#the next morning he remembers nothing. “why is my pillow all messed up?” “oh? you dont remember the pasta?” “???” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jimilter · 1 year

Text

on the borderline — 04 | pjm. (m)

Park Jimin has been your buoy, your anchor and the ship of sanity that guides you to shore amid storms of self-doubt, nearly all your life; as have you been his. That is not to say nothing has ever brewed beneath the surface of platonic friendship, or that the two of you have never been victims to mistiming. Regardless, you would never risk the friendship you have with him now for anything. Even if you have to hurt him – or even yourself – in the process.

pairing: jimin x reader

rating: m (18+)

genre: humor | drama | friends to lovers!au

word count: 9.3 k

— warnings: swearing + mentions of a past toxic relationship + mentions of therapy/therapists + mentions of sex (some get detailed and explicit, hence the rating!) + some descriptive r-rated daydreaming + emotional constipation at its peaK + denial at its peaK + reader is a mess throughout + jimin cooking breakfast without a shirt 🚨 (will add more if i notice anything while proofreading!)

— note: HAPPY 10 YEARS TO BANGTAN - MY LOVE, MY HEART, MY WORLD! 🥺💜 hello world, i've crawled out of the grave two months later - who remembers me? :] anyways, parts of this aren't proofread (esp the last 2k words) bec i finished jusssst in time to post this today. will edit it in a day, tops! drop me a word~

ps. the rating, genre and warnings mentioned above pertain to this chapter, only.

main masterlist | taglist | feedback?

↪ series masterlist | ◃ prev ⁘ next ▹

𝐈𝐕 ⇢ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 ♪ i’m sinking faster and faster

What wakes you up is the inability to move your leg.

It’s not like you urgently need to move, either; you were just casually trying to wiggle into a more comfortable sleeping position, like everyone does at nine am on a Saturday morning, when you encountered a hindrance. Your sleep is disturbed, not out of discomfort, but more out of confusion.

Murmuring a curse under your breath, you part your crusty ass eyelids to peer at the warm and heavy human-like pillow that is laying above your blanket and restricting your movement. Wait, this pillow feels a little too giant. You do not have pillows as giant as—

Holy shit, it’s Jimin!

With a deep and loud and dramatic gasp, last night rushes back to you.

The wine, the movie, the kiss you initiated to prove that you and Jimin could kiss without making things weird – great joke, by the way – the kiss Jimin then initiated God knows why, the really good making out and the…

Fuck, the way he ate you out? You don’t remember the last time someone did it so—

Feeling your cheeks starting to heat up, you snap out of it. He’s Jimin, for fuck’s sake! Park jimin! Your childhood best friend, Park Jimin!

Your childhood best friend Park Jimin who is fantastic in bed—

No. Nope.

This is serious. And it’s bad.

Oh, God this is bad.

The heat that was climbing up your cheeks has now rerouted to your head, and your brain is slowly vaporizing under the tension.

Meanwhile, Jimin is fucking snoring away like an oblivious, angelic fucker. What? No, not angelic, no matter how soft his pouted lips look when he’s asleep, he was a demon with you in this very bed.

Almost subconsciously, you reach behind you to run a hand across the skin of your butt. It’s squeaky clean. Did he clean you up after you’d fallen asleep?

Blinking, you snap yourself out of the tender thoughts. This is no place to be thinking how good of a friend he was for cleaning you up when the reason why you were dirty had no friendly causes, whatsoever.

“Jimin!” you hoarsely call out to him, voice scratchy like sandpaper and honestly, too damn low to wake up your best friend who sleeps like a log.

Sitting up under the constricting blanket with difficulty, you scowl at him and shove his shoulder.

“Park Jimin! Wake the fuck up!”

No movement, not even a change in his breathing pattern, not even a lapse in the muted snores.

“Jimin!” you try a little louder this time, patting his cheek – so soft and warm, it’s hard to remove your hand from it – and he finally stirs. “Hey, wake up!”

Petulantly whining, he turns his head to the other side. “W’ass th’ime?”

What? Oh, time?

You check your bedside clock. “Uh, it’s nine. Oh fuck! You have a flight at noon! Wake up, Jimin!”

He groans and tries to fucking turn away. “I can get ready in an hour… Lemme just… th’rty minuhs…”

“Jimin, oh my God—” You break off, choosing to instead tug the blankets off him.

And. Well. It backfires, because he’s as naked as you underneath that. Almost involuntarily, your gaze traces his defined pectorals and travels down across his very prominent abdominal muscles, and then –

You shut your eyes.

He’s hard.

Swallowing roughly, you clumsily tug the blanket back up to his waist, shivering a little when your fingers accidentally brush his warm skin.

“Jimin,” you begin again, weakly, “please wake up. We really need to talk.”

That makes him sigh and finally crack one eye open to peer up at you. “What do you—”

His lips part, scanning the way you sit with your shoulders bare and covers held up to your chest.

“Oh.”

You can see the moment recollection makes it back to him, both eyes opening, now and widening just a fraction. Then he exhales and promptly shuts his eyes again.

What?

Is he going back to sleep?

“Jimin, what the fuck? Get up!”

With a grumpy whine, Jimin finally moves to sit up in bed, scowling at you with his whole face and looking absolutely adorable. Wait, no—

“What is it?” he murmurs through his pouty mouth, eyes swollen and barely open. “What couldn’t wait for thirty fucking minutes?”

Your jaw slowly drops. “Do… you do remember that we had sex last night, right?”

He nods. “Couldn’t be more obvious.” He points at a dark mark on your chest peeking above the blanket you’ve wrapped around yourself.

Tugging the damn cloth higher up, you gape at the guy. He sits simply blinking at you, and you can’t tell if he’s just sleepy or really that unbothered. “And…? Doesn’t it, like, bother you? At all?”

“Bother me?” He frowns and cocks his head to the side, looking at you as if you’re speaking a language he can’t understand.

“Jimin. We had sex.”

He blinks again, nonchalant as fuck, and then nods. “Yes, we did.”

At your wit’s end, you fist your free hand in your hair. “Dude. We – we had sex. It… It…”

Your stuttering, already mortifying in itself, gets tenfold worse when you can’t find the words to express yourself. Or maybe you do have the words, but you’re not sure how to voice how shockingly your world has been turned upside down when the other half of the involved party looks this cool about it. You are starting to feel like you’re making a big deal out of nothing – but you know it’s not fucking nothing!

“It was… amazing?” Jimin finishes for you with raised eyebrows, looking more awake but still as unbothered, and that is absolutely not where you were going with your sentence. But he’s not done: “Fantastic? Uncannily good and possibly the best sex you’ve had in a while? ’Cause same.”

And now he’s grinning at you and you’re at a loss. Frowning furiously to hone your focus in when your head has started to ache, you shake your head and try again. “Ye–yeah, all – all of that, yes, but also something that shouldn’t have happened!”

Jimin’s eyes narrow at you. “Are you trying to tell me you regret it?”

“Yes! Obviously! You don’t?”

“Why would I?” He shrugs his shoulders and brushes a hand through his hair, not a single expression changing on his face. “It was really good, we used protection and—”

“Okay, stop!” You interrupt him with a wince, eyes screwed shut. “I cannot do this without coffee.”

—

"I—wow. Maybe I can't do this with a coffee either.” You have frozen at the entrance to your kitchen to gape at the sight of your best friend's shirtless back as he sears something in a pan on the stove. “Not without a whole fucking pot of it.”

At your declaration, Jimin turns his head to cock an eyebrow at you over a shoulder, and you shoot a curse at yourself in your head for the clench your insides give. He looks so good like this. It's so wrong and wholly unfair.

Because you have hung out with a shirtless Jimin plenty of times in your life. You’ve objectively admired his build, too, because one – it has been your duty as his best friend and regular wingwoman to give him reviews, and two – for a female that likes men, you’d have to have been a saint to not admire his beautiful body, like, come on.

But never have you ever had such a visceral reaction to the sight. This is what you get for getting to know all those solid muscles up close and personal and freaking tasting his skin, you’ve been so fucking stupid, good God—

"Please put on a shirt, man," you sigh, attempting to avert your eyes but failing.

Jimin, the absolute dick, rolls his eyes at your request. And then just snorts at you and turns back to the stove, as if he finds the suggestion hilarious. As if you're not seconds away from throwing yourself at him and damaging your friendship more than it has been damaged so far.

Why is he acting so normal? You’re starting to hate your best friend.

After your conversation had been halted in the bedroom, you left the bed to wash your face and throw on a fresh hoodie because you did not wanna wear the one that’s been sitting on your living room floor all night, not when it reminds you of where and how Jimin ate you out. Dear God. You also stole some coffee from the pot while Jimin washed his face. After which you tossed him out to brush your teeth because your mouth tasted like ass, and assumed he'd use the time to dress up because he had to leave soon.

You did not expect the very domestic sight of him cooking – let alone the very erotic version of it that his state of undress depicts.

And now you're experiencing a meltdown because the man's back muscles are visibly rippling with his motions. The slight bruises you've caused by running your nails across them shine a brilliant red against the taut, golden skin. Taunting you. Reminding you of how you lost your goddamn mind, last night.

You feel embarrassed. But you also feel horny.

Which makes you feel doubly embarrassed.

The guy stays completely unbothered, though, humming to himself and fiddling with the damn omelet he's making that smells too fucking good and makes your stomach rumble.

Why is he making your life so difficult, in every single way?

Sighing, you collect all remnants of your willpower, sanity and self-respect, to turn away and stomp your way back to your bedroom. Grabbing a hoodie from your closet, you stomp your way back to the kitchen, this time stepping in and bravely walking up to your best friend, and press the article of clothing into his back.

"Min. Please just put some clothes on and let me have a full cup of coffee. Please."

This time Jimin fully turns to face you with amusement in his eyes and concealed laughter on his lips if the way he's got them pursed is anything to go by. You resolutely do not look beyond his face, instead turning your gaze to the tamagoyaki this man has expertly whipped up in the time it took for you to brush your teeth.

"This looks so good, how'd you make it?"

Jimin steps away with a laugh, finally accepting the hoodie from you to throw it on. "You had an appropriate pan and nice, bamboo chopsticks. That's all it takes."

That is not all it takes, but you're gonna stop arguing because the three sips of coffee that you could stomach with your unbrushed mouth have been exhausted by this interaction and you need more fuel to go on.

So you and Jimin find yourselves on your kitchen island with the Japanese omelet, a pot of coffee and your respective mugs, quietly eating, sipping and holding a staring contest.

Because now that he's appropriately covered, all the reasons why last night was a horrific idea have made their way back to you. You feel like this is the last time you're sitting and eating together, and it's becoming increasingly hard to stomach the impossibly delicious omelet Jimin has prepared.

He is the one to eventually break the stare, giggling at you when you glare at him over the rim of your mug. “Stop looking so mad, babe. So maybe last night shouldn’t have happened, but at least it was good, yeah?”

“How can you be so fucking happy and calm when I’m literally going through an existential crisis, right now?”

Amusement in his curved eyebrows, Jimin hums as he takes a sip from his cup. “Ever heard of post-orgasmic afterglow?”

“For fuck’s sake, Min!” Throwing your head back, you release a groan. “We really got drunk and put our friendship on the line! We – we swore we’d never do anything to jeopardize our bond and then we have sex like some stupid horny teenagers? Last night should not have happened, Jimin!”

That makes him clear his throat and stop laughing. And then, with the most straight face ever, he asks you: “Okay, but at least the sex was good, right?”

You are fucking dumbfounded. “The sex—”

“Was it or wasn’t it? You haven’t said a word about the quality of the sex and I’m starting to get worried…”

“Jesus Christ, yes, it was fucking bomb, but—”

“Well, then that's one win!” He claps his hand together, stepping off his seat to walk up to you and put both his palms on your shoulders. “Now that we are past that, rest assured that this won’t affect our friendship. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that—”

“I can and I am. I’ve known you since we were, like, twelve.”

“I hated you when we were twelve,” you remind him with a pout.

He laughs at that. “Yeah, but you also had a crush on me when we were thirteen, so explain that, huh?”

Despite the events of last night, his mention of your past crush on him still manages to make your cheeks heat up. Doesn’t help that he looks like this when he’s talking about it, all soft in the huge hoodie you basically forced him, a sweet smile pulling his lips up and eyes sparkling.

“We are way beyond ruining our friendship, trust me,” he tells you again, jostling you by your shoulders. “And honestly, this doesn’t have to affect anything if we don’t let it. So we have great sexual chemistry. Honestly, are you really that surprised?”

You’re really not because your brain has been going wild ever since his birthday party, but what the hell does he mean by that?

At your wide eyes, he throws his head back in a laughter.

“Hasn’t it always been like that between us?”

“Like what?” You feel so fucking clueless, you’re half afraid Jimin’s about to call you out on your confession of your fantasizing and you’re bracing yourself for the embarrassment.

“We get on each other’s nerves all the time, but we also love each other. Those sorts of things tend to build sexual tension, dude,” he explains as if he's telling you about a scientific experiment, and you shove his hands off of you with a scowl.

“You didn’t just talk about our supposed sexual tension and then call me dude in the same sentence, weirdo.”

He’s laughing now, eyes disappearing in a squint as his cheeks push up into them, and the sight is too endearing for you to not smile in adoration. “My point was,” he finally concludes, “that we can make it work. It doesn’t have to happen again, we don’t even have to ever talk about it.”

You like the sound of that. Humming, you take a sip from your coffee and nod. “That sounds like something I'd like to do. Can we put this in the past forever?”

“Yes, we can.” Jimin nods, giving you a thumbs-up before he raises his eyebrows. “I mean, I can’t promise I won’t make jokes about some stuff, because, boy do you have the weirdest erogenous zones. The way you went crazy when I bit into your shoulder? I mean who—”

“Hey, shut the fuck up! I have normal erogenous zones!” You seamlessly slip into the banter, pointing a finger at him. “It’s you that has an ass fetish. You exploded at the sight of my ass!”

A loud gasp leaves him and Jimin places a hand on his chest. “Are you trying to kink shame me?”

“You started it!”

“But you made it worse.” Jimin sighs, dramatically pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what? You were right. Sleeping with your best friend is a bad idea, and this is why. You already know each other inside out, the only thing you’re unaware of is each other’s sexual lunacy. Now we’ve broken that barrier, we’re absolutely gonna kill each other.”

You’re barely able to keep your face straight after that, breaking into loud laughter. Because he isn’t wrong. You know for a fact you have never had that reaction to being bitten on the shoulder, obviously. Not that you can even recall someone’s teeth being there. But with Jimin, it was just something about him that did the trick.

His joke alleviates the pressure that this realization could bear down on your chest, though, and that feels a lot freeing.

Maybe this can be okay. Maybe you can move forward without a wall of awkwardness rising between you two.

You will move on with your lives and treat last night as something that came your way – and then passed. Kind of like your crushes on each other during your teenage years. It helped that they never really coincided, but it also had to have helped that you never gave them enough importance to even discuss what you had felt, at the time.

Maybe you shouldn’t be giving this as much importance, either.

It’s you and Jimin! Homies! Bros for life, remember?

Yes, you absolutely do.

So you lean in to hug the guy. “This cannot change anything, okay? Please.”

“It won’t if we don’t let it, you crazy woman.” He laughs but loops his arms around you to tug you closer. “And I don't intend to let that happen.”

You don’t either.

You don’t.

You really don’t.

But…being this close to him is giving you flashbacks to being this close to him when you were naked, and that is making you feel hella hypocritical. Maybe this is just your version of an afterglow; maybe your brain's still high on serotonin. You’ll get over it after this heady rush of last night's multiple orgasms has left.

Clearing your throat, you separate from him with a tight smile – only to come face to face with a blooming purple and red mark at the base of his throat.

“Fuck, I left a mark!”

Jimin tries to follow your gaze with a cocked eyebrow, but when he can’t, you place a finger against the spot, smudging it as if you’re trying to wipe lipstick off. Which Jimin snorts at, “Yeah, that’s not gonna erase a hickey, ma'am.”

Jimin’s snickering is met by your groan, and you push a finger into his chest. “Please cover that up before you leave for your trip. And keep it covered? You’ve packed turtlenecks, right? You’re obsessed with them!”

Laughter trickles through Jimin, nostrils flared because he has his lips folded in to hold it in. “Why? I could just tell them my girlfriend gave them to me as a parting gift. No one'll question me, anyways.”

“Dude, you’re going with Tara! And I had a very long conversation with Avni, and—” You break off, unsure about divulging the details of that conversation. “And she…knows we’re just friends.”

“Oh, yeah. Tara. She, um, she’s not the type to ask questions, you know?”

Now that he’s kinda awkwardly looking away and stumbling with his sentence again, you’re reminded of the way he’d stuttered about Tara's name on the phone as well. From what you know, the girl has a husband. Why is your best friend being so suspicious about her?

“But I could always say someone else did this.”

Now wait just a second. Why does that make you wanna scowl?

What kind of teenager shit is this? ‘I worked on this hickey, don’t give someone else the credit?’

God, you need an aspirin.

His dick game really has you hovering in a limbo. But to be fair, it hasn’t even been a whole twelve hours ever since you got into it.

This is definitely gonna take you some time to get over.

Good thing Jimin’s leaving for the next few days, then.

“Do whatever, just – I don’t wanna hear your secretary telling any more of your clients about your girlfriend visiting your office, okay?”

He blinks at you, lips pouted in mock innocence. “Even if it's not you?”

“What? No! Our pact still holds!”

“What if you and Seokjin hit it off tonight, though?”

Seok—

Holy shit, you forgot about Seokjin!

What the fuck is wrong with you? You have a maybe-can-be-probably date with a guy and you literally slept with someone else the night before? It’s obviously worse that it was your best friend, but even so. How did you not even remember about the date?

Wow, you hoe. This is a new low.

And damn, you and Jimin never ended up having that discussion about your ability to recognize your feelings, after all.

Well. After the events of last night, you don’t think you’ll be needing that conversation, after all. It’s bad enough that you had sex with someone other than the guy you’re going to dinner with, the least you can do is respect both the men enough to not make it a date.

Even as the narrative plays out in your head, you know you’re mostly making excuses. And maybe that should be enough to tell you how desperately your subconscious does not wanna get back into the aspects of romance.

If only the people around you (read: Park Meddling Jimin) could understand as much.

“I really don’t think that’s happening, Min,” you simply state in response, deciding to keep all of your thoughts to yourself for once.

And Jimin, for once, takes it simply enough, nodding with a small smile. “Well. I still hope you have a good time with him.” He checks his phone, and then gathers you in a quick side hug. “It’s close to ten, I gotta run. See you some time next week?”

You nod. “But stay in touch, okay?”

“Of course! And you too – keep me updated about how things go!” When you scowl, he laughs. “Even if you stay friends, grumpkin.”

“Stop trying to make that happen, it’s not gonna happen!” You push at him and he rolls his eyes with a giggle.

“Sure, Regina George.”

Waving at him, you laugh as Jimin quickly stuffs his last night’s rolled up clothes in a backpack he’s borrowing from you and grabs his glasses from the clutter on your coffee table.

“Have a safe flight, Gretchen!”

“Shut up! Will text you after I land!”

“You do that, Min!”

And then he’s slipping out of the door, dousing your apartment in silence.

Your eyes casually move toward the coffee table that you will have to clean up, and accidentally land on the couch.

Fuck.

There’s an immediate throb between your legs when your gaze scans the area where you… well, made out with Jimin and had him basically devour you.

Fuck, indeed.

Jimin was very correct. Last night was some of the best sex you’ve had in a while.

In a really long while.

It’s gonna you take longer than a few days to get over it. How Jimin was able to get back to normal so easily is beyond you.

But then again – maybe he was putting up a front because he knew he’d be leaving for two days and will be able to get your mind off of last night.

Damn, he’ll be back in just two days? Shit, that doesn’t feel like a nearly big enough time period all of a sudden.

Especially right now when you’re cleaning up your coffee table with your throat dry and your panties wet. You’ll never be able to have him over because every time he sits on this couch, you’ll be reminded of last night.

Fuck, maybe you can never even talk to him normally because every time you look at his lips, you won’t even have to imagine what they can do to you because you now know what they can do to you.

How the hell are you gonna face him in two days?

You're broken out of your thoughts by the ping of a message on your phone.

10:17 AM | Text Message from Seokjin (office) Hey, we never discussed how we're meeting! Would you like me to pick you up?

You suck in a sharp breath. Seokjin. The date.

Right.

This does not feel right, good God.

A grimace on your face, you type in your response, asking the guy to meet you at the restaurant. You are not showing him your place, just yet. Or at all. And you do not wish to be in another guy’s car when the smell of your best friend’s cologne mixed with the musk of his cum is still stuck to your fucking lungs.

For a brief moment, you wonder if you should cancel the date.

But then you recall the conversation you had with Jimin less than half an hour ago.

This cannot change anything, okay? Please.

It won’t if we don’t let it, you crazy woman. And I don't intend to let that happen.

You don’t intend to let that happen, either, which is what stops you from canceling the date.

Besides, maybe hanging out with a guy you’ve been admiring and flirting with might actually help? Now that you’ve established that last night’s activities have to be water under the bridge, there’s nothing wrong with attempting to find a distraction to help you cross that bridge, right?

Jimin, for one, seems to want you to do that really bad.

A weird feeling tugs at your stomach when you recall his insistence on you working things out romantically with Seokjin. But because you already have a huge pile of dogshit on your plate to deal with, you refuse to think further about the pang and instead attempt to focus on the outfit you will be wearing.

You end up wearing a knee length, a-line dress with no sleeves – the right amount of pretty, hot and available, without being too much. It’s a deep navy in color, but no surprise there because ninety percent of your closet comprises dark shades of blues.

On your short drive to the Korean BBQ place you are to meet up with Seokjin at, you blast The Weeknd at full volume and enjoy a solo karaoke of Starboy. When you get there, you drop a text to your date and receive an immediate reply telling you the location of the table he’s sat on.

He’s here before you which would leave you no time to compose yourself before you face the guy. Good thing you were a mother-effing starboy in the car, five minutes ago.

Inhaling deeply and then exhaling, you exit your car and elegantly walk up to the cute entrance to the restaurant. The place’s ambience kinda surprises you because it looks a lot upscale than the usual KBBQ places you’re used to frequenting. Gold and white aesthetics surround you, not ideal for a place which deals in smoking food, but the level of cleanliness that the decor still manages to maintain has you humming in appreciation.

But then again, you shouldn't be surprised – Kim Seokjin eludes lavishness.

Speaking of, you’re able to spot the man the moment you step foot into the place. And, admittedly, his crisp suit jacket and combed back hair make you space out so hard, you miss the doorman’s whole greeting. Seokjin immediately catches your eye, too, curling his plump lips into that smirk he flashes at people when he knows he’s got them under his spell.

Well. He’s not wrong, there.

Walking up to him – only after bowing at the doorman, because mama didn’t raise a mannerless bitch – you smile at his sweet gesture of pulling a chair out for you. Even the chimney above your table has intricate carvings on it, looking like something out of a royal kitchen.

When he’s finally seated back in his place across from you and has allowed his smirk to bloom into a full smile, you nod your head in polite greeting. “You look good today.”

Seokjin waves a hand of perfectly manicured nails and delicate rings in front of his face. “Oh, please. I look good everyday.”

Uh…

Did you mishear him? The place is buzzing but it’s not that loud.

But given the serene smile on his face, he doesn’t look like he just made a joke. Yeah, you must have misheard him.

“You look absolutely gorgeous.”

Wow, the pace at which heat fills your cheeks is so embarrassing. Jimin would never let you live it down if he knew, especially given what all you managed to get up to without any blushing business, last—

Okay, what the fuck?

You hope Seokjin doesn’t notice the momentary panicked widening of your eyes.

Did you really just almost think about the one event in your life that you’re supposed to forget about? Granted, it happened less than 24 hours ago – but you’re on a date. With another guy. And he just complimented you.

At this point, you should really be ashamed of yourself.

“Th–thank you, hehe.”

Did you just stutter? And fake-giggle?

Good God, you’re going to cry. This isn’t the afterglow the world promised you.

Thankfully, Seokjin jumps to discussing food straight away without attempting any small talk. And he’s pretty enthusiastic about it, too – asking for all his favorite side dishes and then encouraging you to add on yours to the order as well.

“Do you, um, come here often?” It takes you a while to frame that question but as soon as it is out of your mouth, you immediately realize that it can sound like you’re asking him if he’s been on other dates here. Often.

Your social skills are on an all time low tonight, God help you…

But Seokjin, thankfully, doesn’t think that far and simply nods. “Oh, yes. I know the manager, so I’ve been coming here since they opened a year ago.”

Ah, so he’s somewhat of a social butterfly.

Immediately, your brain wants to switch to thinking of another social butterfly in your life and make unnecessary comparisons – but you stop that line of thought before it can take form, by smiling wide at Seokjin. He’s so fucking handsome and you’re honestly just wasting it.

“That’s nice! Does he offer you discounts?” Your sense of humor might be broken, but at least this embarrassment stays on the surface and doesn’t make you wanna hide beneath the table.

Chuckling at your question, Seokjin leans over the table and gestures for you to lean closer as well – which you do. “The dude’s actually my brother in law, so fat chance, I’d say.”

You laugh a little louder than necessary on the joke, partially giggling out of relief that your lame ass joke didn’t get rejected.

He might not get discounts, but the service for your table definitely seems to be a little faster and more full of smiles than it is for the other patrons. Well. You're not complaining.

Seokjin smiles and nods at your server as well, respectfully tucking his hands in his lap to allow the guy enough room to set your table. After the server leaves, Seokjin is quick to set arrange the meat on the furnace – hands moving expertly as he twists and turns the strips around according to the level of cooking each portion requires.

He is a gentleman to the tee, cutting the meat up for you and everything, but is also careful about boundaries because he forwards his chopstick to your plate and not your mouth. Although you're sure your dumbass would have opened your mouth to accept the bite if he would’ve offered, too, without realizing the implications of letting your date feed you.

"Good?"

You hold back a moan when the soft and tender meat melts in your mouth, instead choosing to cover your lips daintily with a hand and nod at Seokjin with wide eyes. A comment about you being pronographic with food from a certain someone crosses your mind, and you resist the urge to sob out loud because you need to stop thinking about last night.

"So good," you manage to murmur back, giving Seokjin a thumbs up with your chopstick hand.

He grins at you before taking a bite himself, and – oh, man. He certainly doesn't hold back on the moans. You're barely able to contain your reaction when the man suddenly throws his head back and releases a deep groan that travels through your body in vibrations.

There's no way to stop your brain from bursting out a whole NSFW scenario, now, that features you on your knees between the man's legs, swallowing his dick as if it's your last meal on earth.

Damn. Man’s never even mentioned if he even has any romantic intentions with this whole thing or if he’s just treating you because he felt bad for you missing out on the group outing yesterday – and here you are, being obscene about him enjoying his food. How very pathetic of you.

It gets worse, though, because Seokjin suddenly opens his eyes and meets your gaze that you know for a fact has gotten all heavy lidded and dark. Evidenced by the way his eyebrows slowly rise up and tongue flicks out to lick away the remnants of grease from his bottom lip.

"It is good," he murmurs, winking at you.

Yeah no, he's definitely got at least flirtatious intentions. A little flustered, you clear your throat and look away from him, picking up a slice of pickled radish to distract yourself.

"So…" Seokjin begins and then pauses, causing your gaze to connect with his again because he isn't the type to really hesitate.

But there's a slight dusting of pink on his cheekbones right now that could very well be a result of the heat from the grill – but the undertones of grimace behind his smile suggest to you that it's not. Oh dear. Is he nervous?

"Just so we are on the same page… I'd been planning to do this for a while now."

A… while? He's not about to profess his undying love, is he? Your back straightens in alarm, but you force your lips to form a grin. "Ask me on a… date?"

He shrugs a shoulder, tilting his head. "Not necessarily a date, no. Just spending time with you one-on-one."

Oh, thank fuck.

"I know it's not just me that feels like this pull between us, right?"

Yep, it's not just him. Although you won't exactly call it a pull. It's a tap, at best. Or even a touchless beckoning? You weren't lying when you said you only objectively admire his good looks.

But you're not about to tell him that.

Smiling at him, you nod. "We're on the same page, then. It's not just you. But… why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?"

"Ask to do this earlier?"

And you do genuinely wonder. Because now, too, he's almost tricked you into this instead of being forthright with it. You're, like, seventy-eight percent sure you'd have rejected him if he mentioned the word date, but he doesn't know that. Or does he?

Your eyes narrow slightly as Seokjin gives a self-conscious cough of laughter, hand behind his neck. "Well, I wasn't really sure you were… y'know, available?"

Now hold on a second – that's bullshit. You've never made it a secret that you've been as single as they come, ever since you joined this company three years back. Well, you've also made it known that you aren't exactly available either, but what are the odds of Seokjin completely missing the first half and yet catching onto the second one?

Unless you mixed it up and made it seem that you are unavailable because you had somebody? Oops.

"What do you mean?" you ask him with a light chuckle, leaning towards the table as he reduces the heat on the grill.

He rolls his eyes, looking at you with a small smile that feels a tad condescending; as if he's about to go, ‘oh, you poor child,’ on you. "That friend of yours? He began to come around a lot, picking you up after work every other day and stuff. I assumed you'd started seeing someone. We all did.”

“Jimin…?” you mumble in surprise because you'd been so eager to spend every minute of your free time with him when you moved to town that you never paused to consider how it looked. "No, we're just friends! He's my best friend, and we're close. But there's nothing there."

Oh no. Why are you talking about him? You were supposed to not even think of the guy – why did you begin to discuss him?

Well now it's too late, because the can of worms has been opened. Now your thoughts are cascading on themselves like a glitching Windows XP screen.

Your brain's been sent into an obscene overdrive – as if you’d been holding the gates shut to all these images with your back pressed against them and now they’ve been pushed open by this huge wave that flattens you to the ground and engulfs you in itself. And suddenly, you’re reliving it – his hot exhale against your neck, fingers gripping at your hips, tongue flicking over your nipple, teeth digging your flesh.

Best friend? Right.

Sweat is trailing down your neck and your gaze is stuck unseeingly in your plate full of food that Seokjin has deposited there for your consumption.

Seokjin.

Fuck.

You’re on a fucking date – with another guy.

What the fuck are you doing?

"So yeah,” escapes you in a broken imitation of a chuckle when Seokjin nods, while you try to suppress the slight tremble in your hand when you wave it before your face to emphasize words. “He's just a friend.”

Who gave you the best pounding of your life, but that’s the fine print no one likes to read.

“Yes, yes, I’ve gathered as much now.” Seokjin’s smile is so wholesome, you feel like you’re violating his aura by breathing the same air as him when your mind's so pathetically filthy. “So… about that same page conversation – what do you expect out of this? A casual hangout? Friendship? Something…more?"

Wow, so this guy is actually a pretty cool guy if you look beyond the narcissism, the overenthusiasm and the noseyness. Quite a list to look beyond, but you do reckon him to at least be friendship material with the thoughtfulness his question displays.

The question, though. What do you expect?

Exhaling, you lean back in your seat and squint into space to think about it. You can’t exactly tell him that you're not the least bit emotionally invested in this and would have just tried to get into his pants if it wasn’t for your best friend’s insistence. But number one: you can’t exactly lie to him because that’d be blatantly leading him on and potentially hurting him; number two: he didn't really present you with an option fitting for this.

You need to find a middle ground.

Because for wholly selfish reasons that you shouldn’t even be involving Seokjin in, you need his company. You need him as a friend, as a potential bed-mate if he's interested. You need him as someone you can spend time with so as to not spend all of it with the one person who's had your brain in a blender since last night. But friendzoning him isn't the way to go, so you're gonna need a second, third, fourth date – whatever number it takes for you to heal the chemical explosion in your head and be a normal human again.

So you need to find a middle ground.

Which just so happens to be you smirking right back at the guy and giving a carefree shrug. "How about a casual hangout with the potential of a friendship with the side of… something else?"

Seokjin bites down on his bottom lip before he smiles again giving you that knowing, tad condescending smirking pull of his lips. Leaning closer to mimic your position, he raises a tentative finger and traces the back of your hand with it, gaze dark but playful. "Sounds fun."

You turn your hand over to allow his fingers to trace the soft, more sensitive skin of your palm instead, grinning at him. "I am fun."

Snorting, he withdraws himself and nods at you. "And funny. I like it."

The compliment makes you grin wider, even though his standards of 'funny' are sure to be questionable with the kind of jokes you've seen him make and laugh at.

The two of you lapse into a comfortable, companionable silence after that, focus shifted to the food. A few words about the quality of the meat and the level of cooking are tossed here and there. Seokjin is definitely a food lover and definitely knows more about cooking than your average guy. He eventually tells you he used to be a good blogger in his early twenties, which you find kind of cute.

You still don't know what he actually does for a living now, however, and the question must be obvious in your squinted gaze when you're cleaning your hands with a wet wipe because kimchi juices cannot be managed by sheer tissue paper.

"I guess it's time I told you," he begins, getting up with you as the two of you prepare to leave.

You raise an eyebrow. "Tell me what?"

"About my profession."

At the reception, you're preparing to put up a fight to split the bill, when Seokjin simply asks the cashier to put this on my tab, grabs some breath mints, and walks away. Following him with a dumbfounded stare, not before popping a breath mint in your own mouth, you see the way the doorman grins at the guy before bowing and you briefly wonder exactly how often he must come here to be able to bhule up this amount of familiarity. And a whole tab.

Your question is hilariously answered the next moment, when Seokjin walks up to your car and leans against it with a smile, pointing at the building with a raise of his eyebrows.

"I own this place."

"What?" You gape at him in pure confusion. "You… the restaurant? But you… you said…"

"My brother in law's the manager, yes, but this restaurant is mine. Actually, there's a chain of these around the country and a few abroad. We started out five years ago, but… business has kinda flourished recently. You don't frequent KBBQ places often, I see."

Okay, wow. Handsome, flirty and rich? Forget being friends, this dude is total Sugar Daddy material! That, and this also explains his knowledge of food and all the free time he's always got on his hands. "Ah… that's really amazing!"

"It kinda is, if I do say so myself."

Overlooking the narcissism, you hum and move to stand next to the guy, your back against your car, arms brushing his. Despite all his red flags, Seokjin is awfully good at picking up clues, you'd give that to him. Because with a slow twist of his heeled shoes, he moves to hover above you, arms extended and hands braced on the door of your vehicle next to your shoulders.

His breath washes over your face, minty but warm, and his dark eyes pull you in. "This was fun."

You attempt to smirk at him, but your lips tremor for some unknown reason. Not to mention the weird weight that pulls at your stomach at his proximity.

You try to goad yourself into reacting. A horny grab of his coat lapels would be better than staring at him with wide, borderline scared eyes.

What the fuck is wrong with you, you absolute idiot? Where's that imagery of getting on your knees for him now? Remember the horny rush you felt when he moaned after taking a bite of his food?

But nothing works, your throat swallowing your nerves repeatedly and yet failing to clear all of them out of you.

Seokjin looks visibly confused at your lack of reaction, but still smiles at you for a moment and brings a hand in to cup the side of your face in his warm palm.

Alarm bells blare loud and shrill in your head, your skin tingling at the contact with his and not in a good way.

The weight in your stomach expands upwards, pressing onto your chest, and the warm breaths on your face suddenly feel not so pleasant anymore.

Or rather, they don't feel right.

The smell of Seokjin's woodsy cologne, his height towering over you, the calluses in his palm – everything feels wrong.

It should be citrus, you should be tilting your head at a different angle, the calluses should be on the fingertips.

It should be Jimin.

Fuck.

You're fucked.

"I… I'm sorry, Seokjin, I.m. I don't think I can do this."

Eyes wide and almost horrified, he immediately jumps away from you with both his palms raised up. "Woah woah, did I overstep? I'm so sorry! Shit, I should've asked for your permission before stepping so close—"

"No, no, it's not you! You were reading the signs and you were reading them right." You reassure him, trying to regulate your breathing now that you finally can breathe properly. "I was into it, I swear! I mean… I thought I was into it. But I…" You sigh, placing a hand over your forehead to give an embarrassed shake of your head. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, please don't apologize." Seokjin shakes his head tenderly, looking at you with a frown that spells concern as well as confusion. But then he grins at you, clearly trying to make a joke out of the situation to ease you down. "There will always be more opportunities to make out, my lips aren't going anywhere!"

