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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Crackin’ the Code

prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding.

note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.

word count: 9k

warnings: smut

***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)

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---

The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.

The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.

Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought.

Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.

Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.

However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.

Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.

Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning.

No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.

The CEO never fantasized about a wedding.

Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations.

No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.

He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.

Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.

He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.

Don’t get him wrong.

He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.

One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.

---

It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour.

The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date.

A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’

Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area.

She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.

“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures.

When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.

Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment.

She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.

Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”

She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”

He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly.

What a goddamn waste of a night.

Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”

Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being.

Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.

“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.

He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”

“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives.

Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.

When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.

It doesn’t happen often.

He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.

He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.

A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day.

They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red.

When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.

He was so fucked up.

Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.

YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting.

She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.

She was just...everything.

YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way.

Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.

She was confident in a way that girls rarely were.

Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models.

Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.

Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.

She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow.

The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.

Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much.

As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.

Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous.

Maybe back in his teenage years? If that.

It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***

YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.

He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.

When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.

Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***

YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.

She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***

When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”

His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”

She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”

Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”

YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”

YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).

The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London.

There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on.

YN had never felt more out of place.

As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”

The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”

As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”

Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”

Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”

“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.

YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner.

It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.

“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”

Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar.

For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant.

However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.

It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them.

The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.

“I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date.

YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?

She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”

Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him.

He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.

“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.

He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.

It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”

With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so.

God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.

When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”

Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.

Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.

After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?” YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”

It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***

“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.

“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight.

Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.

He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.

Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”

She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.

It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.

As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.

She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”

Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”

“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones.

He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.

They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.

After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.

YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”

“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”

“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.

“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.

“That’s a relief.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”

“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.

Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.

It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **

There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.

Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.

They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition.

Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.

He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”

YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”

“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.

“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.

“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”

“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.

They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”

“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.

It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.

Life didn’t even seem real at this moment.

She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***

She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after.

When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.

After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.

YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”

She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”

“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.

“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.

“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”

YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.

“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.

“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.

Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”

YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”

It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.

“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.

“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”

“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.

“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.

“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.

Hair and makeup went fast.

It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.

Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.

YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.

Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.

Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?

It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.

It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.

It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.

What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***

The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.

“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.

YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving.

It started to feel real.

The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.

It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.

Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.

Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.

YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.

She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.

“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.

“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.

“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.

YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“

Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”

The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.

—

Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.

YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding.

What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.

The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.

She knew exactly where Harry would be standing.

Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about.

The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design.

YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***

The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.

“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.

YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family.

When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.

Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle.

It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.

Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony.

Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.

YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***

Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.

He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.

It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***.

YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.

All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.

The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.

Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.

Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.

YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.

In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.

“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.

Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”

Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.

When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm.

Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.

“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.

When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.

“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.

“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”

YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”

“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”

Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.

His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.

A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.

YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off.

The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.

“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.

“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.

“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”

“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”

“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”

“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.

“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”

The guests in the chairs are quite speechless.

They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple.

This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.

“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.

YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”

“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.

Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”

The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”

It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.

He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”

As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.

“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.

“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.

When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.

“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.

“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.

“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.

It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.

The reception is more of a dinner than a party.

Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***

It was perfect.

Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry.

Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle.

There is not much more to say than that.

The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.

YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***

“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.

“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.

The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***

“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”

“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough.

She needs him close, she needs her husband.

“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.

Harry had always imagined this night.

To have someone laid out underneath him.

No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.

He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.

When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.

“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.

“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.

“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.

“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.

“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”

Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”

His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”

He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.

Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”

“I did.”

It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek.

After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay.

She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.

“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”

“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”

He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers.

She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”

“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.

“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”

“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”

“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”

Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”

YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.

Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.

“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.

“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”

And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.

She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them.

On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would.

Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.

“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.

It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.

“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.

“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.

Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.

A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.

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shootybangbang · 3 years

Note

Can i request an Arthur/sadistic female reader please？i really want to see him all messed up because of...you know🥺

(btw, pls check out the requester's art. her arthur content is 😩👌)

[Oneshot]: In which you still don't know how to tie an overhand knot

[Rating]: Explicit

[Note]: this is so fucking horny that i feel i have to apologize in advance. unedited and a little rough around the edges, feel free to point out errors or give criticism

———

“Huh,” you muse aloud. “Looks like the gallery’s putting up a new exhibition this weekend.”

