like this is your first time.

It’s as if Namjoon’s sensing your inner battle, a muffled laugh against the side of your neck. “This is about you,” he reminds you. As much as you want to protest, a sudden hard rub against your quivering lips has you gasping for breath. “Give me a kiss,” he commands softly, nudging his nose against the side of your face. It takes a second for you to ground yourself, draw yourself away from your building pleasure, to turn toward his waiting lips.

Namjoon kisses you slowly, like he’s taking his time with you. For the first time in a long time, he truly can. He doesn’t have to worry about a certain someone waking up in the middle of the night or walking in or anything along those lines, lips molding against yours. Plush as always, the faint taste of dinosaur chicken nuggets clinging to his lips. It makes you laugh a little, drawing away with an airy giggle. Namjoon smiles at your reaction, murmuring a soft, “what is it?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as he continues his circular motions against your clit. “Nothing,” you pant, finally getting in your first thrust against his fingers. “I just really need you,” you say instead, pushing his hand harder down against you.

You’re feeling a little antsy, having been deprived of this sensation for so long. Namjoon knows this, which is why he very purposely slows down. “There’s no rush,” he smirks, placing a kiss against your chin. “How do you want it, baby?”

The inside of your brain is a scrambled mess, filled with fantasies and ideas that have been plaguing you for months. There’s so much you want to do, want to try, but it’s like your brain completely blanks out when he asks. It’s just as you’re beginning to formulate a thought that you’re interrupted by the sound of your ringtone in the other room. Your husband’s arms tighten around you. “Don’t go,” he says quietly, the tip of his nose running along your neck. It’s so tempting to stay here, to let yourself go in his arms and chase the pleasure you’ve been craving for so long.

But the endless possibilities of who exactly could be calling wins over. Was it work? Was it your parents? Jimin?

It is with a heavy sigh that you reach for Namjoon’s hand, slowly pushing him away from your cunt. “I’m sorry, honey,” you frown, standing up out of the tub. Your legs really do feel like jelly, and you nearly slip and crack your skull on the porcelain edge. Luckily, Namjoon is there to steady you with two secure hands on your waist. “I’ll make it quick,” you reassure him, dropping a kiss on his pouty lips as you fasten a towel around your body.

The phone is just starting up its final ring when you reach it. It’s Jimin, and you’re torn between being thankful that you’re getting word on Hyejoo and full blown panic from the fact Jimin is calling you while Hyejoo is in his care. The unease has you accepting the call without a second more to waste. “Hello?” you say, hand tightening on the front of your towel. Stray water droplets trace ticklish trails down the backs of your thighs.

“__?” comes Jimin’s sweet voice. It’s normally soothing, but right now it has every hair on your body standing on end. Before you can even respond, Jimin is jumping headfirst into a whirlwind of a conversation. “Sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to check in on you, babe. I know you were really panicked about Hye’s first night away from home, but don’t worry! Me and the missus are doing everything we can to make sure she’s fine.”

His confidence reassures you, lessens the weight that had been sitting on your chest all afternoon. But at the same time, you find yourself wanting to throttle him.

Your gorgeous, sexy hunk of a husband is sitting in the other room, cock at full mast and ready to pleasure you to the moon and back, and here you are listening to Jimin brag about how good of a caretaker he is. You were definitely going to make Jimin pay for this.

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, toying with a stray thread on your towel. “Really,” you drawl, and you can practically see Jimin’s ego swell over the line.

“Yup,” Jimin agrees, and by the sounds of it, doesn’t seem like he’s hoping to end this call anytime soon. You want to shoulder part of the blame; you had been extra sad and mopey when you dropped your daughter off. On top of being a good dad, Jimin was also a good friend. It was only naturally he wanted to reassure you when he could.

Still, the memory of Namjoon’s wet chest was calling out to you.

“The girls are playing princess in the living room with the missus right now,” Jimin chats on. “New dresses and everything— the Yerin Birthday Special —and they asked me to be their handsome prince!” You sincerely cannot wait for the day you get to introduce Jimin to your right fist.

“That’s great,” you offer, not that he’s really listening. He’s too busy talking about Yerin (and making sure to include Hyejoo in for your sake) and how amazing it is to watch your kids grow up before your very eyes. And while you agree with the sentiment, you really wish he had called you and told you this earlier, when you were at the peak of your motherly meltdown. Not now with Namjoon waiting for you in the bathtub. Was the water even warm anymore?

The mind blowing orgasm practically slips from your fingertips the longer Jimin talks. “Anyway! Enough about them. I’m thinking of trying out that blueberry bread recipe that aired on TV last night. You know, the one they had that actress make.”

You’ve just about resigned yourself to listening to Jimin talk about his love for pastries for the next thirty minutes when something brushes up behind you. “What the fu—“

He’s so tall and broad, practically covers your entire frame when he stands so close. And his smile is so pretty when he aims it your way. “Sh,” Namjoon murmurs, gesturing towards your phone.

“__?” Jimin calls. “Everything alright?”

Namjoon nods eagerly, the hands on your waist properly positioning you in front of him. It’s with a shudder running down your spine that you respond. “I’m fine,” you tell Jimin, letting go of the front of your towel when Namjoon abruptly pushes you over. The white comforter infused with both of your scents comes all too close, your elbow barely managing to reach out in time to catch you.

Wide eyed, you turn to throw Namjoon a scandalized look over your shoulder. He meets you with a close-mouthed smile, the dimples in his cheeks making themselves known. His chest is drier now, the smooth planes covered in a thin dewy glow and a spattering of droplets he missed. There’s a towel around his waist that’s barely doing its job, especially when you catch sight of the erection tenting beneath it.

“As I was saying,” Jimin rambles on. Namjoon nods towards the device, refusing to move again until you finally turn back around to finish your conversation with Jimin. “That actress fucked it up so bad. They really give anyone with a pretty face screen time these days, huh? At least I know how to properly preheat an oven.”

You nod. “You do make the best cookies in town,” you respond, a ball of anticipation building in your throat from the mere fact Namjoon is standing behind you.

It’s completely warranted once you feel two cold fingers trail up the back of your thigh, your towel gradually pushed up to drape around your waist. The air in your room is a little chilly, and the goosebumps that raise on your skin are partly due to that, as well as the ghostlike touch of Namjoon’s fingers. “Pretty,” he murmurs, so deep and gravelly it has you shuddering.

Two fingers dance along your skin, and you subconsciously jolt away when they meet the tender skin around your pussy. By your ear, Jimin says, “if I completely fuck it up, we’ll just pretend this conversation never happened. Deal?”

Using your own body against you, Namjoon lets one finger dip just the smallest bit into your quivering hole. You clench up, thighs trembling when he eventually pulls it back out and traces your own wetness over your folds. “Perfect,” you bite out, clutching at the sheets beneath you as Namjoon reaches for your forgotten clit. It’s still so sensitive from your little fun in the bath, and it takes every ounce of strength in you to hold back the whiny gasp in your throat.

Behind you, Namjoon suddenly presses in close. One hand on your hip, he gently encourages you onto the bed. Your knees sink into the mattress, one less strain on your legs. “Good girl,” he praises quietly, rewarding your behavior with a finger sinking into your cunt.

“Joo—“ you almost slip, burying your face into the sheets just in time.

A devastatingly slow pace, his finger just barely moving in and out of you. The bulk of your pleasure is coming from that bundle of nerves towards your front, but the teasing gesture isn’t appreciated anyway. When he leans over you, breath against your neck, you feel the length of his cock against your thigh. “He’s asking you a question,” Namjoon whispers, “answer him, baby.”

You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he presses himself closer. Jimin hasn’t even noticed your lack of participation, mindlessly humming a song. The sounds of a running sink highlight his vocals. “Oh, absolutely,” you babble. “I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

“Ha!” Jimin scoffs. “I knew I could always count on you, Miss __,” he snarks playfully.

The hand toying with your clit comes around your waist, fingers stroking against your folds from this new angle. A silent moan has you writhing forward, unconsciously away from him as Jimin babbles on the other end of the line. He’s none the wiser to the lewd acts happening on the line, listening to the sound of his own voice. Namjoon lands a mean little bite against your shoulder, plunging his finger deeper inside of your clenching hole.

Paired with his teasing fingers, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your moans, biting your lip until it stings. “Fuck, fuck,” you whimper against the sheets, holding your phone as far away as possible from your mouth as a litany of curse words spill from your lips. Namjoon chuckles at your dramatics, not like he has his fingers deep inside of you right now or anything.

“So cute,” he hums, removing his hand from your clit to snatch your towel away. It gives way too easily, messily thrown over the edge of the bed. With your back completely exposed now, Namjoon wastes no time trailing a line of kisses up your spine, finishing off with an especially wet and hard one behind your ear. “Hang up now.”

His permission sets your body on edge, drawing your phone close again. Jimin is talking about dinner or something, you don’t even know. Not an ounce of remorse fills you when you clear your throat and hurriedly announce, “I have to—“ Namjoon’s cock, finally uncovered by his towel, presses against your folds and you nearly lose it. “—I have to go now, Jimin,” you say, leveling your breathing as best as you can.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Jimin says, thrown off by your sudden departure.

The mushroom tip of his cock kisses your clit. “Fuck— I really have to go.” And you hang up, chucking the phone off to the side hastily. With your hands both freed, you scramble onto your back, meeting the amused gaze of your husband behind you. “Fuck me, now.”

Namjoon laughs, reaching for the towel barely clinging onto his waist. One suave swoop later and it joins yours on the floor. “You did good,” he praises, lowering himself between your spread thighs. You roll your eyes, grabby hands reaching for his hips until he’s sitting snugly against you, cock resting over your throbbing cunt.

“Yeah, yeah,” you snap, the tight feeling in your tummy growing with every second that passes. Namjoon isn’t as unaffected as he pretends to be, a pearly bead of cum appearing at the tip of his engorged cock. “Just fuck me now.”

He raises a brow. “Missionary?” As if it’s the first time.

“Is there something wrong with it?” you ask anyway, self-consciously reaching an arm over yourself to cover your naked breasts. They’ve pebbled over just from his stare alone.

Namjoon hesitates, the hand on your hip drawing slow circles with his thumb. Eventually, he responds with a halfhearted shrug. “It’s not the best.” This is news to you, and you find yourself sitting up at the sudden bomb he’s dropped.

He’s still hard as rock between you, his dick laying almost artfully against your slit. You really just want to throw aside all reservations and begin grinding against him, penetration be damned, but now Namjoon’s got that thoughtful quirk to his lips. The one that usually accompanies any big brained idea, so you settle down, nudging him with your thigh until he’s looking at you again. “Penny for your thoughts?” What you really want to say is please fuck me like I’m just another cum rag of yours and make it hurt, but alas.

Namjoon sits back on his haunches. “I read somewhere that on your hands and knees is the best way to get pregnant.” You choke on your own tongue, face ablaze from his forward statement. Meanwhile, Namjoon is looking as relaxed as ever.

You hadn’t really discussed children after Hyejoo. The wordless agreement had been that sure, you were both down for another kid sometime in the future. But the exact date had sort of been murky. Hyejoo is three now, and you heard from another mom that it’s difficult for children with wide age gaps to get along. You don’t want her growing up being far removed from another sibling.

But also, now?

It’s like Namjoon knows your thoughts before you even do. “Alright, wifey, say no more,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips. “I’ll get the condom, alright?”

And then he’s stepping off the bed, every muscle of his toned body flexing as he swaggers over towards the dresser. He’s a walking dream, the physical embodiment of all your crazy sex fantasies, and he wants to fuck a baby into you. Your pussy says yes, but your rationality is still on the fence.

You roll onto your side, head propped into your open palm. “You want another baby?” you ask tentatively. Namjoon shrugs, carefully opening the new box of condoms you had bought half a year ago.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have another kid,” he answers, procuring a tiny foil packet from the box and returning to his spot between your legs. It’s like staring at a marble statue from this angle, the defined planes of his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous slope of his nose, the sharp angles of his face. You really lucked out.

Your decision comes just as he’s easing the rubber over the tip of his cock, the swollen head just barely enveloped. You place a hand against his wrist, earning his attention. “Take it off,” you mumble, and you swear on your entire life he swells another inch.

“Oh, baby,” he groans, hastily throwing the condom somewhere across the room. He rolls over you, bulging arms sweeping you up into his embrace, lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss. You whimper, letting his tongue push itself past your lips. When he pulls away, it’s with a wet pop and glistening lips. They’re so puffy now, flushed a nice rosy color, that makes him look even more handsome when he smiles down at you. “Gonna look so pretty all pregnant,” he beams, placing a chaste kiss against you one last time before he’s hurriedly rolling you onto your stomach.

You hide your bashful expression against the sheets, suddenly feeling very shy before him. But then Namjoon’s cock is running along your lips and you’re left a shivering mess. “Please just fuck me,” you beg hoarsely, and Namjoon obeys.

“Whatever you want, wifey,” he teases, and before you can call him out for his cheesiness, he’s pressing his thumb into your aching hole once more. “Is this okay?” he asks, somberly for the first time in what seems like forever.

“I’m okay,” you confess, a little shyly now that you know his true motives.

Namjoon chuckles, quickly removing his finger from inside of you to give your ass one soothing pat. “Going in,” he warns you, and finally, you’re rewarded for all your struggles. It’s only as his mushroom head squeezes in that you realize you could have done with a bit more stretching, but that thought fades away the more and more he pushes in. “Fuck,” he groans, the low intonation of his voice making your toes curl.

If it’s not his voice, it’s the sheer length of his cock inside of you. The girth makes your spine tingle, has you muffling a pitiful whimper into the comforter beneath you. “Relax for me,” he directs, and then suddenly he’s placing a palm against your back, pushing you further down. “Hips up.”

You groan. The normally soft fabric of the blanket feels like hell on your sensitive breasts. “I’m trying,” you whine, pushing back onto him in an effort to familiarize yourself with his cock again. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you like this, since he’s filled you so well, that your body acts a little stupid now. He hasn’t even begun thrusting and you already feel like you’ll cum just from this.

The angle is different than your usual style, has him moving along every inch of you as he sinks in. Two big hands grab at your waist, manhandling you closer to him until you’re just like he wants you to be. “There we go,” he sighs, and with him motionless, you finally relax. It’s about a two second pause before he begins to draw himself back out. “How do you want it?” he grunts, but it’s lost beneath the moan that escapes you. It’s the same question he asked you in the tub, right before Jimin called, except this time you have an answer.

“Fast,” you gasp, the pain from the stretch finally, finally, melting away as your body grows accustomed to his presence inside of you. “Do it fast, please.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, waiting until he’s pulled out until the tip to satisfy your requests. And then he’s off.