Oh… But you don't think there will be. You don't want there to be.

He reads something on your face and slowly raises his eyebrows. "Or maybe not?"

You give a weary sigh, shutting your eyes and slumping against the silver of your car. "I really really don't wanna lead you on, Jin. You're an amazing guy, and… I'd really love to have a friend in you. But I don't think I'm in the right mindspace to invest into anything further than that."

And it is so weird to confess something that has been true for years – except now, it's in a wholly different context. You have steered clear of emotional entanglements for so long because of the way things went south with your ex. That hasn't stopped you from pursuing physical intimacy, however.

But right now, you're stepping away from the latter as well.

You can feel your brain shutting down on your emotions, refusing to let you assess what you feel, least of all why you feel it. But you most certainly were craving your best friend when another guy was just about to kiss you – so you are most certainly, very royally fucked to a huge degree.

When you finally meet Seokjin's gaze again, trying to avoid your thoughts, he's looking at you with a small smile. It is an extended version of the condescending one you've seen him wear multiple times tonight, except this one seems more sweet than tainting.

"Can I ask you something?"

You blink at the unexpected question. "You just did," you lamely mumble, cringing at your own self. "Sorry. Yes, please, go ahead.

He laughs and tilts his head to the side. "Is Jimin really just a friend to you?"

Eyes widening in surprise, you're at a loss of words at the suddenness of the question. It's not an unfamiliar one – far from it. In your entire existence as Jimin's best friend, you've encountered it more times than you can count; as best friends usually do, before they laugh it off and call each other gross.

But, strangely enough, facing it this time brings out an emotion that is far from humor. It, in fact, takes you back to that time in college when you were all nineteen and you'd freshly revealed about your past crush on Jimin during some game amongst your group of friends. Wheein, Jeongyeon and Seungcheol, the three other friends that completed your group of five, then took it upon themselves to tease the two of you at every chance they got.

You claimed your crush was old and you'd gotten over it – and yet butterflies filled your tummy every time Jimin flirtatiously wiggled his eyebrows at you at their insistence. You didn't even go to the same college, man used to make you lose braincells over video calls!

Those similar butterflies occupy the cavity beneath your diaphragm now too, as you stay blinking at Seokjin, taking way too long to answer. Which gives away the answer in itself.

Giving you a hum, long and deep, he rolls back on his heels and nods. "I see."

"What? No!" You suddenly jump up to defend yourself. "I… We're just in a… weird phase right now." That's one way to put it, you guess. "B–but we're friends. Just friends. The best of friends."

"Are you sure it's me that you're trying to convince?"

You bite your tongue at the laughter in his voice. Are you really trying to lie to yourself?

Do you really have a crush on your best friend…again?

Seokjin gives a pat to your shoulder. "Don't worry about it, okay? I can't say I didn't have an inkling. Hell, we've all seen the two of you act impossibly couple-y around each other. Even if you were just friends in the beginning, it was bound to evolve into something more given how you looked at each other."

Okay, enough. That's… too much.

It was one thing when it was just Jimin’s colleagues that thought the two of you acted couple-y because he'd never bothered to correct them. It's a whole other when it’s your colleagues too because you've always brushed off their suspicions, without fail.

This is getting out of your hands.

"I'll be taking my leave, okay? Drive safe and let me know when you've reached home." Seokjin smiles again when you meet his gaze. "No hard feelings, okay? I'll see on Monday."

You hope you'd be able to face him on Monday without breaking into tears of humiliation.

Sighing, you wave goodbye to Seokjin and, unlocking your car, get into it. Placing both hands on the steering wheel, you rest your forehead against their back, exhaling roughly.

This is all so confusing, you almost want to cry. Or call up Jeongyeon and complain about your confusing state of mind to her. But you're a terrible friend who doesn't keep in touch with people regularly so the last time you talked to the girl would have been on her birthday. Almost a year ago. It's coming up again next month, in fact. So nope, no messages.

With a grimace, you extract your phone to check the time – just as a message pings on it.

07:41 PM | Text Message from Min 🌟 <image_2839.jpg>

Great. Just what you need. More of him to absolutely obliterate any semblance of sanity you could have clung onto.

Heart almost beating out of your chest, you click on the message with embarrassingly shaky fingers. A picture of him awaits you – a dramatic selfie where his face is resting against a pillow with his eyes shut and lips pouted. The accompanying text spells out 'tired' in small letters, followed by multiple ellipses because one couldn't have made the point clearly enough for him.

Your heart has no business thumping like it us at the sight of his shiny mouth, and your face definitely deserves to be sued for heating up like a fucking toaster. You could earn a tortilla on your cheeks.

Oh God.

You do have a crush on him again. Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck.

What the fuck have you done?

On your way back, your whole head was such a mess that you almost turned into the wrong lane. You'd planned a Marvel movie marathon to get your mind off everything and fall asleep in front of the TV – so that you can wake up on Sunday afternoon with Chris Evans’ ass in his tight Cap’n America spandex on your mind.

But as you go through your nightly routine of brushing and showering, you realize that watching TV is out of the question because you cannot stay in your living room without reliving the way you were eaten out, here. And touching yourself to the thought of the guy you don't wanna think about will be sort of counterproductive.

So you decide to pull out your laptop and snuggle in your bed, resolutely turning towards the window in your room to avoid looking at the place where you knelt before Jimin. But that makes you face the picture of the two of you that you keep on your nightstand like a sap, and you release a tired groan.

"Why the fuck are you everywhere?" you lament into your empty room which doesn't feel nearly empty enough with all the traces of your best friend around it.

For the first time in your life, you're beginning to wonder if you've woven Jimin too intricately in your life than a best friend should be.

Good God. A spandex clad ass won’t be enough, you’ll need Chris Evans to get naked for you to be able to deal with this shit. Fuck it, you're watching Not Another Teen Movie.

It's 2 am, you’ve gone through four movies, and yet haven’t been able to gather enough sanity to text your best friend back.

He probably thinks you’re riding Seokjin’s dick by now. Which you would have been, had it not been for this uncalled for, absolutely unwelcome, highly inconvenient and horrendously intense attraction you’re feeling for him instead.

What is worse, it’s accompanied by telltale signs of a crush. What a nightmare to bear.

It all sounds like you’re being extra, but you’re actually just afraid.

The truth is – you're terrified of feelings; of getting too attached to somebody. And not just because you've seen how it can make people dependable, symbiotic to the point of being parasitic, the way they did your ex. But also because they change people in even more, even scarier ways.

Especially friends.

The moment that line is crossed from friendship to romance, everything is changed. At the risk of sounding morbid, you'd like to claim that everything is essentially ruined.

You've seen it happen to the closest of friends. The mask comes off, and everything that a person was as a friend – completely disappears as they assume the role of a partner. It never makes sense to you why this happens.

But your biggest fear in life is that it may happen to you. That it may happen with Jimin. You'd realized it when you were 19, so you'd crushed all the giddy feelings in you and moved on with your life as Jimin’s best friend.

And it worked out great, didn’t it? For eight whole years?

Fuck, what if fizzles out now, though?

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you muter to yourself, covering your face with both your palms.

You really don't wanna say it because it makes you feel like shit, especially given how normal Jimin was this morning, but… had you known getting physically close to him would lead to you getting so lost in your head, you would never have kissed Jimin. You would never have let that conversation with Avni play with your head for so long, in the first place.

Because all that has led you here, to this – leaving him on read and ignoring his face time calls. Poor guy probably just wants to know how your date went.

Well. Maybe you’ll answer him tomorrow.

Maybe you’ll be brave enough to confidently lie your way out of it. Maybe you'll be saner, more composed?

Tomorrow. You promise your self you'll be better tomorrow.

“Tomorrow.”

#bts imagines #bts angst #jimin #park jimin #park jimin angst #bts smut #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #jimin x you #park jimin x you #jimin imagines #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts fluff #jimin smut

255 notes · View notes

greyeyedmonster-18 · 10 months

Text

(found this in the archives/dust of my computer desktop and figured why not post it to tumblr. please enjoy this lily and sirius friendship dribble or whatever this is.)

A Good Nights Sleep

It was late November and the entirety of the Gryffindor house had celebrated a Quidditch win the night before, resulting in nothing other than a mess in the common room and a hoard of students nursing headaches and exhaustion. Lily Evans didn’t know who brought the alcohol (a seventh year perhaps), and she didn’t know what possessed her to drink it alongside Marlene (who was on a table by the end of the night), but she had, and she struggled to open her eyes the next morning.

She was tempted to go back to sleep, the curtains around the four poster bed shut entirely blocking out the rest of the world, and it was impossibly warm even with the cool early winter temperatures. Her head nestled against the pillows, making to grab the comforter and roll over to get some more sleep, but instead of a blanket, she grabbed an arm.

Instead of rolling over into another pillow, there was the unmistakable presence of another person in bed with her. Her eyes sprang open, no longer exhausted, her brain scrambling to remember what the hell happened last night.

You were drunk

Mary was in the room with someone.

You wanted to go sleep

Remus! You asked Remus for his bed!

Just until Mary finished and then you would go back to your room.

Lily tried to sit up, her brain connecting the dots and realizing this definitely wasn’t Remus. There was too much weight, too much hair. She kept wiggling in hopes of waking up the sleeping form of Sirius Black on top of her that was the culprit of the warmth she had woken up to. Any closer to Lily and they would’ve been a single person, his leg thrown across her hips, his face near her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her like an octopus. Sirius stirred briefly, not opening his eyes.

“Stop moving, McKinnon,” he mumbled, “Go back to sleep--”

“Not McKinnon,” hissed Lily, “Get off me, Black!” Sirius made a noise of confusion before sitting up rapidly, running a hand over his face and hair at the voice that was definitely not Marlene.

“Oh god, ah, shit,” Sirius said, his long black curls rumpled from the sleep. Lily would’ve found this less composed and less aloof version of Sirius endearing had it not been for the fact he had just been on top of her moments before. He moved off her rapidly, a rush of cold air hitting Lily’s body, Sirius staring wide-eyed at her trying to make sense of the situation.

Lily sat up as well, her hand reaching to her own hair that she was certain was a messy, red waves falling onto her shoulders chaotically, “What the hell are you--”

“Shhh,” Sirius gave her a look, his eyes widening as he put his hand over her mouth.

Lily was tempted to bite him, but she saw Sirius reach for his wand, casting a silencing charm around the bed before removing his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked him

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” he responded back, “This is my bed!”

“This is Remus’ bed.”

“No, it’s not,” Sirius said looking at her in utter confusion, “This is my bed, which is why I’m in it.”

“What do you mean it’s not Remus’ bed!”

“You’re not very bright in the morning, are you Evans?” asked Sirius, tiredly pressing the heel of one of his hands into his eyes before reaching to his wrist for a hair elastic to tie his hair back.

“All I know is that I was drunk and came up here because Mary was in my dorm doing merlin knows what and I thought I would be able to just nap in Remus’ bed until I was sober and figured it out but now I’m in here, with you, and thank god we’re both fully clothed.” Lily was still in the jeans and sweater she wore the night before, Sirius in a long-sleeve shirt and--, “Or I guess as clothed as you possibly can be.”

Sirius looked down at himself, closing his eyes and muttering something to himself in another language Lily didn’t understand as he realized he was in a pair of boxers, “I was drunk too,” he said as a means of explanation.

“I should hope so,” Lily said, her fingers tangling in her hair as she attempted to finger comb it, “Do you have an extra hair tie?” she asked,

“What?”

“I would really like to leave the dorm not looking like a bird built a home in my hair overnight,” she looked at him.

“Oh, right…” Sirius looked around briefly before sighing, taking his own hair down once again and handing it to Lily, “Just take that one, I’ll find another.”

“So what’s your excuse?”

“It’s my bed!”

“When I got in it, it was empty. So you saw me sleeping and just thought ``oh why don’t I go have a lie in with Lily?” she asked, “Really?”

“I was drunk and I didn’t pay much attention to who it was. Honestly, I thought it was Marlene, I dunno, I...didn’t look too hard.”

“Charming, Black.” Lily rolled her eyes. Sirius, for all the qualities that Lily found redeemable, had a reputation for being a bit of a...well, a bit of a...tease and a flirt and everything that followed that subsequently. According to Marlene and Remus, it wasn’t uncommon for Sirius to have guest’s in his bed, nor for him to be a guest in someone else's. It wasn’t uncommon to see Sirius separate from his friends after dinner to chat up a girl from Ravenclaw or a bloke from Hufflepuff. And now Lily was just another girl that Sirius Black had in his bed.

To her surprise though, Sirius actually looked slightly embarrassed by his explanation, rubbing the back of his neck slightly, “I was drunk and...I just saw big hair and obviously I passed out, so it’s...fine.”

“Yeah, this is fine,” Lily said dryly, gesturing to the two of them in Sirius’ bed. He was now farther away, his hair tossed to one side and the blanket on his bed pulled over his body as he sat with his knees drawn up, leaning against one of the posts.

“You didn’t see the bed just over there with all the bloody books?”

“I mean, maybe! This one was the neatest! Drunk Lily logically said it had to be Remus’.”

Sirius gave her a quiet lopsided grin, “Oh, Evans…” Sirius shook his head, “I’ll let you continue to think that. Be blinded by Moony’s good-boy image, prefect and all--”

“Exactly! Prefect’s make their beds.”

“Mhmm,” Sirius nodded sarcastically.

“Shove off. So I was wrong,” she said, “Now can you get me out of here?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Are we in agreement that this never happened?”

“What never happened?”

“Good girl,” he winked at her before moving to step outside his four poster, and Lily let out a breath. She wasn’t sure which part of the scenario was the most mortifying.

The fact that she had been drunk enough to crawl into someone else’s bed.

The fact that she thought Sirius’ bed was Remus’.

The fact that she had spent an entire night next to and sleeping with Sirius Black

The fact that she had woken up feeling warm and comfortable under Sirius’ bodyweight. As much as she wanted to get out and get back to her dorm, she was also tempted to lie back down in clean, soft sheets, still warm from where they had both been lying all night.

The fact that, shock factor aside, Lily didn’t actually mind waking up next to Sirius who gave her his hair tie off his own head and thought to put a silencing charm around the bed. She didn’t mind the arms that were around her, and hadn’t woken up at all throughout the night to realize her mistake. The fact that cuddling with Sirius Black had given her a great night's sleep.

The curtain to the four poster opened, and Sirius was standing there, in a pair of sweatpants and his hair tied back now.

“James is gone already, the other two are sleeping,” he whispered and inclined his head, towards the doorway. Lily stood up out of bed, already missing the heat from the covers, and stepped onto the hardwood, not even bothering to look for her shoes. Sirius opened the dormitory door for her

She pointed her finger up at him, “Never happened.” Sirius gave her an amused nod and Lily turned back around, rushing down the staircase to make it back to her dormitory before too much of Gryffindor started stirring.

After spending the remainder of Sunday after breakfast trying to restore the common room and wake-up just enough to do some studying for the day, Lily hardly bumped into Sirius at all. Aside from the table where he was more content to make conversation with their housemates and flirt with a Ravenclaw girl sitting behind him. Indeed they were both quite content to pretend it never happened at all, even if Lily hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Sirius’ arms around her.

Sirius was a big bloke. He was tall and broad and had a loud laugh and took up physical and emotional space wherever he went. And not in a bad way. Though Lily would be one of the first to admit Sirius was arrogant as all hell and impulsive and lost just as many points for Gryffindor as he won them, she couldn’t deny that he made everyone feel at home.

She had seen him a few times talking with first years late at night in the common room, offering quiet words of comfort.

He didn’t blink when he loaned out his textbooks to younger years (the textbooks that Lily knew Sirius read front and back and made notes in the margins was, even if he pretended he didn’t). As much as space as Sirius took up, he tried his hardest to make room for everyone else to be the loudest and the brightest.

It shouldn’t have surprised Lily that this translated to the bedroom as well. Even though they had only literally slept together, given the size difference between her and Sirius, his body on hers should’ve been noticeable.

She should’ve felt crushed underneath the weight of someone twice her size but she didn’t. Lily hated sharing a bed. She liked having space for herself and loathed the nights her roommates insisted on sleepover’s in one bed. There had even been a night or two where she had left the company of a boy to go back to her own dorm to sleep alone. Lily Evans didn’t cuddle. She was not interested in the holding or someone else's body in her space while she slept.

Unless that someone was Sirius Black, which was annoying in about a thousand ways.

Monday morning, just after breakfast, she exited the Great Hall with her friends only to have someone grab her elbow from behind, pulling her backwards.

“What--”

“Got a second, Evans?” asked Sirius, tilting his head and grinning at her. He had pulled his dark hair back with a headband that day.

“We have class,” she looked up at him, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, “Also, you don’t need to man-handle me to get my attention.”

“So much more fun though,” Sirius grinned, and Lily rolled her eyes.

“Class?”

“I know, I’ll be quick,” he said leaning against the wall and ducking his head down to catch her gaze better, “I...I know we said that it never happened but...I actually...thought it was bad form.”

“Which bit?”

“Oh, the...whole thing, really,” he said, putting his hands into his pockets. It was rare that Sirius dropped his cool exterior. It was rare that anyone, let alone Lily got to see Sirius for who he perhaps really was and not just who his reputation made him out to be, and who Sirius preferred the world to see. “I was drunk and I really did think you were McKinnon, that aside, I...don’t want you to think I was trying to take advantage or anything like that. I know it was probably alarming for you to...wake up with...me on top of you and uh then I was in my underwear, but I swear I didn’t..and...I’m sorry about that.”

“You’re apologizing?”

“Trying to.”

“You don’t...need to do that, Sirius,” she said looking up at him.

“But I do because I…” Sirius paused, “respect you and that...wasn’t exactly respectful yesterday.”

“Thank you,” Lily smiled softly, “But it’s really okay. I promise you.”

“And also that James is my best friend and this very much violated our code of ethics even if it was just...sleeping.”

“Of course.”

“And I...also don’t much like you thinking I just...launch myself into bed with anyone who happens to be in my bed already. I was drunk and I--”

“I thought you didn’t care what people thought.”

“I don’t. I care what you think.”

Lily was struck by the honesty of that comment, looking away from Sirius to a point on the wall, “It’s okay. I’m not...upset or mad. I know you weren’t taking advantage or anything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I...may have thrown a bigger fit than warranted,” she admitted and Sirius laughed, “Appreciate the apology though.”

“Alright?” he asked, catching her gaze again so Lily was forced to look into grey eyes that she had frequently heard about from whispers in the castle. Lily also couldn’t deny that Sirius Black was very good-looking, which just added insult to injury

“Alright.” she nodded, “Question for you?”

“Sure, Evans.”

“The people you do...share beds with...do they stay the night? Like that?”

“More or less.” Sirius admitted

“Because it’s no wonder there's a trail of broken hearts after you in these halls. Sleep with people like that, giving them the wrong idea… honestly Sirius, I can’t even be mad because I slept so bloody well.”

Sirius laughed, the two of them beginning to walk to class after Sirius pushed off the wall to stand up again, “I’m sure you’re a good shag, but if you’re going around letting people wake up next to you when you’re up in their entire business...that really seals the deal.”

“You slept well?”

“I did! It was horrifying. I can’t remember the last time I slept that well,” she told him and Sirius grinned, “Is that what you do? Do you like to cuddle?” she teased, raising her eyebrows playfully. But Sirius just shrugged, “You do?”

“It’s like….a reflex or something, I dunno. Sometimes James and I have sleepover’s and I do the same thing--”

“Of course you do.”

“Mostly I...just really hate sleeping alone. And...I think part of me thinks that I...can make people stay like that. If...I just lay on top of them, they can’t leave...and I don’t know, maybe they don’t want to go that way either.”

Lily turned her head slowly towards Sirius, “Did you just give me a real answer?”

“I did.”

“That wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“You probably also weren’t expecting an apology.”

“No, I wasn’t….” she said in disbelief.

“There you are then,” he smiled at her slightly and Lily tried to prevent her face from giving her away the flurry of emotions inside her head.

She knew Sirius. She had seen the darker parts of him before, late at night in the common room when everyone else was sleeping, especially before school breaks. She had seen the way he sat up straight in class sometimes, paying such close attention that Lily knew it was to avoid talking with his friends.

She knew that past the facade of SIRIUS BLACK was just...Sirius. Who she liked a great deal. Who made her laugh, and who had thrown a punch at a Slytherin before he was even able to get the first syllable of mudblood out.

But even understanding all of that. She never understood the appeal, nor had the desire to date him. Sirius was just Sirius. Annoying, frustrating, unexpectedly generous and soft all wrapped together.

“I’m...going to need you to say something obnoxious so I can keep myself from falling in love with you, I think,” she said finally, and Sirius laughed, “I’m being serious. You’ll find me in that bed of yours tonight and I won’t even blame it on alcohol. Because how you’re talking and looking at me and...I slept well. So say something annoying to remind me that it’s you and I’ve absolutely no interest.”

Sirius laughed, running his hand through his hair as he thought, “Oh! How’d you do on the last transfiguration exam?”

“98. What about you?”

“105.”

“Are you kidding me, Black?” she asked, scowling and Sirius laughed. Lily made a noise of frustration briefly, remembering that Sirius Black was one of her biggest academic competitors across all subjects. Sirius had told her years ago it was mostly to keep his parent’s off his back. They had no control over the sorting, and if he didn’t want them involved, he needed to do well academically. She had thought that once Sirius was no longer living with them that his grades would start leveling out, but it hadn’t been the case. Sirius had received 10 OWL’s and still annoyed Lily to no end.

“How’d you do that?”

“Extra credit.”

“You said you didn’t answer extra credit questions because you didn’t need the credits!”

“Yeah, that was before McGonagoogles gave me detention for not applying myself in her class and lectured me for the duration of the detention.”

“That was your detention? A lecture?”

“While I alphabetized her bookshelf,” Sirius groused, “So, now I answer extra credit…”

“Unbelievable.” she said, shaking her head as they reached the door to history of magic. “Annoying. That definitely did it.”

“Good.” Sirius grinned and they separated, Sirius going to take his spot next to James on the bench and Lily by Marlene.

“What’d Black want?” she asked

“Don’t worry about it.”

Later that night, Lily and Remus had gone to the library, textbooks and chocolate in front of them as they waded through Herbology together. Remus had his palm on his forehead, bent over his notes, his eyes moving to Lily briefly.

“I think Sirius had a girl in our dorm a few nights ago…” he muttered, and Lily’s eyes went wide. Remus had been pining over Sirius since the latter part of fifth year. They had grown closer over the summer, since Sirius was no longer with his parents and spent the entirety of the summer break with James. It didn’t help matters that Sirius was well-liked and Remus was often witness to flirtations and hook-ups on the other boys behalf.

“What makes you say that?”

“His bed curtains were closed all the way,” he said, “He never closes them all the way unless he has company. I know Saturday was a party, but I don’t remember...seeing him with anyone.”

“Maybe he...just wanted privacy after drinking.”

“Sure.” Remus shrugged, “It’s just...nevermind.”

“What?”

“It’s just...frustrating. It’s like his new self-destructive bender is shagging anything that moves--it’s like he came out of the closet just so he could have more options-- and he doesn’t even have the decency to do it, not in our dorm? With all of us there?”

“Remus,”

“I know, I know, I can’t be frustrated when I’m not exactly doing anything but…” Remus shook his head.

“It was me,” Lily said, looking up at the ceiling of the library.

“What?”

“I was the girl in Sirius’ bed on Saturday,” she told him, and Remus stared back, immediately going to pack his things up, “No, no, no, not like that. You remember I asked to sleep in your bed?”

“Vaguely?”

“I thought Sirius’ was yours because it was clean and made-up,” she said, “And I was drunk and it looked the most inviting. I didn’t get a chance to ask him but...does Sirius make his bed? Really?”

Remus smiled wryly, “He does. Every single day. He used to make all of ours, somedays still does, but we’ve...collectively had an intervention. Especially after he organized all of our sock drawers.”

“A...bed...making intervention,” Lily whispered, looking at Remus with mixture of horror and curiosity, “I have so many questions.”

“He cleans,” Remus offered, “Just...he cleans.” Lily couldn’t help but notice the way Remus ducked his head, concealing a smile. Concealing just how endearing he found this particular quality of Sirius’ to be.

“Anyway,” she said, “You...don’t need to get annoyed because it was just me. And uh, I don’t want to date him. And we just slept. I was drunk, he was drunk, fully clothed.”

“Oh…well, alright. Sorry about that. I should’ve told you which one was mine.”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged, “He...apologized to me after it all happened, and kind of explained it. And...honestly, Remus? I have never been held like that in my life, I was this close--” Lily held up her thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart, “to being repeat offender and--”

“What? I’m not hearing this.”

“Imagine being me now! I was conflicted all Sunday.”

“If this is a joke--”

“It’s not,” Lily laughed, putting her hand under her chin and staring at her best friend, “I wish I was kidding. But...I dunno, Remus. You spend more time with him and know him better than most people I would guess and...probably get to see what I saw yesterday and today when he apologized more often...like Sirius Black without the smoke and mirrors?”

Remus stilled and looked at her, “You can’t date him, that is a--”

“Oh, no, no. Absolutely not,” she clarified, “I suppose….I get it now. Why you would.”

“You...get it?”

“Besides the obvious...physical reasons,” Lily told him, “I get it now. I get...why you fancy him, why you want to date him, why...anything. I get it. Didn’t always before but...now.”

“Because he held you? God, this is my nightmare,” Remus grabbed Lily’s wand on the desk lightly, “Do me a favor and just shove this into my temple.”

Lily laughed, “I’m not going to do that. I just...think that...if I figured out all of this in, what? Twenty four hours? It’s not going to be long before someone else does and that someone else might have way less self-control and stubborn pride than me.”

“Are you suggesting I get drunk and sleep in his bed?”

“I mean...when was the last time you had a good night's sleep?”

#sirius black #lily evans #remus lupin #hes there too #i very much love a sirius and lily friendship #and i was pleased to find this #i think its like two years old at this point

78 notes · View notes

bumbleklee · 3 years

Text

labor and delivery

masterlist | 1k prompt masterlist | pregnancy series

pairings: diluc, kaeya, childe and zhongli x female!reader (separate)

warnings: pregnancy, labor/birth, 5.2k words

a/n: congratulations, you’re a mother <3

diluc

Instead of feeling anxious about your due date being days away, you felt at peace. And it felt like the world was at peace, too. The sun illuminated your kitchen, warm beams of light caressing your body. You could hear birds chirping outside and the stray cat you fed was sitting on a barrel next to the window.

You contemplated going outside to bask in the breeze but opted to stay inside. Despite your pleasant mood, you couldn’t help but feel like something was going to happen today. Your mind pondered the possibilities, skipping over the most obvious one.

Diluc was still asleep when you climbed out of bed. Some of the Knights kept him at the tavern extra late so you decided to let him rest.

You stood in front of the counter of your kitchen and reached up to pull a mug off a shelf. You had been drinking tea for the majority of your pregnancy and you couldn’t wait until you could finally have a mug of coffee again. You hummed to yourself as you filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove.

A sudden, abrupt feeling hit your body like a ton of bricks. The feeling made your body jerk and a gasp left your lips, your hand instinctively covering your baby bump. Your other hand swept across the counter and knocked the ceramic mug onto the ground, leaving the porcelain to break into a million pieces.

Your midwife had described that leading up to the birth of the twins, you might feel braxton hicks. But something inside of you was telling you that this wasn’t just braxton hicks.

And your fears were correct when you felt something warm and wet running down your legs.

You screamed for your husband, panic rising up your throat. The comforting morning you had was thrown out the window as another contraction hit your body. “This can’t be happening,” You said to yourself. You were afraid to move, afraid to do anything, so all you could is yell for Diluc and pray that he heard you.

When Diluc finally heard you calling his name, he shot out of bed. He didn’t even bother to put proper clothes or shoes on, running down the stairs in his pajama set.

“Hey, hey,” Diluc said, shock and confusion written all over his face. “What’s going on?”

“The babies,” You breathed out, “I think they’re coming.”

You watched as the color drained from Diluc’s face. You weren’t supposed to have the twins for another few days. Nothing was set up and Diluc had even given his staff the weekend off. “Oh my god. Oh my god. What should we do? What should I do?”

Another contraction hit before you could answer, sending Diluc into another fit of hysteria. “You need to go into town and get my midwife,” You shakily said, “Like, now.”

“And leave you alone? Oh god, what if you give birth right here?”

You stepped closer to Diluc and pulled on his arms, guiding his hands to your baby bump. “I need you to focus. We can’t have both of us freaking out, okay?” Your husband nodded. “Everything is going to be fine but you need to get my midwife.”

Diluc nodded his head again, more firmly this time. His shaky hands led you to the couch where he knew you would be safe. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and bolted out the door, leaving you alone.

At the sound of the front door closing, you couldn’t stop the tears welling in your eyes. You knew Diluc would be back with your midwife and everything would be fine, like you said moments before, but you couldn’t stop the sheer terror that was creeping through your bones. Were you ready to be a mother? Could you give your babies the life they deserve? Too many questions flooded your mind and for the first time in months, you cried.

They return home within an hour and by then your tears have dried up. You were trying to focus on your breathing instead.

Diluc rushed to you, grateful that you were where he left you. “Is everything okay?” He asked quietly upon seeing your puffy eyes and red cheeks.

You forced a smile onto your lips and nodded, “Everything’s okay.”

“Where are we having this baby?” Your midwife said, interrupting the moment between you and Diluc. He stood up straight and motioned to the stairs.

“The bedroom,” He told her. Your midwife headed upstairs, pulling a rolling chest behind her, and Diluc helped you stand up. His fingers squeezed your hips, “Ready to have a baby?”

You threw your head over your shoulder, “Two babies, ‘Luc.”

For a moment, Diluc’s calm demeanor vanished and you swore you could see a spark of panic in his eyes. But your husband instead just smiled sweetly and helped you walk up the stairs.

Labor was not what you expected. You assumed that when your water broke, you would have your babies moments after but as you laid in the middle of your bed, you realized that wasn’t the case here. Contractions still hit your body every now and then but you were able to rest and even distract yourself from them.

“I’m bored,” You complained to Diluc, nuzzling closer to his warm body beside you.

“Do you want to play a card game?” Diluc asked. When you looked up to give him a deadpanned look, he put his hands up in defense. “What about a book?”

“Are you trying to make me even more bored?”

You wished you were able to leave the bed but as instructed by your midwife, you were on bed rest until the twins were born. Your midwife entered the bedroom again to check you and only gave you a sympathetic smile, “Four centimeters. We’ve got to get you up to ten.”

You groaned and threw your head back onto the pillow.

Your midwife left the room again and you sat up (as much as you could). You turned your body awkwardly so you could face Diluc, “Who do you think is going to come first?”

Diluc thought for a moment, “I think Clara will.”

You nodded in agreement, “One of the twins is super active and the other isn’t. I bet it’s Clara. She’s going to be fiery just like you.”

Around midnight your midwife checked you once more. Finally, you were almost ten centimeters dilated. Diluc moved off the bed and pulled up a chair next to it, instantly taking your hand in his. There was another twenty minutes before you felt a contraction that wracked your body. Your hand squeezed Diluc’s so hard he let out a yelp.

Your midwife sprung into action. She was at the foot of the bed in seconds, ready to guide you through the process. “Legs up, good, now just focus on me, okay? When you feel this next contraction, you’re going to push.”

Your chest was rapidly rising and falling and Diluc rubbed your thumb with his. And just like your midwife said, when the next contraction hit your body, you pushed.

The pain that ripped through your body was unlike anything you had felt before. It clouded your vision and you thought you couldn’t breathe. “You’re doing great,” Your midwife assured you, “Once the head is out, the baby will slide out like butter.”

Out of curiosity, Diluc poked his head around the corner of the bed.

And what a horrible decision that was.

“Oh my god,” Diluc mumbled, his face turning pale again. The grip around your hand became loose until his hand fully let go of yours. You heard a thump on the wooden floors and your mouth dropped.

Your midwife stared at your unconscious husband for a moment. “He can wait,” She decided, turning back to you. Your eyes squeezed shut in pain and you gripped the bedsheet beside you. “I see a head,” She smiled. “Ready again?”

You nodded your head before taking in a deep breath and pushing again. But there was no going back now and within moments of that push, you heard the little cries of a newborn baby. You wanted to stop and admire your baby but a gasp made you remember you weren’t done.

“What’s going on?” Diluc said groggily, finally standing off the floor. He was rubbing his head and froze when he saw the mess on the bed.

“Don’t pass out again,” Your midwife said sternly, “You have a daughter to clean up.”

Daughter. Clara was born first like you and Diluc said. Your vision was blurry from tears, the sight of Diluc and Clara distorted.

“Almost there,” Your midwife told you. After a few more minutes of strenuous pushing, relief flooded the lower half of your body. “And there he is.”

You tried to sit up but you were too weak. Two sets of cries could be heard and right now, that was music to your ears. Your son was placed on your chest and soon followed by your daughter. Your arms folded around them. Your midwife smiled as she cleaned up as much as she could before leaving the room to give you and Diluc some privacy.

“You did it,” Diluc said. He was in awe and couldn’t believe this was real life. The babies had tufts of red hair like himself but their nose was yours. Diluc wished he could photograph the sight in front of him. This was the start of your family.

kaeya

When Kaeya woke up in the early hours of the morning, he didn’t understand why at first. The night was peaceful and the bed was more than comfortable. His eyes ghosted to the side to see you still fast asleep. The blanket was pulled up beneath your chin and silent breaths left your mouth. It was only when Kaeya shifted did he realize why he woke up.

The sheets were soaking wet, especially from your side of the bed.

Kaeya’s hands gently shook you awake and you groaned, slowly opening your eyes. “Love, I think you had an accident.”

It took you a moment to register Kaeya’s face in the dark. “What are you talking about?” You asked before feeling the wet sheets yourself. An embarrassed fluster crept onto your cheeks but before you could say anything, a pain crashed down on your body.

“What’s going on?” Kaeya asked, immediately alert to your sudden movement.

“I think my water broke,” You said quietly, rubbing your stomach to try and soothe the ache that was growing. “Kaeya, it’s starting to hurt.”

“What is?” He was on his feet now, running to the other side of the bed to help you sit up. “Is it the baby?”

“I don’t know,” You answered, “I think so. It hurts here.” You motioned to the area underneath your baby bump and frowned. Kaeya helped you get out of bed and change clothes.

“Can you walk?” You nodded. There were spouts of pain with periods of calmness and you were ready to take advantage of those. You and Kaeya weren’t sure what to do. Fortunately, you had set up the guest bedroom a week ago. Unfortunately, your midwife was out of town this week.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen until next week,” You said, your voice shaking, “I don’t want to have the baby yet.”

Kaeya chuckled, “That’s not an option.”

Still dazed from your sleep, Kaeya led you to the guest bedroom and you sat on the edge of the bed. Your husband stripped the sheets off the other bed while you rested. Slowly, the fact you were going to have a baby that day was creeping into your mind. You were ready, you knew you were, but the thought was still scary. And your midwife wasn’t around.

Kaeya came back to the bedroom and rubbed your back comfortingly. You were still sitting on the edge of the bed, stiff as a board, eyes squeezing shut and your body tensing when a contraction hit.

“Can you do it yourself?”

His words made you look up in shock. Your husband couldn’t be suggesting you give birth without a guide, right? But when Kaeya looked back at you with a serious look, you felt your stomach drop.

“Look,” Kaeya took your hand in his, “Your midwife is out of town this week and I don’t know anyone else in Mondstadt who knows how to deliver a baby. You read books on childbirth, you’ll know what to do.”

You sucked in a deep breath. He was right - you did read a lot about labor and delivery. It would be hard without anyone there to help you but if your baby was coming, your baby was coming. Kaeya continued to rub your back as you contemplated your decision.

“I’ll do it,” You said, “But I need Jean.”

“What?”