With one hand, you spread the newspaper across the bed and skip to page three. With the other, you continue to stroke Arthur’s cock, twisting your wrist a little to smooth your palm against its dripping tip. The man himself groans as you touch him, and the frame of his body trembles beneath where you’ve straddled yourself over his thighs.

His breaths are quickening again. “Please,” Arthur rasps, his voice hoarse with exertion and desperation alike. You indulge him with another slow, teasing pump of your fist as you continue to pick through the St Denis Tribune, humming thoughtfully as you peruse the newspaper’s Arts and Entertainment section.

“I’m beggin’ you, girl.” He sounds as though he’s teetering on the very edge of agony and ecstasy, and venturing perilously close to the latter. “C’mon. Please.”

“Looks like it’s mostly Impressionists this time. Let’s see here… a selection of Seurats and Monets… a couple Renoirs… oh, some Degas too?” With a mild expression that belies the depth of torture you’ve been putting him through, you slow your hand to a stop. He makes a choked, unhappy noise in the back of his throat that you heartily ignore. “That’s pretty bold of them, considering the reception they gave that Chatenay fellow you told me about.”

Growling, Arthur starts fumbling with the (admittedly badly tied) restraints securing his arms behind his back, twisting his wrists in an attempt to find a loose end.

“Easy there.” You run the pad of your thumb along the ridge delineating the head of his cock, slicking against the precum beaded at its tip. “I’ll give you what you want soon enough.”

“Been hearin’ you say that for almost half an hour now,” he replies, glaring. “You enjoyin’ yourself?”

“Immensely.”

“Better savor it while you can, because I promise you — I’m gonna remember this the next time I get you beneath me.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? What‘re you gonna do then?”

“Untie me and I’ll show you,” he says.

“No,” you reply with a beatific smile.

He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice to something smooth and dangerous: the sort of tone you’ve known him to use for threats he actually intends to follow through on. “When it’s my turn,” he says. “I ain’t gonna tie you up. Won’t need to. Because with you, all I need is my hands.”

A shiver runs down your spine. The man’s wrists may be bound, but you’re still very much at his mercy. In all actuality, your authority here amounts to only a length of rope and his own good humor.

You let out a soft, involuntary whimper at the very thought of it.

“Gonna pin you down when I fuck you,” he continues. He’s smirking now, clearly enjoying the demonstrable effect his words have on you. “Lay you down on your stomach and keep you under me, where you belong.”

You’re half-tempted to loose the rope and let him do just that. Instead, you grab the hem of your shift with both hands and pull the garment over your head in a single fluid motion. It’s 1899, after all. High time for a woman to take charge of her own pleasure.

The dim glow of the oil lamp bathes your bare skin in a wash of gold and amber as you settle yourself against him, pressing the wet line of your slit along the length of his cock. “Go on,” you tell him. “What else?”

Arthur swallows hard and licks his lips, then draws in a sharp intake of breath as you roll your hips forward — just a brief stir of movement, but more than enough to make him twitch beneath you. “Drive you to the brink the same way you’re doin’ to me now,” he says weakly. “Take my time with you, nice and slow. Make you really beg for it.”

“Mm-hmm.” Another roll of your hips, this time with just enough pressure to grant him a touch of warmth.

Finally, he breaks. And it’s truly a sight to behold: Arthur Morgan, a man who you’d thought would break your spine like a toothpick the first time you’d met, openly begging for the simple privilege of being allowed between your thighs.

“God, please,” he groans. “You can’t do this to me. Can’t let me feel how wet you are and just leave me like this.”

“Of course I can.” You relent. “But I won’t. So be a good boy and stay still for me, alright?”

His cock weighs heavy in your hand as you guide him between your thighs. Arthur lets out a harsh gasp and instinctively thrusts upwards — but you immediately withdraw, and he finds nothing but the cruel emptiness of absence waiting to receive him.

“Thought I told you to stay still,” you repeat sternly.