Your body isn’t as young as it once was, left a little worn from the entire child-bearing process. Sometimes you wonder how exactly you and Namjoon would fuck until sunrise before, how your sex drive was so high that it allowed such a thing to happen. Admittedly, there’s currently a stiffness inside of you that has been there for a while now, and you barely remember how you got rid of it before. Apparently, this is how.

Namjoon’s hard cock rams into you once, makes you release the most embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden intrusion, and it’s like all those months of tension that built up in your body are melted away. His cock pushes past your folds, creating a lewd squelching sound that would otherwise leave you mortified to learn it came from your body. You shudder, desperately pushing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to feel it again.

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he growls, snapping his hips forwards. His skin slaps against yours, leaves you feeling tender from the brutal movements of his body. But at the same time, it feels absolutely terrific.

Your lips are still coated in your own wetness, have him noisily moving in and out. “J- Joon,” you whimper softly, but you doubt he hears it over the sound of his own labored breathing. “More.”

He responds with a sudden piston inside of you that has the tip of his cock nearly kissing your cervix. “More?” he huffs, the hand on your back pressing down until you fear you’ll become one with the mattress. “You want more?” You nod hurriedly, somehow managing to stretch a hand down between you to toy with your clit. The brush of your own fingers has you bucking back onto him in surprise.

Wordlessly, he speeds up his pace, thrusting his hips into your velvety walls at a faster speed than before. It’s a weird sensation, a sort of ticklish feeling m that makes you tremble with each roll forward. You can’t say the two of you have done it in this position a lot, always preferring the more romantic missionary position to anything else, but this experience was quickly making you an avid believer of its validity as a top tier sex position.

You swirl your pointer finger around your clit, trying to sync up your shaky touch with his steady thrusts. It’s useless, because every time you feel like you’ve gotten into the same groove, Namjoon one ups you by hauling you back against him. “Oh, f- fuck,” you sob, clawing at the sheets beneath you.

Namjoon groans, momentarily pausing his rapid thrusts to roll his buried cock against you. “Come on, baby,” he husks, the hilt of his cock kissing your folds.

There’s a lot of built up sexual tension inside of you, months on top of months of nothingness. Not to mention that little scene in the bathtub just now. So you’re not really surprised that your orgasm rears its head so early, curling up tightly in your stomach the longer Namjoon fucks you. He’s back to thrusting now, shallow little movements that make you see stars every time his cock glides inside of you. “Joon, I'm gonna...” you rasp out pitifully, grinding back against him.

“Whenever you want,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss against your shoulder. It’s sweet, but on top of that, it has him pushing in further than before, finally pressed against that sensitive spot inside of you that makes your entire body lock up. You sob, thighs quivering when he reaches an arm around you. It’s almost romantic how your hands meet, his fingers covering yours as he guides them over your clit slowly. “Give it to me, baby,” he croons, lips pressed securely against your neck. He leaves soft kisses there, smooches really, that make you melt.

Another shallow buck of his hips forward and you’re cumming, breaths picking up until they accumulate into a choked wail against the sheets. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” you cry, your thighs spasming from the force of your first satisfying orgasm in months. Namjoon holds you through it, slowly thrusting inside of you until he’s drawn out your entire orgasm.

The new added pleasure makes his movements sound even wetter, dirtier even. “That’s it,” he purrs, pushing himself back up to his full height behind you. You feel absolutely boneless beneath him, laying limply against the mattress as Namjoon repositions your hips for himself. “Can I finish like this, sweetheart?” he asks anyway, thumbs drawing a soothing pattern along your hip.

You can barely catch your breath, so you settle on a halfhearted nod that has him huffing out a laugh.

For some reason, Namjoon fucks you harder once he knows you’ve had your fill. Like he’s trying to draw another orgasm out of you, but is also the least bit concerned with you. Honestly, it works. He moves fast and hard, like he has no regard for your pleasure, and for some reason that turns you on more than it should. It’s this weird fantasy of yours, to be mistreated by a man as respectful as Namjoon, and you find yourself weirdly fulfilling it now as he fucks his cock into you.

His fingers dig into your skin, wildly bucking into you as he chases his own high, and it’s embarrassing how quickly a second one builds up for you. You moan at one particular thrust, body sensitive all over. “Oh,” you whimper, “Namjoon.”

He grunts, your cries fueling him on as he continues his mad race to the end. “Gonna cum with me again?” he pants, his quick pace rocking you forward. You nod, using your killer grip on the sheets to ground yourself as you weakly attempt to meet his thrusts. “Aren’t you the sweetest,” he hums, and doesn’t let you respond as he continues to jackhammer his way into your pussy at a bruising pace.

It takes a few more thrusts, and one whiny cry of his name— “come on, Joonie,” you whimper, turning to throw him a teary-eyed gaze over your shoulder; he shudders at the sight —until Namjoon is finally tipped over the edge, shooting his pleasure deep into you on the next thrust. It’s warm, paints your walls and threatens to spill out when he finally pulls out.

But Namjoon has read up, using those big strong arms of his to keep you from collapsing onto your tummy as he scrambles around for something to keep your hips up. “It sticks better this way,” he says, a sheen of sweat against his temples when he flops down beside you.

“What sticks better,” you groan, the achy feeling of just having your world rocked quickly settling into your bones.

Namjoon leans forward and places a kiss against your lips, as if saying here, for all your hard work. “You know... it,” he shrugs, hands behind his head as he prepares himself to supervise your post-sex nap, just to make sure you don’t accidentally move around and let his cum leak out. “You did good, wifey,” he praises with another smooch. “Maybe we should let Hyejoo sleep over at Jimin’s more.”

Hyejoo’s return is the highlight of the year.

You pick her up around noon, and your heart nearly grows ten sizes when you see her come running down Jimin’s front steps and into your arms. “Hi, mommy,” she beams, the same smile as Namjoon. And just like Namjoon, you can’t stop yourself from covering her face in tiny kisses. She says they tickle and squirms and squeals in your embrace.

Jimin’s at the door with this weirdly blank look on his face. “Hey, Jimin,” you call out, helping Hyejoo load her bag into the backseat.

“Hey…” he greets, just as Hyejoo frantically begins calling for you to buckle her in. “Um, __,” Jimin says, but you’re a little busy securing the tiny love of your life into her booster seat, so you just throw him a quick glance to let him know you’re listening. Kinda. “There’s something I have to tell you—“

“I wanna see daddy!” Hyejoo babbles from the backseat, wildly waving her hands around as you finally close the door on her. With it shut, her loud voice is drowned out and you’re left raising a brow at Jimin as you round the front of the car.

“What’s up?” you ask.

Jimin comes down the steps, awkwardly hovering by the front of your car. “Um, when we were on the phone—“ Hyejoo knocks her tiny hands against the window, gesturing for you to hurry up. You flash Jimin an apologetic frown at the interruption. “Well, you see. She kinda heard us— well, me—”

Another flurry of knocks, and you can’t wait to relay to Namjoon how excited your daughter had been to see him again. It’ll boost his ego, not that he really needs it to be any bigger. “That’s fine,” you tell Jimin, swinging your door open. Immediately, Hyejoo’s high-pitched voice fills the space between you and Jimin. “You know I don’t mind talking to the missus,” you joke, nudging his side. “She’s my friend too, ya know.”

“Gotta show daddy something!” Hyejoo shouts from the backseat, has this big smile on her face that makes you smile as well.

Beside you, Jimin is quickly falling apart. “No, well—” you drop down into your seat “it wasn’t her who heard—“ You shut the door, lowering the window to thank Jimin one more time. Hyejoo beats you to it.

“Bye, Mr. Jimin!” she says, tiny legs kicking around all wildly in her excitement. You shake your head with a grin, waving goodbye to Jimin one last time as you pull out of his driveway.

“Daddy!” Hyejoo shrieks upon entering your home. Her tiny overnight bag is tossed down at the entryway, ladybug rain boots haphazardly kicked towards the general direction of the shoe closet. Namjoon had been upstairs in his study when you left, but he now comes bounding down the steps at the sound of your daughter’s voice. He cries out a dopey, “princess”, as he scoops her up in his big arms. He does a twirl and everything, so dramatic. But it makes Hyejoo giggle like crazy.

She allows one big fat kiss against her chubby cheeks before she’s shushing him with the news of her announcement. “Daddy, look,” she beams, holding his face between her tiny hands. “I can say the f sound now!”

Namjoon has been avidly working towards this ability for months now. Namjoon, who has spent nights reading every page of every child development book possible, who has spent hours decorating pretty flashcards for her, who has sectioned off time from his busy schedule everyday just to go over lessons with her. Well, Namjoon looks over the goddamn moon at the news.

“Let’s hear it, honey,” you urge, stepping in when his happiness renders him incapable of speech. So he just nods along, looks like a bobblehead doll beside you.

And with both of her proud, sometimes overprotective, parents standing before her, Hyejoo puts on a big grin and says, “fuck.”

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #namjoon fic #kim namjoon fic #knj fic #bts fic #bts smut #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader smut #mine

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lysung · 3 years ago

Text

happy first times - bang chan

you and bang chan's daughter comes back home from school earlier than expected and started acting weird, as if she's hiding something.

A/N: hi hi! sorry for being so inactive, uni had me messed up the whole year :( anyways. it's been quite some time since i wrote and posted anything in here, and i haven't been practicing english often either, i'm not sure if i'm doing anything right in here but i hope it's understandable and enjoyable 😭 also, i'm not sure how things work where you live, but at the elementary school where i studied, if you weren't feeling well, felt lots of pain or anything like this, and no one were home to get you back home, someone specific would drop you home. i wrote this based on this vague memory. you can pretend this happens where you live too if it doesn't lol and a fun fact: i've been struggling trying to pay attention to stuff that i wondered if my mind was still working properly, and after watching a clip of chan talking about periods, i was more than sure it was working very well 🥴. took the chance to write this.

genre: fluff

cw: overflowing cuteness, bang chan being the best man ever you'll ba your eyes out because you still can't believe someone this precious exist.

reader's gender is neutral! your daughter can be biological or adopted if you want to, all up to you! feel comfortable <3

this wasn't proofread because it's literally 6am when i'm posting this and maybe i didn't sleep at all just to finish this, but i'll try to remember to do so later today! pls tell me if you find any mistake too <3

hope you guys enjoy it! requests are open ✨

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

[09:50]

today is a sunny, fresh and bright day. bang chan, your husband, is taking some time off after his promotions were finally over. although you still had to go to work, today's the day when you're supposed to leave earlier. today just couldn't feel any better than this.

while waiting for you, chan was watching tv until he hears a noise coming from the front door. immediately he thought you would be home, but got confused as he saw your daughter coming in by herself.

- baby? what are you doing here this early? you're supposed to be at-

- iknow, i know. one of my teachers had to leave earlier today and she left me here, because you just wouldn't pick up your phone... — she cut him off with a sad and tired gaze, and chan instantly regretted leaving his phone so far from him earlier.

- ohhhh, i'm sorry so sorry my angeeel — he hugged her while carressing her hair, and she just responded with a quiet yet lovely "it's okay, dad" — but are you okay? what happened that you had to come back home this early?

- i just... don't feel good, my stomach aches way too much... but you don't have to worry, they just- they told me to take some medicine and rest for today — she explained, her voice crackling a bit, as if she was looking for the right words and was about to cry.

chan noticed her unusual behaviour and expressions. at first, he didn't intend to tell her about it or get mad, and just decided to pay extra attention for the rest of the day. as she distanced herself from him, he notices something else - the vivid red stain on her pants, on the inner side of her legs.

reality never hit him this hard. both of you were aware she was growing up, that's just how tome works, but once again, time felt like flying. as if watching her taking her first steps, saying her first words, making her first dawings and friends... everything felt like it hadn't been this long. every moment felt like a blessing. everything gives you two a specific feeling that probably no one will ever be able to put in perfect words.

chan felt his eyes tearing up as so many memories flashed one after another, finding himself at loss of words from the insane mix of feelings.

she turned to him to ask for something, just to find him with his head down, coverig his own face with one hand, sobbing quietly. the feeling of rgret instantly filled her up, as she was still confused and scared, fearing bad things to happen. she was so afraid and ashamed that she could barely tell or show it to anyone at school. but she calms down as she hears his words noticeably filled with love:

- my baby... i love you so much. but do you know what's happening to you now? — chan got closer to his precious daughter to hold her face with his hands and stare deeply into her eyes.

- ah, n-no... it's nothing bad, right? everything is gonna be fine, right? — she asked, fear still clear on her eyes and voice.

- no, it's nothing bad. you're just growing up and this is completely normal for you. i'll grab you a cup of warm water, sit down and i'll tell you everything i know about it. but relax, you're fine, baby. — he calmed her down while trying to control his proud smile, and ended with a kiss on her forehead before leaving, taking a little longer as expected to get a bag of warm water as well.

sat down next to each other, she drank her water calmly as she listened to her dad. she always knew how understanding chan can be, but this sudden situation made every kind of thought come to her head to the point nothing from the outside world would get in or make sense to her. yet, each and every word that came out of him would tranquilize her more and more. he felt like heaven to her, and she couldn't feel any more safer and happier with her precious dad.

while she showered and changed, chan left to buy meds and chocolate, hoping it would make her feel at least a little bit better. he spent the next few hours taking care of her as much as possible - making hot chocolate for her, listening to everything she wanted to say, watching her favorite series with her, massaging her wherever it hurted, trying his best to make her feel as comfortable as possible.

- honey, i'm home! — you announced happily after a long and exausting day. work felt endless and you couldn't wait to eat a little bit and sleep a little more. you were about to say something more, until you found the loves of your life sleeping next to each other on your sofabed, a movie playing on the tv, mugs on the tables next to them - a cute, calm smile on your sleeping daughter's face.

you went to the kitchen to grab water and noticed a paper on the table, which said "don't be scared, she's growing up faster than we thought and had her period at school today. she's fine! sorry for not telling you earlier. love you!"

you watched them sleep a little bit more. it was the best view you could have - your incredible and beautiful family. the moment also made you tear up a little bit, but it didn't take long for you to hold it and lay with them. it was unfortunate that you couldn't take care of your daughter as well, but there was nothing to worry or feel upset about. you knew both you and your daughter would be safe and sound if you have bang chan - the best friend, husband, dad and person.

you two couldn't love him any more than this.

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deluluass · 4 years ago

Text

all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions.

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love.

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it.

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on, muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away.

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well).

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!"

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers.

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix.

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't.

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it.

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world.

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.

It disgusted him.

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it.

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways.

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over.

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu.

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy.

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.