“She’s my best friend. If I can’t have my midwife, then I want Jean.”

Kaeya knew it was useless to argue with you and the quicker he got Jean, the quicker you could get on with the process of labor.

“Alright, alright,” He said, defeated, “But don’t move.”

You promised him and Kaeya left to retrieve Jean. Alone in the house, you wandered the halls. Surprisingly, stretching your legs helped the pain slightly. You stopped outside of the door to your daughter’s nursery. There was a ‘C’ on the door and when you pushed the door open, you were met with a pastel pink wonderland.

There were photos of The Knights of Favonius on the walls and gifts from them littered the room. There was a stuffed rabbit from Amber and handmade clothes from Lisa. Even Diluc had gifted your baby a set of wooden blocks.

Your hand rubbed your baby bump gently, “Soon,” You said aloud. “Soon we’ll meet each other.”

The door to your house opened quickly and inside rushed Jean and Kaeya. Your husband frowned at the sight of you in the nursery and put his hands on his hips, “You promised me you wouldn’t leave the guest room.”

You only shrugged your shoulders and smiled.

Jean looked disheveled. She was wearing her pajamas and her hair was down from her usual ponytail. But she wore a look of determination on her face and you knew you needed her by your side throughout everything.

Once you were back in bed, your labor progressed quickly. The time between your contractions was becoming shorter and shorter and it was hard to catch your breath. Sharp pains were rocketing down your spine and bubbling in your abdomen and you didn’t know how you were going to survive this.

“Just breathe,” Jean said. She didn’t know anything about childbirth but when Kaeya came banging on her door in a panic, she knew you needed her.

Since you were in charge of your own delivery, you had to check yourself often. It was becoming increasingly harder to do but you knew it was important. “I'm seven centimeters,” You told your company. When they looked at you with a blank expression, you said, “It’s going to happen soon.”

Kaeya whispered affirmations in your ear, trying to distract you from the pain as you waited around. Jean brought you a cold washcloth and placed it on your forehead. You sighed in relief and leaned back against the mountain of pillows. While Jean looked at the various things scattered around the room, Kaeya leaned closer to your face.

“You’re a warrior,” He told you, his forehead almost touching yours. “We’re almost there. Just think about holding little Calla.”

You groaned as another contraction hit your body. “It just hurts so much.”

“I know, I know,” Kaeya pressed a kiss to your nose. You closed your eyes and tried to think about something relaxing. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, not with contractions wracking your body every few minutes at least.

For a while, you stayed like that. Jean and Kaeya talked quietly about work in the background, pausing to look at you when a contraction hit, and birds were beginning to chirp from outside. You imagined holding baby Calla in your arms with Kaeya beside you. He would be mesmerized by your daughter and you would be so, so in love. And maybe there would be more children down the road. A nice, big family with Kaeya sounded beautiful.

You were ripped from your daydream when a horrible contraction hit your body. It was unlike the others and your legs went numb. Kaeya was by your side in an instant, noticing the change in your reaction.

A sudden urge to push overwhelmed your body. “I can’t do it,” You cried out, your hands trying to find something to grasp onto. Tears were streaming down your face and Kaeya’s heart sank. He hated seeing you like this, especially since the cause of your sadness was from your own fears.

But instead of Kaeya speaking up, Jean rested her hands gently on yours. “Look at me,” She said softly. You sniffled and turned to face your friend, “You can do this. You’re ready and you’re strong. The pain is temporary but you’ll have your baby forever.”

You nodded your head furiously and tried to zone into yourself. You repeated what your childbirth books said, waiting to push until you felt a contraction. Jean rushed around the room and Kaeya held your hand despite you crushing it.

“Is that her head?” Kaeya asked quickly, peering over your legs. He grinned and turned back to you, “Almost there! You got this!”

You had to take a pause to take a deep breath. You felt like there was water in your lungs and you wondered how a human body could endure this much pain. When the next contraction hit, you pushed as hard as you could and squeezed down onto Kaeya’s hand.

A rush of relief washed over your body like a tsunami. You were quick to reach down and pick up your baby, mouth agape that you did that all by yourself. The room was filled with silence until it wasn’t, a tiny cry breaking the air.

Jean handed you a fluffy towel and you quickly wrapped Calla in it, wiping her eyes and nose. “Congratulations,” She said softly, “She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” The words tumbled from your mouth in a whisper.

Kaeya kissed your forehead, “I’m so proud of you.”

childe

“She’s nesting,” Zhongli said matter-of-factly, “Like an animal.”

Truthfully, you were nesting. You wouldn’t call it nesting, of course, but the way you were arranging your birthing room was eerily similar. Your baby was due any day now and you were getting anxious about things being perfect. Your midwife had already come by to set up her things and now it was time to set up your things.

A photo of you and Childe sat on the end table, next to a copy of your latest ultrasound. Three of Childe’s sweaters were thrown over the back of the bed and when Childe asked why you needed three, you couldn’t give him a final answer.

After putting a candle down on the adjacent end table, you proudly rejoined the men in the living room.

“How’s the nest coming, Birdie?” Childe grinned, moving over so you could sit beside him.

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, “It’s coming along great, thank you very much.”

Childe laughed and wrapped his arm around you. You were content, feeling calm and secure in the moment. You were ready to have your baby and you refused to let it consume you. You were lost in your thoughts when Childe shook you back to reality.

“Are you peeing on me?” He asked, a confused look on his face.

“What?” You exclaimed, looking down. Your pants were soaked from something, darkening them as well as the couch. You felt a sharp pain in your abdomen and your hand raced out to hold your baby bump, “Whoa, he just kicked me hard.”

Childe raised an eyebrow at your weird behavior. “Are you okay?”

You nodded and stood up, looking at the mess you made. “Sorry, I’ll get a towel,” You said. Zhongli paid no mind, trying to understand that you were a heavily pregnant woman, while Childe continued to tease you from down the hall.

You reached for the towel in the bathroom and were met with another pain. You rubbed your belly, “It’s okay, Nikolai.”

Heading back to the living room, you wore a frown on your face. “Is everything okay?” Childe asked, taking the towel from you. His jokes had died off and him and Zhongli were looking at you with concern.

“Um, I don’t think I peed myself,” You said quietly, “I don’t feel good.”

Childe jumped to his feet, “What’s wrong?” His hand came up to caress your cheek as he watched you, trying to see if something was physically wrong. “Are you hurting?”

You managed a nod before another contraction hit your body. You gasped and held onto the bed of the couch for support. “That really hurt.”

Thankfully Zhongli was a man with common sense. “Are you going into labor?” He asked, reaching out to hold onto your arms. “Where does it hurt?”

“Here,” You said, pointing to your stomach.

Zhongli nodded firmly, “I see. Are you expecting a midwife?”

“We are,” Childe answered, running a hand through his hair. “Zhongli, can you stay here while I run and grab her?”

“Certainly.”

Childe turned to look at you and cupped your face again, “Don’t stress, okay? Zhongli is going to be right here if anything happens. I’ll be back in no time.” Your boyfriend ran out the front door and you collapsed down onto the couch, breathing hard.

“Can I get you anything?” Zhongli asked, unsure of what to do. “Water?”

“I’m good,” You said, clenching your teeth. “Can you help me get to the bedroom?”

Zhongli nodded and you held onto his arm. You were trying to regulate your breathing but it was coming out in rough, short breaths instead. You stopped in your tracks when the pain came back, flowering itself inside of you. You groaned and leaned forward, Zhongli needed to wrap his arm around you to steady you.

He helped you in the bed and you instantly grabbed one of Childe’s sweatshirts off the bed. You hugged the fabric tightly and inhaled the comforting scent of your boyfriend. Zhongli paced the room, getting more concerned when your pain was only increasing.

But, thankfully, Childe and your midwife returned home quickly. Zhongli wished you the best and took his leave. You were still holding onto Childe’s sweatshirt.

Your midwife checked you and you were only three centimeters dilated. “I think this is going to be a slow process,” She said sympathetically, “Is there anything you want to do in the meantime?”

“Can I take a bath?” You asked, your ears perking up.

She nodded, “Just call for me if needed.”

Childe helped you out of the bed and kissed the top of your head before helping you to the bathroom. He filled the bath and stripped your clothes, helping you into the tub. Childe sat on the toilet, an excited grin on his face.

“What are you smiling about?” You asked, a smile creeping onto your lips too.

“Just thinking about how we’ll have a baby to hold tonight,” He said. “Teucer is going to be so excited when he hears.”

You hummed in response and leaned back, submerging your body fully in the water. Surprisingly, being in the water helped with your pain. You still felt contractions but they weren’t as breathtaking in the bath. You stayed in the bath for what seemed like hours.

Suddenly, something snapped inside of you. “Oh, shit,” You cried out, hunching forward. “Get the midwife, Childe!”

Your boyfriend shot off his feet to grab your midwife while you cried out again. She hurried into the bathroom and bent down to you. “I’m going to check you.” Her face paled slightly after removing her fingers, “You need to give birth now.”

“What?” You nearly screamed, “Right now?”

“The bath must have sped up the process,” Your midwife explained. You looked at Childe and panic coursed through your eyes. You tried to sit up straight, ready to get out of the bath, but your midwife stopped you. “There’s really no time to dry off and move to the bed. You’ll have to give birth here.”

Your eyes widened, “But I’m in the bath!”

“It’s safest this way,” She said. Your midwife instructed Childe to get some things and when he came back, he sat by the edge of the tub and held your hand. “You’ll need to push the next time you feel a contraction.”

A feeling of upset was bubbling in your throat, “But...but everything is in the bedroom.” You thought about the photos and the candle and the sweatshirts and felt tears welling in your eyes. You wanted to have your baby in the bedroom, not here.

Childe kissed your fingertips, catching your attention. “I’m sorry this wasn’t your plan,” He said, “But you need to listen to your midwife. You want to meet Nikolai, right?”

You nodded, a few tears falling loose. “I do,” You said.

“Then let’s have a baby.”

Childe wrapped his hand tightly around yours and interlocked your fingers. He squeezed it comfortingly and didn’t even flinch when your contraction hit and you nearly broke his fingers. You let out a string of curses, mostly towards Childe, and pushed.

“This sucks! This really sucks!” You cried out, wondering how you were going to get through this.

“You can do it!” Childe assured you.

“Almost there,” Your midwife said, “I see the head.”

It took one more contraction for your son to be born. Immediately, he was placed on your chest and you had to shake your head to focus on reality. “Oh my god,” You muttered, turning to look at Childe. He was grinning ear to ear.

Your midwife wrapped the baby in a towel, cleaning his nose and mouth, before handing him to Childe. She helped you get out of the bath and you almost fell over, your legs feeling like jelly. She wrapped a bigger towel around you and as you gazed behind her, all you could see was the beautiful way Childe looked down at your son.

zhongli

“Watch out, pregnant woman coming through!”

Xinqiu and Xiangling held onto your arms as Chongyun cleared a path through the crowd. Like usual, the teenagers were being your honorary protectors while Zhongli was at work. They took you to the Wanmin Restaurant and Xiangling disappeared momentarily to bring out platters of food.

Your midwife told you that it was best for you to stay home, since your due date was at the end of the week, but you thought one last outing with the kids couldn’t hurt.

“You’re getting bigger each time you come around,” Chef Mao called through the opening of the storefront.

You laughed, “Well, I’m almost at term!”

Xiangling piled your plate high with food, “More for the baby.” Frankly, it was nice being pampered by the teenagers like this. They were selfless, especially towards your unborn baby, and everyday they surprised you.

You were shoving a dumpling in your mouth when an odd feeling struck your abdomen and water gushed onto your pants, the seat, and the ground. Based on your facial expression, the kids knew something was wrong.

“What’s happening?” Xinqiu asked.

“I think my water just broke,” You told him, groaning as a harsh pain swept over you.

“Oh, no.”

In that moment, you were reminded that despite their maturity, they were still children. Panic spread throughout the three of them and they began debating what to do with you.

“Let’s bring her to the infirmary!” Xiangling argued.

“Why would we do that? Let’s bring her home!” Xingqiu shot back.

You held back another groan, “Guys, don’t fight about this.”

But they didn’t seem to hear you. Chongyun’s eyes flickered back and forth before running a hand through his hair, “I think you should bring Y/N home and I’ll get Zhongli.”

“We need to go now,” You said. Xiangling and Xingqiu held onto your arms like before and immediately started towards your house. Chongyun took off in the opposite direction. “Fuck, this hurts,” You muttered, stopping to ride out a contraction. “Excuse my language.”

“It’s okay, we know you’re in pain,” Xiangling says.

Finally, the teenagers get you home and you sit down on the couch. You would wait to move to the bedroom when Zhongli came home. You breathed deeply and Xinqiu spoke up, “Look on the bright side, it’s only going to get worse from here. So this can’t be that bad, right?”

Xiangling glared daggers at him, “I thought you were smart.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their banter. The pain you were experiencing was worse than anything you had ever felt in your life but with the kids nearby, the pain was bearable. They would make great siblings to your daughter.

Chongyun and Zhongli burst through the front door, startling you. Your midwife was right behind them. Your head was hanging low and you were clenching your jaw each time a contraction hit. His large hands rested on your back and he rubbed your shoulders, “Thank you, kids. I’ve got it from here.”

“Good luck!” Xiangling beamed before ushering the two boys out the door with her.

Zhongli lifted you up by your shoulders and his heart nearly broke when he saw your face. Your eyes were wet and puffy and your nose was already stuffy. Any calmness you had was gone as pure panic and pain overtook your senses.

“Can you stand?” He asked, wanting to move you to the bedroom. You shook your head and Zhongli managed to pick up your body, carrying you to the bedroom. He helped you change before you climbed into the bed, feeling dazed and scared at the same time.

Your body felt weak and you hadn’t even begun giving birth. Your midwife was talking to you but you couldn’t seem to pay attention.

“I’ll need your help,” She said to Zhongli, “You’ll need to grab her leg and hold it steady.” He nodded and did as told. Your midwife grabbed your other leg and you barely looked up. You could feel the pain and you knew what was going on, but you couldn’t comprehend it. The pain was unbearable but you did what your body was telling you.

A gasp left your mouth and Zhongli said something to you. There was pressure and pain, a lot of pain, and then suddenly it was gone. The last thing you saw before your vision went black was the blurry silhouette of your baby.

When you came to, the room was quiet. Your eyes adjusted to the light and you looked around before stopping on your husband. Zhongli sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom, holding a little bundle in your arms.

“Hey,” You said, your voice hoarse and low. Zhongli looked up and immediately came over to you. Without words, your baby was placed in your arms. “She’s so tiny.”

“I was so worried,” Zhongli said, brushing your hair back to press a kiss to your forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Sore and tired and achy.”

Zhongli slid into the bed next to you and wrapped his arms around your frame, leaning his chin on your shoulder. “She has your nose,” He whispered. Despite having a traumatic labor, it was all worth it.

#genshin pregnancy #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #genshin x reader #genshin self insert #genshin impact #genshin hcs #genshin writing #might repost is now is a bad time uhhh

2K notes · View notes

yichimi · 3 years

Note

Hi <3 i will like to request like- how would the dorm (or just Azul, Vil, Kalim and Leona(Andjustifyouwant Ace and Deuce but it's not important at all)) will react if you said with an angry face "I know what you did" and insist until the character confess something, it could be anything but something, and don't worry, English it's not my first leanguaje as well, feel free to take your time or decline <3!

✨Thank you for your request and patience✨

"i know what you did" - with Deuce, Ace, Leona, Azul, Kalim and Vil

DEUCE SPADE:

Stares at you along time

He really tryst to remember what he could've done

He started to get so nervous about it and also started to make things up in his mind

Situations that never happened but he now believes are real

That's how nervous he is-

"Was it that bad?"

You jokingly nod trying to stay serious and then he lost it

"Whatever it was! I'm so sorry please let me make it up!"

And then he kinda continues about date ideas or buying you sweets and stuff just to apologize (for something that never happened)

In the end when you told him everything he was more than relieved but also said you should never prank him like this again because it fluffing damn gave him a Heartattack-

ACE TRAPOLLA:

he knows he does shit

And he's done a lot of it too

But recently he didn't do anything! At least HE thought he didn't

Then you stood up the morning and chose violence-

"I know what you did" you said trying to keep a straight face

"EH?!"

Thinks real hard but can't find anything in his memory that could've made you mad-because he apologizes always afterwards if you were involved

"I-I don't know-i really don't know! Was it because i ate your yogurt 3 weeks ago??? Did you found out now?"

Well the yogurt was new but-no it isn't something to he mad about really

You told him the truth and now he's mad at you-like how dare you scare him like that

But hands down, that was awesome!

Good job he's proud of you

But don't you dare ever do THAT again ON HIM

LEONA KINGDSCHOLAR:

well the only thing he really does is sleep when you two actually had a date or he was a bit way to honest with you

But you already are used to that

You still wanna pay him back so

Why not like this?

He just woke up 5 seconds ago because you threw a pillow right in his face and you said, "I know what you did"

He's thinking the best he can in a situation he just woke up-

Didn't really work

"what are you even fucking talking about?"

Fully believes he's innocent, which he is

But actually also has a clean mind-

After you told him the truth he ready-

You're standing beside his bed and he will grab you and use you now as a pillow if you want it or not

You gonna lay there for hours

"so troublesome, but i still love you"

AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

well-panic attack-

Was he not spending enough time with you?

Don't you like his presents???

DO YOU FEEL LIKE HE DOESN'T LOVES YOU?? Because he really does-

The angry look on your Face-Damm breaks his heart honestly

"I-I cant remember what i did-"

Because he literally didn't do anything he's such a sweetheart-

Ohhh i swear the comfort you have to give him is gonna be big-

Thinks real hard and can't find ANYTHING in his memories-

"it's a joke-!" You bubbled out and damn is he reliefed-so happy that he didn't do anything

But you did-and what you're gonna do next is cuddling and giving out the explanation why excatly you did this for his poor soul

KALIM AL-ASIM:

Oh bless his innocent soul

Besides all the partying and mess he does by accident, innocent

He does nothing wrong in your relationship except keeping you entertained and sporty

But a small little prank? Maybe-maybe it would be funny to see his reaction

And his reaction was that he started to laugh, no way he did something that bad. He didn't do anything in the last hours so it can't be it

But when you didn't laugh like he did...he worry's. Was really everything ok? Did he maybe hurt you by accident?

Panic

Starts to apologize so much you can't even understand him anymore

Jamil watching: (ಠ_ಠ)

"Kalim, I'm sorry! Its a prank!"

And then he's all happy again

A prank, of course it was one! He never does something bad!

VIL SCHÖNHEIT:

no one can shock this beauty that he starts to stress

Nothing and no one

But you can-and you know exactly how

Besides the 'make up is running out' situation or one of his brushes broke. Chill

But the moment you stepped into his room angry saying "I know what you did!" He was: ????

Tells you to calm down and tell him wHaT mR pErFeCt dId WrOnG

Nothing-

But you wouldn't tell him that

You kept on looking at him angry and he then and there starts to worry a bit

...what could he done wrong?

Spaces out a little so you gonna snap him out of it, "Prank-" you simply said-

You got kicked out-youre wasting time??!! Is make up honeyyyyy, it's more important than a prank

But not as important as you---

TWISTED WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

626 notes · View notes

latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

Text

Church (Choi San) Rated

Pairing: Choi San × Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, College AU, Friends to Enemies(?), Enemies to Lovers (?)

Summary: He used to be her best friend until he abandoned not only his childhood beliefs, but her in the process. One night, he decides to show her a glimpse of what she's been missing out on. Inspired by Chase Atlantic's Church .

Word Count: 6.3+K

Warnings: Mentions of religious beliefs, brazen college parties, allusions to alcohol/nicotine intake, body insecurity (reader has small breasts), oral (female receiving), fingering, nipple play, body worship/praise, slight cumplay, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (always use protection), slight corruption kink, inexperienced reader, experienced San. (Probably forgot something)

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @yunhoiseyecandy @yunhofingers @galaxteez @brie02 @deja-vux @a-soft-hornytiny @multidreams-and-desires @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie

╬╬═════════════╬╬

The infamous rebel let out a pernicious snicker when he saw the serene and usually proper former acquaintance walk in his direction.

"Are my eyes deceiving me or is that really the pastor's prissy little daughter out past her bedtime in a college party?" He found the situation much too amusing that he just had to point it out.

"I have a name you know." The female he was referring to halted in her steps to turn her head and give him an unkind and unfriendly look.

"You have several, actually. There's goody two shoes, priss, prude, prig-"

"Oh shut the fuck up Choi San." She scoffed as she began walking away from him, already feeling annoyed by his presence.

The man trailed after her, his face donning a shocked expression as he flailed his arms around in a dramatic way.

"Guys it's happening! The apocalypse is really here if L/N Y/N has not only attended a wild party full of debauchery, but her mouth has actually uttered out cursed words!" He shouted out, the other attendants either joining in laughing at her or ignoring him in favor of the bottles or sticks in their fingers.

"I'm surprised you even know what that word means." She turned to look at him with a mocking smile, arms crossed over her chest.

"Please, I know a lot more than you have ever pretended to know." He clicked his tongue, elbow coming up to rest on the wall next to him.

"Is that why you turnt corrupt and abandoned everything you believe in?" She couldn't help but spat back at him.

"Hey at least I was honest and didn't hide it like you people who lead double lives. Preaching one thing but living the total opposite. You're all nothing but a bunch of hypocrites." The venom in his voice was unmistakable, nose scrunching up in disgust as he remembered gross sins he had more often than not had witnessed from people who claimed to be pure and holy.

"I do not lead a double life." She remarked.

"Oh really? Then why the hell are you here in a college party? Full of alcohol, drugs and walking STDs? Riddle me that princess." His foot tapped against the floor, patiently awaiting an answer from her.

Y/N swallowed the non existent lump in her throat and turned her gaze to the floor in embarrassment.

"I just wanted to see what it was like. Just once." She admitted begrudgingly, the man in front of her chuckling lowly.

"Well you sure are going to have a lot to confess on Sunday to your dad. Silly girl, walking into the lion's pit like this." He jeered at her.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. Just because I came here doesn't mean I've done anything morally wrong." She counteracted his words to which he only snorted.

"Yet."

Tired of his overly obnoxious attitude, Y/N spun on her heel to get away from him, but she spun so carelessly and fast that she ended up bumping into another classmate who unfortunately was holding a full cup of beer that ended up being doused all over her white blouse.

"Oops! Sorry, my bad." He excused himself, looking completely unapologetic about the situation.

Meanwhile Y/N looked absolutely horrified as she took in the drenched state of her shirt that now had the stench of alcohol on it. The fact San was bursting out in giggles only served to make her even more mad.

"Now tell me how do you plan on explaining that to dear old-"

"Can it San or I swear I'll gauge your eyes out." She threatened him as she stormed out the building, not caring that she bumped into a few figures on her way out.

Feeling just a bit of empathy for his old friend, San sighed softly before following after her. Upon catching up to her, he took hold of her wrist and started dragging her in the opposite direction.

"Hey! Get your filthy hands off me! I will not hesitate to scream!" She tried tugging her arm away.

"Calm down I'm not planning on kidnapping or anything like that sweetheart. I'm taking you back to my car."

She let out a dry laugh at that.

"But that's not kidnapping?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I have a spare shirt in the backseat that you can change into. Unless you wanna go home smelling like PBR." He looked back to see the mess one more time, lips curling up into a smirk.

Against her better judgment, she allowed him to take her all the way where his car was parked, standing there quietly as San rummaged through the backseat before taking out a clean plain white tshirt and held it out to her.

"Here. Put it on."

She looked at him with a face that asked if he was stupid.

"Well what?" He asked.

"Oh yes..I'm totally going to strip in a middle of the street and let anyone passing by see." She rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh for fuck's sake, there's nobody here, nobody is going to see and frankly I don't think anyone cares about seeing your non existent boobs." He scorned at her as he gestured to her chest.

"Ok rude and uncalled for." She felt slightly hurt by his comment, having always been somewhat insecure about the size of her chest.

"Don't look." She warned him.

"Not like I want to." He jeered at her as he turned away to not only give her privacy, but to also serve as a lookout for anyone that might accidentally show up and see the scene. He could hear her behind him tearing off her clothes and then slipping it back on.

"Ok there. I'm done." Y/N announced as she stuffed the soiled shirt into her bag.

"Not even a thank you?" San pouted slightly, to which Y/N gave a feigned smile.

"Thanks."

With that said and done, she brushed past him and started walking away, absolutely done with the night.

"Careful not to get caught sneaking back inside your house." She heard San say from behind.

"For your information I'm not living with them anymore. I moved into the dorms 2 months ago." She stated in a matter of factly, a proud look on her face.

"Well in that case....want to ride back with me?" He offered.

"Yeah no, I'd rather take my chances at being kidnapped and then butchered up. Besides, I wouldn't want to cut your wild night short." She declined the offer.

"Stop being so negative Nancy and accept my generosity. Geez."

Running over to her, he quickly snatched her up and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring her shocked exclaims and protests.

"Now this is really kidnapping!" She declared.

"Yeah I know, now shut up before I duct tape that bratty mouth of yours." San grinned mischievously as he tossed her into the backseat and shut the door before striding over to get on the driver's seat.

"Oh come on. Stop looking at me like I'm a criminal. Just because I indulge in a few sins every now and then, doesn't make me into a bad person." He stated when he saw the dirty look she gave him.

"Whatever." She muttered as she locked in her seatbelt.

San opted for just driving back to the dorms and get Y/N tucked in her bed since it was clear to him she needed it.

╬╬═════════════╬╬

"You're lucky my roommate is on vacation, otherwise I would have left your ass back there." Y/N spewed out as she threw her keys onto her dresser.

"Thanks Y/N, I always said you were the nicest and most giving person in the planet." San complimented her as he felt he should given she was letting him stay the night in her dorm after a little tiny incident with his keys dropping inside one of the manholes surrounding the university. And the administration office wouldn't be open til the morning, meaning he was screwed unless his roommate showed up to let him in, but that was a definite no since San knew Seonghwa would definitely end up in someone else's bed and come back til the next day, hickeys plastered all over his neck and chest.

"No, you always said I was the most stuck up-"

San shushed her by pressing a hand over her mouth.

"You dwell so much on the present image of me you drew up in your head that you completely erased the friend you had all those years ago." He slid his hand off her mouth, shoulders slumping down as he turned away from her to crouch on the floor.

"That friend doesn't exist anymore, that is if he even existed in the first place. If I recall, my friend wasn't into parties, booze, vaping, tattoos, piercings and fucking around with every whore in the school."

San didn't say anything as he heard her ramble, he just let her talk away as she started pulling out spare blankets and pillows for him to use.

"My Sannie was sweet, cute, adorable, always ready to lend people help and respectful to others." She reminisced with a sad look. Pulling her expression straight, she laid out the blankets and started arranging them neatly on the floor.

"I still am."

San's voice was so quiet that she barely registered that he even opened his mouth in the first place, but she heard him.

"Maybe if you weren't so puffed up with pride and didn't cut me off after I cut ties with the church, you'd see that I'm still the way I was. You think I changed completely because of ink and metal on my body? Because I wanted to try certain substances and yes, satisfy some perfectly normal and humane needs?"

Y/N averted her gaze from him and continued the task she was in. San let out a despondent scoff.

"Of course you do. And yet didn't I just demonstrate to you back there that I haven't changed? Giving you my shirt, giving you a ride, yeah I know, it's not much and no big deal, but wasn't those the types of things I'd do even back then?"

Y/N's tongue poked against her cheek as she knew she couldn't deny that was San said was absolutely true. He did nothing different back at the party as he used to do years ago. Helping old ladies with grocery bags, giving away some of his clothes to less fortunate kids, he was always known as being such a giving and kind person.....

No wonder so many were devastated when it was announced he had resigned as a member of the church. Y/N herself was hurt and even indignated by his decision. And after that she adamantly refused to see him or talk to him, and of course San respected her decision and avoided contacting her so as to not make her uncomfortable. He understood that their friendship was broken and he wasn't going to overstep boundaries just to try and fix it when the other party didn't want it. So he just decided to live his life as he thought was right without his conscience bothering him. And he was much happier now, he felt free, something that he had never felt before. Perhaps he was so chained down by formality, discipline, strict regulations and even fear that he didn't realize that he was miserable all that time until his eyes were fully open and he found he didn't like what he saw, especially after seeing the dark and ugly side of what was supposed to be a safe and pure sanctuary. He was let down severely and he suffered in the process. But now that was behind him and he had no regrets......

Except Y/N. He truly missed her and her company. As he laid on the makeshift bed on the floor, he found himself unable to sleep as he recalled all those fond times spent with her. The trips to the lake, hiking, first day of school, their first accident after he had gotten his driver's license. He let out an involuntary smile at that memory. Unbeknownst to him, the girl on her bed was equally reminiscing on the old days filled with her best friend. She had been so alone ever since she distanced herself from him, the world now feeling empty and cold without him. Shifting around in her bed, she whined into her pillow as she desperate tried to sleep.

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?" Her question startled San momentarily.

"Are you that sleep deprived that you're suddenly asking me to confess my worst sins?" He chuckled amusedly.

"Maybe it'll help me get actual sleep, I don't know. And.... I'm just curious." She clutched one of her plushies and started messing around with it.

"Curiosity killed the cat and I don't think your virgin mind will be able to handle my confession." He asserted confidently.

"I'm not a virgin, but oh well. Just tell me, what's the worst?" Her casual response made San flip out. He sat upright and kneeled at the front of her bed with an incredulous look.

"What do you mean you're not a virgin? When did you-?" He was so flabbergasted he wouldn't even finish his sentence.

Rolling over to where he was, Y/N smirked at him.

"Uh uh. I asked you a question first and you have to answer it before I can answer any you want."

Knowing he had no alternative, San placed his chin on the top of her mattress.

"Had a threesome with 2 of our professors." He laughed when he saw how shocked Y/N looked.

"What?! No way!" She refused to believe him.

"It's true. I won't tell you who they were since you won't be able to look at them the same way if I did...... I'll just dish this: they both got really huge tits and it's a shame they're married." He admitted with a smug expression.

"I can't believe you." She fanned her face which she was sure was now a deep crimson color.

"Ok now your turn. When did this happen? Who was it with?"

Y/N didn't even mind that San got up and crawled into her bed to lay down next to her. His face was rested on his hands as he looked at her with intense inquisitiveness. Knowing she'd have to talk about it sooner or later, she thought it would be best if San was the one to know since he would never tell anyone else and he'd understand since he was tainted as well.

"Remember when that group of missionaries came to stay over at our city for a while back in high school?"

San nodded, vividly remembering everything. Y/N blushed and smiled shyly.

"Do you remember that there was a family with a son our age? Chase?"

San widened his eyes and flopped over on his back as his hands came to hide his face.

"Oh dear lord, please don't tell me it was that Canadian boy." He groaned in pain.

"Yeah....yeah it was."

San couldn't stop cringing at the thought of his friend doing such a thing.

"How even did that happen?" He was so lost.

"I don't know! It just did ok? It happened while we were out in that camping trip. Somewhere there, we were left alone and we started talking about everything and nothing til it spiraled into talking about sex and us being virgins decided to see what was the big deal....." She bit her lower lip as the memory flashed in her mind. Looking over at San, she knew he was judging her as she expected. A tiny snort escaped his lips.

"That must have been the worst 45 seconds of your life." He joked, earning him a slap on his chest by Y/N's hand.

"It was not 45 seconds!............. it was 2 minutes."

San only laughed harder at that, nearly crying from how funny it was to him. He composed himself though when he saw how embarrassed Y/N looked about it. Feeling bad for laughing at her expense, he cleared his throat and patted her head.

"It's ok. First times are always awkward and uncomfortable. The problem was you weren't prepared and you were both inexperienced. He just didn't know how to please you."

Y/N couldn't help herself as she asked:

"And I suppose you can?"

Flipping onto his stomach, San cupped her chin with his hand and ran his thumb across her lower lip.

"Don't tread on dangerous territory little angel lest you want an evil demon to corrupt you." He warned her, and although he wouldn't actually follow through on it, he did want to tease her a little. But he wasn't expecting for Y/N to play along to his teasing, only she was not joking at all as she brought her face closer to his.

"Maybe I want you to corrupt me, show me what I've been missing out on." She brushed her lips against his, tongue daring to poke out and press on his slit briefly, leaving him stunned.

"You have no idea what you're asking for princess." San mused as he held himself back from touching her.

"I know what I'm asking for Choi San and what I'm asking for....is you." She responded with confidence.

Escaping from underneath the blanket that covered her, Y/N reclined back on the mattress, her head laying on her soft pillow as she gestured for San to come over to her, which he promptly did. Parting her legs so he could fit his body between them, he smirked softly down at her eagerness, fingers brushing against the soft skin on her thighs.

"You're serious about this?" He wanted to make sure it wouldn't be something she'd regret.

"I already messed up once, what's one more time gonna do?" She pulled him down against her, not caring when he lost balance and accidentally crushed her under him with his muscular body.

"Besides...." Wanting to further entice him, Y/N brushed her lips against his ear.

"Look at me and tell me you don't want to fuck me. That you don't want to stuff that hard cock of yours into my tight and inexperienced pussy. Bet you're itching to tear into me until I'm crying under you. Don't you want that?"

San let out a moan at hearing such filthy and depraved talk from her. It only fueled his appetite and hunger for indulging in carnal desires.

"Yes... I want that.... I want you."

Closing space between them, San molded his lips over hers, encasing them in a sloppy and wet kiss. Y/N could faintly make out the leftover scent of alcohol and nicotine as she let him taste her mouth, but she didn't mind or felt grossed out by it. She just kept her lips parted and allowed him to move his tongue freely inside her. Cupping her cheeks, San continued to roll his tongue over hers, massaging it gently with both deep yet gentle strokes. When he pulled away, he made sure to tuck her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it towards him as Y/N let out a moan that was like music to his ears. Pausing briefly, their lips were barely touching as they breathed in each other's air. San was the first one to break into a smile, the one that had Y/N melting since it displayed his dimples to the fullest.

"Never thought I'd hear that sound come out of your pretty mouth." He teased her.

"S-shut up." She frowned, hand reaching up to smack his chest.

"It's not a bad thing. I like it. Now let's see if I can make sure you keep them up."

Stuffing his face into her neck, San ghosted his lips across her skin, tongue subtly poking out solely to hear her breath hitch slightly. Dipping his tongue into her collarbone, his lips opened up so they could firmly latch and spread wet kisses across her neck. Y/N gasped when she felt teeth sink down, head tilting back to give San more room which he took advantage of. Focusing on particular spots that he knew she was sensitive in, he sucked her skin into his mouth. Each time he pulled away, he reveled when he saw the finished mark that was now painted on her skin.

"I would love to see your parent's reaction to my love bites." He brushed a fingers across the newest spot he just embedded in her body, hand then reaching up to suddenly clasp around her neck. Y/N shuddered when his grip got tighter, her oxygen intake getting cut and making her feel hazy, but it was nonetheless enjoyable. Snaking a hand under her shirt, or more like his shirt, San swiped his tongue over his bottom lip as he started to pull the material up.

"How about I make some matching ones all across your pretty chest?"

Before he could lift the shirt any further, Y/N's hand clasped around his wrist, preventing him from moving any further.

"Don't." She begged him.

San retracted his hands away from her, fearing he made her uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry." He immediately apologized and began to move away from her, but Y/N's hands raked against his thighs to keep him in place.

"No, it's not you. It's just..... if we're going to do this, can I keep the shirt on? I don't...." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she admitted an insecurity of hers.

"I don't like my chest. My boobs are too small, it's unflattering and I'd rather you not see them." She slowly opened her eyes to see his reaction. San had a sad look on his face, bottom lip poking out as his fingers came up to brush against her cheek. Remembering what he had previously said back in the parking loyal, he felt terrible for saying that ill intended joke about her body. He probably hurt her and he didn't realize it.

"Y/N don't say that. Your chest size doesn't matter. You're beautiful the way you are and I bet underneath that layer is clothing there is the cutest and most adorable set of boobs in the world." She let out an involuntary giggle at his words, letting him run his hand down her clothed sternum.