He nods with the frantic desperation of a badly-trained dog begging for a meal. Hungry and eager, but standing to attention with as much obedience he can muster. Which isn’t much, even on the best of days, but he is trying. And for that, he deserves something in return.

You take him in slowly, both out of principle and necessity. Just a taste of him first, then the gradual descent, a long and drawn out consumption that he has barely the means to endure.

His gaze still hasn’t left you. There is an intensity in it that once might have frightened you, an azure bright as broken glass and twice as sharp. The purity of emotion in them strikes you to the bone, makes your throat tighten and your dominance waver — there is a depth of devotion there that borders on the absolute.

When you move against him, he squeezes his eyes shut against the sheer force of sensation that floods through. Arthur makes a low, pained noise in the back of his throat and confesses, “I ain’t gonna last long.”

You lean forward and kiss him, then start a slow, rocking motion with your hips that spurs him to whimper your name against your lips, a small cry of warning before you feel the first twitches of his cock. Arthur bucks up once, twice, then shudders beneath you as his seed pulses deep, blooms hot and slick inside your core.

“Goddammit,” he hisses. “Didn’t think I’d— ah, fuck…”

You ride on, grinding through the last, weakening throbs of his orgasm and until he lets out a final, heavy sigh. Arthur regards you with loose-limbed exhaustion, lolling his head against your pillows as he flashes you a drained, weary grin. “Alright,” he says. “Untie me and get up here so I can—”

“No need,” you say brightly, then lift your hips in a brief mockery of release before sheathing him again and sending him reeling into oversensitivity.

Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps, wincing. “What’re you—”

“Too much?”

“Didn’t say that,” he says. His jaw is clenched tight and his voice is faint, but the look on his face is one of stubborn determination.

You test him with another slow, sinuous slide of your hips. This time, he meets you with a shallow thrust of his own. He’s breathing hard, each exhale shivery with exertion. “Keep goin’,” he urges. “I can take it.”

The added lubrication of his come eases the friction of him, soothes the inevitable ache of penetration. You settle for an unhurried, leisurely rhythm that allows you to fully appreciate the slickness of each stroke, the accompanying warmth of his seed still spread through your core.

Arthur’s gaze darts downwards to the base of his shaft, where the drip of his come has begun to pool. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just beautiful.”

He snakes his right arm free from his bonds and abruptly flips you onto your back with a well-timed shove.

“What— how did you…?”

“Sweetheart,” Arthur says, his voice warm and affectionately condescending. “You still can’t tie an overhand knot for shit.”

“But I double-checked this time!”

“Not very well, apparently.” He hitches your thighs around his waist and cages you in beneath him, then lowers his mouth to the slope of your neck. A brief, gentle nip — not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to convey his renewed authority. “God, but you’re a greedy little thing, ain’t you?” he growls against your skin. “Just one load of my spend ain’t enough?”

“Thought you’d appreciate the challenge, since you’re always so— oh, shit,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders when he drives himself downwards with a sharp, savage thrust.

“Go on.” Arthur says. He’s panting now, his dark blond hair slicked against his forehead with sweat. “Weren’t you sayin’ somethin’ about me?”

You let out an indecipherable whine that bears only a passing resemblance to human language.

“My poor girl,” he murmurs, low and tender. Arthur cups the side of your face against his palm and traces his thumb over your cheekbone, then presses a chaste kiss to your brow. “Can’t even talk right when I’m fucking her proper.”

He’ll no doubt be insufferably smug about this later, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, distracted as you are by the view of him rutting against you, his shaft still streaked with his previous release. He’s fucking his own come back into me, you think to yourself, and that thought alone blinds out all else and leaves you blank with pleasure.

Arthur takes you hard and fast. Far rougher than his usual handling, which can sometimes be almost excruciatingly cautious. He kisses you clumsily, then lowers his mouth to the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting until the first, faint traces of tomorrow’s bruises begin to darken.

And with this, it’s not long before the first delirious ripples of your own orgasm begin to crest.

Every muscle drawn and tensed, dissolving into an inward ache of arousal that spurs you to grip him tight and whimper, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep his face in view. With a fierce satisfaction, you savor the sudden weakness in his expression when he feels you contract against him, then his harsh groan and the stutter of his hips as he follows, spilling what seed he has left.