"We broke up."

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence.

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted.

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer.

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult.

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.)

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box.

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble.

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed.

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise.

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it.

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends.

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling.

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die.

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted.

Aya held your face with both hands as she stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort."

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed.

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags.

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed.

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way.

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?"

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes.

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze.

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks.

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting.

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway.

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium.

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks.

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers.

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough.

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation.

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon.

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it.

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner.

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved.

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind.

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate.

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed.

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned.

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here.

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived.

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first.

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled.

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself.

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips.

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?"

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers.

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've.

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you. Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house.

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs.

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit.

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck.

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead.

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples.

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all.

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him.

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again.

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head.

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned. "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you.

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits.

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

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malfoysstilinski · 4 years ago

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flower crowns | draco malfoy

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: it’s the first sunny day of the year and you want to spend it outside with draco. he wants to make you a flower crown.

a/n: shout out to everybody else in the uk rn that’s had to deal with this shitty weather since september and is now in a third lockdown :))) these are the vibes we all need rn i think

It felt as though it hadn’t been sunny in years. You were used to the bleak weather that Britain provided nearly all year round, but it didn’t stop you from jumping out of your bed as soon as you saw nothing but sunshine peeking through the high windows of your dorm room.

“It’s sunny!” You gasped, “Oh, Merlin— Hannah, please tell me it’s as warm as it looks outside!”

Hannah Abbott glanced up from her book where she’d risen early. “I think so. It’s been getting warmer all week.”

You squealed, your roommates exchanging glances with each other as you rushed into the bathroom to get ready for your Saturday off from classes. You did have homework that needed to be done, but it could wait. You were not wasting the first nice day cooped up in the castle.

After showering and changing into one of your favourite summer dresses, you bounded back into the dormitory room and found your friends all slowly starting to get ready for the day.

“Anyone fancy going down to the Black Lake?” Susan Bones asked, “I heard a bunch of the Gryffindors are going down if the weather turned out nice today and Ernie mentioned joining them.”

A chorus of excited replies came from everybody else, but you smiled politely.

“I’ll have to ask Draco what he wants to do. He doesn’t really get along much with some of the Gryffindors,” you said, applying some makeup and then slipping on your shoes.

Hannah huffed. “Fine. I don’t know what you see in him, Y/N. You’re way too soft for someone like Draco Malfoy.”

Raising your eyebrows, you smiled. “There are many sides to Draco you’ve never met. I can assure you that there are billions of reasons why I’m with him.”

None of the girls said anything as you bid them a farewell before pulling open the door to your dorm. Wandering through the bright common room, which seemed to thrive with the sunshine pouring through it, you waved and greeted some of your peers, the smell of sunscreen filling your nose and making you excited.

You bounded through the corridors of the castle, saying ‘hi’ to Ron, Harry, and Hermione as you passed them. They seemed slightly taken aback by the bounce in your step, Hermione hitting Ron before he could make some sort of sarcastic comment.

You made it down into the dungeons, finding the bare wall you’d come used to staring at. Whilst a huge majority of the school would never be able to catch a glimpse of the Slytherin common room, as the girlfriend of Draco Malfoy, you’d been given the password and was updated of the change fortnightly.

Whispering the new one, you were thrilled when it opened to reveal the green and silver room. It was much darker and drearier than the Hufflepuff common room, perfect for when you were in a cozy mood, but today wasn’t one of those days.

“Hey, Y/N,” Blaise greeted you as he looked up from the leather couch. “Draco’s in the dorm room.”

“Thanks, Blaise!” You replied, waving to Pansy and Theo as you walked by them, making your way to the fifth year boys’ dorm.

You knocked once before you entered, finding it empty. You frowned as the door closed softly behind you, but your ears pricked upon hearing the steady rushing of water coming from the attached bathroom.

You settled down onto Draco’s bed, eager for him to hurry up in the shower so you didn’t have to waste anymore time inside. Who knew how long the good weather was going to last for? British spring was unpredictable— tomorrow it could go back to jumper weather and stay like that for weeks, with nothing to do but watch the rain drip drip drip.

Water dripped from Draco’s broad shoulders as he finally left the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around his torso. He looked gorgeous— in platinum hair soaked and pale skin slightly flushed from the temperature of the water. His face lit up when he saw you on his bed.

“Let me guess,” Draco hummed, “You want to spend the day outside?”

“Please?” You sent him the same very pout that always allowed you to get your way with him.

Outsiders often believed that Draco was as cold as ice and as hard as steel, that, even for you, he would never be soft. However, it seemed like only you, him, and his friends knew the truth-- all you had to do was breathe and Draco was putty in your hands. You could probably ask him to jump off of the Astronomy Tower and he’d just ask if you wanted him to do a run-up or not.

He tried to keep up his tough exterior around you at first, but with every laugh that escaped your lips, every excited gasp you gave when you learned something new, Draco felt his walls crumbling and he had to admit that he was hopelessly in love with you. Soft Draco was your favourite Draco, and it was the one he had reserved for you and you only.

When people teased you, whether it be for your naive nature or because they were taking your kindness for granted, Draco was always the first to defend you. He’d ended up in countless detentions for hexing multiple other students who even looked at you wrong. You were his sunshine and he swore to preserve you and keep you safe from any harm. Even if he was your opposite.

“Fine,” he sighed as if it was a chore, but the corner of his lips twitched up at the idea of spending the entire day whilst you were out in your favourite weather.

“Hurry up and get dressed then,” you said, bending down to reach into his trunk and chucking him some clothes.

Draco caught them, sending you a look. “You sure? We could just stay here all day, I could just wear this...”

He watched you blush and shake your head. “Another time. Right now, it’s sunny-- so we have to go outside.”

Draco didn’t bother delaying you anymore. He knew you’d been hoping for good weather for a long time now. It felt like you hadn’t seen sunshine since the very start of September, and now it was early April. The cold, dark evenings always got you down a little unless you were wrapped up warm in the arms of Draco.

Within a few minutes, he’d dried off and chucked on the clothes that you’d thrown at him, slipping his shoes whilst you practically bounced up and down on your heels by the door. As soon as he was done, you grasped his hand and tugged him away.

“Can we pick somewhere with a bit of shade?” Draco asked once you’d made it out onto the fields, finding multiple other students who had the same idea as you two. “I don’t want to burn.”

A group of first year Gryffindors ran by, nearly knocking Draco over. He let go of your hand and went tug out his wand, his nose scrunched up in disgust, when you grabbed his wrist.

“Draco!” You scolded him, “You don’t need to hex the eleven-year-olds for nearly knocking you over.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “They should watch where they’re going. I would have only done a tripping hex, anyway.”

Shaking your head at your boyfriend, you felt his slender fingers intertwine with yours once again and he led the way this time. It felt surreal to be outside without having to stuff your hands in your pockets or complaining about rain water seeping through the small hole in the sole of your school shoes.

“Here.” Draco stopped beneath a tree and settled down, his back against the trunk.

“I’m going to sit in the sun,” you said, moving a few feet away so you were no longer under the shade.

Draco knew you wanted to make the most of it on your skin. He saw it glow on your shoulders, light up your hair and relax your mind as you lay down on the grass, nose pointing towards the sky. He smiled, simply watching you from the shade.

He grabbed the book he’d managed to pick up before you’d forced him out of his dorm room, burying his face in it for a few moments as you sighed happily, sunbathing nearby. He’d glance up every now and then and become distracted by your beauty, his brain having to force his eyes back down to the pages in front of him.

Eventually, he gave up, settling the novel beside his legs and moving over. He found you lying on your stomach, plucking daisies out of the grass and arranging them into a pile next to you.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, lying beside you, facing the sky.

“You’ll burn,” you protested, “You wanted to be underneath the shade, Draco--”

“I don’t care,” he murmured, “Just let me be next to you for a bit, yeah?”

You smiled softly, shaking your head a little as you blushed. Draco turned his head to continue watching what you were doing. He saw that once you had a pile of maybe twenty or so daisies, you began to pick them up one by one before piercing a hole through the long stems with your thumbnail.

He watched with furrowed brows, studying the way your hands delicately began to thread each daisy through another, tying a knot on the end so they couldn’t slip back through. He realised you were making a daisy chain, and quite a large one at that. Eventually, you closed it off and tied it back around to the first daisy.

“What is it?” He stared at the circle of plants.

“A daisy crown,” you chirped, moving across and straddling him, his hands moving to your hips as you placed it on top of his head. “For my Prince of Slytherin.”

Draco grinned, reaching up to adjust it on his head. “How does it look?”

You beamed as you peered down at him. “You look like a dashingly handsome young prince.”

You leaned down and kissed his nose, watching his own cheeks blush a little. He managed to sit up, your body moving back a little so you were sat in his lap with your legs around his waist, one hand on you to adjust you and the other to keep his daisy chain on his head.

You decided your words were nothing but the truth. He looked adorable with the white and yellow daisies in his platinum hair, which was fluffy from the shower he’d just had. He looked like the epitome of soft, his silver eyes melting as he stared at you in a mixture of complete adoration and love.

His hands circled your waist and he managed to pull you even closer. Your sunscreen filled his nose, as well as the shampoo you wore, the sun beating down on the two of you as he moved to meet your lips in the middle. He hummed against you, enjoying the taste of your lip balm and the way you felt against him.

One hand reached to stroke your cheek, the slightly calloused pad of his thumb brushing at your jaw. His lips worked against yours softly in an attempt to pour every inch of love and appreciation into you, his touch feeling like fire on your warming skin. You wished you could stay like this forever; just you, Draco, and the sun in the sky.

“If I’m the prince, I want to crown you my princess,” Draco murmured against your lips when he pulled away.

“Do you know how to make a crown?” You asked.

“I can try,” Draco offered, “I watched you.”

Smiling, you climbed off of his lap and watched as he turned to look at the grass. He plucked a few more from the ground until he estimated that he had enough. Draco’s face scrunched up for a second. The boy was clearly deep in thought.

“You pierce the stems next,” you whispered in his ear.

“I know, I know,” he played it off, grabbing one.

He inspected it for a few moments before trying to stab a hole through it with his thumbnail like you did. He groaned when it ripped all the way through, leaving him with half a stem. Draco tried again three more times before throwing his latest destroyed daisy to the grass in a fit.

“I can’t make the holes!” Draco complained.

“I’ll pierce them for you,” you suggested gently, “You pass them to me, and I’ll make the holes. Then you can tie them up as you go along.”

Draco didn’t reply but handed you your first daisy, watching intently as you made a hole with your nail and passed it to him. He grabbed another daisy and handed it to you and you did the same thing, and then he looped it through.

“Good, now you need to tie it up,” you reminded him.

Tongue poking out slightly, Draco did as you had said, creating a knot in the stem of the daisy. He grinned when it worked, his pearly whites on display as he practically threw it in your face.

“Look!”

“Good-- you have one chain. Here’s your next daisy,” you beamed, passing him another with a hole in it.

Draco took longer than you had, his eyes focused and his nose scrunched in concentration as he created you your very own daisy crown to match his. When he was done, he sighed in relief but, overall, looked quite pleased with himself.

“Here you are, my love,” he murmured, placing it on top of your head.

His fingers adjusted it and moved some of your hair out of the way so it sat perfectly. Draco moved backwards a little and smiled at the sight.

“How do I look?” You teased.

“Like the most gorgeous girl I have ever laid eyes on,” Draco promised breathlessly, kissing you hard on the lips again.

You kissed him back. Maybe your roommates would never understand because they never saw this side of him, but this was one of the million reasons you loved Draco Malfoy.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter imagine #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfic #draco x y/n #draco x yn

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bokutoslittlebird · 4 years ago

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I’m Sorry

Alpha!Ushijima x Beta!f!reader x Alpha!Oikawa

Warnings: THIS IS A SEQUEL to Regrets, intention of suicide, suicidal thoughts and actions [overdose, cutting, falling], mentions of self harm [overdose and cutting], angst, pregnancy, bonding mention, I did not look up Argentina resident rules

The rain was heavy today.

You felt as if it was the universe’s way of saying it was sorry for you. The ride back to school would be in the pouring rain that matched the gloominess of your heart, only to enter a campus where nobody wanted anything to do with you. His scent was all over you; despite being a Beta, you could feel it. You had been claimed and nobody would dare try and claim Ushijima Wakatoshi’s mate, despite the fact you’re not his mate.

Sobbing did little to ease the ache in your chest, eyes blotched from the constant tears and your nose sniffling as you tried to wipe away snot with your sleeves. Your sleeves, not his sleeves of a jacket you stole. Reading stories of how an Alpha would bestow their mate clothing would always warm your heart, but sitting on a dirty busstop with nobody but the rain beside you, your heart felt cold.

“What are you doing?” Someone asked. Your head snapped up to see a brunet looking down at you, his attire telling you he was dressed to run. Running? In pouring rain? What an idiot. He was gorgeous, though, hair collecting silver droplets that seemed to only accentuate his features. Your eyes trail down to the black collar adorning his neck, hidden beneath the white and blue jacket he wore. He quirked an eyebrow, giving off a small chuckle. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,”

“More like an idiot running in rain. What’s up with that?” You sniffle, rubbing at your raw nose and cursing the timing. An Alpha coming on a claimed Beta alone — words don’t need to be spoken for the other man to know why you’re crying. But instead of running off, he sits next to you. “You’re gonna get me wet, weirdo,”

“Well if I sit too close, I’d get snot on me, so maybe I’d be better keeping my distance, anyways,” he shoots back, barely batting an eye. You just scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Someone seems to have a problem with me. I don’t even know who you are, stranger,” you give off a grin, trying to keep up the light tone.

“Well, you’re wearing a Shiratorizawa jacket and you stink like Ushiwaka, so can you blame me for being a bit of an ass?” He says, grinning. Though you were keeping a light tone, his words quickly reminded you of the position you’re in. Gloomy day, pouring rain, busstop. Looking back to the ground, you sigh heavily.

“Well, at least it’s the most interaction I’ve had all day. Ushijima’s got a stick up his ass and no funny bone in his body, so I suppose if this is my last interaction, it’s better than him,” you off handedly say. The man beside you quirks his eyebrow once more, your words settling into his brain before he’s leaning closer to you. His shadow moves towards you, making you jump back. “What are you doing?”

“You’re pregnant,” he flat out says. Before you can shoot anything back, his eyes get sad as he pulls himself back some more. “You’re going to kill yourself because he abandoned you?”