"But if that's what you want, I'll respect it. Either way, my tshirt looks amazing on you." He acknowledged rather cockily.

Shifting further back, San took hold of the top of her shorts, making sure to look at her.

"Are you ok with these coming off?"

Y/N resisted the temptation to slap the top of his head.

"If you don't take them off, how are you going to fuck me genius?" She retorted.

"You'd be surprised at what I've learned." He uttered, mostly to himself than at her.

Like an expert, he practically tore her shorts down her legs, panties falling to the floor along with them. Y/N let out a soft squeal when he took hold of her thighs and brought her down so his face was at eye level with her most intimate part. San took a few seconds to admire her bare mound, lips parted and threatening to start drooling all over her thighs. Pressing both thumbs against each one is her lips, San pried her folds open, staring intently as he now clearly saw all of her.

"Oh fuck. I'm gonna need to prep you real good. I can tell you're going to be really tight."

She wanted to ask him what he meant by prep, but her words got caught in her throat when she felt his tongue delve into her core. She had never felt someone's mouth anywhere near her folds and she regretted not having experienced it before. Her eyes shut tight as she marveled at the sensation of San's tongue lapping at her bud, his lips making sure to enclose all around the flesh surrounding it before giving it gentle suckles. Shaky breaths blew out from her mouth, her legs wanting to close themselves around San's head but his firm grip on her thighs kept it from happening. He kept her knees pinned to the bed as his mouth continued to ravish at her taste, sloppily consuming her heat fervently. Her mind was so occupied in what he was doing that she didn't register the hand that slowly crept away from her thigh until she felt something poke at her entrance.

"Oh-" She gasped, opening her eyes to see what was going on.

"Relax princess. It's just my finger.....for now." He momentarily pulled off her heat to let her know what was happening before diving back in to continue his task of eating her out.

His finger inside her felt a little weird at first, sliding in slowly before pulling out only to plunge itself back into her. During one of those times where she expected him to slide back in, she was surprised when she felt herself being stretched out as San curled a second finger inside her. Keeping them lodged there, he began scissoring them alternatively so he could further spread her walls apart. During one of those movements, his fingertips brushed along her hood, making her hips slightly jolt up into San's face, who smiled against her folds as he now knew exactly where to angle his hips for later. Using this new knowledge, that was probably unbeknownst to Y/N, he slipped his fingers deeper into her, knuckles deep as he moved his tips rhythmically on the the spot he found. Y/N's mouth fell wide open into an 'O' as whiny gasps and airy moans poured out of it. San's mouth latched to her clit and his fingers working deep in her hole was producing a stirring in the lower pit of her stomach that she couldn't quite make out. But it felt good, especially since it continued to grow more and more, almost as if it was a cord about to snap.

"San- wait. I feel, I feel-" She couldn't finish her sentence as her body trembled slightly, a flood of overwhelming pleasure washing over her that was prolonged by San drinking up the juices that spilled forth out of her body. He didn't pull away until he made sure to swallow every drop she had to give.

"Aren't you grossed out?" She asked him, always having wondered about that.

"Nope. I love licking girl's pussies, especially if they're as sweet as yours." He affirmed while pulling his shirt off his body.

Y/N turned her flustered face away from him, keeping her gaze locked on the wall to her right, which was decorated with several polaroids of her with her family, friends and members of her church, some of them even had San in them, back when they were inseparable. Before she could become nostalgic, a strong set of hands clutched her chin and teared her gaze away from the pictures, forcing her to stare at the now naked man in front of her.

"Forget about that for now. Right now I want your full attention on me and what we're about to do. After we're done, that image of a good girl you have will gone." His words seemed to almost taunt her.

Although she tried not to look, Y/N's eyes fell in between San's legs, filled with astonishment when she glimpsed for the very first time at her former friend's member, fully erect and leaking at the tip as it awaited to be hugged by her warm walls.

"Like it? Maybe later I'll let you play with it." San giggled when her eyes shot up at him in surprise.

Placing himself to hover above her, he hummed lowly as he slowly stuffed himself inside her, working her open until he was fully nestled inside her warmth. Although she felt a light burn scraping against her inner walls, it wasn't unpleasant or painful like her first time. She could tell San knew exactly what he was doing as he began rolling his hips. Perfectly recalling exactly where to aim at, he made sure to angle his thrusts accordingly so each time he pushed back in, he'd hit her pleasure spot.

"Oh God-" Y/N exclaimed when he continued to brushed against the hood of her core.

"Really think it's a good idea to call out the good lord's name when I'm balls deep inside your pussy?" He asked with a malicious smirk plastered across his face.

"No baby. Tonight your only lord is me."

Pinning her wrists above her head, San continued pushing his cock deeper into her. The harsh pounding of his hips against hers was becoming louder, their bodies starting to get heated and producing sweat. Y/N couldn't do anything but whimper and wrap her legs around San's waist, keeping him firmly locked to her body. She closed her eyes once more as she felt the same familiar feeling from before start piling up, only it felt more intense and stronger probably due to the fact that she was getting railed to her bed by her ex best friend, whom she still cared about deeply. She was definitely not planning on making up with him this way, but holy hell, she couldn't deny that he was making her feel so many emotions at once. Pleasure, lust, satisfaction, happiness, euphoria, love? Perhaps that last one was definitely a stretch, but she blamed her confused thoughts on how well his cock was abusing her hole. She felt unable to focus on anything except him.

"Clenching so hard around me babygirl. Are you gonna cum all over my cock?"

Slipping one hand in between their bodies, San pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing it back and forth so it would serve as an extra push to tip her over the edge. Y/N splayed her hands on San's lower back, nails raking against his skin, causing him to hiss.

"Fuck- am I seriously making you feel that good babygirl?" He knew for a fact he was feeling absolutely amazing, her tight warmth gripping along his shaft, making it hard for him to hold back much longer.

"Mmm yeah." She shamelessly moaned.

"Am I better than your first?" Although he already knew the answer, he still wanted to feed his ego and hear her say it.

"So much better! It feels so fucking good." She inhaled sharply when that she began to feel the sensation from before. With even louder cries from before, her body shook underneath San's, blood rushing to her head as an even greater orgasm coursed through her body. She was left speechless, a full on panting mess even after San had pulled out of her after helping her ride out her high.

"Oh geez. Shit." San's voice rasped out as he jerked himself off, his cum painting her thighs white, not stopping until he had finished coating them with everything he had to give.

Looking down at the mess, Y/N couldn't suppress a tiny giggle, one of her hands clasping over her mouth while the other picked up some of his cum and spread it between her fingers.

"Having fun there?" San grinned, finding her fascinated gaze to be completely adorable to him.

"Yeah.." She said as sat up to get a better look at the cum around her thighs.

"Well I was going to clean it off you, but seeing as you're so entertained by it, I'll just leave you with it."

Not forgetting that he was merely a guest, San slid himself off her bed and plopped his tired body onto the blankets on the floor. Closing his eyes, he was thinking he would finally be able to sleep, but he found his plans thwarted when he felt a pair of hands graze across his chest. Looking up, he found Y/N straddling his lap, biting down on her lower lip as she grinded her wet folds along his softened dick which was now becoming hard again thanks to her.

"What in the world are you doing you crazy girl?" He sucked in a breath, not expecting her to suddenly pounce on him.

"I wanna try that again." She pleaded, grinding her hips harder on him.

"Oh my- did I accidentally turn you into a nymphomaniac?" She chuckled at his joke and although he groaned as if he was frustrated, he obliged to her wishes and sat up.

Clasping her waist with his hands, he lifted her up and guided her so she could easily sink herself down on his length. Not letting go, he slowly rolled his hips up, burying himself deep in her body once more. Since they were both still riled up from their previous session, it didn't take long for both of them to start spewing out a clutter of moans and grunts as they once again get lost in a mist of lust that clouded their minds. San drunk up every expression on Y/N's face. Every twitch of her facial muscles, every shuddering breath she exhaled, each time her eyelids shut close, he marveled at seeing her enjoy the experience. He loved seeing her indulge in such an intimate practice with him, more so given how special she was to him, one of the most important people in his life aside from his family. Looking down at her torso, his fingers brushed along the hem of her shirt.

"Please...." His urging caught her attention.

"Please let me see all of you. I want to admire every inch of you and your beautiful body. I promise I won't laugh or judge. I just want to worship you."

Y/N hesitated briefly, still afraid to let him see what was hidden under the shirt.

"It's ok if you don't want to. I won't force you." He shot a kind smile at her as he focused back on making sure to drive his cock up into her.

Feeling safe and knowing she could trust her lifelong friend whom she thought of as a soulmate at one point, Y/N reached for the bottom of her shirt and peeled it off her body. Coming face to face with her bare chest, San groaned in ecstasy as he slid his hands up her body.

"Just as I predicted, you have very cute breasts."

Pulling her chest to his face, he opened his mouth and took one of her nipples in it, swirling his tongue around it before sucking on it. Y/N's fingers raked themselves through his hair, harshly tugging them when she felt his teeth sink themselves into her flesh.

"Aren't they too small?" She inquired.

Letting go of her breast with an audible pop, San cupped her chin.

"No baby, they're absolutely perfect. They're gorgeous, just like every other part of your body. You're gorgeous, absolutely stunning and holy fuck, you're driving me insane honestly." He confessed, his mouth diving into her other breast so it wouldn't feel left out from being tenderly kissed and sucked on.

His words sunk deep in Y/N's heart. He really did found her beautiful, attractive and it spurred something in her. Feeling a newfound passion, Y/N unconsciously began taking over their movements. Pushing against his thrusts, she began to set her own pace, rutting herself on top of his dick. San of course took notice and was happy about it.

"Oh wanna take over now baby? Well go ahead."

Laying back down on the floor, his eyes stared up at her with lust.

"Fuck yourself on me darling."

Encouraged by him, Y/N began bouncing herself on his cock. Finding an angle that she liked, she sunk down on his length over and over, her head thrown back as she used his body to push her down another spiral of immense pleasure. San just relaxed and admired the way she lost herself and gave into her deepest desires. He loved the way she rode his cock, and he loved feeling her walls tighten once more around his shaft.

"Oh shit- Sannie." She cried out his name as she quivered on top of him, her juices spilling out onto his cock once more.

Knowing fully well she was probably aching between her thighs, San gripped her hips and helped her ride out her climax so the feeling she was going through wouldn't go away just yet. He made sure to be gentle, easing her up and down his cock with absolute tenderness. Once he knew she was satisfied, he pulled her of him and set her down on the floor before sitting up above her body. Just like before, he took hold of his cock and began pumping his cum out of his body, plastering it all across her inner thighs and even splattering some on her stomach. Looking up, Y/N had the same giggly expression as before.

"Does my cum really make you burst into a fit of giggles?" He questioned her.

"I can't help it. It's just... I don't know. Maybe it's the fact it's so dirty and wrong, and then to have you spread it all over my body." She explained, which made San chuckle.

"Maybe I should baptize your thighs with my cum more often." Although he was joking, Y/N was more than willing to take him up on that offer.

"Will you?" She looked up at him with puppy eyes.

San studied her for a moment, before a wicked idea popped in his brain.

"How about you let me baptize and stain that pretty face of yours?"

Getting a hint of what he meant, Y/N got up on her knees while San stood up right in front of her, cock in hand as he brought it up to her lips.

"I hope you weren't planning on going to morning services tomorrow because I'm going to keep you up til morning until your knees hurt."

807 notes · View notes

ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Twenty-Nine

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: not an ending, but a middle.

this chapter was ridiculously difficult to write and edit. it tops out at 7.5k words so… beware

***

Cassian and Nesta make full use of the summer house without his friends there, making love on every other surface just because they’re all alone and they can. Nesta shows a soft spot in particular for having sex in Cassian’s old bed, proving to him that she can be just as sentimental as he is.

Which is how they end up sprawled naked on the living room floor early the next morning, fast asleep in each other’s arms with nothing but a throw blanket to cover them.

Cassian is woken up by the sound of the front door being flung open, followed promptly by a feminine yelp as the intruder catches sight of the tangled couple in the living room. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cassian whips his head up to find who interrupted his sleep, and his nostrils flare in shock when he sees Mor at the entryway. He carefully but swiftly moves his arm out from under Nesta’s head and replaces it with a nearby pillow before starting to stand up. “What the hell are you doing—”

“Fuck no, I can see your ass—No, now I can see your dick!” Mor squeals in disgust, promptly spinning around and clapping her hands over her eyes like she can burn the image out of her mind.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Cassian whisper-hisses at her, throwing a worried glance at Nesta’s still sleeping form. She doesn’t shift an inch.

Scooping up his flannel sleep pants from the floor, Cassian pulls them on while Mor makes gagging noises with her back to him.

Spying a pair of underwear flung over the arm of a chair, she bends to pick them up with two pinched fingers and turns to face Cassian, who’s now appropriately covered. Heavy judgment wrinkles her nose as she casts a glance to the owner of the panties, then to Cassian. “Granny panties, Cass? Is this what your sex life has been reduced to?”

“Don’t touch Nesta’s underwear.” He stalks over to Mor and snatches them out of her hand, before grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her off into the kitchen.

She shakes him off once they’re out of earshot from Nesta and takes a seat across from him at the wooden breakfast table. She brushes her golden hair over a shoulder and smirks. “Someone’s been having fun on their own while waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.”

“What are you doing here?” Cassian repeats.

Mor waves a languid hand dismissively. “I ended up taking a commercial flight. I wasn’t a fan of being stuck on the same private plane as Az and Elain.”

Cassian blows out a tight breath, wishing he’d at least gotten some warning before his plans for the day were ruined. Plans that included taking Nesta in the lake before breakfast.

“But seriously,” Mor glances over her shoulder in the direction of the living room, “what’s up with the prude panties? I thought you would’ve thawed that ice pussy by n…” She trails off at the look on Cassian’s face, and a glimpse of fear crosses her own face. She forces a nervous laugh and twists her fingers together. “I suddenly remember making a promise a while ago,” she murmurs while staring down at the table.

“It’s a good thing you remember,” Cassian says stoically, “because I was just about to bring it up.”

“I know, I know, no criticizing your girlfriend.” Mor rolls her eyes.

“It’s about a lot more than that,” he grits. “It’s about how you’re only wary of her because you don’t trust me to choose who I give my love to. It’s about how you don’t respect my decision enough to maintain boundaries when you talk about Nesta.”

For once, Mor looks put off her game. “I never meant it like that,” she tries to say.

“That’s what it looks like,” Cassian retorts. “It looks like you’re judging someone you have no right to judge, like you’re trying to protect me from an imaginary threat.”

Mor coughs aloud. “Do I really need a scolding for a girl I see maybe twice a year? I haven’t even thought about Nesta since the New Year’s party.”

“It’s not a scolding,” Cassian says firmly. “It’s an order to be on your best behavior for the duration of this vacation, because the sisters and I went through a lot to get Nesta to come here. There will be no catfights, or backtalk, or rude looks and snide tones until we’ve returned home. The same applies for everyone else once they get here.”

“Or, how about this? I’ll stop making ice pussy jokes if you stop being this…” Mor waves a hand up and down at Cassian’s shirtless figure with a grimace, “unrecognizable creature with the tension of a forty year old single dad.”

Is Cassian tense? Of course he’s fucking tense. The last time he convinced Nesta to go to a family event with him was Christmas Eve, and he’s never letting that mistake be repeated ever again. His glare confirms it.

“Morrigan,” he says lowly with a hint of warning.

“Okay, okay,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in surrender. “But for the record, I’ve never said anything rude to your girlfriend’s face, and I never plan to.”

Cassian crosses his brown arms across his chest. “No, you’ve only done it to my face.”

Guilt crosses Mor’s features for the quickest second. “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip. “In that case, I’ll pull back from now on.”

He releases a terse breath. “Good.” Now to hammer the message into anyone else who might threaten the quiet solitude he and Nesta have found here.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she adds somewhat apologetically. “You know I just want the best for you.”

“And you know I already know what’s best for me.”

Mor dips her head in reluctant acknowledgment. “Can we go back to normal, then? I don’t like feeling like your adversary.”

Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief, and his crossed arms fall away. “Of course, Mor.”

Like flipping a switch, Mor claps her hands together. “Good. I left my luggage in the rental car and it’s super heavy; I brought enough clothes for three outfit changes a day. Why don’t you put those big strong muscles to work while I get settled into my room?”

Before Cassian can object, she’s out of her seat and flouncing out of the kitchen. From the entry hall, Cassian can hear Mor say perkily, “Good morning, Nesta! Love the undies.”

Cassian drops his head onto the table with a thud, lifts it, then drops it again. Mor is going to be a work in progress.

“You okay?” A voice makes Cassian look up from the wooden table. Nesta stands in the kitchen entryway wearing nothing but Cassian’s shirt, and her hair is a rumpled mess from sleep. Her hands twisting into the hem of his tee tells him she couldn’t be less excited about Mor’s early arrival, though the rest of her doesn’t show it.

Exhausted apprehensiveness drops in Cassian’s gut. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks warily.

“Not much. I just woke up a minute ago and heard your voices.” She comes over to him and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Why, were you guys arguing?”

Cassian slings his arm around Nesta’s waist, basking in her warmth. “Not exactly.”

She frowns. “Was it about me?”

“It was about Mor.”

She nudges him. “Will you tell me about it?”

“No,” he quips, yanking her down onto his lap. He pecks a kiss onto her lips. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Nesta hums to herself. “So our morning plans are out the window?” she asks, raising a brow.

“Yup.”

“Does Mor actually like my undies?”

“Nope.”

***

The rest of Cassian’s friends and Nesta’s family arrive by late afternoon, piling out of a dark SUV in a frenzy of noise and colors. Nesta forgot how… many of them there were.

She lets Cassian and Mor handle the greetings, choosing to observe everyone from her spot near the stairs.

Azriel is the first to catch her eyes. He looks the same as ever, dressed head to toe in black even in the middle of a heat wave. Elain is an overdressed peacock in comparison to him, not that anyone would be comparing them, because they carefully stand at opposite ends of the entry hall.

He sends a simple nod Nesta’s way, which makes her narrow her eyes. Does he think he can act too cool for her just because they haven’t talked in a while? Idiot.

Feyre notices Nesta next and waves her arms wildly. “Get over here!”

Nesta reluctantly pulls away from the banister and nears their group, offering only a half smile to everyone there before hiding behind her sisters. Cassian cuts a glance her way in solidarity, and it feels like a pillar of reinforcement against her wavering self. She scrambles around for a solid ten seconds for something to say, either to her sisters or to the whole group, and finally comes up with, “What are we having for dinner?”

“That’s still hours away,” Rhysand assures. “Everyone scram and put your shit up first.”

“The girl has a point,” Amren grumbles. “I’m starving.”

“Yeah, Rhys, can we have an early dinner?” Mor whines.

And just like that, Nesta has melted into the background again. Which might be for the best, considering how loud it is right now.

Feeling overwhelmed, Nesta checks on Feyre and Elain to make sure they’re not paying attention to her, and then meets Cassian’s gaze through all the luggage and bodies. Tilting her head toward the back door to let him know that she’s leaving, she silently slips down the hall and out of the house.

Outside in the gardens, the light breeze soothes her heightened senses. It’s hot as shit at this hour, but she’ll take it for the peace and quiet.

Only a few minutes into her getaway, however, Nesta hears the porch door open behind her. Her shoulders stiffen when she hears footsteps that don’t belong to Cassian. There goes her peace and quiet.

Nesta is surprised to find Amren slinking up to her side, her small head appearing at Nesta’s shoulder.

Discomfort crawls through Nesta’s bones at the woman’s unexpected presence. It’s a subtle sense of wrongness, like being in the proximity of a predator but not having enough information to guess how they’ll attack.

“Hiding out from Rhysie’s big bad inner circle?” Amren taunts.

Nesta stiffens. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it needs to be thrown in her face.

“I suppose I can’t blame you,” she goes on. “We can be a scary group.”

“I’m not scared of anybody,” Nesta says, keeping her focus glued to the trees’ cherry blossoms. “I just wanted fresh air.”

“And I’ve wanted to find out what Cassian sees in you ever since he gave me that verbal lashing about being nice to his new girlfriend.” Amren turns to face Nesta fully, closing in. “What kind of pussy grip can a woman have to make Cassian of all men heel?” She hisses in a thoughtful breath through her teeth.

Nesta only shrugs, but her interest is piqued at the idea of Cassian warning Amren away from her. She definitely doesn’t need the protection, and once would have found it offensive, but… she likes the idea of someone standing up for her, being unapologetically on her side even if they have no good reason to do it. The only other times she can remember feeling defended were brief, subtle childhood instances with Feyre and Elain, and that was only because blood instinctively defends blood. It’s different to feel chosen. It makes her chest crack.

When Nesta doesn’t respond, Amren throws out, “Are you on the spectrum or what?”

Nesta again doesn’t reply.

“No one mentioned it, but I assumed as soon as I saw you.”

“It’s rude to make assumptions,” Nesta says, her voice cool as a running river.

Amren barks a laugh that sounds like a whip lashing. “I like you, girl.”

Nesta finally meets Amren’s silver gaze and states, “I don’t like you.” Her tone is blunt, to the point—but if she has to participate in this twisted version of small talk, then she should at least get to be honest.

Amren laughs aloud again, as if that genuinely amuses her. Nesta doesn’t know how amused Amren will be when she realizes that Nesta is serious.

She shrugs to herself, turning back to face the garden. It isn’t her problem, she decides.

***

“Even for you, this is overprotective.” Rhys’s voice comes from behind Cassian, who stands at the sliding glass door at the back of the kitchen that peers out onto the gardens. He’s been watching Amren converse with Nesta for the last seven minutes—or rather, he’s been watching Nesta, inspecting her body language to gauge her discomfort.

It was a struggle not to hold his arm across the back door and block Amren from following after Nesta earlier. Amren had the look of a cat going out to play with a new toy, and Cassian had nearly snarled at her for it until she gave him that expression: the raised brow and sneer that said Really, Cassian? Pathetic.

It made him think of how Nesta would feel if she knew he was trying to physically keep people away from her, and he managed to have enough shame to move aside and let Amren pass with only a warning look.

So far though, it looks like Nesta is handling herself just fine. He should’ve known better than to underestimate her.

When Rhys doesn’t get a response, he comes up to stand at Cassian’s side and get a look through the glass door. “I never thought you’d be applying your passion for security to your damn girlfriend.” Rhys lets out a low whistle.

Without taking his eyes off Nesta and Amren, Cassian tells Rhys, “Protecting her is protecting myself. When she gets hurt, I feel it twofold.” And he really doesn’t want to be hurt on this vacation. Nesta already thinks he’s a crybaby as it is.

Rhys is silent for a long minute, as if he can’t deny that he would feel the same way for his own girlfriend. Eventually he says, “I might finally understand what’s going on in your brain whenever you’re around her.”

Cassian only nods.

Rhysand claps his hand down suddenly on Cassian’s shoulder, breaking the somberness of his confession. “Call them in to help make dinner,” Rhys orders. “I want all hands on deck tonight.”

Cassian looks at his brother with narrowed eyes. “And what will you be doing to help?”

“I’ll be watching the game on the nice TV that I paid for, in the beautiful new living room I also paid for.”

“Bastard.”

***

Nesta and Azriel help prepare dinner in silence. Their quiet acknowledgment of each other is better than any words could be, but it’s all shattered when Mor dumps a serving platter on the counter right next to Azriel.

“Ooh, ricotta-stuffed mushrooms!” She grabs a handful and starts arranging them onto her platter. “Az, how was your mystery weekend away? I haven’t seen you since you got back.”

Azriel shares an unreadable glance with Nesta before sliding his chicken parmesan dish toward her and saying loudly, “Wow, is that football?” He promptly turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

Nesta glares after him in disbelief, but Azriel can’t hear her wordless cries for help because he’s already in the living room.

Left alone at the kitchen counter with Morrigan, Nesta keeps wiping at the wine glasses that have been gathering dust in the cupboards. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Mor’s mouth is tightened into a displeased line.

Not that Nesta isn’t grateful for it, but Mor usually isn’t one to keep her mouth shut. She wonders if something is wrong that she doesn’t know about. “You look constipated,” Nesta tells Mor under her breath. “Anything you want to get out?”

Mor only scoffs in indignation. Then she shakes her head and mutters to herself, “I promised not to say anything.”

Now Nesta is really intrigued. “Promised who?” she prods. “Cassian?”

“Like you don’t know about it.” Mor rolls her dark eyes.

Nesta doesn’t know, though after Amren’s comment earlier she might have a hint. “I would prefer you be honest with me rather than follow Cassian’s orders.”

“That’s funny, so do I.” Mor plucks up a stuffed mushroom and shoves it into her mouth.

Nesta thinks back to how she woke up to Cassian and Mor’s voices lowered in seriousness. After what Nesta overheard on New Year’s Eve, it’s no secret that Morrigan doesn’t care for her, but she suddenly has the urge to have it said to her face. “Well, if you want to stop holding back with me, I won’t tell.”

Morrigan sets down her mushroom platter with a thump, turning to face Nesta like she’s done her a personal wrong. “You know what I know about you, Nesta?” Mor says. “I know that Cassian has changed since he’s gotten with you. I know that he’s more serious whenever he’s around you. I know that you don’t love him as much as he loves you. How can Cassian expect me to trust someone that doesn’t want to be around his own family? How can he expect me to trust you with his heart? Not that I’m allowed to be saying any of this, because I’m supposed to be hiding my feelings about you to stop my best friend from hating me.”

It’s crazy how a year ago those words would have been enough to make Nesta retreat to her room and never come out again. Each statement pricks like a shard of glass against her skin, though none of them are accurate or true.

And yet Nesta finds herself hurting more for Cassian than for herself. She feels her familiar old mask go up around her face and harden there.

“It sounds like your problem is more with Cassian than it is with me,” Nesta says stoically. “Because I won’t be going through any trials to prove myself. I have nothing to prove. I don’t care if you like me or not, if you’re nice to my face or cruel behind my back—but it’s rude to shit over your friend’s life choices like that. He’ll stop trusting you if you keep it up, and it won’t be my fault when it happens,” Nesta finishes. She wordlessly gathers the wine glasses in her hands and abandons a silent Morrigan to go set the table.

Nesta knows the dynamic at dinner is off with her presence there.

For once, Cassian’s priorities lie somewhere other than laughing with his friends. He keeps a protective hand on Nesta’s thigh from the moment they take their seats, and he only removes it when he’s filling her plate with food.

With memories of Christmas dinner hanging over all of them, Cassian looks like a bodyguard prepared for attack— except he’s contributing to a good half of the tension at the table.

“How was the drive here?” Feyre pokes at the two of them in an attempt to break the ice. Nesta glances to Cassian for his response, but his attention is taken by the platter of bread rolls.

Sighing internally, Nesta answers, “Better than yours, that’s for sure.”

Everyone laughs hesitantly. A steaming bread roll then appears on Nesta’s plate, golden and fluffy with a buttery aroma; one glance at the rest of the bread tells her it was the biggest roll in the pile.

Nesta drops her walls enough to give Cassian a small smile and an arm rub of appreciation, and then she reaches straight for the bottle of wine.

She loves Cassian and hates this dinner too much to allow this to go on.

After filling Cassian’s empty glass high with Merlot, Nesta presses it into his free hand with a subtle kiss on his cheek. “Relax a little,” she murmurs into his ear.

It takes ten minutes and two full glasses for her plan to take effect, but relax Cassian does. Like oil slipping through rusted gears, the tension in the room slowly unwinds and natural conversation starts to flow.

“You guys will not believe what I had to walk in on this morning,” Mor announces at one point during the meal.

“Yeah, yeah, Cassian’s ass and dick, we’ve already heard,” Amren says.

Cassian’s glare at Mor is more lighthearted than life-threatening. “This is why I can’t talk to you anymore,” he states, pointing a finger at her. Nesta is so glad for the lack of tension in his shoulders that she doesn’t even care if everyone basically knows about her having sex in the living room.

With Cassian acting more like his normal self, the pressure to make useless small talk is no longer on her. Nesta is content to watch everybody share stories and laughter, but for once she doesn’t feel like an audience member on the outside looking in. Maybe it’s because no matter how much Cassian drinks, his hand stays steady on her leg the whole night, keeping her rooted there with everybody else. He doesn’t let her fade into the background for a second.

“What’s that on your wrist, Az?” Mor’s voice rings from one head of the table. Azriel snatches his hand back in a flash before Mor can reach for it. From his other side, Nesta grabs it smoothly out of the air to take a look at the cause of Mor’s question.

She raises her brow at the sight of three colorful bracelets lining Azriel’s right wrist.

Az tries to pull his hand away, but Nesta’s hold is tight. Even if the signature of the maker wasn’t stamped onto one of the childish bracelets, she would know who had made them with one glance.

“What does it say?” Mor asks her.

“Nothing. Just some beads.” Nesta pulls Azriel’s dark sleeve over the beads that spell out GWYN’S BITCH and gives his arm a little pat. She sincerely hopes Elain is thoroughly over Azriel by now.

“Was that Rainbow Loom I saw? Since when did you wear kiddy bracelets?” Mor snorts at Az.

Nesta’s attention is pulled away from their conversation by a heavy head falling onto her shoulder. “Nestaaa,” Cassian slurs, slumping against her side.

Blushing at the attention he’s drawing to her, Nesta tries to shove a drunk Cassian back upright. “I think we need to get you to bed.”

“Oh really? Promise you’ll tuck me in?” He tries to wink at her, but it comes off as a strained blink.

He looks ridiculous. It isn’t helping the blush on her cheeks, though.

“I promise.” Nesta shoves her finished plate aside and grabs Cassian by the bicep, standing up and attempting to drag him with her. “Come on, I’ll take you right now.”

Mor is quick to get to her feet. “We can take him,” she offers eagerly.

“Who’s we?” Azriel mutters. Nesta hears a hard stomp, and then Az is coughing, jumping out of his seat after Mor. “Yeah, we’ll take him,” he says.

Nesta reluctantly lets Cassian slip out of her grasp as Morrigan and Azriel take one of his arms from either side.

“Wait, but I want Nesta to tuck me in!” Cassian twists around as he’s dragged away, drunkenly finding Nesta’s gaze. He’s pouting.

Affection battles with secondhand embarrassment and wins. “I’ll be right there,” she promises with a wave. As soon as Mor and Azriel accomplish whatever it is they’re trying to accomplish. Her voice flattens into a cold warning when she adds after them, “Be careful with him.”

Daring a quick glance back at the table, Nesta wants to cringe when she meets everyone else’s eyes. Rhysand looks highly amused. Feyre looks disturbed, and Elain looks glum with envy, the love-obsessed bitch. Amren is Amren.

After dinner is over, dishes duty is handed over to Rhysand and Amren goes off to bed complaining about beauty sleep, which leaves Nesta alone with her sisters in the foyer.

She doesn’t quite know how, but she ends up forgetting her promise to Cassian and following the girls out to the front porch for some fresh air instead. The sun has long since set, taking some of the summer heat with it, but the air is still stuffy as the three of them settle down onto hand-painted wooden chairs. Lanterns on the porch are lit up to keep the darkness away, and the lake before them gleams with the reflection of the rising moon.

Feyre is the first to speak, her voice hesitant. “It’s hot out tonight, isn’t it?”

“I’m not doing this,” Elain announces. She stands abruptly from her chair and goes back inside.

Nesta and Feyre stare wide-eyed after the swinging front door, but a minute later Elain returns holding a decanter and three crystal glasses. She sets the glasses down on a side table and starts pouring. “It’s not really Tennessee without a strong whiskey,” she says to no one. “And I’m way too sober right now to handle this vacation.” The third glass gets an extra finger of liquor, and it ends up in Elain’s hand. She passes the other two to Nesta and Feyre before settling back into her seat.

Nesta grimaces at the drink in her hand without even tasting it. She hates most alcohol, but strong alcohol especially. For the sake of her sisters, however, she throws back half the glass without thinking.

Liquid fire scalds her tongue and throat, and she groans aloud. Instant regret.

Elain has no such issues downing her liquor. “Did you know,” she says after swallowing a gulp of whiskey like it’s apple juice, “that our old place is just a mile and a half that way?” She waves with her glass toward the back gardens.

“Is it really that close?” A frown wrinkles Feyre’s brow, like the memory of their old home might taint the perfect life she has now.

“Yes,” Nesta confirms. She doesn’t offer anything else.

Feyre shudders despite the temperature. “I hate even thinking about it. It’s so depressing. Reminds me of Papa.”

Which is also depressing, Nesta thinks to herself.

“It wasn’t depressing for me,” Elain says, chin tilted up in defiance.

That doesn’t surprise Nesta. Even in the depths of their father’s patheticness, he was Elain’s favorite man on earth.

Nesta used to wonder how her papa would have reacted if Elain was the one with crippling endometriosis pain every month instead of her. Would he have ignored her cries like he ignored Nesta’s, or would he have come running to her aid?

It’s not a question that’s worth Nesta’s time and energy, though. Not when the man himself has long been six feet under. Instead she pokes at Elain, “Then why did you hide your background from every guy you met like you were ashamed of it?”

“I was ashamed,” Elain says primly, “but that doesn’t mean I hated all of it. We didn’t all grow up with a ten foot stick up our ass; at least I could appreciate what we had without taking my attitude out on everybody else.”

The whiskey must be working quickly, because Nesta can’t hold back an unseemly snort. “There you go again,” she drawls in a cutting tone, pointing an accusing finger with the hand that holds her glass at Elain. “Dishing out shit when you can’t take it back. At least not without crying.”

Feyre, who was trying to hide her cringe with the rim of her drink, now perks up with eagerness. “She does do that, doesn’t she?” she exclaims. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

Elain’s lips twist into an indignant sneer. “What’s this dynamic now, why’s everyone ganging up on me?”

Nesta mutters, “Because you need to hear it every now and then.” Turning to Feyre, she adds, “God, she can be fucking annoying.”

“Oh, like you’re everyone’s favorite person to be around?” Elain scoffs.

“At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. That’s called a con artist, Elain. You’re a con artist.”

There’s stunned silence for a tense moment—and it’s broken by full laughter. Elain is chuckling sweetly as she says, “Well, I suppose it’s okay if only you two are the ones who notice it. It can be our little secret.” She presses a finger to her pink lips.

Feyre giggles along at that too, but Nesta remains quiet. Too sober for the current mood, perhaps. “Do you think someone will notice at one point?” she asks Elain. “That the smiles and Southern charm and—the kindness...” She doesn’t know how to feel about that word in relation to Elain. “Do you think someone will notice that that’s not all there is to you?”

Elain’s grinning face freezes quicker than an actress’s. “No one will know,” she answers smoothly, “because I’m not going to be with anyone else for a while.”

At the confused silence filled only by the chirp of cicadas, Elain supplements, “I’m trying out the single life.”

Nesta meets Feyre’s eyes, and it only catalyzes the sound quelling up in her throat. At the same moment, the two sisters burst into cackling laughter. Well, Feyre cackles. Nesta makes a noise that imitates a dying whale.

“I’m serious,” Elain insists, glaring at them. “If Nesta could spend all those years living like a widowed hag, why can’t I? I don’t need men to live.”

Nesta’s laughter sours at the insult, and she turns to Elain with seriousness in her tone. “No one needs anyone else, Elain—but you treat loneliness like a leper from the Middle Ages. Are you even happy for me and Cassian beneath all that jealousy?”

Elain shifts uncomfortably in her chair and mutters, “Of course I’m happy for you two.” And then she adds in a much quieter voice, “Deep, deep down.”

“Is that what was wrong with you on New Year’s?” Feyre asks gently. “You were jealous?”

Nesta raises a brow; she didn’t know this.

“I wasn’t exactly having fun watching you two suck face right after getting dumped by Azriel,” Elain tells Nesta. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. I just…I’m not used to being the lonely one.” She huffs out a sigh and reaches for the decanter again. “If anyone should be in a happy and healthy relationship right now, it should be me.”

Feyre turns to Nesta and whispers too loudly, “You’re right, she is fucking annoying.”

“Don’t get too friendly; so are you.”