Arthur keeps himself hilted until the very last shivers of exhilaration fade, then pulls away with a reluctance usually reserved for long farewells. The overflow of his come is thick and heavy as it drips from between your thighs, and the look on his face as he beholds it is one of tired appreciation.

Then he flops onto his side, totally spent. “You’re a real demon,” he sighs. “You know that?”

“A real demon would go for round three,” you reply faintly, staring dreamy-eyed up at the ceiling.

Arthur groans at the mere suggestion of it. “I think that’d actually kill me.”

When you curl up against him, he automatically throws an arm over your side, the action at this point an instinct secondary only to breathing, and brushes his mouth over the back of your neck.

As you ebb towards sleep, you murmur as an afterthought, “Didn’t you say you were gonna make me beg?”

He lets out a weary chuckle. “Well,” he says, “There’s always tomorrow.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan/oc #rdr2 #red dead redemption #fic #smut #my work #this makes my kinks so apparent that i want to crawl into a hole and die #sorry for being gross :’^)

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Text

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough.

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him.

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says.

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above.

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt.

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong.

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much.

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start.

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt.

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his.

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow.

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #tim i know you read fanfic you can HAVE this one so we can get a recovery arc #i don't even need credit just DO IT #ficcery

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bwbatta · 3 years

Text

viper

Abstract: Derek doesn’t like it when other guys think they can take his girl.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x reader (fem)

Warnings: nonee

Word count: 1176

A/N: I’ve been rewatching CM so thought I’d write a lil something for my absolute sweetheart Derek!

The snort that escaped your lips was loud enough to make Emily chuckle beside you as you watched the trainwreck which was Viper’s class on how to get girls.

He was deluded, really, that could be the only explaination that would cover this because there couldn’t be someone this far up their own ass, right?!

“Is this guy for real?!” Emily muttered in disbelief

“Yep in a stupid hat nonetheless” you snickered as Derek sent you a grin.

“Because if you’re smarter and more interesting, then you will be a better predator. This is the jungle my friends and your prey wants to be caught.”

The four of you stood watching his little act listening to his words he was performing to the group sat before him.

“You hear that language? He’s training serial killers” Derek muttered

The four of you exchanged a look as the session finally wrapped up and the man, more commonly known as ‘Viper’ walked up before you.

Hotch explained that in the investigation they were looking for someone who may have taken his class but all the man could focus on Emily and you.

“If you could just give us your attendance lists, it might help us find him” Emily told him

Standing up straighter his mouth quirked with a slight smirk as he looked her up and down.

“No”

Emily blanched

“No?” She asked, an eyebrow raised

“My clients expect a certain amount of confidentiality, I won’t compromise that” he told you as his eyes flickered from your friend to you

“We can come back with a warrant” you told him

“Be my guest” he said

Eyes roamed over you from your feet to your face making you cringe inside.

“But the money I make doesn’t just go towards my fabulous lifestyle, it also keeps some very expensive lawyers on retainer”

With a roll of your eyes you asked him what club he went to last night, but instead of an answer, he just shot you a smirk,

Derek didn’t like the way he was staring at you, almost like he was undressing you with his eyes.

It had been about 6 months since the two of you had started seeing each other, and as it went, the two of you were more in love than ever.

Despite being friends for years beforehand, one drunken night of dancing and confessions had to led to the two of you fiercely making out in the bathroom.

It had been smooth sailing since then.

The man before you now, thinking he was getting to you, very suggestively pinned you with a smug look which didn’t sit right with your boyfriend at your side.

“It’s a legitimate question” Derek narrowed his eyes “you seem to know a lot about our investigation”

Viper didn’t like the look your boyfriend was shooting him so in a huff he turned to face him.

“Two things to know about me, I outwit alpha males like you for fun and sometimes for profit, now how often do you have to rely on your badge to score, baldy” he snapped before turning to you

“Second, I was at club aqua and I have a stack of tax reductable drink receipts to back up my story”

Hotch and Emily shared a look as they watched how the two of you both reacted to how Viper had snapped at the other.