“How-” you sputter, tears springing to your eyes once more, “how did you-”

“You know if he’s abandoned you, another Alpha can take claim, right? You’re not worthless,”

“Easy for you to say. I’m a Beta with an Alpha’s bond mark. An Alpha that doesn’t even want to talk to me. My family and friends have turned their backs on me because it’s my fault. I wouldn’t expect an Alpha to understand the other party’s feelings,” you say, wiping away the tears. Despite trying to appear strong, your eyes are wet and there’s snot running down your face. “No Alpha wants Ushijima Wakatoshi’s leftovers. Don’t make me laugh,”

“Well, a cute little Beta would look better with a genuine smile then tears in their eyes, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiles, rubbing your cheek, but you slap away his hand.

“Stop patronizing me. You sound like a creepy old man. Who even are you?”

“Oh, I didn’t think I had to introduce myself. I’m Oikawa Tōru,” he smiles once more, a genuine smile, as he holds out his hand. “And if there’s someone who hates Ushiwaka more than you, it’s me,”

“[Y/N]. You’re from Seijoh, right?” You shake his hand, although it’s brisk. His nod confirms your suspicions. The captain of the team that never beat Ushijima’s team, but always aimed for the top. Ushijima also mentioned how talented Seijoh’s setter was, but you never expected to be sitting on a busstop next to the man himself. “Well, you’ve gotten my life story and told me you hate Ushijima, so I guess it’s time for you to go back to running in the rain,”

“Nah, I can’t,” he shrugs, but you look at him confused, waiting for him to continue. Eventually, you ask him why. “Well, I can’t leave someone in need alone. If I leave, you’ll still kill yourself. You’re hurting and I can’t just abandon you. I’m not like other Alphas, you know.” You know his reference is to only Ushijima, but it warms your stomach nonetheless, seeing someone actually be there for you.

“I’m sorry you had to meet me then. If you hadn’t stopped, we’d both be blissfully unaware of each other’s presence,” you say, letting a sob wrack your body before covering it with a cough. “Guess I’m the weirdo getting sick,”

“Still thinking there’s no other option, huh?”

“Well what do you expect? You’re the only person who hasn’t told me to face my consequences on my own and turned your back on me. There really is no reason for me to stay here, especially if I have to raise a child without a support system. I’m still in high school, what the fuck,” you huff, running your hand through your hair, looking up at the sky, noticing how the rain has eased up and the sky is brighter. “I’ll be out when it comes, but the fact of the matter is I’ll graduate pregnant, who wants to go through that? I’m basically a cheap slut in everybody’s eyes. I just wanted to feel needed by someone I admire and this is what it results in? The more I think about it the more I want to down a bottle of painkillers and never wake up.”

“If nobody is sticking up for you, then maybe they’re not your real friends. Fair weather friends, only there for good tea and sunny days. If there’s nobody there for you, reach out for help,”

“I don’t want to be a burden,”

“People who will help you willingly won’t see it that way. Me sitting here with you isn’t burdening me, and I haven’t turned from you. I know we just met, but I want to help you. There’s a lot to live for and one setback doesn’t deserve to sever that line before you’ve even gotten to the good part. Good people exist, you just need to find them,”

“‘Find them’? I thought I had, so what’s the point in trying to find more, only to be disappointed?”

“[Y/N], was it? I’m right here, you know,” he puts a hand on his chest, a smile on his lips and shining in his eyes. “I’ve seen you at your lowest and I’m still here. Find someone like me,”

“That’s sweet, but I doubt there are multiple Oikawas running around in the rain,” you sigh, looking back up. It’s almost time for the bus, but you have a feeling that if he’s still here, then he won’t let you leave. “Are you gonna sit there until my opinion changes?”

“They don’t change that easily, trust me,” he chuckles, but it lacks the merry behind it. Glancing at him, his eyes are downcast as he runs a thumb over his knee. “But I don’t want to see someone die over one thing. There’s a lot to live for, a lot to strive for, that’s why I keep moving even after all my failures. If someone kills themselves for one thing, something I don’t see as a reason to end, I wonder if it was deeper than what it was on the surface. Was it a quick way to feel numb for a while? Was it an easy solution? Sometimes the easiest path isn’t the right one. Surviving an attempt makes you realize things can change, but what if you didn’t survive? If you regret putting the blade to your skin or stepping off the ledge seconds after you do it or seconds before death? You can’t change it once it’s in motion.”

“I never.. I never thought about it like that,” you mutter, your hands holding each other, fingers twiddling. A brief meeting with a handsome Alpha suddenly put things in perspective. A laugh breaks you from your trance, his mouth behind his hand.

“If I see an opportunity to help, I’ll be there, but the fact is I can’t change your mind. I would like to put things in perspective and give you options, but that’s all I can do. If the reason you’re planning to end it all is because you have no friends, I can help with that. I’ll be your friend when nobody else gives you a chance.”

You mull it over, thinking of your options. In the end, the worst that could happen is you end up back on the bench, in the rain, ready to match to your death. “You know, I was told that if it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is,” you mutter, but rifle through your jacket pockets for your phone. “Don’t make me regret second guessing myself, Oikawa Tōru. If you want to be my friend, I’ll take the hand extended to me,”

“Wonderful! And just in the nick of time, the bus is here,” he takes out his own phone, ready to swap numbers. As the bus pulls up to a stop, Oikawa waves at you as he pockets his phone, your contact information all piled inside. You really hope you don’t regret this decision, too.

In the few days that pass, you find yourself wondering how you could have possibly thought bad of Oikawa. He was sweet to you, introducing you to his friends (who knew about your predicament prior), with their promise they’d never turn their back. Iwaizumi was also an Alpha, but the other two were Betas. You did think it to be odd about how they seemed to willingly to help you, stay beside you, despite having no reason to. Their only reason was a promise to you. To Oikawa? Maybe, but you never asked him about it; if you did, he’d just shrug and give you a vague answer.

He promised to show you the light on a dark and gloomy evening, and he kept that promise. As your friends turned their backs on you, scoffing about how your decision will affect you for the rest of your life, Oikawa was there when you needed him the most. He was on standby all hours of the day and night, his phone always on and beside him. When your family turned you away, calling you out on your sudden friendship with another Alpha while carrying a child, they kicked you out and you had nowhere else to go, Oikawa was there. When you felt your world crumbling around you, feeling hopeless and desperate, picking up a secret stash of painkillers, Oikawa was there to talk to you. He didn’t actively take away the pills, but he sat on the other side of the door and talked to you, listened to you. Even his mom was there for you when your family and friends had left you, but Oikawa stood beside you through it all.

Then your world crumbled again.

“I’m planning on moving to Argentina,” he had said. You were looking into colleges to further your education when he had knocked on your door, his old sister’s room, sitting on the bed.

“You’re.. leaving?” You wanted to add to that sentence, but you didn’t want to seem clingy. He’s been with you for so much, you’re not entirely sure you can be independent without him.

“It’s been almost 6 months since you met me. I actually went on that run to decide if I wanted to study abroad in Argentina, but after meeting you, I decided to wait. I’ve been studying the language and keeping up with local volleyball communities, but my dream is over there,” he explains. You click your pen and set it down, ready to ask if you should leave his house, but he continues. “I wanted to know if you’d come with me.”

“Wh- What?”

“I’ve been putting in extra time so we can both move together, get a fresh start,” his face tints as he speaks, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “It seems a bit forward, now that I’m actually talking aloud about it. Sorry ‘bout that,” he chuckles, before clearing his throat.

“You want me.. to come with you?” You ask, unsure if you’re hearing correctly. He’s asking you to move to a new country with him, which is exciting! But, the baby.. “He is due soon, you know,”

“5 weeks, if I remember correctly,” he smiles, looking down at the large bump. You run a hand over it, solemnly nodding. “He’d be born in Argentina, our new home, if you come with me,”

“But Ushijima—”

“He’s abandoned you, officially. Your bond, it’s hardly noticeable anymore. The scent, I mean,” he corrects himself. “He’s basically just a sperm donor at this point,”

“This is.. very sudden, you know,”

“I know. And it’s also a very grand way of asking to court you, while also essentially marrying you, but I will say that if you choose to stay here, Iwa-chan will take care of you. He’s going to study in California for some amount of time, but that’s not for another few months. There is Mattsun and Makki, but I’m not too sure-”

“Okay, don’t stress yourself,” you giggle, getting him to stop. “I’ll go with you, but you gotta teach me the language,”

“I’ve been told I’m a great tutor, actually,”

“I believe it. Will the bond go away, or is it just the scent that’s gone?” He raises his brows at that.

“Ah, I guess you never took those classes. The bond is permanent, but another Alpha can lay claim on a mate that has been abandoned. I’d be honored to replace his bond with mine, but I’m sure you’ll need-”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him. He sputters as he processes the words, but then smirks.

“Are you sure? I don’t plan on making mistakes, so you’ll be stuck with me, you know?”

“Tōru, I’ve been ready for a while now. Hope you don’t mind bonding me while I’m pregnant,” your hand once more rubs the large bump, settling on the top.

“It just means I’ll have to wait until it’s my turn to try,” he licks his lips, moving towards the door. The locking sound seals your fate, keeping others from interrupting your moment.

- Years Later

“Koichi, come back here!” you shout, weaving in between the crowds. Aiko is somehow still asleep on your shoulder as you chase your son through the crowd. He’s been dying to meet his favorite uncle for quite some time, so see as he’s the trainer for the Nationals team of Japan, Koichi ran once the match ended. A brief Q&A with the members of the team would happen exactly right after they left the stadium, which he knew because of his father’s position.

You finally come to a stop, grabbing Koichi’s collar as he struggles to get through the crowd. “I told you to not leave me, and what did you do? Uncle Iwa isn’t going to suddenly disappear. He’s been waiting for this day, too, you know?”

“But mama! I told him I’d be the first one!”

“That’s impossible. The paparazzi gets to him first, that’s how it works in Hollywood movies,” you joke, but you pick him up. You’re no professional athlete, but you do stay in shape to take care of two children. As soon as you pick him up, he’s shouting as he sees Iwaizumi, trying to talk to the reporters. He catches Koichi’s waving hand and decides to take a break, going towards where you are as the crowd parts.

“How is the Oikawa family doing? I see Koichi is energetic,” he laughs, taking the boy from your arms.

“Ugh, as always. Don’t know where he gets it from, it’s not like his sister is bursting with energy all day,” you gesture to the child sleeping, despite the loud crowd.

“Well, definitely Oikawa’s kid. He sleeps through anything and so does she, jeez,” he sighs, but you just laugh. A few members of his team come over, excited by the new people.

“Iwa-chan, what’s this? Wife? Your kids?? You have kids???” A man with white and black hair says, giving Koichi a high five.

“Uh, no. They’re actually Oikawa’s wife and kids. I’m the favorite uncle, of course,”

“I wanna be the uncle! ‘Samu is never gonna get married, I need to be an amazing uncle somehow,” a man with platinum blond hair says, but he’s quickly pushed aside as a familiar face comes into view.

A face you didn’t want to see.

“[Y/N], I didn’t expect to see you here,” Ushijima says, tone as flat as ever. Iwaizumi takes on a forced smile as yours drops, a frown etched on.

“Didn’t expect to see you here either. Actually, ever again,”

“Oh?” The owlish man says, eyebrows quirked up as his eyes glance between the two of you.

“I see you moved on. I’m glad to see that,”

“No thanks to you,” the venom in your voice has Koichi turning to him, looking at the larger man with large eyes. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the resemblance. He’s got the same hair color and eyes as the man in front of you, taking hardly any features from you. Not to mention, Koichi is showing signs of presenting as an Alpha.

“Darling, that’s where you were!” Oikawa shouts from over the crowd, them parting so he can mingle with the group around you. “I was wondering where my personal cheerleaders went to,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His eyes meet Ushijima’s and despite being unable to smell the tension, you can feel it. Reporters and guests alike back away as the overwhelming tension of two Alphas clash.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says. Oikawa just tilts his head, looking over his opponent.

“I thought you’d look more defeated after I wiped the court with your ass, but I’m more disappointed in that. Emotionless as ever, aren’t you, Ushiwaka?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” he says, then looks to you. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you, [Y/N],”

“Trust me, I don’t want to hear it. You’re too late, Wakatoshi. You’re much too late,” you say, before nodding at Iwaizumi. “I’m leaving,”

Despite turning to leave, Oikawa taking Koichi away from his uncle and new “uncles”, despite being in the middle of a loud crowd, you can hear him. It’s quiet, almost as if he knows the words are weightless, holding nothing after years of his abandonment. Despite Oikawa’s bond pulsing, your heart still yearns for the other man, what he could have given you and what he did to you. Despite all this, you’ve fantasized about hearing those words, yet they do nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this took forever to publish but I hope it was worth the wait! I didn’t keep track of time while writing this, so if something seems wrong just ignore it. I might come back and fix it later but probably not lol ; Argentina residency rules and citizenship requirements were not consulted for this, seeing as it only took up like one sentence, but I might change it if I look more into it of course.

#haikyuu x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima x reader #ushijima angst #BB.Angst #Ushijima.Angst #Mr. Wakatoshi #tw.pregnancy #cw.pregnancy #tw.self harm #tw.suicide #tw.suicide mention #cw.self harm #cw.suicide #cw.suicide mention #BB.🐾

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dem-obscure-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Try

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/X-Men

Summary: Warren has been through hell and then some, but will meeting his soulmate turn that around?

Note: That’s right, it’s ya girl, back on my BS. I watched Apocalypse again and BIG SURPRISE, I’m in love with Warren and Kurt all over again. Still hyperfixating on Pietro also, so…expect more fics for him as well. Anyway, I’m a ho for soulmate aus and I haven’t written one for birb boi in literal years, so here ya go.

Reader is: Gender Neutral

Warnings: swears, mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.8k

Warren knew one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt: he didn’t deserve a soulmate. He didn’t. There was no question in his mind. Anyone who was destined to end up with his winged, alcoholic ass had been fucked over by the universe. No one deserved to be stuck with him for the rest of their lives. And yet, these thoughts didn’t seem to erase the words written on his forearm:

Hey, um, you’re Warren, right? The Professor wanted me to talk to you.

Professor. He scoffed. He was never going to college. If his parents had gotten their way, their son “cured” of his wings, he would have ended up at Harvard or Yale or somewhere similar. But it was far too late for that. Sitting in a cage in the back room of an illegal underground mutant fighting club in Berlin…it was far too late for that. He’d probably die before he met his soulmate anyway, rendering the prophecy on his wrist—and theirs, for that matter—useless. A waste of space.

That was all he was anyway.