Feyre leans away from Nesta in affront. “I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“You don’t need to do anything for Nesta to think she’s better than us,” Elain chimes in.

The three of them break out into bickering, which soon devolves into hysterical laughter, which then morphs into a comfortable silence—which doesn’t last long until they’re bickering again. They spend the rest of the night going in small circles like that over their whiskey, occasionally taking breaks to talk of more serious things: Elain’s flower shop is finally starting to pick up business, but expenses are still too high. Nesta is worried about Cassian being all alone in Italy by himself, but she’ll never show it to him. Feyre’s work at the children’s art studio is making her seriously consider having kids (“Don’t you dare, you’re way too young,” Nesta threatens).

Each of them reveals that they miss at least one of their shitty parents these days.

Maybe it’s because they’re under the same night sky that they spent their childhoods under, but if Nesta closes her eyes, it’s like she’s seventeen again, letting her sisters stay up and talk her ear off even though it’s a weeknight.

***

The lack of Nesta in Cassian’s bed must stop him from succumbing to deep sleep, because his nap is hazy and doesn’t last more than a half hour. When he blinks awake, the fog of wine from earlier has mostly cleared away and the lamps in his room are lit. Mor sits on the bay window seat and Azriel lounges on a chair nearby, both of them murmuring quietly to each other.

Noticing Cassian’s movement, Az turns away from Mor and drawls, “That was quick.”

Groaning, Cassian rubs at his eyes and sits up straight. His shirt and jeans are flung on the floor, and he can only assume he took them off himself before collapsing into bed.

Holding the thin blanket to his chest, he demands, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, now he has modesty,” Mor grumbles.

Cassian grabs his wrinkled shirt from the floor and shrugs it on before repeating his question. “What are you doing here, and where’s Nesta?”

“Don’t know,” Az shrugs from his chair. “But Mor wanted us to talk alone, so Nesta probably doesn’t need to be here.”

Growing wary, Cassian straightens up against the headboard. “Talk about what?”

Mor’s words take him by surprise. “I wanted to apologize.” She straightens up in her seat and throws a cautious glance at Azriel. “And I wanted Az with me for moral support.”

Az rolls his eyes to himself, likely considering the task beneath him.

“I didn’t take your words that seriously this morning,” Mor goes on, “but I’m taking them seriously now. Someone made me realize that I’ve been blaming your—girlfriend... for our relationship changing when I’m the one who’s been pushing you away the whole time. While you were falling in love, I wasn’t there for you. I didn’t trust you to find love without my input, and I didn’t respect you when you did.” Tears line her dark eyes, taking Cassian aback. “I’m sorry,” she says weakly. “Please don’t hate me.”

A headache takes root in Cassian’s temples, and he has to shut his eyes against the dull thudding. “I could never hate you, Mor,” he says past the lump in his throat. That was never the problem, though her words have eased some of the pent up frustration in his chest.

Cassian lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s not just you. It’s every single one of us. We’ve known each other so long, we’re so fucking entangled in each other, that even when I’m living by myself up in my cabin I feel like I can’t get away from it.” He stares out the window like he might find some relief there. “That’s why I’m going overseas. To get some space from all of this.” He waves between the three of them and laughs bitterly. “We created this incestuous little circle and now we don’t know how to care about anyone outside of it.”

He catches Az frowning, fingers toying with one of the bracelets on his wrist that Cassian spied earlier.

Mor sniffs away a lingering tear. “What about Nesta, then? Where does she factor in?”

Cassian’s mouth turns down in a distasteful frown. He still doesn’t like that he has to leave without her, but the fact that he doesn’t like it is only more proof that he needs to do it. “I can’t let Nesta be a part of me,” he answers. “I need to be all of me.”

Only once he learns how to do that can he be the friend and lover that the people in his life deserve.

***

Nesta wakes up the next dawn not on a hard chair, but in a soft bed. The smell of Cassian lingers on the sheets wrapped around her, and she blinks blearily as she tries to remember the events of last night.

Feyre fell asleep first. Elain and Nesta were just going to close their eyes for a moment and take a brief rest as well, but the next thing Nesta knew Cassian was helping her take out her contacts and laying her head against a pillow. Now the sun is dawning and she has a pounding headache. She needs at least another ten hours of sleep before she’ll be fit to face the world again.

She looks around for her phone to check the time and spots it plugged into the charger on the bedside table. Despite feeling like she’s been rammed with the flu, the tiniest smile lifts Nesta’s lips at the thought of Cassian carrying her to bed and making sure to charge her phone.

She finds her lockscreen blown up with notifications, all from her shared groupchat with Gwyn and Emerie.

Clicking into her texts, Nesta scrolls back through the hundreds of messages to see what she missed.

Emerie: i can’t believe nesta isn’t here for this.

Emerie: what the hell is she doing

Gwyn: probably hanging out with her best friends the inner circle

Gwyn: or getting railed

Emerie: >:(

A tired laugh escapes Nesta as she reads the texts, and she’s grateful for the reminder that these are her chosen friends. This is her found family, and she’ll be back with them soon.

Scrolling a little further back, Nesta finds the cause of all the commotion.

Emerie: A RACCOON JUST FELL THROUGH MY CEILING IM GONMA DUE &%!@

Emerie: DIE

Followed by multiple pictures of a scarily large raccoon chewing up Emerie’s bed.

Nesta shudders at the images. Reminding herself to message the girls back as soon as she has her head on straight, she puts away the phone and drags herself out of bed.

Her knees wobble a little as she stands upright and slips her glasses on, but her body keeps moving automatically toward the door. It’s not until she’s halfway downstairs that she realizes she’s looking for Cassian.

In the main hall that cuts through the house, Nesta glances between the back door and the front door. Instinct tugs her toward the front door, and as she passes the living room she spies Elain knocked out on the couch.

One of her legs dangle off the edge of the cushion and she still has her shoes on, like she dragged herself up onto the loveseat in the middle of the night and fell straight asleep.

Cassian brought Nesta up to their room sometime during the night, and Rhysand would have done the same for Feyre, but Elain… Elain has no one to carry her to her room, Nesta realizes.

Hating the unusual feeling of pity that blooms inside of her, Nesta goes over and grabs a throw blanket from nearby. She flings it haphazardly over Elain’s body. There, that should do it.

She might take a few seconds to tuck the blanket in a little better, but then she’s out the front door and jogging down the porch steps. Early morning dew beads the grass, and the sun isn’t high enough in the sky yet for the heat to be unbearable.

Like perfect timing, Cassian’s form appears from the lightly wooded running trail that circles the lake. He has his hair tied up and is wearing nothing but workout shorts, and even from this distance Nesta can see the sweat gleaming off his hardened chest.

She forgets about her headache and the bitter aftertaste of alcohol coating her tongue. Her feet speed up on the grass, and then Cassian takes sight of her too. He grins wide and breaks into a run toward her.

When they’re mere feet away from each other, Nesta is the one to halt first and hold out a hand, blocking Cassian’s incoming bear hug. “Don’t you dare.” She eyes his body with a warning look. Nesta will do a lot of things for her boyfriend, but sticking her face into his sweaty pits is not one of them.

Cassian looks her up and down with scrutiny, trying to decide if going in for the hug anyway is worth it. “Fine,” he gives in. He spins on his heel and walks down to the head of the pier, where a standing shower is set up for washing off after swims in the lake.

Twisting the faucet, Cassian stands under the cold burst of water and gives Nesta a look that says, Happy now?

Nesta cautiously goes over to where Cassian stands, but she gets too close—

In a blink, she’s being tugged under the shower stream, held tight to Cassian’s chest.

“Cassian!” Nesta splutters, trying to pull away. Droplets hit her glasses and blur her vision, and she has to shove the glasses up into her hair so she can properly glare at Cassian’s face.

He only laughs deeply and tugs her closer. “Like you don’t smell either. You’ve been in that dress since yesterday.”

Nesta catches her breath under the pouring water, glancing down at her soaked sundress. Right; she probably needs this more than he does.

The water isn’t freezing like she expected, she realizes as she relaxes in Cassian’s arms. It’s actually the perfect temperature, almost soothing after the initial shock to her senses.

Broad hands stroke long lines across her arms, like Cassian is making sure that she isn’t uncomfortable. The action triggers an old memory inside Nesta—or rather, an old familiar feeling. The feeling of Cassian in Nesta’s early days of knowing him, always pushing her out of her comfort zone but never tossing her in the deep end to drown.

“I handled my sisters and your friends pretty well the other night, don’t you think?” she murmurs into his chest.

Cassian looks down at her with pure reverence in his eyes. “I can’t be surprised. You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Brave as hell. From the minute you stepped outside of the little circle you’d drawn around your life, you became the bravest person I know.”

“Not true,” Nesta states matter-of-factly. “I can name at least three braver people.”

Cassian pokes her in the ribs, but his smile is good natured. “It’s just an expression, Nes. Take the compliment.”

The shower keeps spraying around them, refracting the sunlight to scatter rainbows across Nesta’s vision. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she tells Cassian earnestly. “I did the bulk of the hard work, but you…you gave me that first push. You taught me I could find safety in others, because you were my first real friend.”

Her words clearly take Cassian by surprise. Maybe it’s because Nesta is so rarely open about her true feelings, so her words have more value when she is. Maybe Cassian just wasn’t expecting to get so much credit, which is why he blinks rapidly now. “And what now?” he tries to tease, emotion tangled in his throat. “You have better friends?”

“Much better,” Nesta plays along, but her gaze carries all her sincerity. She suddenly laughs to herself, remembering: “I was terrible at socializing.”

It’s something she brushes off easily now, but few people will ever know that part of her inability to get close to others stemmed from a debilitating fear of rejection.

“Not to me.” Cassian reaches out to twist the faucet off, leaving the two of them standing soaked in the morning air. “I loved talking to you. I couldn’t stop wanting to talk to you, even if you didn’t feel like talking back.” That was how insistent he’d been on becoming her friend, that he would open up to her even when she was closed off to him.

Nesta watches Cassian tug his hair tie off, a little dazed by how much she feels for him in this moment. She isn’t ready for when he scrubs a hand vigorously through his loose hair, shaking the dripping strands out like a dog.

“Cassian!” Nesta scolds for the second time this morning. She flinches back at the water droplets hitting her eyes, making Cassian laugh when he looks back up at her. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. To make up for the assault, he delicately plucks her glasses off the top of her head and uses the hem of her wet dress to wipe off the lenses as best he can.

He slides the glasses back onto her face and nods, inspecting her. “That’s better.” Then he swoops down to kiss the mole beside her mouth.

Nesta wrinkles her nose in surprise. “What’s that for?”

“It’s a thank you,” he says. “Thank you for your car breaking down in the middle of the woods, and for agreeing to spend the night at my place last September.”

Nesta’s brows raise high in amusement. “Shouldn’t you be thanking Feyre? For calling in that favor with you?”

“One day, I’ll do that too,” he promises.

Nesta bites down on a smile and shakes her head, muttering, “Ridiculous.” Yet she can’t help but wonder: who would she thank?

The universe, probably. Whatever forces made it possible for her to wake up every day in the same bed as Cassian, eating the food he cooks and accepting the unconditional love he offers.

She suddenly shivers under the rising sun, becoming aware of how just uncomfortably her sundress clings to her body. Without Cassian’s words distracting her, everything is damp and cold.

Cassian notices and slips his hand into Nesta’s, already starting to pull her away from the pier and toward the house. “Let’s get you dry,” he says. “I’ll make us pancakes before everyone else wakes up.”

“With chocolate chips?”

“With chocolate chips.”

So hand in hand, the two of them walk back up to Cherrywood House.

***

a/n: IM FREE OF THIS BEAST. that ending was absolutely horrible to write, but i hope it satisfied you anyway. and if didnt, well, that’s what the epilogue is for

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

236 notes · View notes

harfanfare · 3 years

Text

How to win a heart of Jamil Viper?

1. Don’t be a typical hero(ine).

Contrary to the popular romance trope, tripping over the air to land on a certain cool-looking boy, and dropping all carried things, wouldn’t make Jamil fall for you. Instead, just falling because of you and sharply crashing with a floor would make him rather cautious around you and keeping a distance whether he has anything in his hands.

Believe him or not, he doesn’t need another ditsy and erratic person around him—like a certain leader from a certain dorm, who happens to create a mess anytime, anywhere.

So, let someone else be the protagonist of the story.

In that situation, you may be a side character that gets its way through obstacles and classic borders of story scheme and is much more interesting than the main persona.

That’s how you get his attention.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. Be a help.

Oh, a person that would help him with his chores means to him much more than gold. Sometimes.

“Can I help you anyhow?” you asked when Jamil was going to the kitchen after a daily training with the rest of the dorm. He lifted his eyebrow, waiting for further explanation. “I mean with cleaning or something.”

Jamil glanced at you, not sure about your intentions.

Who would like to do something to help without having something in return? With only your will? No, it doesn’t work well in the same sentence.

But some help would be great. So, he just needs to keep sure that he won’t fall into any trap for letting you help, yes?

“Sure,” he said casually, not letting his face nor voice reveal any of his thoughts he run into. “[Name], right? Could you bring and clean the dishes from longue?”

And you helped. You really helped him a lot, staying over two hours till everything was shimmering with cleanliness and your abrupt desire to clean something and be more useful, burned out.

“Thank you for your help,” Jamil said, after correcting the last cushion in the Scarabia’s longue. You flashed him a smile. “But why, if I can ask, did you offer it in the first place?”

He got a quick response in form of a shrug.

“I... don’t really know,” you admitted, glancing at him. “...But you don’t complain, no?”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3. Be his dish taster.

“The way to a one's heart is through his stomach.”

“Try it,” Jamil handed you a spoon filled with some kind of stew. You consentaneously your opened mouth and drank all content of the spoon. Your mouth filled with many flavours and you couldn’t be sure if you ever ate that good combination in your life. “How was that?”

“Excellent as always.”

You said it all sincerely and maybe would have asked for seconds, if not the fact that Jamil already turned his back to you and got back to pots. He took another spoon and tried the dish himself, clicked his tongue and added more salt.

Once again, he turned to you and handed you a spoon.

“And how was that now?”

“Excellent as always,” you chuckled as he frowned at you.

“Don’t you think that you should add more words to your dictionary? You say the same thing on every dish,” once he said that you finished drying the last plate and preparing silverware for today’s fiesta.

“Don’t you think that I won’t be able to eat anything at the party when I will eat enough of your cooking now to write a poem about each of your culinary masterpieces?” Jamil chuckled slightly at your words.

“So, you don’t want any more?” he teased, but inside he was really flushed. Praises or cajolery, it all makes his heart skip a beat.

Finally, there was someone who appreciated all work he’s done.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4. Distract Kalim from him.

“You really shouldn’t go there,” you said, your voice as serious as you could keep it. “I mean, what if there is a monster who wants to kidnap you?”

Kalim cocked his head a little, considering your words. After a while, he nodded, fully convinced by your argument.

“You’re right,” he said. “I will warn others about this..!”

Kalim turned on his heel and spotted some people returning from morning classes. He ran to them, greeting them and walking with them as he tried to introduce the situation.

Still not believing Kalim fall for your words, you were standing alone in the centre of the corridor, a bit dumbstruck to discover the excuse Jamil came up with work.

“...Are you sure, you don’t want to tell him that some student’s from other dorm are here?” you asked as if saying to yourself your thoughts aloud.

But there was someone, someone who was hiding behind a big potted palm. He only gave you thumbs up as a preventative measure if there was still a chance that Kalim didn’t just dash through the halls to talk with some dorm students.

Jamil only looked at you and mouthed “No. Party. Today.” and quietly shifted to the corner, where the wall hid him and he could finally get up.

Mission accomplished.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5. Get rid of bugs for him.

“[Name],” Jamil called out to you, bursting through the door to your room. He looked very pale and panic was staying still in his eyes. “Would you be so kind to... deal with an intruder?”

You frowned a little before biting back a sigh. At first, you were concerned. Even Kalim getting in a serious mess didn’t make him react that seriously. But then you remembered that there was one thing that could make Jamil call you out of nowhere, acting like in an emergency. Emergency only in eyes of few.

Bugs.

Jamil never admitted to you that he is scared of them, but every time you brought up the topis, he snapped his fingers at it, saying that insects just aren’t his favourite kind of animal.

“Hmm~ Maybe after I finish this chapter,” you said, conspicuously turning a page of the book you were reading and with all your will trying not to smile nor to look at the wincing expression Jamil was wearing.

“[Name],” he said, his voice shaking with anger or frustration. “Go there right now or I will make sure you won’t get today’s dinner.”

...No dinner?

“Yes, mum,” you said putting the textbook aside and getting up from the comfortable couch.

Of all people, Jamil is probably the only one—well, maybe also Trey—that could make those words sound dangerous. Like, no dinner made by the best chef in Scarabia? It would be pure agony.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6. Have competitions.

“Aren’t you a little too good in this game?” you asked, regretfully placing pieces of the game back to the initial places.

He gave you a smile that slowly turned into a smirk, as you groaned at the next round you have lost. You flopped on the big pillow, all your will to play destroyed, as you sank between really cosy material.

“I told you I won’t give you a head start,” Jamil said, his steady voice mixed with amusement. “You even told me that you don’t want me to go easy on you before the game started.”

“Too bad,” you clicked your tongue at his response. “I was sure that after watching you play with Kalim, I remembered your tactics.”

You’ve watched at least eight rounds of Jamil and Kalim playing this game, and when it was coming to end, you were almost sure you understood and remembered the technique he was using in certain situations.

But, to your disappointment, it looked like he – even without using any of his tricky cards in his sleeve – was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, because, after three moves, you knew that probably all three were wrong when the opponent was Jamil.

“You gained nothing by it. Of course, I lost to him or... there would be a trouble,” he exclaimed. “You are different.”

“Oh, thank you. I can lose but he can’t, huh?” you frowned at him as he almost choked on the surprise he felt by hearing your response.

“...Yeah, that’s it. Just it.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7. Have study sessions together.

“One class had a test before us,” you said scrolling through your class chat group. “They said that there wasn’t any question about these dates.”

Jamil scribbled down years of the most important magic wars, from time to time looking at you who were listing some test exercises and feeling somehow unmotivated to even properly open a history book.

Your notebook was lying in front of you, today’s lesson topic on the top of the page and many detailed doodles on its margin.

Once again... what was the unit you are having an exam about?

“It doesn’t mean, we won’t get a question about that,” Jamil tried to convince you, sliding textbook your way. “Now, read that aloud, while I prepare notes.”

You blinked twice as if woken up from daydreaming. Were you daydreaming?

“Are you sure..? I mean, all I will do is reading. Wouldn’t you rather want us to read it silently and then share our notes after this?”

“Don’t think about it much. I really like your voice,” he said it so thoughtlessly you weren’t sure if said it as an unarguable fact or just his smooth talker abilities were showing off, “and gave me your notes for the last exam so we’re even. And you won’t do any good notes when you’re sulking over this exam like that.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8. Remind him to take breaks.

“You won’t get out of here,” you exclaimed spreading your arms as shielding a door from him. “Not a chance.”

Jamil stood a feet next to you, grimace stretching on his lips as he knew what’s coming up.

“I have to go, [Name].”

He tried to get through you, lightly removing you of his way. He wasn’t a fan of using force on anyone, and he was a hater of using force on you.

Much more than a speakable argument, you were pushing each other closer or further from the door, having a staring contest and reciting all the things he had done in the past two days; except for his daily duties and with the upcoming birthday party of few students of Scarabia who happen to have a celebration in the same day, the number of tasks he was given was overwhelming.

“Stop it!” you protested, trying to push him back. “I am seriously worried about you! Please... take a break.”

Every time he was coming closer to the exit, you stepped back, blocking his way, bumping into him and having to try again.

“You know I have a lot of work to do,” he said, finally stepping back and giving you a break from trying to separate him from the door. “I can’t just give up all my duties, even if I would love a break.”

“I can do it for you,” you quickly offered. “But please, now, go to sleep and don’t you dare touch anything related to school or cleaning.”

...What a weird request.

When was the last time anyone told him to take a break?

He doesn’t remember.

But now, he can say it was recently, all thanks to you.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9. Promise.

It was really hard for him once all his hard work to keep a high position within the dorm students suddenly dropped after his overblot accident.

“[Name]...”

However, the thing he regretted the most was hurting you. Taking the whole dorm under his unique magic spell, the hypnosis also affected you, making you another servant of his. Even you weren’t the one he ordered a lot, you felt betrayed that even the friendship you two developed didn’t stop him from overblotting.

And if he knew that you would avoid him like fire after the accident, he would probably hesitate a lot.

His throat tightened as he saw you one day in the corridor, looking somehow lonely and tired. He dashed to you, beseeching you to talk to him.

“Sorry for asking, but, Jamil, you don’t hate me, right?” you asked with a pain in your voice. You couldn’t even look at his face, feeling the incomprehensible weight in your gaze. “I mean... Do you only act in front of me friendly? ...Like... with Kalim..?”

“No, no, no,” he protested quickly, making it almost sound like a plea. He gently grabbed your hands, praying that you won’t harshly jerk them back because of him. “I don’t hate you. I really like you. I mean every word I said to you.”

The feeling of release struck you like thunder, you took a big breath, your eyes watering. You slowly reached for his touch, finally ending in a hug.

Jamil ran his fingers through your hair, smelling a familiar, reassuring scent of yours. After a while, he whispered a question.

“So... could you please not avoid me anymore? I know it will be hard to bring up the same relationship we had, but... could you give me a second chance?”

“Okay. But under one condition,” you said, slightly backing off from him. Before he could wonder about the term you would require from him, you finished your thought. “You must be honest with me. I... don’t know what will I do if it all turned to be a play...”

“I will,” he replied, putting his whole heart in these two words. “I will always be honest with you. And won’t ever use my unique magic on you.”

You looked up at him, a small smile starting to rise and heart-throbbing more wilder with his words. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10. Make him confess.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Jamil appeared in front of you, almost like popping out of nowhere, as you were done with today’s lessons and slowly heading to your dorm. He caught up with you, changing his pace to match yours.

“I have no plans. I will be probably sleeping or something,” you answered honestly, shrugging and reminding yourself that you should finally hang out with some people from your class to make sure your social life isn’t all over dead.

You were walking in quietly before Jamil broke silence and spoke up again.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” he asked his voice only giving a hint of nervousness—it was nothing compared to the stress he felt inside. It was just a “yes or no” question, he knew that he will meet in future many amazing people like you and shouldn’t be stressed, but having someone so dear to him being asked for a meeting where he will try to finally out find his feeling... it is stressful.

“Hehe~ what, are you asking me on the date?” you teased, but much more than mocking, you were hoping for an answer. For the honest answer, he promised you.

“...And what if I am?” he asked, his voice a bit hushed, but steady.

You felt how heat was coming all the way up to your cheeks, although you tried your best not to let anything more, as if a blush wasn’t obvious enough, know how excited and spellbound you are.

“Then, your wish is my command.”

#.......i don't know how to feel about this #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #twst jamil #twst jamil x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland jamil x reader #twisted wonderland

751 notes · View notes

softomi · 4 years

Text

I bet my wife is scarier than yours.

Kuroo Testuro

He was always lectured by you to take off his wedding ring when he went to the bathroom, but he was never worried about his ring. It would pass over his head as he washed his hands, urging to himself that the next time he’d do it. But today, his face fallen and pale; it didn’t help that you were already currently angry with him for forgetting to move the wet clothes from the washer to the drier; and now he watched in horror as his wedding ring slipped off his finger and into the drain.

“What are you doing?” Your hands on your hips when you see his hand stuffed into the sink.

Kuroo laughs, “Just thought I’d fix the drain.”

You eyed him before moving your way to the laundry room. Kuroo whips out his phone, emergency texting his friends who gave zero decent input into his situation. He fears that he may have to spend another week sleeping on the couch; or worse, kicked out of his home until he can replace his ring.

But he wasn’t going to let that happen, even if it meant they have to hire a plumber later to fix what he breaks, then so be it; as long as you never find out.

“You lost your ring didn’t you.” Out from under the kitchen sink, Kuroo watches your facial features frown, arms cross, and a deep irritated sigh.

“I swear honey, I’ll get it back. It’s in the stupid drain. Just don’t be mad.” When Kuroo finally manages to unscrew the bottom, he feels triumphant. He shakes the ends a bit and out falls two rings. Kuroo curiously picks up the band that was clearly not his, staring at it until he realizes, it was your ring, “What the? You lost your ring!” Kuroo is using his shirt to clean the diamond, “This cost a fortune and you let it fall through the drain!”

Your hand collides with his head, your lips twitching, “Were you not digging in the drain for yours too?”

Iwaizumi Hajime

Many thought that there was nothing that could scare the man. He was immune to bugs, horror films, even when his friends try to surprise him; it never really works. Nothing scares him; or so they thought. It was one thing for him to bring his kids to work, sure, he’s done it hundreds of times on days when he knew it was going to be slow; but you specifically told him to keep the children off the court. Has he ever listened; no because in his mind, what could go wrong, apparently everything.

“Now what are we going to tell mommy?” Iwaizumi has stopped the car now, parked right in front of their home, he turns to his two children. His beautiful six year old daughter and his two year old son.

The little girl has remnants of ice cream still on her face, “I fell!”

He should have known better than to trust a six year old, the moment she walked through the doors and saw her caring, beautiful, loving mother; she began to bawl uncontrollably. Incoherent crying mixed with child snot, Iwaizumi was praying that you couldn’t understand her and would ultimately just make her stop crying.

“What!” You stood to your feet, “You let her go out onto the court! You know how dangerous that can be with all the guys spiking volleyballs all over the place.” You step forward but he’s using his two year old son as a shield, “Hajime!”

“She was just playing with Atsumu and then she fell!” Your eyes narrow on the male and he concedes immediately, “Okay so Atsumu set the ball, Bokuto spiked it, it landed right in front of her and might of hit her face for a second.” You let out a large gasp, “But I checked! She doesn’t have any major injuries! Right?” Iwaizumi attempts to pat his daughter on the head but she sinks behind her mother’s legs; the ultimate betrayal.

“Hajime.” You take a step forward but he uses his son as a shield again, “Hajime!” The male side steps you, practically skipping to the bedroom with his son, “Don’t even think that you’re sleeping in our bed tonight!”

Bokuto Koutarou

Bless his soul, somehow you’ve thought it would be the most fantastic idea to leave him alone with his one and a half year old daughter. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been alone with her before, but this would officially be the first time that you actually spend a full twenty-four hours away from the house, the baby, and your husband. You had left him a list of instructions on how to feed her, different house chores needing to be done, and even a detailed timetable of your daughter’s day.

“Oh no, please don’t cry. If you cry, then daddy’s going to cry.” Bokuto sits on the living room floor, his daughter sat right in front of him with the worst cry on her face.

It’s two hours until you said you’d be back and Bokuto is just realizing now that he hasn’t done anything you asked. He thought that if he put his daughter to sleep just an hour earlier, perhaps he’d have enough time to finish the chores; what he discovers is that his daughter wouldn’t sleep, instead she continued to bawl in the bed and even when it neared her nap time; Bokuto made the mistake of letting her have a sugary treat, obviously she wouldn’t sleep.

“I’m home?” Your words are drawn out when you step into the living room, your daughter and husband on the floor just on the verge of tears, the living room a mess with toys all over the floor, the laundry sprawled out onto the couch, and for some reason there’s paint on the floors and walls, “Koutarou!”

You pick up your daughter who crawled to your foot, her crying slows down when she’s in your arms and Bokuto sheepishly looks to you, “Welcome home honey!”

“Do you want to explain?” Your hand gestures to the entire house that is a mess, “I gave you a very detailed list Kou!”

He stands, arms encasing you into a hug, “I’m so sorry!” He’s peppering away your angered expression with kisses and you can’t help but to smile. His hands are leading you to the bedroom, “I’ll clean everything up, just rest!”

He wasn’t able to clean everything up, when you emerged from the bedroom with your daughter napping, you saw that somehow the mess got bigger. Your hands on your hips, a scowl on your lips, when he tries to skip to you with puckered lips, you throw a pillow to his face. Maybe he’d be better off sleeping at Akaashi’s place.

Kita Shinsuke

It hadn’t been long since the both of you tied the knot let alone since finding out you were expecting his first child, so there were many changes in his routine. He’s persistent though, if he could do it one day then the next day he could do it too. Ever since you’ve entered the stage of pregnancy where you want to eat everything and anything, Kita finds himself at the grocery store more often than he would routinely like to.

“Yes dear.” Kita listens to you ramble a list of things you would like from the store, he was absolutely tired and wasn’t writing anything down. You had been in a bad mood all day due to your sore lower back and anything Kita has tried hasn’t worked.

“Are you listening? Honey, I really want watermelon, that’s what I want the most. I don’t want the prepackaged ones, I want an entire watermelon.”

He insists he was listening but when faced with the two different type of watermelon, all Kita can remember is you saying prepackaged. So the frown you have on your face when he pulls out a little clear container of watermelon, his memory rushes back to recall that you specifically asked for a fresh watermelon.

“I’ll go back to the store.” He gulps.

“No.” Your words are sharp, the smile on your face sends a chill down his spine, “It’s okay, maybe our son will be happy that his father has given him poor watermelon instead of listening to his loving wife who asked for a fresh watermelon. Shinsuke! You said you were listening!”

He was dejected to sitting outside, pulling at the random grass as he looked over his rice field. He turns when he hears footsteps, you were pouting while looking down at him. If there was anything that he was glad about with your mood swings, it was that your anger left as quickly as it came. He stands, a hand supporting your back to lead you back to the house.

“Why don’t we go to the store together? I’ll buy you everything you want.”

Oikawa Tooru

It was no secret that the two of you were angry with each other, the restaurant was awfully cheery compared to the silent treatment that you were giving Oikawa and the one that he was giving right back at you. So you two settled on just not talking to each other; but the more you stayed silent, the more Oikawa felt uneasy. Because now you were reaching an entirely new type of mad, one where you looked calm and collected but deep down in your eyes, he was screwed.

“I’m sorry.” He finally spits out in the middle of the meal.

“For what?” You inquire, sipping the soup from your spoon slowly without looking at him.

He lowers his head, “I’m sorry I decided to go hang out with the guys instead of coming home to you, my lovely and adorable wife who I adore and love.” He tries sending you a sweet smile, hoping that his sugarcoated words would bring you back to smile for him.

“Not good enough.” Your words stab him in the back. You set the spoon down, opting to finally look at him before lifting your hand. You place a finger down, “I told you to come home early tonight so we could clean the house.” Another finger down, “You lied to me saying you had to practice longer.” Another finger, “You go over to Iwaizumi’s place because he just got the PS5 and you just had to play.” Another, “You forgot to take out the trash this morning which I told you to do before you left.” One more finger, “If you want to play with Iwaizumi so much then go sleep at his place.”

His heart is wounded, still, he tries to be sweet and caring, “You shouldn’t be so stressed honey, it won’t be good for the baby.”

Your glare causes him to retract in his seat, “Oh! So when it’s convenient for you, you’ll use the baby.”

“No that’s not what I meant.”

You begin to spew more words that dagger into his heart, he’s finally concluded that he can’t do anything to cease your anger at him and as he trudges behind you into the shared home, he can already feel the loneliness of the spare bedroom he’ll be sleeping in tonight. As he turns to head straight for the room, you groan.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You stand at the doorframe of the main bedroom. Your voice suddenly changes, “Sleep with me.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #iwaizumi x reader #kita x reader #oikawa x reader #kuroo scenarios #bokuto scenarios #iwaizumi scenarios #oikawa scenarios

2K notes · View notes

inkweaver22-blr · 2 years

Text

Tumblr is stupid and has a paragraph/ block limit so this chapter has been split in two.

Read Part 1 Here or click on Previous below.

AO3 Link

< Previous | First | Next >

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Twenty: Identity Crises (Part 2)

CONTENT WARNING

Hallucinations, Panic Attacks, Traumatic Flashbacks, Vomiting, Unreliable Memories, Mistaken Identity, Brief Intense Violence

Being yourself can be pretty hard. It’s even harder when you’re not sure which self you’re supposed to be.

----------

Tang buried his face into his pillow and groaned at his misfortune. Yesterday had been… Something.

Oh it was a lot more than just ‘something’, but in his misery he couldn’t quite articulate what exactly it was. He had woken up with a decent recollection of the previous day, and while he was lucky enough to avoid another panic attack he still had a multitude of other emotions to deal with.

Confusion over why his memories seemed to be such a mess.

Shame for having a complete breakdown over something that hadn’t actually happened.

Anxiety of potentially stumbling across other triggers that led to more horrific flashbacks.

Fear lurking in the back of his mind telling him that turning back into a human would not turn out well.

Guilt from thinking himself to be the great sage Tang Sanzang and then treating Sandy and the Monkey King like his students which probably brought back painful memories.

Embarrassment due to having flirted with Monkey King as Tang Sanzang and feeling pleased when he became flustered and basically admitted to thinking Tang was the opposite of ugly.

Tang could feel his face beneath his fur heating in a blush and moaned in anguish.

What had he done to deserve this? Which Gods had he displeased? Why was the universe conspiring to make the attractive demon men in his life notice him only when he had something strange happening to him?

There was a knock at the door.

“Tang? Are you still awake?”

Speaking of…

“Yes, Pigsy, I’m awake,” Tang answered with a sigh as he sat up.

Waking up next to the chef earlier that morning when he had left to start preparing breakfast had been… Well he had already used ‘something’ to describe the entirety of yesterday so there must be some better words to use.

‘An experience’ was probably as good as he was going to get for now. Yes, shoving Pigsy off the bed in surprise after realizing he had been cuddling with him in his sleep and then stumbling and stammering over his apology like a middle school-er with a crush was certainly ‘an experience’.

“Hey there,” Pigsy said as he entered the room. He made his way over and sat on the edge of the bed, examining Tang with a concerned look. “How are you feeling?”

Tang thought it over.

“Mortified.”

Now there was a good word that encompassed pretty much everything he felt over this whole mess.

“Hey now, I told you not to worry about earlier,” Pigsy gently chided. “I probably should have gotten out of bed before trying to wake you.”

“It’s… It’s not just that,” Tang said, fidgeting with the blankets. “It’s everything that happened yesterday.”

“You remember?”

“To my humiliation, yes.”

“Okay, none of that,” Pigsy reached out and placed a hand on Tang’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. What happened isn’t your fault and no one is going to think less of you for something outside of your control.”

“I know that, but…” Tang sighed and leaned into Pigsy’s touch. “This is all very stressful and it’s hard to not feel depressed.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Pigsy said, giving Tang a soft smile. “Just remember you aren’t alone in this. You have people who care about you that want to help. If you ever need to talk, we'll be there for you.”

Tang managed a smile in return.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Now,” Pigsy stood and stretched, “moping around in bed isn’t going to fix anything. I’ve almost got breakfast finished so get up, get dressed, and come get something to eat. It’ll be much harder to feel bad for yourself when you’ve got a full stomach.”

“Alright, that sounds nice,” Tang said, stretching as well. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“I’ll save you a seat at the table,” Pigsy said. “Don’t take too long or I’ll come looking for you.”

Tang pulled himself out of bed once Pigsy had left and prepared for the day. Hopefully he would actually be able to eat something before some random impossible memory left him collapsed on the floor again.

Tang frowned as he approached the kitchen and heard raised voices arguing within. What was going on now?

“-because as the ‘Monkey King’, I don’t let things go and pester anyone who might even potentially be associated with dark magics so I can be sure to stop whatever nefarious scheme I obviously think they’re up to no matter how much they deny it!”

“Grr! Well, I, ‘Macaque’, very obviously do know quite a bit of evil and vile things that may even be helpful to let others know about but refuse to trust anyone because I like feeling smarter than everyone and enjoy keeping secrets when they could potentially be used as leverage to improve my position!”

Tang stared at the bizarre scene playing out in front of him.

Monkey King and Macaque were… Fighting wasn’t quite the proper word. They were yelling at each other while speaking in the third person to say somewhat disparaging things about themselves. This, oddly enough, seemed to work in riling up their opponent quite a bit.

Everyone else was seated at the table, watching the peculiar exchange in various emotional states.