“Now you might not want to believe my style works, and here in this harsh light you have the advantage... but meet me on my turf” he laughed as if imagining it and you felt a slight nausea settle in your stomach at his grin, “oh the things I could make you do”

You could tell Derek was silently brimming with anger as Viper stepped closer to you, causing Derek to step forward, almost in front of you.

The look your boyfriend gave the man made you shiver slightly, you had never seen him look so fiercely towards someone.

The step forward was enough for Viper to clock Derek was protective over you and enough for the man to question the relationship between the two of you.

Hotch seemed to know when to step in and held out a business card to the salesman.

“If you have any questions, give us a call”

With that, he and Emily turned around to leave, muttering to each other on the way out. You had a good idea you knew it was about the man in the stupid coat before you.

Viper’s eyes flicked between you and Derek as you both shot him harsh glares.

Taking it upon yourself to make the move to go, you placed a hand on your boyfriend’s arm as you turned to leave.

Shooting one last look at Viper, Derek turned, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back as you both walked out of the building,

“I don’t like him” your boyfriend practically growled out “and the way he was looking at you Y/N... I could’ve hit him there and then”

“But you didn’t” you grabbed his arm and pulled him round to face you “and it’s okay, there are always going to be slimy guys like him, the world sadly isn’t rid of them”

Derek didn’t say anything but you could still tell he was brimming with anger as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close whilst you walked out to join Hotch and Emily.

The two agents watched you both walk out, wary of how each of you would be with the other after such an interaction.

“Tell me were looking into that guy” you asked the two as you joined them causing Emily to chuckle

“Exactly what I said”

“We’ll get Garcia to dig into him, but for now we need to head back to the station” Hotch nodded to you before heading towards the car.

Emily followed behind him as you were about to, but Derek held fast and pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you; one around your shoulder with his hand buried in your hair and the other around your waist, almost tattooing your hips onto his.

Reciprocating the action, your arms went around his waist as you dug your face into his chest.

“I don’t like the way he spoke to you” you muttered into his shirt

He laughed, anger lessening slightly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t like the way he spoke to me?! That was nothing, baby,” he sighed into your hair “it was the way he thought he had a grasp over you, the way he talked to you”

“I know” you hugged him closer “I’m yours, you know it, besides do you ever think I’d go for a guy like him?! I’m offended”

The chuckle that escaped his mouth was enough for the two of you to break away from each other with smiles.

He cupped your face and pressed his forehead against your own.

“I love you”

“I know” you smiled “I love you too”

Permanent taglist:

@whatthefuckimbisexual

#derek morgan imagine #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds headcanon #derek morgan headcanon #aaron hotchner x reader #emily prentiss x reader

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elizabethemerald · 3 years

Text

Spring in Nicodranas

Jester leaned over the prow of the ship as the Nein Heroes slowly pulled into port. A bright smile was permanently pulling at her lips. Nicodranas in the spring was always a welcome sight to behold. With one hand still holding a line while the wind whipped her skirts around her ankles, she wove her hand through the air, pink sigils hanging in the air for the sending spell.

“Hey Caleb! It’s Jester, Fjord and I are back in Nicodranas for a few days. Could you pick up the others so we can watch momma sing?”

She felt like maybe she had gotten cut off there at some point but she wasn’t worried. Caleb knew what she meant. Sure enough only a few seconds later Caleb replied, a slight laugh in his voice.

“Ja, Jester, We will meet you at the Chateau. Could you message Beauregard to ensure she’s home and decent? I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

Jester nods to herself as she preps another sending spell. One of the biggest problems of being able to teleport directly into the living rooms of the their friends is it sometimes had fun consequences. Well Caleb would probably consider it awkward at least.

“Hi Beau! Caleb is coming by to pick you up, are you home? Are you naked? Oh! Are you and Yasha having super hot sex?”

“Hey Jessie, thanks for the warning. We’ll be dressed when Caleb gets here. Looking forward to seeing you again. Tell Fjord we’re working out tomorrow.”

She cackles to herself a little, Fjord is going to be so upset to have to work out again. He enjoyed their time at sea because he didn’t have do Beau’s super difficult work out routine. She had one last message to send, as her fingers danced through the air.