He spiraled. His dependence on vodka got worse. The fights got harder. He wasn’t making it out unscathed anymore, winding up with burns and scrapes and cuts, depending on what kind of mutant he was up against. One night, one of his cuts had gotten dangerously close to the writing on his wrist. He stared at it for a long time, tears burning his eyeballs until they escaped and dripped down his cheeks, angry and hot.

He hated it, but even after everything, he still had hope. He still had hope that things would get better; that he could be better, even if it seemed impossible.

And then it got…worse.

Apocalypse had come, turned his wings to metal, tuned into his anger, his rage at the world, turned him into a monster, complete with knives for feathers and winding tattoos framing his face. He wished he could blame it on mind control or something, but Apocalypse hadn’t brainwashed him, only used his anger against him. Turned him into a weapon.

And then everything went black.

When he woke up after the battle, he was in an unfamiliar room, large and white and sterile; it smelled like hand sanitizer. He heard the steady beeping of a heart monitor and when he sat up, he noticed how sore he was. His whole body hurt. His head spun. But he was alive. And when he looked down at his tattoo, the words were still there. Wherever his soulmate was, they were fine. His stupidity in joining Apocalypse hadn’t caused anything to happen to them.

For the first time in what felt like years, he breathed.

“You’re awake.” A voice said as a tall man with brown hair entered his room. “I’ll let the Professor know.”

“Where…” his deep voice rasped and the man pointed to a glass of water sitting on the table adjacent to the cot he was situated in. He picked it up and took a few long, greedy sips, not realizing just how thirsty he was until the cool drink hit his tongue. “Where am I? What is this place?”

“This is the infirmary at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.” The man told him, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “You’re safe here.”

Warren nodded hesitantly, but didn’t say anything else. Safe. The word was almost a myth to him at this point. But at least he felt like he could rest for a little while.

***

It had been a few weeks since Apocalypse and his horsemen had almost ended the world. Erik had decided to stick around, and two of the younger horsemen, Storm and “the Angel of Death,” respectively, had been absorbed into the school’s student body. You didn’t know the Angel’s name. No one really talked to him, not even Ororo, Storm, who had been quickly adopted by your friend group.

Supposedly, Peter had tried to talk to the Angel guy, but he didn’t say anything to him. Ororo theorized he probably felt guilty about the whole thing. She did. But you all knew she didn’t know what Apocalypse was really trying to do. He probably hadn’t either, but that didn’t seem to keep the grim expression off of his face.

It was on a nice, sunny day that Xavier called you into his office, and you went down without complaint, knocking on the door a few times before he called you inside. You sat in the chair across from his desk.

“Hi, Professor. What’s going on?” You asked.

“Ah, yes. Just the empath and healer I wanted to see.” He smiled brightly. “(Y/N), if you don’t mind it too terribly, I have a small job for you.”

“Of course! What do you need?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen our newest pupil, Warren, around.”

You thought for a moment. “The, uh, guy with the wings? The big metal ones?”

“Precisely.” He nodded. “Warren…he’s been having quite a hard time adjusting.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“He came to me yesterday discussing…well, quite simply, he was wondering if any of our mutants here would be capable of…reverting him to his previous state. His wings, before Apocalypse, were made of feathers. They’ve been serving as quite a reminder to him and it’s been weighing pretty heavily on him, both literally and emotionally.”

“Yeah, I’ve, uh, caught his vibes from across campus.” You nodded. “It’s like there’s always a rain cloud hanging over his head.”

“Yes,” Xavier agreed. “It doesn’t have to be right away, but at your nearest convenience, if you see him around, would you talk to him? Tell him I sent you?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see what I can do.” You promised him.

As an empath and a healer, your first priority was helping others. And even if he was known to be a bit intimidating, you wanted to help him if you could.

So, you walked out of Xavier’s office, attended your final class of the day, and when it was over, you wandered out into the courtyard where, because of the nice weather, students were everywhere. And luckily for you, just as you suspected he might be, Warren was sitting under a tree, still sporting his leather jacket despite the warm weather.

You shielded your eyes from the sun and walked over towards him, your heart racing as you built up the courage to talk to him. So, you took a breath and said, “Hey, um, you’re Warren, right? The Professor wanted me to talk to you.”

He stared up at you for a long moment, his green eyes wide in shock. He took a breath, blinked a few times, glanced down at his wrist, and then back up at you. You could have sworn you saw tears beginning to form along his waterline, and you didn’t realize why until he said, “You’re my…No…Oh my God…I’m…I’m so sorry.”

You froze, your knees going weak. You glanced down at your bare forearm and read over the words he’d just said, exactly the way he’d just said them.

You’re my…No…Oh my God…I’m…I’m so sorry.

“Why are you sorry?” You whispered, lowering yourself onto the grass beside him, not trusting your legs to support your weight for much longer. Now you were the one with tears in your eyes. “Don’t be sorry.”

“You deserve so much more than me.” He insisted, his eyes locked on his boots, unwilling and unable to meet your gaze. “I can’t drag you into…this. Me.”

His emotions were heavy, a bleak blue and gray haze and you felt it radiate off of him in waves. His pain, his everything. And you felt it, deep within his chest. He thought you wouldn’t want him anyway.

“Warren…” You shook your head. “Why…Why would you think I don’t want you?”

He was shocked into silence for a few seconds, thinking over his words carefully, his jaw tense and hands shaking. “You’re a telepath?”

“Empath.” You corrected quietly. “And…a healer. Which is why Xavier sent me.”

“Oh. Right.” He swallowed thickly, nodding. “Did he…tell you why?”

“He did.” You smiled softly. “And I’m willing to try if you are.”

Finally, his eyes met yours and he could tell that you meant more than just the healing when you said it. The weak little voice in the back of his head was screaming for him to push you away like he pushed away everyone else, but looking into your eyes, a genuine and warm smile on your face, he just…couldn’t lose you.

He couldn’t lose anyone else.

***

Today was the day. Warren was sitting on a stool in the infirmary. Hank had run his vitals and the two of them were in the room waiting for you to come down after your class was over.

“(Y/N) is the one who saved you, you know.” Hank told Warren while he jotted down some notes.

“What?” Warren asked, snapping out of whatever daydream he had been caught up in. “What do you mean?”

“(Y/N) found you in the rubble. We didn’t think you would make it, but…they healed you. They insisted we bring you back here. Give you a chance.”

Warren was quiet for a long time, thinking about what that meant. Part of him wondered if (Y/N) had known back then that he was their soulmate, but he decided that would have been impossible with just their tattoos alone. Especially without context. They hadn’t known and yet, they’d still wanted the best for him.

“Didn’t know that.” Warren said, his voice soft and deep. He stared at the words on his wrist for a little longer, a hint of warmth swirling around in his stomach. Was this happiness? Was that what happiness felt like? He barely remembered anymore. But he knew there must have been a reason that when you walked through the door, his heart started beating a little bit faster.

“Sorry I’m so late. Professor Leaf kept us a little later than she was supposed to. Are you ready?” You asked taking off your backpack and setting it against the wall. As soon as you looked up at Warren, you felt the way his heart rate was increased and you didn’t miss the warmth swirled with the anxiousness. The anxiousness, you had expected. Even you didn’t know if you could pull off what you were going to attempt to do, but the warmth…it was a pleasant surprise.

“Don’t worry about it.” He told you, shaking his head. Was he…was he smiling? It was a small smile, sure, but you didn’t think you had ever seen him smile before. It looked good on him. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Alright.” You nodded, walking over towards him. Underneath where he was situated on a stool, Hank had laid out some pads from the training room, you assumed, to catch his metal feathers if they fell out rather than transforming back to his normal…feather feathers. None of you really knew how this would unfold. “Again, I’m not sure this will work. I don’t want to get your hopes up in case it doesn’t.”

“I’m not expecting it to.” Warren assured you, but it wasn’t in a rude way. “If it does, I’ll be pleasantly surprised. Cross my heart.” What he didn’t say was: You could never disappoint me. Not even if you tried.

“Okay.” You nodded, taking a few steps closer until you were standing right in front of him. He looked up at you and for the first time, you didn’t feel any negative emotions from him. Only anticipation and that lingering warmth. “Here goes nothing.”

You focused on the warmth in your own chest, the tingling yellow healing power that constantly swirled around your heart, and you forced it into your palms. You reached forward for his hands and he took the hint, his larger hands wrapping around yours.

Immediately, he gasped at the sensation, warm tingles running up his arms, down his spine. It stopped in the center of his back, right where his wings intersected with his body. At first, he didn’t feel anything. And then, he felt everything. The pleasant warmth flooded his metal wings, and one by one, the knife-like feathers fell out, each one landing with a thud against the mat situated underneath him.

Hank’s pencil jotted against his notebook as he took notes. He knew you were powerful, but he’d had no idea you were capable of something like this.

Neither had you.

Once the metal wings were gone, Warren felt a new sensation: another pair of wings, this one soft and familiar, slowly emerging from him. Part of him expected the process to be painful, like the one Apocalypse had forced upon him was, but it wasn’t. Warren chuckled to himself. Of course you would never hurt him. Not even unintentionally.

After a few minutes, the feathery wings had fully emerged, stretched out to his full former wingspan and he stared up at you in awe. You stopped your flow of power to him, but he held onto your hands, squeezing them to keep them in his grasp.

He looked back at his new wings, flexed them and moved them. They felt familiar, like they had always belonged to him.

“Thank you.” He said, giving your hands another squeeze, the warmth in his chest brighter and bolder than it had been before. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” You told him, squeezing his hands right back in a way that caused his heart to lurch. “I’m glad I could help.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but do you mind if I keep some of these for research?” Hank asked.

“Keep all of them, if you want. I don’t want them.” Warren told him, standing up from his stool, his hands still in yours. “So, um…do you want to go grab dinner or something?”

“Sure.” You nodded, smiling up at him. “See you later, Hank.”

“Bye, guys, have a nice night.” Hank said as you and Warren walked out of his lab. He couldn’t help but notice the way one of your hands remained in one of his as the two of you left.

***

Later that night, after dinner and after you and Warren had split for the evening, you were walking back to your room from Jean and Jubilee’s and you found Warren, lingering in his doorway, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. His eyes widened when he spotted you and he held up a finger, indicating you should wait for him, so you did while he went into his bathroom and rinsed out his mouth, returning a few moments later.

“Hey.” He said, the word casual as it fell from his pink lips.

“Hey yourself.” You chuckled, feeling ridiculously underdressed in your pajamas. But then again, he was wearing his pajamas, too, a large black Metallica shirt and a pair of plaid pants.

“How…how are you? Feeling?” He stumbled over his words, chuckling as he rubbed the back of his neck. You felt a wave of nervousness rush through him. “Hank said sometimes you get tired after, uh, bigger healing jobs?”

“I’m fine.” You nodded. “For whatever reason, I never get tired when I’m healing you.” You chuckled, your cheeks heating up the slightest bit. “Well…I think I know why…”

“Heh, yeah.” He nodded, mulling over his next words very carefully. “Did you, um…I don’t know how to ask this. Did you mean what you said about…trying? About us trying…this. Trying us.”

“Of course I did.” You nodded and took a few steps closer to him. “You’re my soulmate.” You reached for his hand and he gave it to you, letting you play with his fingers. You felt the way his heart fluttered when you did. “Of course I want to try.”

“I’m broken.” He told you. “I’ve never done this before. I’m…I’m a lot, and I know that.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m a healer, huh?” You tilted your head. “And if we’re being honest, I’ve never done this before either. So how about we teach each other? Learn together?”

He smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

You let go of his hand and instead took the last few steps between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his torso. He froze for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. It had been…a long time since anyone had hugged him. But after a few moments, his arms got the hint and wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest. He rested his head atop yours and exhaled a long, long breath. And for the first time since you’d met him, you felt a wave of peace wash over him, encasing him entirely as his wings gently cocooned you in their warmth.

You felt his lips brush against your temple, pressing a soft kiss there. You looked up at him and his eyes met yours before fluttering shut as he leaned in to press his lips to yours.

#warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington imagine #angel #xmen angel #angel x reader #angel imagine #archangel x reader #archangel imagine #xmen imagine #marvel imagine

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springsaladgaming · 3 years ago

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February Snippet 2

Here’s the next snippet! This one features Cherry. Hope you enjoy! 😘

Cherry Snippet 1

You clutch at the small plastic container in your hands, thumbing the edge of the lid periodically for lack of anything else to do. It’s Cherry’s last workday before her weekend, and this week has been uncharacteristically busy. She’s late getting off today, just as she has been for the last three days, and it’s no wonder with the constant flow of customers filing in and out of Under-Cover.

You spent the better part of the day making cookies. Far too many cookies, most people would probably say. But you didn’t know what kind Cherry would like, and you wanted it to be a surprise, so you made three different types of cookies in the hopes of cheering her up.

It takes far too long for her to emerge from Under-Cover. She smiles shyly as soon as she sees you waiting for her, and you hope that means that she didn’t have too rough of a day. Within a few seconds, she has joined you on the sidewalk, and the two of you are walking side by side down the street, thankful for the sunny skies and pleasant weather.

“Good day at work?” you ask, giving her a bright smile of your own.

“It was busy, but it wasn’t bad,” she says. Cherry isn’t the type to complain when something is bothering her, so you watch her closely for any sign of a lie, but she seems calm and content, perhaps even relieved to be out of work and walking next to you.

You feel the same, butterflies fluttering inside you at the pleasantness and naturalness of her company. You hold out the plastic container to her, looking deep into her eyes with as warm a smile as you can muster. “Cookies,” you say. “A little present for making it through the week.”

Cherry takes the container from you as blush fills her cheeks. She stares at it, momentarily at a loss for words, until she looks back at you, her eyes wide and glistening with sincerity. “Thank you so much,” she says quietly.

“You deserve it,” you say, and she must be embarrassed from the way she looks away from you and back down at the gift in her hands.

The two of you walk in silence for a bit, enjoying each other’s company while Cherry stares longingly at the confections. She never opens the container, as if the warm moment will be snatched away the moment she does.

You give her a reassuring smile. “You can eat them now. I don’t mind.”

Cherry catches your eyes again, her face flush with embarrassment and guilt. “I can eat them later,” she says in a voice so small that you can’t help but worry.

“Is something wrong, Cherry?”

She shakes her head a little too quickly. “No, not at all. This was so sweet of you. It means a lot to me,” she says. Her tone is hurried in a way that says, though she may not be lying, she isn’t saying everything.

“Cherry, if there’s something wrong, you can always tell me,” you say, working to keep your mood as calm and even as possible, knowing that she can pick up on it without meaning to.

She’s full of nerves anyway, a bit of her and perhaps a bit of yours as well. Cherry shrinks under your gaze and clears her throat. Then she makes a strangled sound that you’re surprised to realize is a barely-suppressed laugh. “You’re so sweet, but do these have eggs in them?”