Sandy looked exhausted, staring at the squabbling monkeys blankly while sipping his tea.

MK seemed to be trying his best to ignore the whole exchange, but his expression revealed how annoyed he was.

Mei was watching with glee, occasionally grabbing handfuls of popcorn from a bucket to snack on.

Red Son also had his own bucket of popcorn, but seemed to be eating it more as a distraction to help him push through the experience rather than enhancing it.

Pigsy was alternating between eyeing the buckets with extreme disapproval and scowling at the two arguing figures as if they were the reason such an unhealthy snack had appeared at his breakfast table.

Which, as far as Tang knew, could be entirely possible.

As no one seemed to be overly alarmed at the situation, Tang decided to not worry too much about it either. He skirted around the edge of the kitchen to reach the food laid out on the counter without interrupting the ongoing argument. Pigsy caught sight of him and gestured towards the seat he had saved next to him before going back to glaring at the popcorn buckets.

Breakfast was a spread of healthy cereals, sliced fruit, yogurt, and granola. Tang poured into one bowl of a cereal boasting honey glazed oats and mixed yogurt, bananas, strawberries, and blueberries in a second. The fighting was still going strong by the time he finished preparing his meal and sat down next to Pigsy.

Tang watched Monkey King and Macaque as he ate. He couldn’t place it but something about them seemed off. Their postures, their speech patterns, nothing was quite right. To him it appeared like someone was acting out what they thought the monkeys were like. It was almost as if…

Tang paused with a spoon half way to his mouth as a memory presented itself.

“Did Monkey King and Macaque swap bodies again?”

The argument abruptly halted as everyone turned to stare at him.

“What? Oh.” Tang sighed and rubbed his eyes. “They never swapped bodies before, have they?”

“No, we certainly have not.” The monkey who currently looked like Monkey King seemed disturbed by the idea.

“Okay, then why are you two disguised to look like each other,” Tang asked.

“I have no idea what you mean.” The monkey who looked like Macaque was grinning nervously.

“Tang, what are you going on about?” Pigsy was torn between looking concerned for Tang and suspicious of the fidgeting pair of monkeys.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tang pointed his spoon at the one that looked like Macaque. “That’s Monkey King.” He pointed at the one who looked like Monkey King. “That’s Macaque.”

There was a stunned silence for a moment before Red Son turned to Mei and held out his hand with a superior smirk.

“I win. Pay up dragon girl.”

“No way!” Mei scowled and crossed her arms. “It doesn’t count if he put it together because of those weird fake memories he has!”

“You bet the chef would figure it out first. I bet the scholar would. Neither of us made any stipulations on how they had to figure it out, so that means I’ve won.”

“Wait, hold on!” Pigsy stood and slammed his hands down on the table, interrupting whatever Mei had been about to say. “You’re telling me that you knew that these bozos were walking around as each other, and instead of letting us know you bet on which of us would find out first?!” Pigsy blinked as he eyed the buckets of popcorn. “Is that why you keep pulling out popcorn whenever they’re arguing?”

“Free entertainment is better with popcorn,” Mei defended herself.

“Not before you’ve eaten a proper breakfast it isn’t!”

“That’s what you’re upset about?” The monkey that looked like Macaque scowled. “We don’t argue for your amusement, you know.”

“Oh I haven’t forgotten about you two.” Pigsy glared at them. “Disguises off. As it’s none of my business, I don’t really care if you decide to cosplay as each other any other time of day, but meal time is sacred and you will be showing up to them as yourselves from now on.”

“Cosplay?!”

Tang snorted at the genuine offense in their voices. He hadn’t meant to cause such a commotion with his observation, but as he continued eating his breakfast he had to silently agree with Mei over how entertaining it was. The distraction from his own problems was certainly welcome.

With much grumbling, Monkey King and Macaque returned to their own forms and sat down to eat. They tried guilting MK over having let their secret slip, but he turned it around on them by pointing out that neither of them figured out that Mei and Red Son knew despite how obvious they were being with their popcorn. The conversation fell off as the two monkeys sulked.

“So, Tang,” Sandy said once the silence stretched on for a bit too long. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Well… It seems my short term memory has returned to normal since I remember everything from yesterday,” Tang said, gaining everyone’s attention. “Anything beyond that is still fuzzy, though.”

“Well that’s certainly an improvement!” Sandy frowned as he looked over at Monkey King. “So, when you say everything…”

Tang followed his gaze before wincing and looking away.

“Uh, yeah. That includes our conversation last night.” He stirred his yogurt morosely. “I want to apologize to you and Monkey King about that. I obviously made you incredibly uncomfortable with the way I was acting and-”

“Stop.”

Tang looked up in surprise at Monkey King’s interruption.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Monkey King said, avoiding Tang’s gaze as he spoke. “It wasn’t something you had any control over. Besides, Sandy and I decided to play along instead of trying to pull you out of the memories so we’re the ones to blame.”

“If you say so…” Tang sighed and looked back down at his bowls. “I still feel pretty embarrassed though.”

Pigsy gave him a comforting pat on the back.

“Is anyone going to clue us in on what you’re talking about,” MK asked.

“It’s somewhat private, MK,” Sandy said apologetically. “Maybe some other time. Right now I want to discuss what we should do when Tang gets lost in these memories again.”

“You mean other than letting him know they aren’t real,” Macaque said with a raised eyebrow.

“Actually, that’s the opposite of what needs to happen.” Sandy’s serious tone made everyone sit up and pay attention. “I’ve been reading some of my mental health books and came across several conditions with similar symptoms to what Tang’s going through. They all made it explicitly clear that telling the person experiencing the false or old memories that they aren’t real could be potentially harmful. I’m sure you all remember how Tang started to panic and passed out yesterday morning once he realized none of us knew what he was talking about.

“I believe the best course of action would be to just go along with what he thinks is happening. Don’t try to correct him and ask him to share anything he remembers. Or try to steer the conversation into something neutral and unrelated. He should snap out of it on his own after a while or after getting some sleep.”

“What about when I burned my hand?” Pigsy folded his arms in defiance. “There’s no way I’m just going to leave him in a memory that bad again.”

“Traumatic flashbacks and panic attacks are a separate issue,” Sandy agreed. “What you did by grounding him back in reality was the best thing you could have done. We’ll all need to be ready to deal with them when they happen or know who to get if you aren’t comfortable with trying to calm him down. We should also try to pay attention to what triggers the attack so we know to avoid it in the future.

“We also learned last night that there’s something that seems frightening to him about turning back into a human, so don’t bring it up.”

“You really don’t have to go through so much trouble just for me,” Tang said while hunching in on himself.

“What did I tell you about being down on yourself,” Pigsy said, putting his arm across Tang’s shoulders and pulling him into a side hug. “This isn’t your fault so stop acting like it is. We all care about you and want to help, so it’s not any trouble at all.”

There was a general agreement from everyone else, which made Tang feel all warm inside. What did he do to deserve such great friends?

Breakfast finished soon after and everyone dispersed to do their own things. Tang, feeling a bit cooped up, headed up onto the deck to get some fresh air.

It was still early in the morning, but the day was shaping up to be beautiful. There were only a few clouds in the sky, the air was crisp and fresh, and whatever mechanism that prevented them from being blown off deck while the airship was in flight allowed a pleasant breeze to waft through.

Tang leaned against the railing and basked in the sunlight. He closed his eyes and relaxed as it warmed his fur. He hummed in pleasure at the sensation and stretched out his arms to help ease the stress from the past day.

Tang chuckled to himself as he mentally compared himself to a cat laying out in a sunbeam or a reptile warming their scales on a rock.

Hmm… Scales…

Tang’s eyes became unfocused as a memory began to fill his mind.

Sunlight… On his… Scales… Yes… That sounded… Nice…

Tang took a step back from the railing and began to stretch.

And stretch.

And stretch…

----------

Tang sighed in contentment as he laid on the deck under the mid-morning sun. It had been some time since he had sunbathed purely on a whim. The warming light falling across the entire length of his body was exquisite and intensely relaxing.

If he wasn’t careful, he might actually fall asleep. Not that he was trying too hard to prevent that from happening. Hmm… Perhaps a nap would be nice…

“Eep!”

Tang opened one eye at the exclamation. There, standing in the doorway leading to the stairs from below deck, was Mei. Her mouth was hanging open as she stared at him in what appeared to be shock.

“Mei?” Tang lifted his head slightly off the ground and turned to face her fully.

“Tang?!” Somehow, her surprise seemed to grow even stronger.

“Is everything alright, cousin,” Tang asked in concern.

“I… Huh?! I mean!” She shook her head and muttered what sounded like ‘just go with it’ a few times under her breath. She plastered on an obviously fake smile and gave him a thumbs up. “Yup! Everything’s fine, uh, cousin! One hundred percent a-okay!”

Tang raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Uh huh.” Tang yawned and shook his head to rid himself of the drowsiness he had been feeling. “Seriously, though, what’s wrong?”

“Uh…” Mei seemed transfixed for a moment before blinking in realization that he had asked her something. “Oh! Nothing! Nothing’s wrong! I was sent to come check on you because you’ve been out here a while and just wasn’t expecting, uh,” she gestured vaguely in Tang’s direction, “this.”

“Oh. I suppose I did lose track of time,” Tang said, stretching out his front legs. “But the weather is so nice right now I couldn’t quite resist.” He stretched his neck upwards, sighing in relief as a crick he hadn’t noticed faded.

“Why don’t you join me,” he suggested as he lowered his head back down to be level with Mei’s. “I’m sure the deck could fit us both easily and the sun feels absolutely wonderful.”

“I, uh, would love to, but…” Mei fidgeted with her jacket. “I can’t actually turn into a dragon?”

Tang blinked.

“You can’t? I could have sworn Aunt and Uncle were going to teach you after you were accepted by the Dragon Blade.”

“Mom and Dad? I’m not entirely sure they can either…”

“Really? Well I suppose the required power necessary has been known to skip a generation every now and then.” Tang drummed his claws against the deck in thought. “You are certainly powerful enough, and your parents should know the theory on how to transform even if they can’t do it themselves. I wonder why they didn’t at least start you on the basics…”

“Maybe they were too busy with the renovations after I wrecked the mansion?” Mei reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Hey, so I don’t think I actually have any pictures of you like this so do you mind if I…?”

“Hmm? Oh sure. Go right ahead.” Tang shifted around so the majority of his twenty-foot-long body could be seen. He posed in such a way that his bright golden-yellow scales and chocolate brown mane wouldn’t be washed out by the sunlight. “How’s this?”

“Perfect!” Mei began snapping pictures at a rapid pace, giggling when Tang stuck his forked tongue out and crossed his eyes for a few of the shots. “So since Mom and Dad weren’t able to teach me anything before all of this happened,” she gestured to the airship, “do you think you could show me how? Becoming an actual dragon would be the coolest thing ever!”

“As much as I want to, I can’t,” Tang sighed in regret. “From what I know, each of the five clans has a unique process for teaching its members the transformation. They keep it secret from the others for some reason so your parents are the only ones who could teach your clan’s specific technique.

“Even if I ignored this unspoken rule and tried using my clan’s process to teach you, I don’t think you’re suited for the way we do it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mei placed her hands on her hips and scowled.

“It means I honestly can’t imagine you sitting completely still for several uninterrupted hours in meditation,” Tang said with a smirk. “And that’s just the first step.”

“You don’t know what I can do! But, uh, what’s the second step, just to be sure” Mei asked in slight trepidation.

Tang leaned in close and gave a conspiratorial grin.

“An advanced, University Level course on Dragon Anatomy.”

“Ugh! Yeah, no, that sounds super boring,” Mei said with a look of disgust. “Why would your clan make you do that?”

“Well we aren’t known as the Keepers of Knowledge for nothing.”

“Really? I… I don’t think I knew that.”

“What? But that’s one of the most well known things about us.” Tang narrowed his eyes. “You skipped out on those parts of your history lessons, didn’t you?”

“Maaaaybe?” Mei grinned nervously. “I, uh, don’t take to classrooms and textbooks very well.”

“I am very much aware of this,” Tang said in amusement. “How about I give you a summary of my clan’s history then?”

“Sure, why not,” Mei shrugged. “Not much else to do up here.”

“Alright, come get comfortable then,” Tang said as he moved to be laying in a half circle shape. He gestured to his flank for Mei to sit against it. Once she was situated he laid his tail across her lap so that she could keep her hands busy with the tuft of fur on its end while he spoke.

“As you know, the five Long Family Clans are the human descendants of the Yellow Dragon Emperor’s five sons; Ao Guang, Ao Qin, Ao Shun, Ao Run, and Ao Lun. Of them, only the youngest, Ao Lun, inherited their father’s yellow scales.

“While his older brothers were each given a sea to rule over as their kingdom, by the time Ao Lun came of age there were no seas left to rule. Instead of feeling bitter however, he accepted his lack of a noble title with grace. He traveled the land and began accumulating a vast amount of wisdom and knowledge.

“His experiences and knowledge helped him mediate many disagreements between his older brothers and other powerful beings, and thus was given the title of Peacemaker.

“Ao Lun’s love of learning soon turned into a passion for teaching. He sought to share as much as he could in the hopes that others could learn to end conflicts with words instead of blows.

“His passion for sharing knowledge was passed on to his children and grandchildren and eventually his human descendants. They began creating vast stores of information and places of learning to share it. Many of the major libraries and universities still used today were actually founded by my human ancestors.

“Ao Lun knew, however, that conflict and strife could not be avoided forever. So in order to help his descendants protect themselves and their collections of knowledge, he followed his brother Ao Run’s example and gifted them with a powerful weapon. The guandao Dàdì Zhī Yá, the Fang of the Earth.

“Thus armed first with knowledge and wisdom to soothe tensions and a mystic blade second for when words eventually failed, the Long Family Clan descended from Ao Lun became known as the Keepers of Knowledge.”

“Wow…” Mei stared up at Tang with wide eyes. “That’s so cool!”

“See? History can be interesting,” Tang teased as he gently tapped her nose with the tip of his tail.

“Yeah, maybe when you tell it,” Mei said as she batted his tail away from her face. “Wish my tutors were more like you growing up…”

Tang felt a rush of pride and affection flow through him. Being told you were a good teacher was what everyone in his clan strove for.

“Thanks, Mei.” He leaned down and nuzzled her with his snout, making her yelp in surprise. “That actually means a lot to me.”

“Uh, yeah, no problem,” she said while awkwardly patting him. “So, I’ve got a question.”

“What about,” Tang said as he pulled back.

“Which do you think is more powerful? Your clan’s Fang of the Earth, or my clan’s Dragon Blade?”

“Hmm… That’s not something that can easily be determined.” Tang closed his eyes as he thought. “They’re both very different weapons and are wielded in distinct ways. Plus their main magical attacks are unique with the Dragon Blade firing a concentrated beam useful for penetrating defenses while the Fang of the Earth produces a wave that can hit a wide area of many targets at once. Their strengths and weaknesses would change depending on the situation they were used in such as the Dragon Blade being better for fighting within enclosed spaces…”

“So there isn’t an answer?”

“I didn’t say that.” Tang stood and stretched one final time. “It would just be difficult to find. We’ll have to run some tests if we want to figure it out.”

“How are we… supposed… to…” Mei trailed off as Tang began to shrink down.

Not feeling like returning to his human form just yet, Tang shrunk down into his half-dragon one instead. It was mostly dragon in features, but with more human shaped arms, hands, and legs. While not as large as his full dragon form, he was still roughly the height of Sandy, but not as bulky, and thus several feet taller than Mei. A pair of compression shorts magically appeared on his body just before finishing the transformation in order to maintain his modesty.

“Whoa…”

“Yeah, I reacted the same when my father first showed me the transformation,” Tang said as he stretched out in his current form. “Now in order to learn which weapon is more powerful we’ll have to run them through various exercises and drills.”

“But what about-”

Tang held out his hand and summoned Fang of the Earth.

“Holy shit!” Mei’s jaw had dropped open once more. “How did you do that?!”

“What are you talking about?” Tang’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re acting like you’ve never… seen me… summon…” Tang’s vision grew hazy for a moment as something in his mind shifted.

The events of the previous day returned to him.

His vision cleared. Tang blinked and stared at the weapon in his scaled hand.

“Fang of the Earth…”

Tang sat down hard in shock.

“Tang?!”

Tang looked up to see Mei hovering nervously nearby.

“But… But none of that happened,” he said in a daze. He looked back down at the very real guandao that refuted his claim. “Then how did I…”

“Oh no, I messed up! I was supposed to play along! Uh… Please don’t panic! Everything’s okay! Do I need to go get Pigsy? Or Sandy?” Mei was bouncing anxiously in place. “Um! Um! Deep breaths! In and out!” Her own breath was starting to grow short.

Tang very carefully placed Fang of the Earth down, only somewhat surprised when it didn’t immediately vanish after leaving his touch. He then reached out and grabbed Mei by the shoulders and pulled her back against his chest.

“Oh! Do you need a hug? I can do hugs! I can give the most comforting and calming hugs ever!”

“Shut up and follow my breathing before you start hyperventilating,” Tang scolded as he began to take deep, even breaths.

Mei closed her mouth with an audible click before leaning back against him and doing as instructed. Her breathing soon returned to normal.

“Better?”

“No fair,” Mei pouted, continuing to follow along with his breaths. “I was supposed to be keeping you from panicking, not the other way around.”

“I suppose it's to be expected when you don’t have much experience in dealing with this kind of thing,” Tang soothed. “We’ll have to talk to Sandy to get you, Red Son, and maybe Macaque some lessons on what to do when someone has a panic attack and how to recognize when you’re having one yourself.”

“I guess…” She squirmed out of his grasp to turn and look up at him. “What about you? How are you feeling?”

“I’m… shocked and confused,” he admitted before nudging the guandao with his foot. “Very confused.”

“Yeah, how did you manage that?”

“I don’t know.” Tang shook his head. “These memories tell me that, as it’s chosen wielder, I’m able to summon it to my side at will, but… Those things didn’t actually happen.”

“‘This time’…” Mei muttered.

“Exactly. They didn’t happen… this… time.” Tang blinked at that. “Huh. I don’t know what I mean by that, but it feels correct to say.”

“You said that yesterday, too,” Mei said, looking like she was concentrating hard on something. “When you were using telepathy, which you said the Monkey King taught you how to use. You also happened to be a twenty-foot-long dragon a few minutes ago and are some sort of awesome human-dragon hybrid right now.”

“Half-dragon,” Tang automatically corrected before shaking his head. “Sorry, what exactly does all this mean though?”

“I’m not sure, but I think you didn’t just get a bunch of weird memories,” Mei looked up at him seriously. “You also got whatever powers you had in them too.”

Tang’s eyes widened at that. He couldn’t really deny the evidence of his dragon abilities currently in front of him. But if he had the Monkey King’s powers as well…

He pulled out a strand of fur from his mane. Concentrating, he blew on it. In a flash of golden-yellow light it transformed into a notebook.

Oh.

Well then.

Tang hissed in pain as another memory resurfaced. It was when he actually first woke up yesterday. The confusion. The panic at his human reflection. And then…

“Tang? Tang what’s wrong?”

“I… I remember how I became a monkey,” he said, rubbing his temples. “There was… something in my human reflection that terrified me. I shattered the mirror and then… Then I used the 72 transformations to change myself.

“I… I’m not afraid of turning back into a human. I’m afraid of being human at all.”

“Okay that’s… Kinda scary actually.” Mei chewed on her lip in worry. “Do… Do you want that hug now?”

“Yes, please.”

They embraced for a moment, drawing comfort from each other.

“We should probably go and tell the others what’s happened,” Mei said once they pulled apart.

“Alright, give me a second.”

Tang focused and shrunk down further into his monkey form, his normal outfit reappearing as he did.

“Okay, how did you do that with your clothes?”

“It’s part of the process of the dragon transformation,” Tang said as he picked up Fang of the Earth. “It stores them in a magical pocket and automatically removes them or puts them back on you as you change size. Although my father thought it would be funny to not explain that bit to me before my first transformation. My clothes were torn to shreds so I wasn’t wearing anything when I changed back.”

“Oh man,” Mei snickered. “You weren’t in public, were you?”

“Fortunately not, but my dad said it was a ‘valuable experience’ in making sure I knew all the details before attempting something. He then made me walk, not run, all the way to my room with my hands clasped behind my back and without a towel or bathrobe or anything.”

“No! Did you get caught?”

“He had made sure we were the only ones home at the time. Still, having to go from our training hall, across the manor grounds, and up three flights of stairs at a slow pace without anything to cover up with certainly made me learn my lesson.”

Mei giggled helplessly as they went back below deck. Recounting the somewhat embarrassing story had done its job by lightening the mood considerably.

Perhaps these memories weren’t all bad.

“Argh! Get off!”

“Not until you get what you deserve!”

Mei and Tang glanced at each other in surprise as they heard the shouting. They rushed off towards the source, coming upon the spacious living room set at the back of the ship.

Tang blinked at what they found inside.

The Monkey King had MK, who was wriggling vigorously to get free, in choke hold and was giving him a vicious noogie. Nearby, Macaque was struggling to stand for some reason.

Tang’s breath caught.

His vision blurred.

Mei said something but he couldn’t hear it past the rushing memories.

His eyes refocused.

His heart nearly stopped at the sight in front of him.

The Monkey Tyrant had his son while Liu Er was injured.

Disbelief.

Panic.

Rage.

“GET AWAY FROM MY SON!”

Tang’s bellow caught everyone off guard. He lashed out with a binding whip, snagging the Monkey Tyrant by the waist and flinging him off his son. He launched himself after the demon, cornering him and placing a barrier around them so the others wouldn’t get in the line of fire. He heard shouting but ignored it.

Tang jabbed the butt of Fang of the Earth into the Monkey Tyrant’s sternum while he was still surprised, forcing the breath from his lungs. He then swept the wheezing demon’s legs out from underneath him, knocking him to the ground. Binding the demon with magical ropes, Tang placed his foot on his chest and aligned the blade of his guandao with the Monkey Tyrant’s left eye.

He reared back to strike.

“Tang, stop!”

Tang looked back to find his son desperately pounding on the barrier and the others all gathered by the doorway.

“Don’t worry Xiaotian,” Tang said comfortingly. “I’m just going to make sure the Monkey King can never hurt us again.”

He turned, prepared to end all their suffering for good.

“Tang! TANG! DAD, NO!”

“MACAQUE DROP YOUR GLAMOURS NOW!”

Tang paused in his motions as the demon below him glowed and changed shape into a familiar black furred monkey.

He sneered.

“Illusions aren’t going to work anymore, Wukong.”

Tang activated his True Sight.

He stared.

The black monkey beneath him with six ears, horrible scarring on the right side of his face, and a blind eye on the same side stared back.

“Liu Er? But I thought…”

Tang froze when he noticed Liu Er wasn’t staring at him, but at the blade barely a few inches away from his remaining good eye.

He looked terrified.

Tang’s stomach twisted as he deactivated his True Sight while removing his foot from his old friend’s chest and pulling the blade away from his face. He quickly dismissed the binding ropes and barrier, as well.

Liu Er rolled onto his side once he was free and started coughing and retching. Tang went to place a hand on his back, but pulled away when the monkey violently flinched at its approach.

Tang took a step back and looked around.

Xiaotian was kneeling on the ground and panting as if he had just ran a great distance.

Mei had her hands clasped together over her mouth.

Sandy was placing a restraining hand on Pigsy’s shoulder.

Red Son was tense, as if ready to fight.

The Monkey Tyrant was just… Laying there, propped up on one arm.

They were all staring at him with wide eyes.

Wide, fearful, eyes.

A chill ran up Tang’s spine.

He gasped and clutched his head as his memories swirled painfully. He remembered.

No…

He wasn’t human! They weren’t supposed to look at him like that!

No.

They weren’t supposed to… Supposed to be…

‘Face it, they’re afraid of you,’ Her voice hissed.

“No no no no no…”

“Tang?”

He jerked back and looked up at the faces of his friends.

The scared faces of his friends.

‘And you didn’t even need my help.’

“No!”

Tang lashed out at a nearby potted plant, breaking it open and scattering the soil. It wouldn’t be as good as sand, but would work in a pinch.

“Tang, what are you-!”

Tang didn’t wait to hear what MK was saying and teleported. He landed back outside on the deck and collapsed while gasping for breath.

He… He didn’t understand! She was gone while he was an animal of some kind! He was supposed to be safe around! He shouldn’t have been able to hurt them if he wasn’t human!

But he had.

And now they were afraid of him.

He needed to leave.

He started when the door to the deck banged open.

“Tang!” Mei’s shout sounded panicked.

Afraid.

He needed to leave!

In a flash of golden-yellow light Tang transformed into a cicada and flew off the side of the airship.

“TANG!”

Tang flew down and away in the opposite direction the airship was traveling. He needed to get far, far away! He plunged into the dense forest below, weaving through trees in a blind panic and not paying attention to which direction he was going.

He clipped a branch, which didn’t hurt too much, but startled him out of his transformation. He landed roughly in a clearing obscured by the canopy of leaves above. He lay there, panting and sobbing in misery.

He hurt them. He hurt them! Even when She couldn’t get to him he had hurt them!

He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t face the fear in their eyes as they looked at him. Even though he deserved it. Even though he deserved hatred as well.

Tang clawed at the ground, tearing up chunks of earth as he howled in anguish.

He couldn’t go back. He had hurt them. They feared him. They should hate him. This is what he deserved. This… This…

He blinked away his tears as he continued to dig at the ground.

This… This soil was unusually soft.

He forgot everything and dug.

Before long, the first few inches of topsoil had been cleared away to reveal the most beautiful white clay he had ever seen.

Clay…

Tang’s vision blurred as he manipulated the malleable earth between his fingers.

Didn’t he… like to… play with clay… when he was… a young bull…?

His memories shifted.

Tang’s hands glowed golden-yellow as he began to pull more clay from the ground.

----------

Tang smiled to himself as he carefully worked the mold-able clay with some help from his earth shaping abilities.

He couldn’t quite remember how he ended up in this clearing, or how long he had been there, but he didn’t particularly care. This clay was a dream to work with and sculpting relaxed him. Once he finished this fourth figure he could begin making one with all of them together.

His ear flicked as he heard a familiar voice call his name.

“Over here,” he called out, not taking his eyes off his work.

There was the sound of someone crashing through the underbrush at speed.

“There you are! Do you have any idea of the trouble… you’ve… put me…”

“Just one moment, Red, I’m almost finished.”

“Tang?!”

“I said one moment.”

“I-! But-! Argh!”

Tang smiled at the younger demon’s predictable outburst. He quickly finished off the final details of his sculpture with a flourish so as not to earn any more of his ire.

“There!” Tang wiped his brow and began pulling the clay that somehow got all over his face and horns away with earth shaping. He flicked the resulting blob over to a giant sphere of clay sitting in the center of the clearing before turning and smiling at Red Son.

“Little Brother! What did you need me for?”

“I-! What-! Brother-?!” Red Son pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

“Just go with it, Red Son,” he muttered before glaring at Tang. “What. Are. You. Doing.”

“I’m sculpting! I haven’t done it in so long I forgot how relaxing it is.”

“Right.” Red Son didn’t look convinced. “So… Brother… Why are you a bull?”

“Well Father’s a bull, so I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Tang said, completely understanding what Red Son meant.

Red Son took another breath.

“Why are you a bull currently?”

“I felt like it. It’s nice to stretch out every now and then.”

“Mother says my- our- animal forms are unsightly and we should embrace our more civilized human appearances.”

“I don’t know. Mother wouldn’t have married father if she thought him ‘unsightly’,” Tang said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Gah! Don’t do that!” Red Son scrubbed at his eyes. “I do not need that mental image, thank you very much.”

“Come on, you know I’m right.”

“I am not having this conversation right now!”

“Suit yourself,” Tang shrugged and turned back to his sculptures. “Hmm… If I were to form a kiln, would you be willing to fire these for me?”

“What are you…” Red Son paused as he finally paid attention to the waist high figures resting on the stone table. “Is… Is that…”

“Our family,” Tang confirmed, sounding pleased with himself.

“But that’s us from… From before…” Red Son trailed off.

Tang nodded. That he meant before their father had been sealed under the mountain didn’t need to be said.

“You… You made me in my bull form.”

“I did.”

“But… How did you… I haven’t…” Red Son took a steadying breath. “I… I haven’t been in that form in a long time. How did you remember what it looked like?”

“The day you were finally able to transform into it was one of my happiest memories from… before,” Tang said solemnly. “You were running around screaming in excitement and accidentally setting fire to the tapestries. Mother was chasing you around alternating between telling you to be more careful and gushing over how adorable you looked with your red fur. Father was so proud,” Tang coughed as his throat tightened. “He was so proud he couldn’t stop sniffling for hours as he tried to keep the tears at bay. He lost that fight when you playfully headbutted him for the first time with those cute little nubs growing on your head.”

Tang paused as he examined his works.

“And… And then?” Red Son sounded hesitant as he urged Tang to continue.

“And then a week later he began his assault on human kind,” Tang said hollowly. “That day was the last time we were all together and happy. I will never forget it as long as I live.”

That’s what these sculptures were, he realized. A requiem to a lost moment of time he could never get back. A time when Father’s eyes were kind and caring. A time when Mother’s smile was warm and sincere. A time when Red Son looked at the world in wonder instead of as something he could exploit. A time when he was a happy and studious son who didn’t need to hide behind goofy jokes and false lightheartedness.

“They… They’re wonderful,” Red Son finally admitted after a moment of silence. “But… Mother would have a fit if she saw these. Especially as we’re in our bull forms.”

“Well Mother needs to get over herself and stop taking out her grief on us,” Tang growled, causing Red Son to squawk indignantly.

“Sorry,” Tang said with a sigh, cutting off Red Son’s building rant. “I know you don’t like having this argument. Let me finish one more sculpture and then we can go, alright?”

“One more-!” Red Son took a calming breath. “Okay. Fine. Let me know when you’re finished.” He stalked over and leaned against a tree, pulling out his phone to start texting.

Tang looked over the sculptures. They looked wonderful individually, but the set was incomplete. The final piece would be the center that tied the whole collection together.

He pulled a decent clump of clay from the sphere and got to work. This sculpture was going to be twice as large as the others so he could make some of the details larger as well.

Tang used his earth shaping to speed up his process a bit. No point in making Red Son wait longer than necessary.

As the forms slowly became more than shapeless blobs beneath his fingers, Tang began to hum to himself. He couldn’t quite recall the words to the tune or remember where he heard it, but something deep within him resonated with it and helped him relax.

“That song…”

Tang paused and turned to look at Red Son. The younger demon was holding his phone loosely in his hand as he stared at Tang with wide eyes.

“Red Son?”

“I… I know that song.”

“You do?”

“Of course! It’s… it’s the lullaby Father used to sing.”

“It… It is?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No, I…” Tang furrowed his brow as he tried to recall. “I don’t… Why can’t I…”

Remember…

Wasn’t there something about remembering things happening to him?

His vision became unfocused.

“Tang?”

Tang remembered.

He wished he hadn’t.

“No!” Tang pulled back from the clay and clutched his head. “No! Why did you follow me?! I hurt you! I’m not safe!”

“Tang, calm down!”

“I hurt you! You should be afraid of me! I was supposed to be safe! Why?!”

“Tang! Tang! Oh, damn it all!”

There was a whoosh of fire.

“No… No… Not safe… Afraid of me…”

“Brother, look at me.”

“No… Not your brother… Just a freak with fake memories…”

“Big Brother. Please. Look. At. Me.”

Tang looked up.

He stared.

“Red Son?”

The red bull demon nodded as he knelt next to Tang and took a deep breath.

He then started to sing to the tune Tang had been humming.

“I’ll Think Of You

As I Go

So When I Leave

You’re Not Alone

And No Matter Where We Are,

We Will Never Be That Far

‘Casue I Will Think Of You As I Go”

Tang blinked away his tears as he listened to Red Son’s voice. The words… They sounded… Familiar.

Red Son, seeing that Tang had started to calm down, continued to sing.

“I’ll Think Of You

As I Dream

So When It’s Dark

You’ll Be With Me

And No Matter Where We Are,

We Can Look Up To The Stars

And I Will Think Of You As I Dream”

Tang gasped. He… He remembered! He remembered how Father would sing this song to him whenever he had a bad dream! He remembered hearing him sing it to Red Son!

With a scratchy voice, Tang joined in to sing the chorus.

“Oh, It’s A Long And Winding Road

But You Don’t Have To Walk Alone

‘Cause No Matter Where We Are,

I Will Keep You In My Heart

And I Will Think Of You As I Go”

Tang panted for breath as they finished. His heart had stopped hammering and his thoughts didn’t seem quite as loud.

He didn’t understand. Weren’t they afraid of him?

“Why? You all looked so afraid of me…”

“No, Tang. We were afraid for you. This whole situation has been… Stressful. I was honestly afraid your mind had broken from the strain.”

“It still might,” Tang said, sounding very small. “I… I don’t know if I’m safe to be around anymore.”

“That’s… a valid concern. But I’m not sure we’ll need to worry about that. Do you know why?”

Tang shook his head.

“Because you’re you. You're stubborn, and thoughtful, and care for your friends quite a lot.

“And, uh, we care about you too. So we’ll make sure you’ll never go too far and we’ll always pull you back from the edge.”

“What about… What about the memories? Aren’t you freaked out that I just suddenly know these private things about you and your family?”

“Actually, it’s that exact fact that convinces me that they aren’t just some fabrications or illusions. I believe that these memories you’re seeing are real. That they actually happened to you in some other time or universe or whatever. For good and for worse these are your experiences, and I cannot fault you for that.

“I’m not sure about the others, but to be honest? I’m somewhat… relieved that someone else knows what I’ve gone through. That I now have someone to share in my frustrations and grief and know that they’ll just get it.”

Red Son narrowed his eyes slightly.

“You are to never repeat this to anyone, but… I used to daydream about having an older brother quite often after Father was sealed away. The way you were acting earlier… It’s a lot how I imagined he would be.

“It was… Nice.”

Tang stared for a moment, feeling overwhelmed.

“I’m going to hug you now.”

“What? Gah!” Red Son flailed as Tang launched himself at him. Being careful not to lock their horns together, he reached around to awkwardly pat the bigger bull on the back.

“Alright. Okay. I think that’s enough now.”

Tang pulled back from the embrace with a chuckle and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Thank you, Red Son.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. If you tell anyone about this, I swear!”

“Understood,” Tang said as he reached out and ruffled the fur between Red Son’s horns.

“Stop that!”

“Okay, sorry. I’m done!” Tang turned back to the sculptures. “You know if you help me fire these, I’m sure we could convince MK to paint them.”

“Oh?”

Tang hid a smirk at the way Red Son’s ears perked up at that. Looks like someone would need to relearn how to hide his emotions in their current form.

“You bet! Of course, he’ll need a good look at our bull forms to get the colors just right.”

“Uh… I’m not sure if I can…”

“You know how I said Mother was attracted to Father partially because of his looks?”

“Why would you bring that back up?!”

“Because I’m pretty sure I have a few memories up here of a certain Noodle Boy looking at you the way Mother looks at Father whenever you’re in your bull form.”

The fur on Red Son’s head caught on fire.

“What-! But I-! You-! Arrgh!” Red Son buried his face into his hands. “Just hurry and set up your stupid kiln already. I need to let the others know we’ll be a bit longer than intended.”

Tang laughed as he did just that. While Red Son worked on firing each figure, Tang worked on his final piece.

It depicted the four of them together, as they were now, but with their joy from the past brought forward to the present.

A spark of hope for the future amongst the requiem to the lost.

Red Son loved it.

----------

With the revelations that the memories Tang saw were real and that whatever powers he had in them he would have in reality, things became simultaneously easier and harder for the small group aboard the airship.

It became easier to go along with Tang whenever he was lost in a memory, as they were both interesting and sometimes informative. He could usually shake himself out of it before too long as well. His powers even came in handy when they had to outrun one of the search parties looking for them.

It was harder whenever he relived something traumatic, as the horror of it having actually happened took its toll. He would sometimes become despondent and melancholy without wanting to speak to anyone. His powers helped him hide himself away whenever he didn’t feel like talking, much to Sandy’s frustration.