“Heya Veth!! We’re meeting at the Chateau today, momma is singing. Bring Yeza and Luc and we’ll all have fun together. Oh my gosh, I saw the craziest seagull yesterday!”

“Sure thing Jester. We wouldn’t miss it. I have to pick up Luc from daycare and we’ll be there. Also you got cut off there.”

Jester smiled to herself and was about to send another message when she realized the Nine Heroes was moving alongside the dock. She jumped to get her hands on the ropes. Getting a ship this large properly docked took a lot of work and needed all hands. Including hers.

When the ship was finally tied off and Orly had started to unload the cargo. Fjord pulled Jester aside, gently wiping her bangs out of her face. She was surprised to see he was wearing his fanciest captain’s outfit.

“Ah, Fjord! Look at you! Why are you dressing all fancy? We’re home, we can relax!”

“Well your mother is performing tonight. I feel silly showing up looking like a mess.” He said smoothly.

“Ooh, should I dress up too? We can make it a fancy date night!”

“That sounds like a great idea, you go get dressed, I’ll finish up here.” Fjord said.

Jester dashed off to their cabin. She only rarely got a chance to wear her fanciest dresses, so it would be nice to get super dressed up. It took her a few minutes to find which dress she wanted to wear and to make herself as dolled up as possible.

Soon enough she and Fjord were walking through the evening air of Nicodranas arm in arm. She had a wide smile on her face as they walked.

Waiting outside the doors of the Chateau were the rest of the Mighty Nein. Jester was surprised that they were all dressed just as fancy as her and Fjord. Caleb was wearing his Xhorhasian jacket and a suit. Yasha was wearing her crushed velvet black dress. Beau of course looked as stunning as her fists in her gray suit. Essek and Caduceus had also dressed for the occasion and to her surprise, Kingsley was there! He had his own ship now and she rarely saw him.

When the group stepped through the door they found Veth, Yeza and Luc sitting around a table. Jester cheered and hugged her friend, chattering happily with the Nein as they all settled down at the table. Food was ordered, drinks filled, and they all seemed ready for the performance to start.

Jester looked around, normally her momma’s performances completely filled the seats, but now there were only a few people sitting around. As she looked around closer there were other things that seemed off to her. Why were all of the Nein dressed in their fanciest? Fjord was sweating, why was he so nervous? Some of the conversation seemed stilted, like the others were waiting for something. Even Sprinkle was acting differently, relaxing on the table top, watching her and Fjord.

She was just about to ask about the strangeness when the music started up for her momma’s performance. Whatever was going on would have to wait until after. The other guests seemed to fade away as Marion stepped down the stairs, her voice already carrying through the air.

Marion’s performance was breath taking as it ever was. She sang a new song, about a sailor and a princess and the adventures they got up to as they fell in love. Jester sighed dreamily, as the song ramped up to a crescendo. Then just as the sailor was going to propose to the princess, Marion stopped singing, her arm outstretched towards the table the Nein sat at.

Jester looked around in confusion. The people in the crowd had all disappeared. And Caleb’s programmed illusion had changed to show scenes of the Mighty Nein in amber. Meeting up for the first time, saving each other, fighting side by side. Scene after scene of their adventures drifted through the air around her. Sprinkle sat and stared at her with twinkling eyes, a small barely visible green cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

Fjord stood up, straightened his jacket, then knelt down in front of her.

Her hands flew to face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.

“Jester Lavorre. I have loved you for so long. Would you do me the honor of making me the happiest man on land or sea. WIll you marry me?”

Jester gasped, tears sparkling in her eyes as she nodded as fast as she could. When Fjord stood up to put the ring that had been in the box on her finger, she wrapped her arms around his middle, lifting him up off his feet and spinning him around. She realized she was laughing and her smile was so wide her face was starting to hurt. She finally set him back down and let him slide the ring onto her finger.

The rest of the Mighty Nein immediately started clapping and cheering. The illusion around them changed to miniature fireworks. A few actual fire works may have gone off thanks to Beau. Jester kissed Fjord, holding him tight as around her, her family cheered. Soon the kiss evolved into a group hug as one by one the rest of the Nein piled around them clapping their backs.