You stop in your tracks, eyes wide, and you barely contain nervous laughter yourself. “You’re kidding,” you say.

Cherry giggles a bit more readily this time, unable to contain herself in the face of your surprise and tickled by the awkwardness of the situation. She nods as she says, “I’m allergic to eggs.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, swiping the container from her hands. “You should have said so!”

“I did say so!”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment. You’ve joined Cherry in her embarrassment now, your cheeks hot with the telltale signs. Then both of you fall into a fit of laughter, more relieved to have that out in the open than anything else.

“Thank you anyway,” Cherry says eventually, her smile bright and full of cheer. “It really does mean a lot to me.”

You smile back at her. “I should be thanking you,” you say with a teasing tone. “I’m the one who gets to eat all of these when I get home.” You reach out then, and the two of you continue walking hand-in-hand.

#ninelives ros #ninelives: cherry #ninelives snippet

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years ago

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The Geraskier Soccer Parents AU of my dreams (in an early morning strike of weird-brain):

-Geralt knows he isn't the best dad ever. He tries so goddamn hard, but his job is demanding and consumes so much time and even with Ciri being seven already, he still has essentially no clue what he's doing. He sometimes falls into bed, half-dead, and she is the one to give him a good-night kiss. He sometimes forgets she prefers cheese and puts ham on her sandwiches. He is sometimes too happy to have her sleep over at her friends rather than invite them to their house. He doesn't read her all the children's classics, doesn't go trick-or-treating with her, doesn't even pretend Santa Claus is a thing. He isn't the best dad ever. He tries.

-There is one thing he never, ever fails to do and that is take Ciri to soccer practice. Ciri picks up and drops hobbies, interests, even tastes by the week, still unsure what she wants to pursue, but soccer isn't only her favourite pastime, it's theirs. Practice is twice a week and they have a ritual for it. Geralt picks her up from school and drives her there, she tells him about what the dumb boys in her class said, how her art project is going etc. Geralt is there throughout practice, tucked in between Foltest - a guy who is constantly worried for his daughter Adda to get hurt and also very much anxious for her to do well - and Tissaia - a woman who has not one, but three girls in Ciri's age group and several more in others, and knits like a magician - and watches. He takes notes, silently cheers for Ciri.

-After their games and while Ciri changes, Geralt chats with her coach Vesemir - who used to be Geralt's coach, but now prefers to train the girls' teams - about the progress of the team, upcoming tournaments etc. Sometimes when Vesemir is indisposed, Geralt even leads the practice. When Ciri is all done, Tissaia usually has another hat or mitten finished and Geralt and her drive with their girls to whatever food place the girls are in the mood for. They have an early dinner in which Tissaia lectures the girls on their form and in which Ciri is sometimes allowed to sit on Geralt's lap - but only if Fringilla or Yen don't tease hear about it - but in which she definitely gets to steal his milkshake (Geralt hates milkshakes). Geralt only praises her when they're back in the car and Ciri tells him he's too much of a softie with her and should be more like Tissaia. Should maybe marry Tissaia. They both laugh because that is never going to happen.

-Life is good that way. It's not perfect, it's not without bumps, certainly not without tears and scrapes, but whatever the job, whatever injury Geralt carries with him, however long he has to drive, he never, never ever misses soccer practice.

-The season's just kicked off in the year of Ciri's eighth birthday when Geralt and her arrive early on the field to find the stands empty save for a girl in the most ridiculously colorful excercise clothes and blond hair that is braided intricately around her head. With her is a man, maybe five years Geralt's junior. Ciri bolts towards them with a bright grin and Geralt is hesitant to follow. He knows neither the girl nor the man, but from what he can gather she wants to join the team which is just what they need as they're one girl short this season. "Hi, I'm Ciri, I adore your braids." Geralt holds back on the eye-roll. It's nice Ciri can make friends this easily, but his house already is a shrine for role-playing and board games, dolls and random DVDs and another friend means more things Ciri will want to try out. "Thank you," the girl replies and tilts her head to better show them off. "My uncle Jaskier braided them for me, I'm sure he can do yours too." Both girls look up expectantly at the man and Geralt only really notices him then. He is averagely built with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. His floral print shirt has three open buttons and his pants barely reach his ankles. He has the look of a flippant music teacher or a hipster coffeeshop owner. His eyes meets Geralt's and, wait, did he just wink? "I'd love to, dear," he says in a smooth voice that absolutely does not go straight to Geralt's guts. Geralt turns on the spot and decides to pressure check the balls, but he can hear the others giggling as Jaskier braids Ciri's hair. "I'm Priscilla by the way. What's up with your dad?" - "Oh, don't mind him, he's bad with meeting new people." - "Very intense." That's Jaskier. Oh, Geralt will show him intense.

-Ciri invites them to their after-practice dinner. Geralt wants to begrudge her that, but she and Priscilla have latched onto each other in record speed and Jaskier actually fights Tissaia on some of her more strict stances and he braids Yen's and Sabrina's hair too, only Fringilla doesn't want him to touch hers which he respects. Geralt and Tissaia glance at each other. Come to a silent agreement. They may not befriend Jaskier, but he's sunny and so good with the girls and they can use someone like him among their ranks, someone who doesn't have Calanthe's tendency for swear words or Crach's tendency to break out beer in the middle of practice or even Nenneke's tendency to relate everything to the workings of god.

-Jaskier is as faithful as Geralt, perhaps the only one who shows up every time without fail. Shani's parents only drop her off and Crach switches between Cerys' and Hjalmar's practices and Tissaia sometimes texts Geralt to pick up her girls. Jaskier is there, every time, earlier than any of the others. He chats with Vesemir about his day-to-day, brings home-baked cookies for everyone, he cheers and whoops and tries very hard to understand soccer even though it's evident he doesn't. Geralt never wonders why it's him and not Priscilla's parents that come, it's none of his business. He begins to tolerate Jaskier, but he knows that is where he has to draw the line. He has his hands full with Ciri and his job and his brothers too. He can't afford friendships that extend beyond the field.

-Jaskier doesn't let him off though. He always takes the spot next to Geralt (technically an improvement over Foltest's sweaty visage) and prattles on and on, at least until the game begins. When it does, Jaskier divides his attention between the girls and the stack of paper on his lap which he annotates during practice. It's often either sheet music or the illegible scrawl of pre-teens or wonkily drawn instruments. Jaskier already told him, but from that too it is obvious that Geralt's hunch was right, he is a music teacher. Geralt finds his eyes darting to Jaskier's long fingers, nimble and calloused from the various string instruments he plays. Finds himself glancing at where Jaskier's tongue peeks out in concentration. He listens to the man's ramblings and hums his replies and comes to dislike the days when Vesemir isn't there and he has to focus all his attention on giving the girls a good practice. Not that he doesn't want to, it's just that having Jaskier at his back unnerves him.

-(Jaskier for his part doesn’t care at all about soccer, but he cares about Priscilla so he convinced her parents to let him take her; after that, she said it would be fine if he dropped her off and picked her up again, but Jaskier pretends he is super invested in the sport and the team and he is, but mostly he’s invested in charming Geralt)

-After an entire season of mutual pining and obliviousness, Tissaia decides she's had enough and rallies the other parents. She has Foltest organize a big party at his country house, has Nenneke promise to look after the girls (the woman doesn't drink) and has Crach whip out the finest spirits he has in storage. Calanthe makes a phenomenal playlist and it's Tissaia's job to get Geralt to the party (Jaskier's not a problem) and dress up nicely. Only Aridea, Renfri's stepmother, refuses to pitch in, but she's been a bitch anyway.

-When Geralt picks up Jaskier at his downtown flat he has to grip the wheel of his rover hard in order not to short-circuit. Jaskier has done something to his hair that Geralt can't name but that makes him go woozy inside. He wears a plain shirt that compliments his eyes and hugs his body just right and he looks high on life with color in his cheeks and the most dazzling smile. He's gorgeous. "Darling, don't you look dashing," Jaskier says excitedly and props his feet up on the dashboard, only after kissing Geralt on the cheek. Which is not fair. "Likewise," Geralt mutters, then blushes furiously. He didn't want that to come out, oh no. Jaskier either didn't hear or acts like it and they drive in silence to Foltest's country house. Well, aside from the songs Jaskier hums under his breath, some new composition no doubt.

-At first, Geralt thinks it's a nice enough party for someone who doesn't like parties. Foltest's grilling burgers, they all have cocktails, the music is mellow. Not that that stops Jaskier from swirling an already quite drunk Calanthe over the terrace in dazzling moves. Geralt wants to be swirled like that. "You really have it bad, don't you?" Crach comments when he notices Geralt staring. Geralt downs his beer (he's no cocktail drinker) and tries pointedly not to stare at how Jaskier's swinging his ass around.

-The buzz makes it easier and he relieves Foltest at the barbecue for a bit. But then Jaskier walks up to him, a little short on breath and grinning his most flirtatious little grin. It gives him fucking dimples. Sigh. "Hey you big strong man," Jaskier says. He smells like pineapple and coconut, but isn't even a little drunk. "Jask," he says, pointedly flipping a burger. "Foltest says he has an old karaoke machine in the shed, but it's too heavy for me. Help me?" - "...fine." Geralt gestures for Foltest to keep up with the meat and he and Jaskier make their way along a garden path that winds through thickets and by a small pond. The shed is painted blue and white and Geralt and Jaskier find it very much cluttered, but not dirty which is nice. Geralt only understands it's a trap when it's already sprung on them. The tiny click of the look is almost inaudible over Jaskier's anxious commentary of their search for the machine. There is only one small window and no light Geralt can see. Fuck.

-"Ehm, Jaskier?" he reaches out and gently touches Jaskier's shoulder which has the other man yelp and jump. Which doesn't bode well for what Geralt has to tell him. "I think we're trapped." The effect is immediate. Jaskier goes rigid, his breath catches. Is he afraid? Claustrophobic perhaps? Shit, so he can't be in on the joke. "Jask?" - "Geralt. I know we aren't the closest, but I need you to hold me right now." And he launches himself at Geralt. Maybe he is in on the joke? No, he's trembling too hard for that. Geralt catches him and does as asked. "I am absolutely going to die," Jaskier whines into Geralt's neck and Geralt can't help a small chuckle as he rubs Jaskier's back soothingly. This is... surprisingly nice for a trap. Also likely Tissaia's doing. Geralt has a rare idea. "What if I distract you until someone finds us?" he murmurs against Jaskier's hair and Jaskier draws back a little. In the half-dark his eyes glisten, widen when they meet Geralt's. "You would?" - "Close your eyes, Jaskier." Geralt feels a surge of daring, perhaps granted by the intimacy and seclusion of the situation. He catches Jaskier's lips with his own. When they part, Jaskier grins, shaking from something other than fear. "I thought you didn’t much like me," he whispers. "I thought I got on your nerves." - "Idiot." They kiss again and, faintly, Geralt can hear someone cheer from outside.

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felix21im · 3 years ago

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"Ice Cold", a Leon Kennedy x Reader fanfiction

As an Art and Design student all you want to do is just knuckle down and finish that one goddamn piece you've been working on for months. Too bad your time is constantly stolen by your Waiter job with minimal pay, but hey, at least the tips are good if you unbutton your shirt that one more time.

Masterlist

Chapter 7: The Journey

The next morning arrived as you packed the last things you thought you needed. Leon didn't actually tell you how long you would be away for, but you made sure to bring enough stuff if it was for say a week and besides you could always buy stuff while you were out there. It was the first time you ever left the country and you were really excited to go on a “vacation” with Leon, even though you knew this wasn't really one.

You didn't bother eating anything since it was still very early, the sun barely even shining yet, but it was also due to the nerves of flying. Now you were waiting for Leon to come pick you up. You couldn't even stand still while waiting so you went through and checked that you locked all of the doors, checking if everything was ready and the house to be left alone. Just as you went for another round the doorbell finally rang. Almost running your suitcase over, you went to open it. Before you stood Leon, looking just as tired as you but greeting you with a smile nevertheless. “Everything ready to go?” he asked, looking inside your home and pointing at the luggage.

You simply nodded and went to grab a backpack and another bag. “Would you mind taking the suitcase? I don't think I can hold any more stuff.” You lifted your arms showing Leon all the things you held. Leon gave you a smile and nodded and went to grab the big suitcase which stood behind you.

The two of you then went out of the apartment and you made sure to have everything you needed before locking the final door behind you. After that Leon showed you the way to the already waiting car. Next to it stood two tall men dressed in all black suits and wearing sunglasses. “Don’t worry about them, they look scarier than they are.” Leon winked at you as you continued your way. When you arrived at the big car one of the men went to grab the stuff you were carrying and put it in the car before opening the backdoor for you. You thanked him quietly as you sat down and he closed the door again. You saw Leon talking to the men before he joined you in the backseats as well. The two men then also went into the car, both sitting in front of you and Leon, one of them driving the car. “Try to get some sleep before we arrive at the airport, Buttercup. The time zone change will be hard to get used to, anyway. So try sleeping now or on the flight, alright?” You nodded and went closer to Leon to rest your head on his shoulder. He took your hand in his and you soon felt sleep take over your mind and body.

You felt a light shaking in your body before you slowly opened your eyes. By now the sun was shining and the bright light made you close your eyes again. “Hey, sleepyhead. We gotta get out, try your best to not fall asleep again otherwise you’ll be in the wrong timezone.” You heard Leon chuckle and you opened your eyes again, looking at him tired. You stretched and yawned before fixing your hair and getting ready to go. Leon already left the car and opened the door for you, making sure you wouldn't fall asleep again.

You groaned as you left the car and looked around, the area not looking like an airport at all. You looked at Leon questiongly. “I thought we were driving to an airport, Leon. Where are we? I mean, I have never been to one but this wasn't what I expected.” You motioned your hand to the area you were surrounded by. It looked like you were in the middle of nowhere, the car parking in an open area with no trees, buildings or any life in sight. All you could see was green grass and maybe some rocks. Leon scratched the back of his head. “Yea, I guess there was a change of plans. We can't fly with a normal plane. So now we have to wait for.. let's say a colleague to pick us up with a helicopter and then they’ll be taking us to a different airport. But don’t worry, Buttercup, this stuff sometimes happens. It's no big deal.”

You let out a huff and crossed your arms before your chest. “Alright, whatever you say Leon. As long as we get to Italy somehow I’m not worried.” Leon gave you a light smile before kissing your forehead.