But they persevered. For the next few weeks they did their best to help both Tang and each other through this stressful time. They learned from their mistakes and soon the more violent of Tang’s outbursts happened rarely.

Life went on.

Pigsy cooked and Sandy made tea.

MK painted the sculptures and Red Son posed in bull form so he could get the colors right. (Yes he needed to pose each time MK painted. No he didn’t know why MK kept asking him to do so, shut up Tang!)

Mei ate popcorn whenever things got chaotic and Tang told them all stories from his memories.

Monkey King and Macaque continued to pretend to be each other, except during meals lest they faced Pigsy’s wrath.

Things began to settle into their new normal.

Until one morning…

----------

Tang woke up in a somewhat unfamiliar room. It took a few moments to recognize it as a room on Sandy’s airship.

That was odd. A cycle had never started this late in the timeline before.

Unless this was a variant of some kind. Perhaps this was a world of sky islands?

Well, only one way to find out.

Tang made his way into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

Huh. He was starting the cycle as a monkey this time. Definitely shaping up to be a variant so far.

He shook his head and looked into the reflection of his eyes and began.

“My name is Tang.”

Tang

Remembered

Everything

----------

‘Once upon a time, there was a Storyteller. The Storyteller lived in a wonderful city with some of his closest friends.

‘There was the Chef, gruff but caring.

‘There was the Boatman, easygoing and kind.

‘There was the Dragon, carefree and energetic.

‘And there was the Monkie, bright and optimistic.

‘For a time, the five of them lived happily together. But then one day, the city was attacked by the Demon Family.

‘The five friends journey to the mountain where an ancient Hero lived, but only the Monkie managed to make it past the ring of fire surrounding it. There he met with the Hero, only to be told that he needed to save the city himself.

‘The Monkie gathered all his courage and determination and faced down the head of the Demon Family. They fought viciously, but the Monkie emerged victorious!

‘The Monkie was declared the Hero’s successor and tasked with keeping the city safe. He fought many who sought to do harm in his quest to fulfill his duty.

‘The Demon Family. The Metal Twins. The Hero’s old friend, the Warrior. The Spider Clan.

‘However, the most fearsome of these enemies was the White Spirit and her General.

‘The Hero, the Monkie, and his friends were forced to flee the city after the White Spirit took over.

‘Westward they fled, searching for a weapon the Hero promised could defeat the White Spirit.

‘But the Storyteller never learned what that weapon was. For one day, he woke back up in the city.

‘It was as if everything had started over. He watched the Demon Family invade, the Monkie defeat the Demon Family, and the Hero declare the Monkie to be his successor all over again.

‘He watched the Monkie fight the same enemies. He watched as the White Spirit took over the city and fled with his friends once more.

‘Again, the Storyteller woke up back at the beginning.

‘Frightened and confused, the Storyteller tried to tell his friends what was happening. But his words would not stick, and his friends could never remember what he told them.

‘The Storyteller then tried to prevent the White Spirit from gaining power. The General killed him for interfering.

‘But death was not the end for the Storyteller, as he woke back up at the beginning once more.

‘The Storyteller tried changing smaller conflicts, but horrible things happened to him or his friends whenever he did.

‘So the Storyteller was forced to watch. He watched and did his best to support his friends as the same events occurred over, and over.

‘Over time, the Storyteller began to notice that the city he woke up in wasn’t always the same.

‘Sometimes it was small things such as the time of year or the color of his hair being different.

‘Other times it was extreme changes such as being the Dragon’s cousin or the Hero’s beloved Teacher in fact rather than in reincarnation.

‘The Storyteller soon realized that whenever he woke up, he wasn’t just back at the beginning, but he was in an entirely different city each and every time.

‘Thus his life as the Storyteller ended and his time as the Traveler began.

‘The Traveler learned many things during his visits to the different cities. Secrets and knowledge and many skills. The magical abilities he sometimes acquired were, unfortunately, locked behind powerful bonds and he was unable to access them unless the city he was visiting allowed it.

‘The one thing the Traveler truly wished to know, which was how to get back to his original city, seemed to forever be out of his reach. He discovered a few clues, such as the nature of his current existence being tied to his unwound soul, but never the cause or a way to reverse it.

‘So the Traveler focused on those around him instead.

‘The Traveler grew closer to his friends over the many years, eventually coming to love each of them as family. The Hero, too, became dear to him as did many of their old enemies.

‘The exceptions were the White Spirit and the General.

‘After a rather peaceful city he was visiting where all of his loved ones were together was abruptly ended by their hands, the Traveler grew angry.

‘How dare they! How dare they hurt the ones he loved!

‘The Traveler broke the bonds preventing him from using the powers he obtained from his wanderings and began to prepare. He would make sure they could never hurt his family again.

‘But in his singular focus, the General managed to catch the Traveler by surprise. He lured the Traveler into a trap and immobilized him.

‘The General summoned the White Spirit and she entered the Traveler's body, taking it into her possession.

‘To the Traveler’s horror, she was able to see past the blocks preventing him from telling the others of what was happening to him. She took all his accumulated knowledge and easily crushed his family before destroying the city around them.

‘When the Traveler woke up in the next city, so did the White Spirit, already in possession of his body.

‘Thus the Traveler became the Prisoner.

‘The Prisoner was helpless to prevent the White Spirit from using his abilities to destroy the countless cities they visited.

‘But the White Spirit grew bored. So she decided to get… Creative.

‘She targeted the Prisoner’s family, relishing in his anguish as he was forced to watch. The atrocities she committed were… Evil. In every sense of the word.

‘Evil acts, after evil acts, after evil acts, over, and over, and over, and over.

‘The Prisoner’s mind broke.

‘He locked himself away in the dark, unable to see or hear or think. Unable to feel pain or sorrow or despair or anything at all.

‘Drifting endlessly in a black void for what felt like an eternity. He… He very nearly became Nothing in that time, but was Lost instead.

‘But then there were lights.

‘Seven shining lights entered the darkness and tore the White Spirit from the Lost’s soul, banishing her forever.

‘While two of the lights were unfamiliar, the other five the Lost eventually recognized.

‘It was his family! His original family from his home city!

‘He didn’t understand how, but they had journeyed here to the void to grant him gifts to help him on his travels.

‘The Boatman gifted him Time and Safety. A guarantee that the cities he visited after times of great stress would be calm and restful.

‘The Dragon gifted him Protection and Peace. A shield that prevented his mind, body, and soul from being taken from him ever again.

‘The Chef gifted him Choice and Change. Never again would he or his family be unfairly punished should he decide to interfere with events previously unavoidable.

‘The Hero gifted Hope and Assurance. The knowledge that he needed to return to his home city would be out there if he could hold on long enough to find it.

‘The Monkie gifted him Sharing and Companionship. So long as he remembered his origins, he could tell those around him about his life and they would remember.

‘With the Lost’s mind restored, his family and the other two lights took their leave, promising to faithfully wait for his return.

‘For the first time in a very long time, the Lost awoke as himself.

‘It wasn’t easy though. His time spent in the void had muddled his memories. He would misremember things, and lash out when he recalled something traumatic.

‘But his family that resided in this city rallied together. They provided support and care and love. The Lost did his best to reciprocate in kind.

‘Then one day, the Lost’s memory healed, and he remembered everything.

‘And so, I gathered my family together to Share my Story.

‘No longer Lost, but a Storyteller once more.’

----------

Tang fielded clarifying questions about the story and the metaphors he had used from his family members as they sat around the living room on Sandy’s ship together. It seemed the original MK’s gift had worked perfectly as he was able to go into more detail after telling them about the cycles in the form of a tale first.

He had to pause in his explanations a few times to wipe away the tears of joy that kept coming to him.

Once they had a decent grasp on everything, more serious topics were discussed.

“So the reason you don’t like being human anymore is because of what Lady Bone Demon did?” Pigsy’s voice was gentle as he brought up the potentially painful question.

“It’s not just what she did,” Tang said, squeezing Pigsy’s hand as he waded through his turbulent emotions. “It’s that she did it for a very, very long time while using my body the entire way. After a while, whenever we looked in a mirror, I no longer saw myself. All I could and still see is her grinning cruelly back at me.

“She never took an animal form so it’s just… easier to cope with it this way, I guess.”

“Well… At least you don’t have to worry about her taking you over any more,” Sandy said comfortingly.

“Yeah, that’s… That’s such a relief.”

“So how strong are you actually,” Mei asked. “Because dragon powers, earth shaping, straight up magic, and all of the Monkey King’s abilities combined sounds pretty OP to me.”

“Well then it’s a good thing the Heavens nerfed me with all this anxiety and PTSD,” Tang said with a dry smile. “But seriously? I don’t know or care. The last time I tried training to be a fighter didn’t end up so well if you recall. I’m more than willing to step up if any of you are in danger, but I think I’ll stick to a supporting role when possible.”

“Welcome to the sideliners club,” Macaque said, raising his cup of tea in mock salute.

Tang chuckled and raised his cup in solidarity.

“I have a question that may be… difficult,” Red Son warned. “What… what happens to us when a cycle ends and you move on to the next timeline?”

Tang took a steadying breath as he thought it over.

“There’s… There’s three potential theories I’ve come up with over time.

“The first is that you’re all actually just perfect copies of yourselves from this timeline being projected into my consciousness and don’t truly exist. Thus, you’ll cease to be once I move on to the next timeline. I reject this theory out of hand for obvious reasons.

“The second is that the version of myself that is stuck in the cycles will just disappear from this timeline’s Tang one day. Either he’ll have false memories over what happened during that time, or have no memories of it at all. I’m not sure how to feel about this as everyone around him will obviously still remember and it will be as if he drastically changed overnight.

“The third and the one I choose to believe is that when I leave a timeline it resets again back to before I entered it. Everything returns to how it was supposed to be with no one knowing anything different.”

“You… choose to believe that? That we’ll all forget about you and everything you do to make our lives better will be undone?!”

“I have to, Red Son,” Tang said, voice breaking. “Otherwise all those worlds Lady Bone Demon used me to destroy… They’ll… They’ll actually be gone forever and I can’t…”

“Oh.” Red Son’s anger quickly died as Tang took a moment to recuperate. “That’s… understandable, I suppose. I do not like it, but I understand.”

“To be honest, I don’t like it too much either.” Tang took a drink of his tea to soothe his throat. “But considering the alternatives, it is the best option we’ve got.”

“Sometimes there is no ‘best option’,” Wukong said solemnly. “You just have to forge ahead and hope a better way appears before you.”

“And if such a path does not appear, step off the road you’re going down and make it yourself,” Tang completed the piece of wisdom with a smile. “Where did you hear such a profound thing, I wonder?”

“Only from the wisest man I’ve ever known,” Wukong smiled back.

“Ugh. Get a room,” Macaque said with a groan.

“Only if you and Pigsy join us,” Tang smirked.

He basked in the indignant stuttering from all three of them.

“I have something that may sound strange,” MK said once everything calmed back down. “I get why you don’t want to be human anymore, but why a monkey?”

“What’s wrong with being a monkey,” Macaque challenged.

“Nothing! I’m actually hoping I get to become one too someday.”

Tang smiled into his cup at Wukong’s look of pride, Red Son’s look of interest, and Pigsy’s look of resignation.

“What I meant is, why not a form you picked yourself?”

Tang blinked. Had he not picked this form for himself?

“Perhaps you should explain a bit more, MK. I’m not sure I completely follow your meaning.”

“Okay, so, like, your current monkey form for example. Didn’t you say it was basically forced on you when that timeline’s Macaque gave you that cursed necklace? You had no consent in taking that form and had no way of changing it, right?”

“Yes… That is true.” Tang looked down at the golden-yellow fur covering his arms. Now that it had been brought up, he started to feel a phantom sensation of itchiness beneath his skin as he recalled how violated he had felt all those cycles ago.

“Then there’s your half-dragon form and your demon bull form,” MK continued. “Those versions of you already had access to those forms when you woke up in those timelines, so really they aren’t yours. It’s more like you’re borrowing them from the versions of you that were part of Mei’s and Red Son’s families.”

“Well… When you put it like that…”

“I guess what I’m actually trying to say is: If you are going to choose not to be human anymore, then you should also get to choose what your form looks like. Because you can choose now and you should choose what you want.”

“Oh.” Tang stared in disbelief at the brightly smiling young man. “When did you become so wise?”

“I had lots of help,” MK said cheerily. “So does that mean you’ll do it?”

“I suppose it would be properly thematic to have my first true choice within these constantly changing cycles to be that of picking out a static appearance of my own volition.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, MK, I want to choose my permanent animal form for myself.” Tang looked around and smiled at his family. “But I’m not sure where to begin. I’m open to suggestions.”

“Let’s start with the basics,” Wukong said. “Do you want scales, feathers, or fur? Or some combination?”

“Hmm… Fur. I'll admit I find being brushed or groomed all over to be quite relaxing.”

“What about a cat,” Sandy said as he scratched Mo beneath his chin.

“No, sorry. I just can’t picture it.”

“A yellow-throated marten?” Mei looked up from her phone where she had obviously been searching for animals. “They’ve got a large patch of golden-yellow fur on their upper bodies if we want to stick with that color scheme.”

“To be frankly honest, I am somewhat sick of that color. I understand why I seem to be stuck with it but, no. Just… no.”

“A burrowing animal,” Red Son said. “To coincide with your element.”

“Hmm… Yes, I like the sound of that.”

“A mole!”

“I would like my eyesight to either remain the same or improve, not deteriorate, thank you very much.”

“Uh, a badger?” Pigsy scratched the back of his head. “I don’t think I’ll be much help here.”

“Don’t worry about it. Every suggestion helps even if it’s to narrow down my choices.”

“Do skunks burrow?”

“Hard no.”

“Pangolin?”

“Interesting… But I don’t think I could shape those clawed hands into something resembling opposable thumbs very well.”

“Tarantulas technically have fur and live in burrows.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I can’t believe no one’s mentioned rabbits yet,” Macaque said.

“Rabbits?” Tang paused as he considered it, missing several other suggestions as the conversation continued around him.

Rabbits burrowed. They came in a variety of colors if he included domestic varieties. Their fur was incredibly soft.

Rabbits were known for being vigilant, always scanning their surroundings with their sensitive eyes and ears. They were both crafty yet cautious, digging multiple burrows to confuse predators. Many cultures portrayed them as both wise and cunning tricksters who avoided direct confrontation.

Rabbits were usually docile, but they would fight to the death over territory and resources. Sort of like how he preferred to support from the sidelines but would not hesitate to protect his loved ones…

Tang pulled out some of the clay he and Red Son had brought back to the ship and began to work it. The figure he was creating was lithe, with what some people might describe as a runner’s body. Which made sense for what it was.

Digitigrade or plantigrade? Hmm… He’d have to experiment with both to see how they looked and felt but for now he gave the sculpture digitigrade feet.

The head was the angular shape of wild breeds, but he preferred the drooping ears of domesticated ones. If he didn’t like how they felt he could change it later.

The fingers were a bit shorter and wider than a human’s, but that was to accommodate the paw pads. They would still be fully articulated and feature opposable thumbs.

Finally the tail at the base of the spine, which didn’t need to be anything more than a ball of fluff.

Now for a color.

Well he did like how the mane on his dragon form looked.

A quickly muttered spell and the majority of the clay figure changed to a deep chocolate brown.

Tang stared at the anthropomorphic rabbit he now held.

Something inside of him clicked into place.

“What do you have there?”

Tang jumped a bit as Pigsy looked over to look at the figure in his hands.

“Hey, that's really good.” Pigsy gave Tang a questioning glance. “Is this…?”

“I… I think this is my choice.”

Tang quickly hardened the clay figure so it wouldn’t break and set it on the coffee table in front of him so everyone could see.

“So… What do you think?”

“You know I was joking when I mentioned rabbits,” Macaque said with a surprised expression.

“I know, but it felt… Right.”

“That’s a pretty cool fursona you got there, Tang!” Mei was snapping a few pictures of the figure. “Do you take commissions?”

“It’s not a fursona, Mei!” MK paused as he thought about it. “Okay, so maybe it is a little. But the important thing is: is this what you really want?”

“It… It is.”

“Then it’s perfect!”

“Are you going to try transforming into it now,” Red Son asked.

“Not yet. There’s a few smaller details and, ah, bits I need to finalize.”

“If you need any help, let me know,” Wukong said. “Transformations are kind of one of my specialties.”

“Right now I think I just want to get something to eat,” Tang said as he stood. “It’s almost time for lunch, right?”

“Just about. We have some leftovers we can heat up today,” Pigsy said before glaring at Wukong and Macaque. “I shouldn’t have to remind you to drop your disguises, correct?”

“We, uh, aren’t actually disguised as each other right now,” Macaque said sheepishly.

Everyone else paused and stared at the two monkeys.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s great you feel comfortable as yourselves around us,” Tang said. “Now let's go eat!”

As they all trooped out of the living room, Tang took one last look at the figure sitting on the coffee table.

If Wukong and Macaque could finally feel safe in their own skins, one he made for himself would give him no trouble at all.

With a smile he turned to join his family.

The future looked hopeful.

----------

Are you still with us after getting through all that? Good. Because it’s official! Tang is free! Both from Lady Bone Demon and the harsh restrictions of the cycles!

Of course, not everything is 100% OK yet either. Tang is kind of messed up now. Plus all the rules he’s been living by for centuries have been irrevocably changed. There’s going to be a lot of growing pains as we head into what I’m calling “The Healing Arc”. Nothing as bad as when LBD was possessing Tang, but it won’t all be sunshine and roses.

So @animemoonprincess' Doppelganger AU is pretty interesting! It’s got a perfect blend of wacky humor and serious emotional depth that I felt was perfect for Tang’s first cycle back in control. ( I was unfortunately unable to add Tang dipping a Kitkat into orange juice but maybe in a future chapter. ;P ) Also shout out to @unseelie-robynx for contributing quite a bit to this AU as well!

There’s some retconning of the Golden Dragon Tang AU here. I was a dumdum who did not do his proper research back when I wrote that initial chapter. I’m not going to go back and edit it however, so it will sit there mocking me and always remind me to do my due diligence from now when it comes to research! Also you’ll get ALL the internet points if you can figure out how I picked Ao Lun’s name!

We also had a brief appearance of @winterpower98's Swap AU once again!

The song that Red Son sings to calm Tang down is I’ll Think Of You by Kurt Hugo Schneider. I’ve loved this song for a very long time and feel that it fits the story perfectly. I wish there was a fourth verse…

(Also I’ve decided Demon Bull Brother Tang is a complete and utter Troll. XD)

That story sequence was planned for quite some time. It was originally supposed to include Tang bringing out a lantern he made out of the white clay and doing a shadow play as he told the story, but I just couldn’t get it to flow well. May have to reuse that idea later on…

Last but not least we have Bunny Tang! No one seems to know who exactly started this idea, by my good friend @skellebonez has a fic about it called Cotton Tails and Borrowed Time that’s really good! Go give it a read! I was going to save this for a later chapter but then I realized it helped capstone the theme of Self in this chapter perfectly.

Now I have no idea when the next chapter will come out. I actually don’t have The Healing Arc planned out and I’m also currently without a job so I’ll be needing to put a lot of time into finding a new one. I’ll at least try my best and not let six months pass again this time!

Stay safe! We’ll get through this! I love you all!

Until next time!

23 notes · View notes

thebluenoteblog · 3 years

Text

Chasing After You

Summary: Matthew just can’t let you go, no matter how hard he tries. Unluckily, you have the same problem.

Player: Matthew Tkachuk

Word Count: 2000

Warnings: I don’t know... a lot of drinking. A few bad words.

Authors Note: Be gentle, this is the first thing I’ve written in a really long time. It might be (probably is) a dumpster fire.

You come over when your wine's all gone

Always catch me when I'm not that strong

Then you wind up staying all night long

Ain't nothin' new

Matthew had finally reached rock bottom, he had to admit that, though to no one other than himself. Sitting home alone on a Friday night. No game to play, no practice to keep his mind busy, no friends to hang out with. Just him, a beer, the temptation of something stronger, and nothing on the TV.

It was really pathetic. The guys wouldn't believe it if they saw him right now. Or maybe they would. Maybe pathetic was his new style, it was certainly starting to feel like it after all.

He grabbed the remote off the couch beside him and began to flip channels, eventually settling on a baseball game. He wasn’t paying close enough attention to the game to tell you the score, he wasn't sure he even knew what teams were playing.

Just a few minutes into the game that he was sort of watching, there was a knock on his door. He checked his watch, 10:34. You were earlier than usual.

He pushed himself up off the couch and made his way to the front door of his apartment. He knew it was you. You were the only one the front desk let up without calling him. He still didn't know how you had managed that. Did you sweet talk the workers? Probably.

He pulled the door open and there you were, bottle of wine in hand. “I finished one already, but I thought you might be open to having a drink with me.”

There were a thousand alarm bells going off in his head, but he stepped aside and let you into his apartment. You kicked off your shoes in the entryway and followed him into the living room. Neither of you bothered with grabbing glasses, you uncorked the bottle and took a sip before passing it to Matthew.

He knew where this was going, he always did. He couldn't tell you why he never stopped it. Or maybe he could. Maybe he knew and he didn't want to admit that even after everything you had done to hurt him over the years, he was still unbelievably, irrevocably in love with you.

Then I wake up with you on my chest

You got a way of making me forget

Girl, with you the answers always yes

Every time you call

He was warmer than usual. It took him a minute to register you in his arms, head positioned comfortably on his chest. The way you used to sleep almost every night but now reserved for nights that you’d downed your alcohol a little to quickly.

Matthew was afraid to move, he knew that as soon as he stirred you, you’d be out the door just as quickly as you'd walked through it the night before. Just like that you would burst his bubble all over again. Just like you had a hundred times before.

Eventually your eyes fluttered open and he watched as you scanned the room, taking in where you were. “Morning,” he said.

You smiled, “Morning.”

The smile gave him hope that he squashed down just as quickly as it appeared. “Stay for breakfast?” He asked.

You shrugged, “Do I have to cook it?”

“I’ll order in,” He laughed softly. He would never let you cook for him again if that was all it took for you to stay. It wasn't, but he could dream.

You nodded, “I’m going to take a shower. What time do you have practice?”

Matthew glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “I’ve got a few hours still.”

You pushed up off his chest and he immediately missed the warmth of your body. He wanted to tell you to come back, just for a little while longer but he knew better. So he let you go, because having you in his shower was better than having you in an uber on the way back to your apartment.

But I know, yeah I know it's a matter of time

'Till you walk, 'till you walk back out of my life

Leave me standing here lonely feeling like a fool

You stretched up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Matthew’s lips. It was soft, barely there. “I’ll call you.”

He knew you wouldn’t.

He nodded, “Text me when you get home safe.”

You nodded. “I will.”

He knew you wouldn’t.

You turned away from him and he watched as you disappeared down the hallway toward the elevator. When he couldn't see you anymore, he pushed the door closed and made his way back to the living room.

Here he was again, a fucking idiot with a broken heart and nothing but time to kill.

Every time, every time you say we're done

You come back to the love you were running from

Don't know why, don't know why I let you but I do

Guess I love chasing after you

Matthew glanced down at his phone, tuning out the guys as he scanned the message, What are you doing tonight?

He typed out a response before anyone could realize who he was talking to. Nothing important.

Your response was almost immediate, I’ll be over in an hour.

Matthew rose from his seat and shoved his phone into his pocket. “Hey guys, I’ll catch you later.”

Johnny sighed, “Don't do it man, you're going to regret it.”

Matthew shook his head, “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

They looked at each other before turning back to him, “Man, this is getting ridiculous. She isn't good for you.”

“How do you know what's good for me?” Matthew asked, crossing his arms and widening his stance. “I think I can protect myself, I'm a big boy.”

Johnny sighed and waved a hand in his general direction, “Whatever, do what you want. Just don't come whining to me when she disappears again.”

Matthew snorted, “I don't plan on it.”

Then he was gone, phone in hand calling an uber.

Listen

Wish I could quit you but it feels too good

If I could turn it off, you know I would

But somethin' 'bout you makes me think we could

Make it after all

There was nothing in the world that made you angrier than your inability to walk away from Matthew. After everything the two of you had put each other through, there was no reason to keep going back. Yet… here you were. Standing outside his apartment after what was essentially a booty call.

You almost wished that Matthew would tell you to fuck off just so you could move on with your life. He wouldn't do that though, you knew Matthew too well and he knew you too well too. That was the problem. You had been with each other on some level for so long that you couldn't remember what it was like to be apart.

You hadn’t knocked yet, you could still leave. Go home and do the responsible thing for once.

“Y/N.”

You turned toward the elevators, and there was Matthew. He looked amazing, t-shirt tight over his chest and shoulders, hair just a little bit in his eyes, the way you loved. There was no chance that you were leaving now. You were in this for the night now, not that this was bad news. You had never intended on leaving without seeing him.

“You’re early.” He said, running his hands through his hair.

“Yeah, I know,” You said, “I was bored.”

He nodded, “I can fix that.”

But I know, yeah I know it's a matter of time

'Till you walk, 'till you walk back out of my life

Leave me standing here lonely feeling like a fool

Why did he always think it would be different? Why was he always so determined to let himself think that there was a chance things would work out this time or next time or the time after that. There was no logical reason to believe that after all this time, anything would change, yet here he was, once again, surprised on some level that you had left him high and dry.

He closed the door, you had long since disappeared into the elevators, and he collapsed onto the couch. There was no way he would be hearing from you again for a while, so he buried his face in the throw pillow and decided to take a long nap.

After all, he had gotten no sleep the night before.

Every time, every time you say we're done

You come back to the love you were running from

Don't know why, don't know why I let you but I do

Guess I love chasing after you

You were always the one to end things. You had never, in your life, had your heart broken. You never let things get that far. You loved love, but you hated the idea of being hurt. So you kept everyone who tried to love you at a distance. Matthew was no exception, in fact he was the blueprint. There was no way you could ever give him your whole heart, there was no way you could ever trust him with a part of you that you had never given to anyone.

Oh, but you wanted to. More than anything, you wanted to give him every part of you in every way. You knew he loved you, on some level you knew that he would never hurt you, but here you were, three years into a mess of your own creation with no idea how to fix it.

“Y/N, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

You glanced up from your hands, eyes scanning the massive wall clock hanging above your therapists desk. Your appointment would be over in twenty minutes and you had yet to say a word to her. “I don’t know where to start today.”

She nodded, “What is bothering you today? Let's start with that.”

You sighed, “Matthew.”

“What about him?” She asked, tapping her pencil on the notepad that rested on her crossed legs.

You resisted the urge to sigh again. “I just…” You looked down at your hands, “I wish that I could let myself be happy with him.”

You come over when your wine's all gone

Always catch me when I'm not that strong

Then you wind up staying all night long

Ain't nothin' new

Two firm raps on the door had Matthew freezing as he poured his drink. He set the bottle down and made his way to the living room. He pulled the door open and there you were, beautiful as ever. Hair pulled up in a messy bun, hands in the pocket of your coat. “Hey, Matthew.”

Matthew smiled his eyes wondering over you, memorizing every inch as he stepped out of the way to let you into the apartment. “No wine this time?”

“No, no wine tonight..”

He laughed as he pushed the door closed behind you. “It's okay, I have some.”

You kicked off your shoes by his front door before turning to face him. “Actually, I was thinking maybe we could try this sober tonight.”

Matthew stared at you, his expression some strange mix of confusion and hopefulness. “Why?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. You wanted to tell him that you were working on your shit, that you were trying to be less scary and damaged, but you couldn’t find the words or the courage to share that with him. Instead, what came out of your mouth was a joke, “What, do you have to be drunk to enjoy my company?”

The corners of his mouth slowly turned up, “No, not at all.”

He followed you into the living room and took a seat beside you on the couch. Like always he gave you space. This time you scooted closer to him. His eyebrows rose for a split second, then he put an arm around your shoulders and grabbed the remote from the end table. “Want to watch a movie? I hear there’s some new Netflix original thats really good.”

You nodded and sank into his side as he scrolled through the selections.

Maybe this wasn't so scary.

Maybe you could get used to this.

#Matthew Tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

153 notes · View notes

cherryatiny · 3 years

Text

𝐃𝐚𝐝! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐺𝐼𝐹𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠

⩥ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

Letting out a cry of pain from the weird feeling, you woke up from your sleep, sitting up heavily breathing, you clutched your arms around your pregnancy belly softly not to hurt the baby. Hugging it and cooling down your breathing, trying to comprehend what has just happened.

Many paranoic thoughts filling your mind. Is something wrong? Did something happen to the baby? Thinking about the worst scenarios, another one of those weird tumbling motions occurred in your swollen belly. Bending down to place your ear on the top of your belly of 5 months, you caressed it, trying to feel the twitches again.

Looking to the side, you placed your hands on your sleeping husband Hongjoong, gently shaking him to wake him up.

His sleepy eyes slowly opening, trying to get used to the darkness in the room. „Mhm, what is it, baby? Did something happen? Why did you wake me up for?“ hardly understandable mumbles left his mouth as he laid in his place, not moving a bit, still not woken up.

„Joongie, I think that... the baby just kicked.“ swiftly sitting up after those words came out of your mouth, his widened eyes in shock. „Really? Did the baby kick? Oh my-“

Hongjoong did the same thing as you did, laying his head on your belly, his hands wrapping around your bottom, trying to feel anything. And as the baby kicked again, your belly moving softly under his head.

Hongjoong almost jumped out of his place in amazement as he felt that. „Oh my Y/N, that was-your belly just moved, I felt it. Oh my God your baby just moved.“

Tugging up your top to expose your baby bump, he planted kisses on it, still astonished from the new feeling of a baby moving inside your body. „My baby? It's your baby too, it's our baby and it moved, Joongie.“

You both giggled cutely at the new feeling, it all felt so real, now that you could really feel your baby. „Come on, let's get back to sleep, you have to rest.“

Going back to sleep, he spooned you from behind, his arm embracing you close to him, caressing your baby bump until you fell asleep again.

⩥ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

„Y/N do you know where is the bottle with caraway seeds?“ Seonghwa shouted for you to hear, rummaging all over the kitchen, trying to find the seasoning he was looking for.

You were laying on the couch, resting with a book in your hands, since any excessive movement made your pregnant body tired. One eye on the flavescent pages of the book, the second one looking out for your husband Seonghwa who was cooking you two a meal, making sure he didn't hurt himself or mess something up.

Even though Seonghwa was a great cook, he was a bit clumsy so occasional cuts on his fingers weren't that occasional. Suddenly a dull pain hit your belly, causing you to cry in pain, wrapping your arms around your swollen belly.

As Seonghwa heard your painful whimpers, he dropped the knife he was holding, cutting his finger, but that wasn't what he cared for, immediately running over to you.

„Ah fuck it- Princess! Are you okay? What's happening? Is there something wrong?“ kneeling in front of you, letting his hands fall onto your knees. Your head lowered down, trying to overcome the pain that hit your ribs and abdomen.

„Ah, I don't- don't know, it just suddenly started to hurt so much. As if you hit my ribs with a bat.“ his worried expression turned into a soft one in a blink of an eye. „Isn't it... our baby kicking?“

Getting the pieces of information that flowed through your brain together, you realised that Seonghwa might have a point.

„Aww Y/N, I'm so sorry for what our baby is putting through, come on lay down, I'm gonna bandage my finger, and I'll give you a massage, maybe it'll relieve stress, what do you think?“ nodding you laid down, still not over the pain your baby just gave you.

Seonghwa ran back to the kitchen for a second, rummaging over the boxes of medicaments and this type of stuff, trying to find a plaster to wrap his finger in before going back to you and sitting on the couch. He laid your head on his lap, his hands massaging your stiff shoulders in circular motions while singing to you, trying to help you relax.

⩥ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

The weekend always meant Yunho's well-deserved rest. Usually, the two of you spent a weekend together in bed, lazily cuddling and watching series you abandoned throughout the week. Today was not any different.

Laying in the bed under piles of comforter, you nuzzled your back into Yunho's chest, letting out small mewls at how comfortable his presence was. Ever since you got pregnant, Yunho treated you like the most fragile crystal vase in this world.

His arm wrapped around your baby bump protectively, the other arm laid under your head. Watching the characters move on the screen of your notebook, your attention fully captivated.

You were on the edge, almost not breathing from the unexpected plot twist, when your swollen belly twitched lightly. Frowning your eyebrows at the weird feeling, it was as if butterflies were flying in your stomach.

But the nervous twitches did not stop, yet, they only intensified. You remembered an article you read a month ago, about how to distinguish when a baby kicks or moves. Concentrating more on the feeling, it was the same as described in the article.

Turning around to look at Yunho, his eyes closed as he was probably napping. Shaking his shoulders to wake him up, he opened his sleepy eyes. „Yunho...“ humming tiredly, he tried hard not to knock out, but listen to what you had to say.

„Remember the article? I think our baby moved...“ His no longer sleepy eyes opened widely, looking at you with excitement. „Really? How does it feel? Oh I can't even imagine it, let me touch.“

His loosened grip around your belly now tightened, his hand roaming all over your belly, trying to feel anything. „But I don't feel anything Y/N.“ pouting at you sadly, from not being able to feel his child kick.

„It's because the baby stopped moving, Yuyu. I'll tell you the next time it moves.“ He nodded dejectedly and laid back down, holding you close to him as you two resumed the series while waiting patiently for your baby to move again.

⩥ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

„That's him, that's the guy. The guy with the black hat is the killer!“ shouted Wooyoung as the aforementioned character of the movie you were watching appeared on the screen.

„Oh my fucking god Wooyoung, I swear I'm gonna sew your mouth one day, try to do this once again and you'll be the one left out when we have the next movie night.“

The boys started scolding Wooyoung as he once again spoiled the movie you were watching, some of them throwing pillows at him.

Switching between the channels you turned the TV off and decided to rather talk together since nothing watchable was on. You listened to the eight men that were discussing their next week's schedule.

Laughing at some of the sarcastic remarks your husband Yeosang made, you comfortably positioned yourself on Yeosang's laps, his strong arms keeping you close and wrapping around your baby bump protectively.

It was as if your baby reacted to the feeling of his dad's hands when you felt some weird twitches and tumbles. Shrugging your eyebrows at the weird feelings you supposed was the baby kicking, you lightly bent forward, your fingers circling over your bump, occasionally poking it to get another reaction from the baby.

„Is something wrong, Y/N?“ queried your husband Yeosang, catching the attention of the others, who stopped in their convo, instead diverting their attention to you.

„I-I think our baby moved...“ as soon as the words left your mouth, all of the boys jumped out from their seat, coming over to you and immediately placing their hands on your belly out of curiosity, leaving you and Yeosang speechless as the 7 men tried to feel your baby moving.

„Oh my god, guys I feel it kicking.“ San immediately scoffed at his words, responding sassily. „Shut up Wooyoung, you don't feel anything, you made that up because you just want to be the first one to feel our little niece move.“

„Get your hands off my wife's bump, you're irrelevant right now. Her dad should be the first one to feel her kick, her uncles are further in the line. Make your own child.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

Having to deal with pregnancy was hard, but having to deal with pregnancy when your partner couldn't be present all the time, was even harder. Many would've thought that having an idol husband must be a dream come true - a life out of fanfiction.

But at the same time, you have to deal with an exhausted man who has a packed schedule and hardly any free time. After the two of you got married, San and his group adjusted their schedule to have more time, after all, all the members weren't that young anymore and they also had their own lives.

When you got pregnant San made sure to be there for you as much as he could, it wasn't a comeback season so it was possible. However he was shooting for a drama he was supposed to play a lead role in, so he left for a 'job trip' for two weeks since they were shooting in Jeju Island.

Coming out of your shared bedroom, you yawned, still not completely woken up from your night sleep. Picking some milk out of the fridge to cook oats in, you made yourself oatmeal with fruit and a cup of coffee to eat for breakfast.

Digging your spoon into the bowl, you couldn't get yourself to have a bite. Your stomach feeling somehow heavy. It wasn't like the morning nausea you had in the first trimester, it was just a bad feeling as if someone was squeezing your stomach.