Drinks were called for as they once again took their seats, Marion moving to join beside her daughter. Jester held Fjord’s hand for the rest of the night. Her heart felt full to the bursting. Love for Fjord. His love for her. Their love for their strange family. The love of the Mighty Nein for the two of them. Marion raised a toast to the pair.

“To the future stories you two will share. May you find yourself surrounded by this love at the end of each adventure.”

#jester lavorre #fjord critical role #fjorester #critical role #critical role spoilers #stories entwine evermore

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mustardyellowsunshine · 3 years

Text

All of Your Pieces

"I love you, I love you

And all of your pieces"

Pieces | Andrew Belle

________________________________

Protective

"Here."

Kagome startled when a bundle of bright red cloth was abruptly shoved under her nose. She blinked at it for a moment, before her gaze traveled up an extended white-clad arm, across broad shoulders, up to intent grey eyes surrounded by hair so black it nearly blended into the night.

"For... me?" she asked.

A corner of Inuyasha's mouth curved down in a half-scowl. "No, for the rock behind you. Of course you! Who the hell else would I be talking to? "

Too bemused to be offended by his sarcasm, she hesitantly reached up and grasped the suikan he held out to her, noticing as she did his blunted human nails against the fabric. "But," she said tentatively, "won't you be cold?"

He'd already retracted his arm and dropped down to sit on the ground a few feet away from her. He'd just finished building up the fire, which guttered weakly in front of them, already on the verge of going out. It had been raining steadily for most of the day, and though the rain had stopped some hours ago, the ground was still damp. It had taken them ages to find wood that looked dry enough to burn, and even longer to get a flame started. The prospects did not look good for their little campfire, which meant they were in for a long, uncomfortable vigil. The moonless night was dark and chill, and had only just begun.

At her question, Inuyasha merely scoffed. "I'll be fine. Just 'cause I'm human for the night don't mean I'm a complete weakling." His tone was all gruff nonchalance, but the set of his jaw was stiff, and his shoulders looked tense.

Afraid to offend him by refusing it, and much too embarrassed to suggest they share it, Kagome frowned as she slipped the suikan around her shoulders, gripping the edges closed under her chin. "I wasn't suggesting that you were. But even strong humans can get sick in the cold."

"Just shut up and keep it on, will you?" he barked out, sharp and irritated. "The last thing I need tonight is your ass getting sick." His voice trailed off with what sounded like a muttered, "Pathetic woman."

For a moment, she felt a lick of anger, a smarting sort of offense. Her frown deepened, and she opened her mouth to snipe right back—until she noticed the way his eyes kept glancing between her and the quickly-dying fire, between her and its narrowing radius of light, the dark night beginning to hem them in. She saw his jaw clench, watched his hand grip his sword and the minutest movement of his legs as he shifted ever so slightly closer to her.

And she realized all at once that his roughness was not the pompous contempt he pretended it was—it was concern. Deep concern. For her.

He should have been fearing for himself: should have been afraid for his own human body's susceptibility to the elements, worried for his own security against unseen enemies through the long night of his vulnerability.

But perhaps, in his eyes, it was no longer just his night of vulnerability. It was hers, too, and that's what bothered him the most. And for the first time, she began to understand just how deeply her safety mattered to him. How protecting her had gone from a practicality to an instinct, a need.

Just as suddenly as it had come, her anger faded. Closing her lips with a soft sigh, she looked back towards what was left of their campfire. Its smoking embers glowed feebly, and neither she nor Inuyasha made any move to stoke it. She glanced back to the man beside her. He fairly radiated tension, face tight with it, posture utterly rigid as his eyes kept darting between her and their surroundings.

Wordlessly, Kagome scooted across the remaining few feet between them, until her right side was pressed against his left. He startled a little, muscles twitching, but didn't otherwise move. Knowing it was the only comfort she could offer him—wishing she could do more—she slowly leaned her weight against him, resting her head on his shoulder and hooking her elbow through his, her hand sliding down his forearm until it found his larger hand where it rested on his thigh. Not quite brave enough to hold it the way she wanted to, she settled for looping her pinky finger around his. She felt his gaze—warm as a flame—on her face, but she just kept watching the fading embers of the campfire.

When the fire went out and the dark of night rushed over them, she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and squeezed his arm. A moment later, she felt his finger rub against hers in the barest caress.