To pass the time you pulled your phone out of your backpocket, scrolling through social media to see the latest trends online. Only a few minutes passed before you began hearing the sound of a helicopter closing in. You looked up towards the sky and you soon saw one coming from the horizon, eventually it slowly began descending down to the four of you. Leon lightly pulled you back a little bit, to make sure you wouldn't fly. Once the helicopter landed and the propellers came to a stop you were able to get in. Leon helped you get up and into it and you sat down. Afterwards Leon joined you, he gave you a pair of pilot headphones and closed the big door on his side. The two suited men also joined you, leaving their car alone in the middle of nowhere. Shortly after you all sat down in the helicopter its engine started again and you rose up to the sky. You gasped due to the sudden sensation and went to hold Leon's hand, surprised by the height you found yourself in. Leon had to laugh at your reaction but soon took you into his arms to calm you down. He wanted to say something but he thought that maybe the two bodyguards wouldn't want to hear such a dirty joke. Leon then mentioned that you should close your eyes to help with the nerves, which you then did. You still don't feel too awake so closing your eyes again, even if just for a short time, sounded like a good idea to you.

It felt like only a few minutes passed but it must have been a few hours, actually. You woke up again after feeling the helicopter landing on the ground again, shaking you awake. You slowly opened your eyes again, looking around. Leon and the others were already ready to leave, whilst you had to fully wake up first. You yawned and stretched before laying your headphones onto your seat after standing up. You then carefully jumped out of the helicopter and looked around. Leon and the men talked and also looked around in the place that finally looked like a real airport although it was still kind of small compared to what you have seen on TV. The sun was shining bright by now, heating up the area and the tarmac that you were standing on. Leon reached a hand out to you. "Come here, Buttercup. Our flight should arrive any minute now. Then we can finally get to Italy. You still wanna do this?"

"Of course I do! I can't wait any longer!" You answered Leon and looked at him excited. He gave you a smile and you put your hand in his. The two of you then walked towards the landing area, the helicopter starting again and soon leaving the place. The men followed you and Leon, both of them carrying your luggage. You didn't have to wait too long out in the sun before a small private plane arrived and stopped on the landing area. The door opened and small stairs invited you inside. Leon let you go in first, following you shortly after. The inside of the plane was very luxurious, but small. Enough for all of you but that's about it. There were two tiny tables next to the windows with some comfortable chairs in front of them. You took a seat and waited for Leon to sit down opposite of you. After he and the other men sat down the door closed again and the plane was ready for take off. "It's gonna be quite the long flight. If you wanna eat or drink anything just let me know. We got enough stuff in here." Leon winked at you and motioned to the back where the storage must be. You nodded as an answer but didn't feel like eating anything yet. You looked out of the window as the plane slowly started moving and soon rose up into the air. It was way more comfortable here than in the helicopter so you weren't as scared as before. You grabbed your backpack and got your phone, earphones and a book out of it. It wasn't much but at least you could pass some time reading or listening to music now.

After reading a few chapters of your book you decided to take a break from it. You looked at Leon who was sitting on the other side of the table, now also asleep. You smiled at him knowing he barely gets any sleep. You decided to lay your book to the side and got out your phone. You put on your earphones and scrolled through your music. Starting a random playlist you looked out the window and enjoyed the view. It was still sunny, only a few clouds in sight. After a few minutes you felt your eyes getting heavier again and soon you fell asleep once more that day.

You opened your eyes and your entire body shivered. “Leon..?” You mumbled as you sat up, you didn’t recognise where you were. Trees and brick walls were all you could see. As you hoisted yourself to your feet you felt a pain sweep through your head.

You stumbled through the grass in an attempt to figure out where you were, the last thing you remember was being on the plane with Leon.

You flinched at every sound you heard, that could be the sound of a bird or the leaves crunching under your feet.

You began to hear the sounds of an engine as you walked and you slowly made your way towards it. You peered your head around the wall and you saw a woman, she had frizzy hair and she was wearing what looked like hiking gear. She must have sensed you as she turned her head towards you. “Oh!” She waved her hand at you, signaling for you to join her. “You must be new around here, I’ve never seen you before.” She said.

You crouched down beside her at the engine. “I- uh. Where are we?”

“Oh, you’re REALLY new around here?” She chuckled, ignoring your question.

“Please, where are we?” You asked again.

“You’re… I'm not exactly sure where we are.” She replied. “But no one likes it here that’s for sure.” As she talked she was continually tampering with the engine, making it rev and spark. “Just make sure you ru-“ she was interrupted by the sound of another woman screaming. “Listen, I don’t have the answers to your questions.” She jumped onto her feet and began to walk away. “Make sure you run. Or you won’t make it out of here alive.”

You were confused on what she meant but by the time you caught up to where she ran she was gone. Unknowing on what to do you just continued with what that woman was previously doing, fiddling with the engine. You played with the wires to create sparks between them. As you did so the lights at the top of the engine began to flicker and the pumps began to speed up, eventually resulting in the engine starting up, resulting in the lights constantly staying lit.

Just as the lights began to light up you felt uneasy, your heart began to pound even though you weren't doing anything to cause it to. You looked around not seeing anything out of the ordinary, but you could hear someone running. Their footsteps got louder and louder, along with your own heartbeat. Unsure about what to do, you just started running without looking back again. It felt like your heart was about to explode as you collisioned with another person. You looked up in shock, recognizing the other person. “Leon! Oh my god, where are we? What is going on?” You asked him, completely out of breath. You looked him up and down, realizing he looked way yonger and was wearing a police uniform.

He just grabbed your arm and started running in another direction. “We don't have time to talk right now. Just go and hide somewhere safe, please.” He let go off your arm and went on running. You stood there, still confused and looked around. Your heartbeat was normal by now but you still felt weird with the whole situation. You slowly started walking around again and at some point you heard a loud bang and saw another of those generators glowing just ahead of you. You walked towards it, hoping to find Leon or the girl from earlier. But the closer you got the faster your heart was racing again. You saw someone running towards you, about your size and wearing a dark jacket. It was too late when you realized they were holding a knife in their hand and you went to turn. You were too slow and felt the knife hit your back. You let out a pained scream before continuing to run. Just when you thought you outrun them, they walked straight into you, sending you to the ground with another painful slash.

You tried crawling away but soon felt the person's grip around you, picking you up with a groan. You started wiggling and hitting them to free yourself from their grip but you failed. The next thing you felt was immense pain in your shoulder and your loud scream filled the area. You looked to your shoulder, seeing rotting metal protruding out of you. The pain was horrible as you tried to get yourself off, without success. You saw something growing around you but thankfully you couldn’t find out what it was because Leon came to pick you from the hook with ease. You groaned as you hit the ground and thanked him. “Didn’t I tell you to hide? This place is dangerous.”

You rubbed your shoulder as you looked at him. “Well, you could have told me what I was supposed to hide from, maybe then I would have! So please tell me what's going on here.”

Leon let out a sigh as he scanned the area and got out some bandages. “We don't really know what this is, but we do know that we have to repair those generators to get out. The person who hurt you is called Legion, they look really similar to us normal people so try to make sure the person you see is not holding a knife. And if they do have a knife: run as fast as you can unless you wanna end up on a hook again. If you get caught two more times you’re.. Well, dead. So try to finish the last two generators with us and get out of here.” While Leon explained the situation he also finished up your wound and you felt better instantly. “Follow me, there is a generator right around here. If we work together it will be done faster.” Leon started walking in one direction and you followed him, making sure the area was safe. The two of you then sat down at one of the generators and started working on it. Until it was finished nothing happened. You two didn't talk and just concentrated on doing your work. But just as the headlights started shining you two felt your heartbeats speeding up again. Leon looked around and then over to you. He motioned to you to go away before he too went into the dark again. Your breath was heavy and you still felt like someone was watching you even though your heartbeat normalized again. You walked around the dark area and looked for any other survivors or a generator to work on. But even after a few minutes you didn't find what you were looking for. Instead your heartbeat began fastening again as you walked by a small cabin. You went inside and looked around. There was no one in sight but your fast heartbeat still frightened you. You could soon hear footsteps outside the building and decided to hide. Thankfully you stood close to a bunch of red lockers, so you went into one quietly. You looked through the small space to make sure nobody came here to hurt you. But it was just your luck that the person who earlier stabbed you now stood in the middle of the shack and looked around. There were two other lockers, so you hoped they would not check the one you were in. The person started moving again, walking past every locker. You held your breath as they walked past yours, hoping they couldn't sense you. But they still stopped in front of it and the next thing you saw were the doors opening and the Legion grabbing you, again. You let out a surprised scream, trying to get away somehow. But there was no chance and so you found yourself on a hook again. You screamed as it pierced through your skin and looked around, hoping someone would come and rescue you. This time it was different though. The things that were forming the first time on the hook were now fully alive and trying to kill you. You used all your strength to keep it away from your body, moaning in pain and exhaustment. Just as you thought you couldn't continue to struggle anymore you felt someone picking you up from the hook. It was a different woman than the one in the beginning. She was wearing a suit and had dark hair. You thanked her as you thought about where you have seen her before. Then it hit you. “Jane? Jane Romero!”

You looked at her in surprise as she gave you a light smile. “Yep, that's me. Sorry I can't give you an autograph right now. We kinda have to get out of here and all.” You were shocked about how calm she was with the situation but followed her lead. There was no time for her to patch your wounds since you once again felt the presence of the Legion. “Go and run! I will distract them, you hear me?” Jane almost pushed you in the other direction and you started running. Your shoulder was still hurting and you couldn't hide your groans of pain. You went looking for Leon or anyone really to help you match the hole in your shoulder and get out of there. The more time passed the more panic filled your entire body. It seemed you were running in circles and no one was there with you anymore. You stopped running at some point and needed a minute to catch your breath. It felt like the whole world was spinning around you and you were brought back to reality too late. A knife found its way into your side, making you gasp. You almost fell over your own feet as you tried gaining some distance, but it was too late. Just a few meters later the knife hit you again, sending you to the ground. You remembered Leon's words about dying on the hook and panicked. You screamed for help but no one came to your rescue this time. But they couldn't have done anything to help, anyway. It was different this time. The Legion didn't come to pick you up and for a second you thought they would let you live. You tried crawling away as you suddenly felt movement behind you again. The Legion barely missed your head as they went for another stab.You turned around to guard yourself, which only ended up in your arm getting pierced. After attempting to push them away you tried to run but tripped and fell to the ground once more. You felt a deep stab in your leg as you were being pulled back to them. You turned around and screamed in agony as they stabbed you one more time, right in the chest. The last thing you felt was the knife gutting you from the chest to stomach and you gave into the darkness surrounding you, freeing you from the immense pain you were in.

You woke up, heavily breathing and covered in sweat. You looked around and pinched yourself to make sure you were actually awake this time. Realizing you were, you let out a relieved sigh. Leon was also awake by now, looking at you confused and raising an eyebrow. "Are you good? You look like you have seen a ghost." You let out a huff.

"Yea, I guess you could say that. I just had the weirdest nightmare…" You rubbed your forehead and looked outside again and then back to Leon. "What time is it? Or well, where are we now and when do we arrive?"

Leon checked his phone. "We're already flying over Italy right now. If everything continues to go so smoothly we should be at the airport in only a few minutes, maybe thirty. So you better get all your stuff and get ready for landing." Leon looked at the table. Your book and phone were laying on it, next to a plate and two glasses. Apparently Leon got hungry when you were asleep. You grabbed one of the glasses and took a big sip, exhausted from the long day and weird dream you just had. After that you put your book and earphones back into your backpack and relaxed the last few minutes in the plane.

Soon after an announcement filled the small area, reminding you to put on your seatbelts and get ready for landing. Just shortly after the announcement you felt the plane hit the ground and then slowing down to get ready to stop. After it came to a complete hold the door opened again and the stairs were ready to be used. You grabbed your stuff and got up with Leon to leave the plane. Outside stood a black car already awaiting you four. The men once again got your luggage and placed it in the car. You opened the back door and sat down, placing your backpack between your legs on the floor of the car. You let out a small sigh and then closed the door. Leon soon joined you and sat down next to you. Just shortly after the motor of the car started and you found yourselves on a highway. Even though it was just now getting dark outside you weren't tired, probably because you slept most of the day anyway. You leaned against the car window and looked outside. You always dreamt about leaving your hometown and seeing the world and Italy was always one of your biggest wishes to visit. So now that you were really here you almost couldn't believe it.

You passed multiple other cars and the scenery seemed to change every few minutes. It was either old looking towns, luxurious houses or fields filled with trees and animals. A smile rested on your face while you were mesmerized by the view. You didn't even realize that Leon was looking at you, smiling as well, until he spoke your name. You were brought back to reality and looked at him confused. “Huh? Did you say anything?” Leon let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “I just wanted to let you know that we will arrive shortly. I hope you like the hotel we got, but it seems you would be fine with anything here.” You two had to laugh about that, but Leon was right: you really liked everything here already and you were quite excited about seeing your hotel and the town.

Just moments later the car stopped in front of a building. As you left the car you let out a gasp. The building you stood before was huge and looked really extravagant and modern, but still had a touch of the typical old italian vibes. You felt an arm resting around your shoulders and looked up. “You like what you see?” Leon asked you.

For a second you were actually speechless. “I mean.. Yea! Definitely! But Leon, you could have told me it would be so luxurious.” You looked down at yourself and then at Leon. “I’m looking like some homeless person you just picked up on your way here while you´re wearing a fancy suit again.”

Leon let out a small laugh and patted your head. “You would be quite a pretty homeless person, Buttercup. I'm glad I picked you up then.” Leon winked at you before continuing to talk. “No, but really. Don’t you worry about that. At least you are wearing something comfortable. There will be more than enough moments where you have to wear something fancy again, alright? No one here will care anyway, they all have their own business to worry about.” You smiled at Leon and then nodded. It was good to be here with him and it was good to know that he supported you when feeling unsure. You grabbed his hand and soon walked into the hotel together. His bodyguards already checked in and showed you the way into your room before going into their own as well. The hallways were long and lots of decorations were on the walls. It felt like forever until you finally reached your room. Leon unlocked the door with his card and you two went inside. The room was just as big as everything else there. A big bed stood at the side next to a huge window, letting you look at the city. There was another door, probably leading to the bathroom. In the main room stood a table with four chairs, a TV with a comfortable looking sofa and more than enough other random things. You threw your backpack onto the sofa and fell into the bed backwards, now looking at the ceiling. Since the walls were so high up you almost didn't see the artwork that was carved into the ceiling. You felt the bed shifting and turned your head to the side. Leon sat down next to you and watched you. “I know you already slept a lot today but you should try to sleep now as well. It can be hard to adjust to the new time here but try your best. I have one free day tomorrow so we can look around the town and have breakfast outside this hotel if you want to.” You sat up and nodded. “Sounds like a great idea. I can't wait to see a bit of the city.” You stretched before standing up and going to your luggage. You searched for something to wear for the night and picked out an outfit for the next day, too. After that you went inside the bathroom and freshened yourself up a bit. You then headed back into bed and waited for Leon to join you.