You at least drank the coffee as you sat down on the couch in your living room, turning the TV on to listen to watch some news. You caressed your baby bump out of a habit, it was almost like a routine, every morning when you and San watched the news, he'd always caress your belly.

Sipping on your coffee, you felt a sharp kick to your ribs and stomach, spilling the coffee all over your clothes. You shrugged your eyebrows, mouth wide opened as you tried to hold back your tears from the sharp and tingling pain.

„Ah, I've been carrying you for over 5 months and this is how you repay me with your first kick?“ Saying playfully to your baby even though you knew it can't hear you, you couldn't help but smile at the precious feeling of your baby kicking even though it was painful.

'I should probably say this to San, he'd be happy to know that our baby kicks' you said to yourself as you picked your phone and dialled his phone number, hoping that you won't interrupt anything and he'd be able to pick up.

„Good morning princess.“ you subconsciously smiled at his sweet voice as he called you the pet name he often used.

„Sannie, our prince kicked me. It hurts like hell, he's a strong boy, he must be taking after his daddy.“ you could feel the regret in his voice at not being able to be there when your baby kicked for the first time.

„Waah really? Ah I'm so sorry that I couldn't be there when he kicked for the first time, wait for me I'm home in 3 days.“

⩥ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

Chopping some pepper bells, onions and tomatoes, you put the aforementioned vegetables into a pot, pouring a bit of oil and letting it roast on a low heat as you poured some vegetable broth onto it afterwards.

Looking up to see your partner Mingi enter the kitchen with no t-shirt, his sweatpants long hanging as he rubbed his sleepy eyes, from having to wake up after coming home late after his practice.

„Good morning sleepyhead.“ He smiled at you beamingly, brushing his hair with his fingers and pouring himself a glass of water. „Good morning, babe. Woah, I'm so tired, my muscles stiffened as I slept, I must be getting old.“

Laughing playfully at his remark you resumed your previous activity of cooking, pouring some seasoning into the pot.

The sleepy figure of your partner Mingi, disappeared from your sight as he got behind you, his long limbs wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, whining out of the comfort.

„Mingi we can cuddle later, I have to finish cooking, okay?“ He groaned in disagreement not moving a bit as his grip tightened around your '4-month old' baby bump, running his fingers over the material of your tank-top.

You were so engaged in cutting tofu, that you didn't pay any attention to the feelings in your lower belly. Sensing some tingling, you brushed it off, thinking it was only Mingi's fingertips trying to tingle you to make you stop doing your actions.

„What was it?“ Letting out a quiet 'what do you mean' you continued not taking your eyes off the cutting board. „Your belly moved.“ Turning over to look at him, you raised your eyebrows, not getting any of his words. „It didn't move.“

„It did Y/N, I felt it.“ Letting out a small chuckle you turned back. „Mingi, I'm not going to stop and cuddle you, this attempt to make me stop is hopeless.“ as you cut the food, you suddenly felt a movement in your lower stomach.

„Wait, oh my, it really moved. Woah, it must be our little princess.“ tears fell down your cheeks at the new feeling, happiness overflowing your veins. „See? I wasn't lying!“

⩥ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

Standing in backstage, you watched from behind as your husband Wooyoung performed their newest comeback's title song on the music show stage.

Swaying his hips and letting out soft angelic sounds off his mouth. Finishing it off as an ending fairy with his serious but hot pose. Bowing respectfully to the cameramen and staff, sweaty figures of the members left the stage as they returned to the backstage, breathing heavily from the dynamic choreography.

„You were amazing guys, as always.“ You exclaimed as they neared you, grateful smiles on their faces. Wooyoung took your hand on his way and you followed him to their changing room.

„Uhm, I'll wait for you outside while you change.“ you stated as you sat on the metal bench that was in front of the changing room. Running your hand up and down your visible baby bump, you closed your eyes, just trying to think peacefully about anything that came up to your mind.

A gentle thud in your womb breaking you out of your concentrated state. You focused on your swollen belly, thoughts running all over your mind. Could it be your son? Not paying attention to the sound of the door opening you still thought about the uncanny feeling.

Since it was your first pregnancy, how were you supposed to distinguish between those feelings?

„Y/N, I'm done, let's go, Yunho is paying for dinner.“ Looking up at his smiling you focused on his deep hazel eyes with little sparkles in them. „Youngie, I think our baby kicked...“

A really loud 'woah' left his mouth along with some cheerful squeals, alerting all the people in the hallways.

„Really? Did our son really kick? Don't play your jokes on me. We'll have to celebrate then, come on, give me your backpack and I'll treat you the best meal of your life.“

„You? Didn't you say Yunho is the one who's paying?“ you remarked playfully in the mood to tease him for every detail he says. „That's just a bare detail, come one honey.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

„What can I get for you?“ asked the young waiter dressed in a uniform with the logo of the café you were in.

„She's pregnant and she shouldn't drink much caffeine, so one strawberry and one watermelon lemonade.“ ordered your husband Jongho, before you could even open your mouth to say something.

Turning to face his caring and lovely smile, you pouted at him, for not giving you a chance to order something yourself.

„You know I can order for myself? And I didn't have any caffeine in a week, so I could at least have an iced latte.“ He shrugged his shoulders, as he gazed around the café.

„It's not about the caffeine right now. Do you remember? We had our first date here and drank the same thing, I just wanted to recall the memories.“ You smiled as you replayed those reminiscences in your mind.

„Who would've thought that a bundle of joy will come out of the single date, I can't express how happy I am. I still remember that day, I was so nervous and embarrassed myself so many times that I thought you would've never wanted to go out with me again, yet you did.“ you smiled at his remarks, thinking about how he almost tripped on his own foot from how nervous he was.

„I did. And there wasn't a time when I regretted, going out with you was the best choice of my life.“

As the waiter was approaching you with the lemonades, you felt fluttering movements occur in your lower abdomen. Jongho noticed the grimace on your face as you lightly hugged yourself, but waited until the waiter left.

„Is something wrong Y/N?“ You looked up to meet his worried face. „I- I don't know, there is a weird fluttering feeling in my stomach and it's just... weird.“ You answered as you took a sip of your tasty lemonade, his gaze softening.

„Y/N, it must be our baby, he started kicking, don't you think?“

#ateez #dad!ateez #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez headcanons #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

458 notes · View notes

duskholland · 4 years

Note

this is so completely random and unprompted (sense the sarcasm as the tommy thighs live in my mind rent-free since the first pic of pants-less tom content) but would you please indulge me with a thigh riding blurb with some dom!tom vibes? maybe a bit of praise k*nk in there, too, if that floats your boat? soft!dom!tom...oui. anyways love u + thanks for letting me sin bye <3

his thighs... they’re just something else. i think i was possessed when i wrote this lmao. wc: 2k // 18+ content minors dni!!!!!!

extended warnings ↠ slight dom!tom + praise kink, thigh riding. tom holland’s thighs, because they deserve a warning of their own.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’re bored.

Tom’s house out in Atlanta is huge, and when he’s not stowed away in the office doing online press, there’s never normally a dull moment. You usually find some way to entertain yourself, be that pestering your boyfriend for attention or filling your time with work. Just, it’s a Saturday, and you have nothing to do, and Tom’s been away all day.

After spending the morning catching up with friends and refreshing social media until you have the spinning reload sign flashing behind your eyes, you resort to texting Tom. Down in the office—or the press room, as he’s come to call it—his phone is on silent, so you don’t need to worry about interrupting something. He’s been trading selfies with you all day, providing small snapshots of his socks, his hair, his setup whenever he catches a break. The little teases have only made your yearning worse.

Y/N: when do you finish? Y/N: I’m bored and I miss you :(

You lay back on your bed as you wait on a response, chewing your lip slightly as your hands play with the sheets. Your expression darkens as you look to the side, seeing the throw pillows discarded on the floor and remembering intimate times gone by.

You’ve been in a mood all day, the space between your legs warm. Every time you get bored, your mind wanders, and you’ve been very bored today. The front of your panties feels damp, your body tortured by the memories of last night. It’s a never-ending montage of Tom’s hair brushing your neck, his lips on your breasts, his greedy hands grabbing at your waist. You almost moan as you remember how he’d held you down last night and made love to you until you’d cried, your skin slick with sweat and your mind gone too. He never fails to bring you to the heights of pleasure you’d never thought existed.

Tom: on a break just now if you want to come down Tom: think there’s ten minutes before the next one x

It doesn’t take long for you to get to the office, your feet moving of their own accord. When you open the door, Tom glances back, and you feel your breath catch in the back of your throat.

He looks good. Tom is handsome, and you always enjoy looking at him, but with his torso covered in a tight black shirt and blazer and his hair styled in loose waves on the top of his head, he looks incredibly dashing. He flashes you a mischievous smile as he reaches up to pull the AirPods from his ears, his Rolex glinting beneath the bright studio lights that illuminate his setup.

“Afternoon, darling,” he says. He turns in the chair, swinging an arm over the back of it as he watches you enter the room, closing the door behind you. “How are you?”

You bite your lip, shameless eyes skating over his form. Tom stands to greet you, and your eyes widen, falling to his bare legs. “Why are you half-naked?” you ask, the tip of your nose scrunching up as you chuckle. You meet him in the centre of the room, wrapping your arms around his warm torso before pulling him in for a light hug, being mindful of his pressed suit.

“Comfier,” he explains. “Too hot in all of that. Gets fucking boiling in here.” Tom’s hands smooth up to your hair, and he gently coaxes you from his chest, peering down at you with those brown eyes you love so much. “Gimme a kiss, lovie.”

Eager to feel him, you step closer and lean in, finding his lips in an easy kiss. The moment your mouth makes contact with the soft warmth of Tom’s pillowy lips, you feel yourself melt, the heat coming back to your core almost immediately. You reach up and drape your arms around his neck, getting in as close as you can as you part your lips, licking over his lower lip until he takes the bait and easily slips his tongue into your mouth.

Tom grunts when you play with the back of his hair, tugging on his strands as your tongues glide together. His hands are on your waist, and you find yourself moaning into his mouth when he slips his fingers beneath your shirt and lets them roam all over your figure. As he kisses you, his hands shift up your torso, lingering at your breasts and groping them eagerly.

“No bra?” he moans against you. You whimper as he brushes his thumbs over your nipples, making him chuckle. “Fuck, love,” he murmurs, “eager today, aren’t you?”

You pull away from him, panting for breath. “Yeah,” you admit, not even trying to be coy about it. Time is of the essence, and you know exactly what you want. One of Tom’s warm hands skates down your figure, and your abdomen flexes as his fingers trail over your skin, his blunt fingernails lightly tickling your stomach as he travels to your cunt. “Tom,” you say, voice catching. “Please.”

He’s teasing you, eyes on your face as he slides his hand beneath your shorts and teases his fingers over the front of your panties. With a torturously light touch, he rolls his index finger over the front of your slit.

“God,” he murmurs, leaning in to roughly kiss your jaw. “You’re soaked.”

Your eyes threaten to roll back as he rubs you over the cotton, touch light but enough to bring you the smallest amount of pleasure. You grab at his firm bicep, a choked whine travelling up your throat.

“Tom.”

“Mmm? What do you want, darling? You know we don’t have much time.” Tom’s got a dark glint in his eyes, and it only deepens when he finally shifts your panties to the side and lets his fingers envelop your silky folds. You gasp when he dips his index and middle fingers down to your entrance, pushing into the warmth of your arousal before spreading it up to your bud. He’s quick to tease your clit, cooing softly as you struggle to speak. “Use your words, gorgeous girl. I want to give you what you want, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what that is.”

“Fuck me,” you ask, voice catching as he speeds up his circles.

“No time, darling.” Tom frowns when he sees you pout, and with the hand not between your legs, he reaches up to play with your lower lip. After a moment’s contemplation, he slips his fingers into your mouth. You suck them in further, glad for their heavy presence weighing down your tongue and enjoying how their girth muffles your moans. “I have an idea. C’mere.”

Before you have time to complain, Tom has pulled away from you, leaving your aching cunt alone and your mouth empty. He walks to the green sofa in the back of the room and collapses onto it with ease, smirking up at you as he parts his legs. He looks wide and domineering, spread out, awaiting you, with his bare thighs rippling and on display. His muscles are clear and defined, packed tight in firm ridges against his golden skin. Just the sight of him patting one of them with his hand is enough to make you salivate.

“Ride it,” he encourages, beckoning you forth with a smirk. He tilts his watch towards his face, squinting as he stares at the metal. “You have three minutes to cum, or you’ll need to wait. I won’t be finished for another two hours.”

Eyes widening, you move over to him, pausing in front of your boyfriend to push down your shorts and your panties. Tom reaches out for you, his warm palms sinking into the curves of your hips as he helps you into his lap. He sits up against the sofa, reaching down to grab at your shirt as you work on straddling his thigh. You settle over his left leg, a loud moan trembling up your throat as you lower yourself and your slit presses against the firmness of his skin.

“Oh,” you moan, tossing your head back. Tom pulls your shirt over your head, his face dropping down until he’s able to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You cry out as you slowly grind down against his leg, his skin quickly getting coated in the arousal that covers your slit. Each time he nibbles your nipple, he follows up the action with a warm lap of his tongue, and the noises you elicit rise in pitch.

“Pretty girl,” Tom murmurs, leaving your chest and replacing his mouth with a hand. The other goes to your hip, and he helps you swirl your hips a little faster, his eyes almost black. “Look so fucking hot getting off on my leg, darling. So needy.” His accent is prominent as he watches you, smirking. “You’re my needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You fall forwards, panting into his neck as your forehead rests on his shoulder. Tom’s lips kiss the top of your head, grounding you as the pleasure starts to build. There’s an indescribable warmth spreading across your core, stemming from where your clit rubs up against his muscular thigh. The pleasurable burn of the friction makes you whimper.

“Yeah,” you pant, after taking a few moments to muster your breath. You gasp when Tom tenses his leg, his muscular thigh pressing up against you. “Fuck,” you whimper. “Feels so good, Tom. You’re so strong.”

He’s rolling both hands over your hips now, and one of them slips up to trace across your bare back. He holds you tightly to his chest, even as your breathing becomes irregular, continuing to guide your movements as you grow uneven. You can feel your orgasm twisting in the pit of your stomach, feel the temperature of your blood rising as it builds between your legs. With each grind of your wet cunt against his thigh, the pressure builds, every part of you aching for release.

“My darling girl,” Tom murmurs. “Are you going to make a mess all over my leg?” When you release a clouded moan, he chuckles. “I know you are. It’s okay. I can feel you squirming, baby. I know you can’t wait.” He drops his voice, rasping into your ear as you shake in his lap. “Go on, love. Be a good girl and let go. Get my thigh all wet. There you go.”

Your jaw slackens, and his words push you over the edge. You squirm over Tom’s sturdy thigh, glad for his strong hands on your hips as they guide your movements when you get lost in the pleasure. Your moans intersperse with his name, and you collapse against him as your high rolls across you, flooding you with intense, pulsing pleasure.

“There you go,” he murmurs, kissing over the side of your face until you eventually pry yourself away from him. Tom smiles at you, dragging his lips across your cheek to find your lips. It’s a sweeter kiss, and you pour in your gratitude. “Sweet girl.”

Your lips twitch into a smile as you look up at him, appreciating the lines of his handsome face and the adoration that sparkles in his eyes.

“Thank you,” you say. “I—”

Both of you startle as a ringing sound cuts through the air, and you turn around to see the computer on the desk lighting up with an incoming call.

“Oh, fuck,” Tom mutters. He kisses you, briefly but with intention, then stumbles to his feet. “How do I look?”

You follow him to your feet, quickly pulling on your clothes before walking to him. “Perfect,” you say, once you’ve adjusted the collar of his suit jacket. You press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Good luck, handsome.”

Tom nods, eyes skittering across your form. He shoots you a wink before falling back into the chair, looking over his shoulder at you as you walk towards the door. “Be ready for later,” he calls out. “I’m not done with you yet.”

#suffering #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #smut #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.filth

698 notes · View notes

tootiredmotel · 3 years

Text

For @one-more-offbeat-anthem 's 1k follower celebration. The prompt was "sickfics" and I've never written a sickfic in my life so, naturally, I adapted a scene from one of my comfort movies (Fever Pitch, 2005). HUGE congrats on your milestone love!!!

read on ao3 or below (1.5k words)

Castiel should've known better than to listen to his brother regarding food. They have wildly different palates, and why he agreed to accompany Gabriel to lunch at some newly-opened new-age restaurant with barely any reviews, he'll never know. He wasn't thinking.

He could think even less that night, hunched over the toilet with food poisoning while his date knocked on his apartment door.

As soon as he could, Castiel scrambled to his feet and wobbled over to open it, his over-excitable golden retriever on his heels. Dean stood there in a nice leather jacket, all dapper and first-date-ready with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and it broke Castiel's heart to have to tell him:

"I'm sick."

He was sure it was evident in his eyes, death breath, hair sticking out in all directions from holding his head above the toilet, but he said it anyway.

"I'm really sick, I'm sorry. Come back tomorrow."

Castiel went to close the door, but Dean took a cautious step, bouquet forgotten at his side. "Sick how? You in pain? Do you need anything?"

"I just-" Castiel swallowed forcefully. "I ate at this new restaurant and-"

Just thinking about it made him run to the bathroom again, and he almost didn't make it on time. He barely registered Dean, still at the doorway, say something about Castiel (Cas, he called him) not needing to fake it if he didn't want to go out with him. A few seconds later, the door closed, and Castiel (still puking) thought that was that. He blew it with the handsome schoolteacher, all thanks to his brother's awful culinary taste.

His dog's wasn't so far behind. "Honey, please don't eat that," he reprimanded her, failing to shoo her out of the bathroom.

When he felt he was done, for the time being at least, he tried to stand. He was weak, and for a second he thought he might split his head open on the toilet seat, but then Dean was there, hands on his waist, helping him up. "I got you," said Dean, over and over again, and Castiel believed him.

Dean helped him to his bed where he tried to sit him down, but Castiel must've been weaker than he thought. He flopped backward, and then Dean cautiously lifted his head and placed a pillow underneath.

"Thank you."

"Got some more comfortable clothes? Something to sleep in?"

It's then Cas remembered he was already dressed for the date, slacks and a white button-up (probably grossly stained, he hated to think), and pointed Dean to a drawer.

A second later Dean was gently hoisting him back to his feet, strong hands at his sides, saying "Here, I'll help you change. Promise I won't look. Too much, I won't look too much."

And that actually made Castiel chuckle.

Dean unbuckled and took off his slacks first, replacing them with sweatpants. It was a slow, quiet process, and Dean only spoke up after he'd taken off Castiel's tie and shirt. "Alright, I gotta be honest, I'm looking. Sorry, Cas."

Cas couldn't help another chuckle. Dean was incredibly respectful through it all, careful not to touch any skin unless he had to, which was mostly to keep Cas from falling over. He slipped a t-shirt onto him and laid Cas back down on the bed, this time with his head where it was supposed to be. That's when things started to blur, when his head hit the pillow.

"I don't think there's anything left in there, but just in case..."

Cas, through hazy vision, noticed Dean putting his empty hamper next to the bed. He thanked him, repeatedly. Cas isn't sure how many times he said it, over and over again, thank you.

"Hey, no, you just get some rest," was the last thing Cas heard Dean say before he was out like a light.

Cas suspects he briefly regained consciousness three times during that night.

The first time, he's sure of. He felt a hand on his shoulder, slowly coaxing him awake. "Here," Dean said softly, placing a bottle of Gatorade with a straw in it on the nightstand. "Drink this if you can, alright? Get your strength back." Cas nodded and fell back asleep.

The second time was more questionable, and he only knows it was real because he saw the results of it in the morning. He slowly awoke on his own and saw Dean in his bathroom across from his bedroom door, wearing rubber gloves and scrubbing away at the toilet with a sponge. Cas tried to stop him, tell him no, please, you don't have to do that, really, but couldn't help sleep drag him back down before he could get the words out.

The third time is the most unbelievable. Borderline fantastical. If it was real, he might just have to marry this guy.

Cas thinks he saw Dean brushing Honey's teeth.

Out of everything that happened the night before, that is all he can think about as he steps out of the shower in the morning. He plans to call Dean, send a fruit basket to his school, invite him on the best date of his life to repay him for all he did, and ask him. It's going to sound ridiculous, did you brush my dog's teeth or did I hallucinate that, and Dean will probably turn down his invite. If not for the hell he went through that night, then for Cas being insane.

And then Cas finds Dean asleep on his couch, Honey snuggled into his side. And yeah, he's probably going to marry this guy. This schoolteacher who happened to pick him and his office as a field trip destination for his math kids. This adorable guy that came back later that same day, thanked him for getting through to the kids (which Cas didn't think he had, but he digresses), and then asked him out. This unbelievably sweet guy that Cas initially rejected, god knows why, but then called at his school and left a message for, Saturday at seven, here's my address, because he couldn't get him off his mind. This caring, thoughtful, heaven-sent guy who showed up with flowers, now in a vase on his dining table, found Cas with food poisoning and proceeded to take care of him, his dog, and his apartment the rest of the night.

Before Cas can think about marrying him again (which he was going to, the hopeless romantic), Honey startles and jumps off the couch, waking Dean. Cas doesn't move, just watches as Dean sits up, notices him, then sits up straighter.

"Hey! Hey, how you feeling?" Dean asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. He put products in his hair for the date, Cas notices, because it's now stiffly and adorably messed up.

"Much better. I won't be entering any pie-eating contests any time soon, though."

"Too bad. That was my next date idea."

Cas smiles, the words next date making his heart flutter in his ribcage. His question pops back into his mind.

"Did you, um..." Don't ask about the dog, he'll think you're crazy. He decides to go with "Did you clean my bathroom last night?" even though he knows the answer.

"Me? No."

Well. Cas thought he knew the answer. Probably dreamed it too. But then who-

"The vomit elves came in," Dean continues. "Real cute. Little hats, miniature vomit bags, adorable. Efficient too."

Cas is stuck somewhere between smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, and shaking his head while rolling his eyes. "Did the elves brush Honey's teeth too?"

"Oh no, that one was me."

And that has Cas laughing in earnest. At the sound of her name, Honey came bouncing back, settling next to Dean on the couch.

"Not letting the little bastards take credit for that one. This sweetheart loves me, and I earned that myself," Dean says, scratching Honey between her ears, enraptured.

"Dean, thank you." At that, Dean looks up. "Thank you. You could've just left, but you chose to stay. And you went above and beyond. Thank you."

Dean looks away and stands, trying to play it off with a wave of his hand. "Nah, it was nothing."

"It was everything," Cas says stepping forward, placing a beckoning hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean finally looks at him with a barely-there smile and a gaze that wants to escape, but he fights for it to stay on Castiel's face. Cas is glad he does, because he needs Dean to see, understand, how grateful he is.

"I uh... I got you these." Dean reaches for a paper bag on the coffee table, and that's when Cas takes his hand off his shoulder. "Some movies."

"Such as?"

"Mostly anime porn," Dean says, and Cas is doing it again, the chuckling/eye roll/head shake combo. "And some stuff I like to watch when I'm not doing great."

"Well, for me that would be documentaries."

"Wait." Dean blinks. "What? What did you say?"

"Documentaries. Preferably environmental, or perhaps historical in nature."

"No way, you're not gonna believe this," Dean says, a bit too much surprise on his face. "This is insane dude, check this out..."

He reaches into the bag, and Cas half believes he's about to pull out a copy of Disney's Earth. He's delighted to be wrong.

"Roadhouse."

Cas laughs again, and the beaming smile on Dean's face is what convinces him. He is definitely going to marry this guy.

224 notes · View notes

after-witch · 3 years

Text

Close to My Heart [Baby Mine Part 3] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Close to My Heart [Baby Mine Part 3] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: He’s drugging you again. The bastard.

Word Count:

Notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, medical/drug content

He’s drugging you again. The bastard. The world is too much--too bright, too empty, too heavy and thick. The drugs he’s giving you make you sleepy, slow, heavy.

And the room you’re in is so empty. Bare walls and a bed and an overhead light. The familiarity--scenes of years ago, of weeks spent in a room just like this one--is gutting. You miss the side table next to your bed with your books and notepad; you miss glancing into your daughter’s bedroom before walking downstairs to get a glass of water in the middle of the night. You miss your daughter.

You don’t know how long these things have been gone, only that they are gone, leaving you with nothing in their stead.

Nothing but him, anyway.

He’s sitting on the end of your bed again. Staring down at you, mask on, eyes piercing even through the heaviness surrounding you. Your arms aren’t restrained anymore, but every time you move, it’s clear why he isn’t bothering: with all the drowsy-inducing sedatives built up in your system, you couldn’t muster an effective attack even if you tried.

And you’ve tried.

“How are you feeling?”

The same questions, every morning.

You press your lips together and smack them. Your throat is dry. You hope he brought your water cup. It’s the least he could do.

“Where’s my daughter?” You say, finally, voice dry and hoarse.

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“She’s safe. How are you feeling?”

“Let me see her.”

He shakes his head, a small, imperceptible motion.

“Not until you’re better. How are you feeling?”

His voice never loses its smooth, authoritative edge. You can’t say you missed this, missed the way he talked down to you like you were some weak little thing that doesn’t know right from wrong.

You lean back on your elbows, forcing your head to lift up enough to look him in the eyes. You try to muster an expression of disdain, but you don’t know if it’s registering anywhere but your own mind.

“Like shit. Fuck you, by the way.” You can’t help but take the tiniest bits of satisfaction where you can, and it doesn’t matter that your voice is hoarse and your arms are trembling and that you’re drugged to shit, because it gets a reaction fro him.

A small reaction, but still. His lips purse in a frown.

“Dear,” he says, oh-so-disappointed. “Your language.”

You let your arms give way, falling back against the pillow with a laugh that hurts your chest. Potty mouth, you think, I’m such a potty mouth. What did you read one time, some novel set in the American Midwest--better put a dollar in the swear jar.

“Stop being difficult.”

You snort.

Your head stays where it is, eyes following him as he retrieves a tray he set on the only other piece of furniture in the room: a bolted down chair, padded like a marshmallow. You’ve been tempted to point it out, tempted to ask him if he thinks you’ll try to smash your head open on a normal chair--why not pad your bed then, too? But he might just stick you in a straightjacket or something equally restricting if you so much as make a joke about harming yourself, so you don’t.

A rumbling, empty feeling in your stomach, the scratchiness of your dry throat, destroys any temptation to goad him more. He’s not above making you wait for food if you’re being testy, though you don’t think he’d go so far as to actually starve you. Just deprive you a bit, like he has a few times this week. So you force yourself to simply sit quietly and watch as he brings the tray to your bed, unfolding the little legs and placing it down in front of you.

He lifts up the cup of lukewarm water, a large blue cup you recognize from the kitchen. The little white straw peaking out of the top bounces around until you catch it with your lips. You barely listen to his words--’just a few sips, dear’--and try to ignore the tight, tingly feeling all this gives you.

Prickling humiliation, vaguely colored with childhood memories of hospital stays that made you feel helpless and alone, washes over you every time he gives you something to eat or drink. He always insists on holding the cup, on making you use a thin plastic straw--small sips only. He cuts up your food into tiny bites and only gives you a plastic spoon to eat with.

You dimly remember him feeding you thin broth some time ago, spoon knocking against your teeth every time you moved your head; but that was when your sedative dose was higher and stronger and you were so conked out of your mind that you kept calling him a doctor.

But you’ve graduated to rice and overcooked, bland vegetable that you can eat with a spoon. You know who he is, all the time, which honestly makes things a bit worse than when your stuffy mind thought he was someone else. Hooray.

Your fingers tremble as you press your spoon against the lumpy mash of vegetables. You can’t decide if he’s overcooking them on purpose or if he simply stinks at cooking now, having surely been years out of practice. They look even lumpier than normal, covered in a thick sauce; you bite down the urge to snarkily ask him if the sodium content from such a sauce is appropriate for your delicate health.

You’ve been his little home chef for how long now? Whipping up desserts and dinners like it was your profession. Whipping them up with a smile. And, before the birth of your daughter changed everything, whipping them up with a bright anxiety brimming underneath--anxiety for his approval. Did he like it? Was it too salty? The rice was cooked fine, wasn’t it?

And it wasn’t just the food, no. You’d wanted to please him in everything. In the way you cleaned, in the way you dressed, in the way you tried to soothe him after he’d clearly had a rough day while you sat at home, comparatively comfortable, reading books or fussing with the kitchen curtains again.

But true, honest (disgusting, dark, deep-seated) thoughts of pleasing him have been the furthest thing from your mind for years now. You allowed only the vainest of surface pleasantries to remain, for the sake of pretense, for the sake of getting away with the loving act long enough to get the two of you as far away as possible. Long enough to see yourself and your daughter free and happy, creating a new life--somewhere. Anywhere.

Well, look at you now.

A tear drips down onto your tray, running past your lips, warm and salty. The sight of the tear mingled with the smushed vegetables does it, brings you over the edge, and your shoulders shake helplessly as you begin to cry. You can already feel the exhaustion sweeping over you--the mere act of sitting up and crying and feeling something, feeling something so sad, means you’ll be out like a light soon. Your emotions feel so muted lately--the sedatives?--and when you do feel them, it’s so, so tiring.

His gloved hand brushes your cheek, brushes at your tear, and flinch away. You stare at the floor, white, bare. Rugs are a tripping hazard, you assume. Or maybe he wants to drive you crazy with all the light colors, the creams and eggshells and just-barely-there pale greys.

You sigh, and look back at your tray. Your stomach demands it, so you lift up a spoonful of muddy-colored vegetables and take a bite. Despite your best efforts, the plastic spoon clinks against your teeth anyway. On your next bite, you go slower, steadying your hands--sometimes he insists on feeding you himself, if you mess up enough. You don’t think you have the energy left today to deal with that. So you eat, slow. Carefully. He doesn’t speak, simply watching as the plate of food, the vegetables and rice, slowly disappear inside you.

The sauce is salty and the vegetables are mush, but the rice is fine and you only wish there was more of it so you could stomach the vegetables more readily.

When you’re done, he holds the cup again, positioning the straw near your lips. You sip a little faster, greedy and thirsty, until there’s nothing left inside.

His eyes practically light up at the empty tray, and as he’s taking it away you leans in closer, whispering through his mask, “Good girl.”

Your stomach churns. Maybe the vegetables had gone bad. Or maybe hearing him voice praise that would have made your heart flutter before is making you feel sick.

After he sets the tray to the side, he takes his place--this time not at the end of your bed, but on the side, unnervingly close to you. You watch as he slides his hands behind his ears, slipping off his mask and setting it down on top of your bedspread.

But then he just… watches you.

You’re about to ask him what he wants, tell him to just spit it out already, tell him to fuck off if he’s just going to be a creeper who stares at you, when you feel something. Something different. A blooming, a wave, a strange feeling coming from inside your skin. Bone-deep, blood-deep.

And it’s then that you realize that he’s drugged the food with something new. Something strong. Something that does more than make you sleepy, like the stuff he injects into your arm.

Oh the fucker. Fucker, fucker, fucker. You feel it taking effect like a slow-going tide, radiating through your body. Tingles, light and airy, taking all of the sadness and stress and hate balled up inside you; soaking them up like a towel, until all that’s left inside you is a blissful feeling of forced relaxation.

“What did you do?” You ask, though it comes out as a whisper. Your head lolls a bit to the side. Was your pillow always so soft? You blink away that thought, try to focus on what’s happening: he put more drugs in the food, he put something in the food that’s not just to make you sleep and now your body is tingling.

He takes your hands in his--you dimly realize that you should pull away, but why bother? His grip helps your hands feel less floaty, anyway--and gives a firm squeeze.

“I know you’re still in there. That… untoward behavior with our daughter, none of that was really you.”

You smile. There’s a brief flicker of lightness in his eyes, but when you speak it flies away.

“You don’t know me,” you say, voice free of the snark and bite from earlier, but clearly grating to his ears all the same.

Chisaki leans forward, and in your relaxed state you don’t attempt to move away. You simply register the closeness and focus on the way your body, your mind, is slowly deflating.

He squeezes your hands tighter. Too tight. They won’t float away, for sure.

“We’ve lived together for years. We’ve shared the same bed. We have a child together. You think I don’t know you?”

You whine--you don’t mean to, not necessarily, but your chest and lungs and throat aren’t cooperating. They’re too light for the sound you wanted to make, a guttural low sound from somewhere inside. Instead it comes across as childish and helpless and you suppose, that’s what you are.

“Lived together…” You laugh, shaking your head against the soft pillow. “But you kidnapped me.” He did, didn’t he, all those years ago. From a life you barely remember, especially right now; from people whose faces are scrubbed from your memory by time and trauma.

His fingers are stroking your hands now. It feels nice--it almost tickles. But the softness of the strokes, the way they tickle the tops of your hands, contrasts against his voice, firm, controlled, a touch of anger brushing underneath.

“I gave you a home. I indulged you in your interests, your hobbies, however silly. I gave you a family. Don’t act ungrateful.”

“M’not,” you mumble, reflexive more than reflecting. Trying to think about what he’s saying is hard, and getting harder by the minute. The tingling has now draped over your head and your thoughts are wrapped in cotton, thick and fluffy. You wish he’d talk softer. Everything else is calm, and the edge of something dark in his voice feels amplified a thousandfold.

“Look at me.” His voice is still too harsh. Maybe you should pet his hands to see if it helps, like it helped yours stay intact.

Before you can do anything, he speaks again.

“Don’t you love our daughter?”

Your head turns too quickly to look up at him, and you’re dizzy, but the words tumble out of your hoarse throat anyway.

“Yes. Oh, yes. You know I do.”

You may not remember the faces of others (your mother, your friends, your mother) but you remember your daughter’s face. Clear as a bell. Bright. You want to be with her so badly.

Another firm squeeze of your fingers. You squeeze back--hopefully it will bring him down to your level, to the cotton and balloons.

“Then why don’t you want to be with her?”

Why is he asking such a mean question? Your lips curl downwards in an unintentional childish mimic of a frown. They feel thick, almost numb, as you half-blubber out the words.

“I do want to be with her, but you won’t let me.”

His hands leave yours--you almost want to reach out, but they lay almost limp on your stomach--and he cradles your cheek instead. There’s warmth on your cheek and you realize that he’s taken his gloves off. Ah. Maybe your squeeze worked, after all; he only takes off his gloves when he’s happy, when he’s comfortable. When he wants to comfort you.

Fuzzy memories of crying into his shoulder, of weeping openly on a bed in a long-forgotten room, mingled with the sensation of his bare skin against yours. Always soft, comforting. Enduring. Something you could rely on to release the pressure of your emotions and bring you back down.

“Because you’re unwell,” he whispers, voice as soft as the cotton wrapped around your thoughts. “You’re so unwell.”

The way he brushes his hand against your forehead feels nice. Maybe you’re sick, after all.

You don’t even think about the words before you speak them, instinctual questions now going right from your surface thoughts to your voice and out your mouth.

“If I get better, can I see her?”

There’s a hand cradling your cheek again, and this time, you lean your face into the warmth. There’s that spark in his eyes again, but this time the look doesn’t melt away because of your ill-timed comment. You press your lips together to keep it that way, lest the thoughts flying out your brain make him upset again.

You feel so nice, like this, like you’re wrapped in the softest blankets in the world and there’s nothing, no hardness, no anger, no sadness, holding you down and making you cry. Just him and you and the warmth radiating throughout your body.

Why cry, when his hand is right here, when your body is so tingled and relaxed. Why cry, when all you can think about is how nice you feel, how calm he is, how calm you are.

Why cry, when the next words he speaks make your heart thud against your chest in pure, body-lifting joy.

“Of course you can.”

His hand trails along your chin, cupping it in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

“Now that I’ve found the right medicine for your… disposition, we can start the rest of your treatment right away.”

What he says should scare you. But there’s no room left in your body for anything but forced content and fuzzy softness and the smallest hint of deja vu, a wispy little thing cupping its hands and yelling warnings that you brush away with a smile.

#yandere overhaul #yandere chisaki kai #overhaul x reader #yandere bnha #afterwitch writes #part 4 will probably not be a full part #just a vignette to wrap up this particular storyline

339 notes · View notes