You kept your eyes staring up at the ceiling as you attempted to go to sleep, Leon must have known that you were struggling. “You alright, Buttercup?” He asked you faintly, trying not to be loud when he was right next to you. You turned your head towards him, you didn't realise how close he was until your noses almost touched.

“I-” You struggled to find the right words. “I’m sad.” You admitted to him, earning a look of confusion from him. “I mean I'm happy for sure! But I'm sad that we’re only going to get a day together then I'm on my own for a while.”

He sighed as he sat up slightly, leaning on his arm as his body was turned towards you. His toned, muscular body, the hair that travels from the waistband of his sweatpants and then up his abs towards his chest. “Buttercup!” He waved his hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. He laughed as he realised what you were staring at. “I’ll be gone for three days, Buttercup. Maybe five max…” He admitted. “Then afterwards this hot bod will be all yours.”

You let out a small laugh as you shook your head and punched him lightly. “I'm just kinda worried about you, I think. I mean, I knew what you were gonna do now, but it's different when I’m so close and yet won't be able to see or do anything with you.” You let out a small sigh as you looked into Leon's eyes.

“Don´t worry so much about me, Buttercup. Try and enjoy your time here, maybe you will even find some new friends, huh? Promise me you won't worry?”

“Promise..”

Leon seemed satisfied with that answer because he didn't say anything else about it. Instead you felt him shifting around and you chuckled at him as he climbed on top of you, kissing your face as he chuckled too, his stubble tickling you, causing you to laugh even more. He kissed you one more time before rolling to his side again. He held your hand as you saw how he closed his eyes. “Try sleeping now, alright? I don't want you to be tired when we have something planned for tomorrow.” You nodded in agreement and closed your eyes. Even though you weren't completely okay with the situation Leon was right: you should be fit for the day you have together tomorrow and try not to worry too much.

---

Taglist: @trinswhimsys @dixanadu @oppsie--channie

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lavender-scent · 3 years ago

Text

BBRae Week Day Five - Sunny Days

AO3 - FF.net

I Know My Heart Can Be So Cold, But I'm Sweet For You.

It was a beautiful sunny day in Jump City. The Titans agreed to seize the opportunity and go out since the city’s villains seemed to want to enjoy a day off as well.

Except for one person.

“What do you mean you’re not going?”

“You heard me Beast Boy,” she sighed, “I’d like to spend the day at home. Why is that so hard to understand?”

“But everyone is going!”

“And I’m not.” Raven gave him her back declaring the end of their discussion.

He wanted to try to convince her more but he heard his communicator vibrating. “Beast Boy, are you coming?”

He brought it closer to his mouth to speak, “On my way, Cy.”

It had been going like this for a while now: Raven constantly refusing every invite from the team and spending more and more time alone. Beast Boy and the others had tried to convince her to go out with them multiple times only to be rejected at every turn.

The whole team gave up eventually except for Beast Boy. It had taken her long enough to open up to them all, especially him, the first time and he didn't mind getting her to do it again even if it took a while.

Their friends believed it was just a phase but he didn’t want to risk it. He was not letting her shut herself in and isolate herself that easily.

“I’m going now but if you change your mind give me a call, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, still giving him her back.

He sighed but transformed into a hawk and flew through her window down to where his friends were waiting.

“What did friend Raven say?” Starfire asked once he got into the car.

“The usual. I want some quiet time by myself, blah blah blah. You should try it, Beast Boy, blah blah blah.” He tried his best impression of her with a frown.

“We’ll give her space. Maybe she’ll come around.” That was Robin’s answer every time.

'Next time there won’t be any “space”', Beast Boy thought to himself. He would get her out of that room. Not today, though. Raven really hated the sun and it was an exceptionally bright day out.

As they got to the park and started unpacking their stuff, Beast Boy realized he forgot something. “My umbrella! I forgot it at home.”

“B, for the last time, it’s not going to rain.”

“But the weather lady said there’s a 60% chance it would.”

“But the sun is bright and shiny today,” Starfire pointed out, “it does not seem that it will be the raining today, friend Beast Boy.”

“You know I hate the rain! Better safe than sorry.”

“What’s wrong, is the little kitty afraid to get wet?” Cyborg teased.

Beast Boy ignored him and transformed into a hawk for the second time. It would only take him a few minutes to grab his umbrella from the tower and be back. Once he got back to the tower he transformed back into his human form.

The tower smelled different than when he left it, felt different. Was Raven performing some sort of a spell? No, he knew when she was practicing spells. The scent always included herbs and old books. This scent smelled… sweet?

“Stop!” he heard a familiar voice.

Raven.

He ran to the source of the sound only to realize there was more than just her pleading voice. It made him run faster.

“Don’t touch her!” Beast Boy yelled when he reached Cyborg’s lab.

What Beast Boy saw was the furthest thing from what he expected. He had had all the worst scenarios prepared in his head, only to find Raven holding what looked like a five year old boy in one arm and a girl that seemed just a little bit older on the other.

“What the-“ before he got to finish his sentence he was cut off with screams.

“BEAST BOY!” the boy and the girl both jumped from Raven’s arms into Beast Boy's.

Beast Boy looked down at the two kids hugging his legs and back to his teammate. She looked like she was barely breathing.

“Raven, you brought Beast Boy!” the girl spoke first.

“It seems like I did.” She said nervously. She walked to Beast Boy and held his wrist, “Can I have a word?”

“Of course.” He followed her to the hallway leaving the two kids alone in the lab.

“What are you doing here?”

“I forgot my umbrella.”

“You do know that it’s not going to rain.”

“But the weather lady said-“

“Enough with the weather lady!” she threw her hands in the air in frustration. “Take your umbrella and just leave.”

“Okay, fine!” After a second thought, he asked, “Wait, who are those kids?”

“They’re my… cousins.” Raven said after she realized there was no way she could hide it any more.

It was obvious she didn’t want him there but he was still confused. Why did she hide that from the team?

“I didn’t know you had cousins?”

“I’ve reconnected with my aunt on Earth a few weeks ago. She had some work here in the city and I offered to take the kids for the day.” Raven answered hoping the investigation would be over soon. “Any more questions?”

“You have an aunt and you didn’t tell us?” Beast Boy paused. “Is that why you haven’t been spending as much time with us lately?”

“I.. I wanted-“ Raven was cut off by a loud noise.

They went back to the lab to find the boy climbing Cyborg computer set.

“James, get down! Raven is going to be mad at us!” his sister – Beast Boy assumed – tried to reach him using a chair but he was far above her.

“James, get down!” Raven ordered.

“I can’t!” James cried. “I don’t know how!”

Beast Boy decided to step in transforming into a moose, holding the little boy with one antler and putting him back down.

“That was awesome!” the boy yelled once the changeling went back to his human body. “Do it again!”

“Yes, Beast Boy do it again!” the girl joined.

“Erica, I believe Beast Boy has somewhere to be.” Raven gave him a glare.

“Right!” Beast Boy found himself forgetting about the picnic. The truth was he wanted to stay with Raven. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“Nope.”

Both Beast Boy and Raven tuned at the sound of something breaking.

“Sorry,” James said, putting back a remote that was now in half.

Raven sighed. “Why did I think bringing them here was a good idea.”

“We still haven’t seen the training room!” Erica reminded her.

“I…” Raven was trying to think of a way to get out of this seeing how James causing chaos in the lab just confirmed that he shouldn’t be anywhere near all those weapons. Before she got to say anything, Beast Boy spoke up. “Who wants to go to the fair?”

“Me! Me! Me!” Both kids held their hands up high.

Beast Boy turned to his teammate. “You think you can give us a ride?”

Raven was caught by surprise. “Uhm, yeah I think I can. But only once.”

She held the changeling's hand with one and Erica’s with the other asking her to hold her brother’s hand as well.

When they got to the fair the kids immediately let her hand go and ran to see all the games they could play.

“That was a close one,” Beast Boy chuckled.

Raven didn’t laugh. “What are you still doing here?”

“Helping you?”

“I didn’t ask for help. I have everything under control. You can leave.”

“Everything under control? Okay then, where are the kids right now?”

“They are right ther-“ Raven looked around to find neither of them within her sight.

“They’re by the big wheel. You’re welcome.”

“I knew that.”

“No you didn’t. Now can you let go of my hand so I can get them some tickets.”

Raven looked down to find that she was indeed still holding his hand. She removed her hand from his and hoped that the hood of her cloak was hiding her blush as he left to go get the tickets.

“Can we please get ice cream?” James asked, running to her.

“Sure.”

“And I want to get on the big wheel!”

“Whatever you want.”

“Is Beast Boy your boyfriend?”

“No,” she answered without thinking. “Wait, what?”

“I saw you guys holding hands,” explained the little boy.

“No, we’re just teammates.” Raven blushed. Why would the kids ask her such a question? Weren't they too young to know about this stuff?

“My friend Lily thinks you guys look great together,” Erica said after she joined them. “She has all these drawings of you.”

“Drawings? Of us?”

“Yeah, kissing.”

Raven tried to change the subject when she saw her teammate coming with the tickets. “Oh look! Beast Boy brought the tickets. Go stand in line for your turn.”

They ran to Beast Boy to get their tickets and went back waiting at the big wheel.

“At least now we don’t have to worry about them getting hurt or killed by Cy.” Beast Boy said cheerfully.

“Yeah, great," Raven replied harshly.

Beast Boy turned to look at her. “Are you mad at me?”

She ignored him.

Beast Boy knew she trying to push him away again. Too bad it wouldn’t work.

“Why didn’t you tell us about your aunt and cousins?”

“It’s stupid.”

“I like stupid.”

“You wouldn’t understand. None of you would.”

“Try me.”

Raven exhaled a long breath. She had a feeling Beast Boy wouldn't be giving up soon. He never knew when to stop.

“I didn’t tell you about my cousins because I didn’t want them to meet you.”

“Are you embarrassed by us??”

“No... the opposite.”

“You’re… proud of us?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I mean I am proud of you. I just didn’t want them to meet you because I know they would love you more.”

Beast Boy had never been more confused in his life. “People are usually happy by that.”

“I want them to love you. I just don’t want them to love you more than…. More than me.” Her insecurity finally broke through and she looked almost ashamed despite her defiance.

“Rae, I’m sure the kids love you. You’re an amazing person.”

“Yeah That’s how it felt before you came.” Raven knew she was being immature about this but she couldn’t help it. “I know I say I don’t care about fans but it’s always the same. Kids usually like you, guys like Cyborg, girls like Robin and boys like Starfire. No one likes me.”

“That’s not true!”

“Yeah right. How could I forget? Only creeps like the creep.”

Beast Boy gave her a sad look. He hated when she thought of herself that way. That was not who she was.

“Anyway,” Raven continued, “it felt nice to find my cousins and for them to see me as their favorite hero.”

She waited for him to tell her how childish and petty that was, how selfish she was to be hiding her whole family for the sake of being a kid’s favorite. But she heard none of that.

“Then I have to tell them about all the times you saved our asses.”

“What?” Raven gave him a confused look.

“Come on.” He took her hand and went to the kids as they just left the big wheel a little dizzy. “Who wants ice cream?” he asked.

Once they got their ice cream –strawberry for Beast Boy and Erica, chocolate for James and blueberry for Raven – Beast Boy proceeded to tell the kids every time Raven saved the team. He started to sound like a bigger fan than the kids were.

Every time he finished one the kids would turned amazed at Raven and ask to confirm Beast Boy’s story.

They seemed to forget all about the games they were first excited about. Her aunt called to check on them and agreed to pick them up at the fair later on.

Erica noticed a costumes tent that offered face painting as well and asked if they could get one.

“What costume do you want?” Raven asked.

“Yours! ” cheered Erica.

“Me too!” followed James.

Raven was shocked. She thought at least James would want to dress as the changeling or maybe Robin.

Both of them ran to the tent to look for costumes their sizes.

“I’m gonna go pay for them,” said Beast Boy as he walked after them.

She waited for them until they came out wearing blue cloaks and running around her. “Look Raven, now I’m Raven!”

She smiled at them and then looked up to see Beast Boy grinning at her.

They met her aunt not so long after. “I left one Raven only to come back to find two more!”

The kids ran to hug their mother. “We’re helping Raven save the city!”

“Hey, I’m Beast Boy.” The changeling offered his hand.

“Hi, I’m Selena, Raven’s aunt, ” Her aunt replied as she shook his hand. “Raven talks a lot about you!”

“Really?” Beast Boy glanced at Raven to find her face flushed.

“Aunt Selena, aren’t you late for your subway?” Raven reminded her.

“Right, right, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thanks for watching the kids! And it nice to meet you, Beast Boy.”

“Likewise.”

Beast Boy couldn’t miss the opportunity to tease her once her aunt left. “You told your aunt about me?”

“You’re a superhero. She already knows about you.”

“Yeah but it’s not the same as from you.”

She tried to stop herself from hitting him because of the stupid grin he was giving her but he was making it very hard.

Suddenly, Raven felt something funny on her nose. She touched it to find her nose a little wet. Then again on her cheek. She looked up to realize it was raining.

She expected Beast Boy to complain, or say he was right. Instead he said, “Want to go on the big wheel? I saved us tickets.”

“You don’t want to go home? It’s raining.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

The ride was quiet at first but then Raven spoke. “Thank you, for today. I admit, I wouldn’t have made it without you. It was... Fun.”

Beast Boy only smiled.

On their wedding night, during one of the many danced they shared as husband and wife, Beast Boy reminded her of the day they spent with her cousins who were now older but still as excited to see their older cousin married. "When we went to get the costumes they asked me to marry you and I promised them, I would.” Beast Boy told her.

“I guess we make great part-rents together.” He moved his hand closer to hers, gently squeezing it, hoping she wouldn’t take it away. She didn’t.

“So you’re saying you’re with me only because you promised my cousins you would marry me?”

She laughed at his attempt at mashing partners and parents together. Then with a thought to his second statement she replied softly, “I guess we do.”

Beast Boy leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead as they swayed to the soft music. “I always knew I’d be with you. After that day I only wanted you more.”

nb: if you liked this check my poolside fic for day 2

also my friend's fic for into the woods for day 3

(@bbraeweek21 )

#somehow maneged to make raven jealous inthis fic too #bbrae with kids has become my favorite thing #bbraeweek21 #fic #day5 #bbrae #bbrae fanfiction

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