They stayed that way until dawn.

________________________________

Wild

The first time Kagome heard him laugh, all she could do was stare.

She rode on his back, knees clamped on either side of his waist, arms looped around his shoulders. His hair streamed out behind him as he ran, tickling her face when it wasn't dwarfing her completely.

It was early morning, the sun still low in the sky as the half-demon leapt through the trees of an expansive forest. They had just spent the better part of two days holed up in an abandoned hut while a storm raged outside. The entire two days, Inuyasha had prowled around the confines of the hut, apparently unable to sit still and wait it out. He'd paced and grumbled and cursed. The few times she'd managed to coax him into sitting down, or stretching out in his usual careless sprawl, he'd tapped his foot, jiggled his legs, strummed his claws against the ground, flicked his ears—some part of his body in constant motion—the whole time scowling at the wall across the room as though the sheer force of his frustration could end the storm.

Kagome had been about ready to strangle him when the storm finally broke early that morning. Inuyasha had taken one sniff of the air, muttered a relieved "Finally!" and wasted no time slinging her onto his back and taking off through the door.

He ran with extra energy and speed that day, his leaps farther and higher than usual. As a result, his landings were few between and a touch on the reckless side, his feet finding purchase on thin branches, steep ledges, and precarious boulders. The whole time Kagome's stomach felt like it had climbed up into her throat. All she could do was grip his shoulders and keep her eyes fixed on the back of his neck.

Then he'd taken a particularly tall leap, up into the branches of a towering tree near the crest of a hill. He'd paused for a moment on one of its highest branches, foot braced against the bark—then with one powerful push of his legs, he'd launched them both into the air, soaring through the sky. Wind tugged at their hair and clothes, creating the feeling of complete weightlessness. At the peak of the jump there came a moment of breathless exhilaration, when Kagome felt like she was simply floating in midair, the world spread out below her like a pastoral painting, beautiful and remote.

But then the inevitable descent began, and she realized what Inuyasha probably hadn't cared to notice: he'd jumped off the highest peak in the vicinity, and there was nothing of equal height to land on. They were going to have to drop nearly straight to the ground.

The realization took a split second, and then they were falling. Kagome's stomach dropped, her heart stuttered in her chest, and burying her face against Inuyasha's neck, she let out a shrill squeak—there was no other word for it—and gripped his shoulders with all her strength, knees squeezing his waist for dear life. He tightened his grip on her legs, and she felt rather than heard his voice, rumbling through his back, reverberating into her body.

They fell with a speed Kagome would remember in her nightmares. Her heart thudded so hard she thought she’d have a heart attack. Their hair whipped around their heads, silver and black mixing in a waving mass, and wind howled in Kagome’s ears. It was all cold slicing wind and the sensation of plummeting, her stomach shriveling with fear, and—

—suddenly the air was punched out of her lungs, Inuyasha’s shoulder slamming right into her diaphragm (when had she slid up so high?); a hard jolt shuddered all the way through her body, and she would have flown forward over Inuyasha’s shoulder if he hadn’t wrapped a strong arm around her waist, keeping her draped over him. They were still in motion, skidding fast down the slope of a hill. A quick succession of images—tree branches, rock-studded dirt, Inuyasha’s feet, the red of his robes—blurred together, disorienting her. She closed her eyes and struggled to inhale. After a few heaving breaths, she was able to get her breathing somewhat back under control.

They finally slid to a halt, Inuyasha’s torso lurching forward, then snapping back from the momentum. Kagome opened her eyes and was met with the sight of Inuyasha’s waist and legs; his feet were planted firmly apart, toes spread wide in the dirt. She tried to lift herself up, bracing her elbows against the line of his shoulder, and turned her head to look at him.

He was smiling, wide and exhilarated. Adrenaline had brought color to his face and a gleaming spark to his eyes. The sight of him had Kagome sucking in a quiet breath. Any irritation she may have felt, any residual fear from the reckless freefall, melted away in a single moment.

Then he closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and let out a whoop of laughter that echoed through the forest.

And Kagome could only stare, her heart fluttering.

She’d never heard him laugh. Not like that.

She’d heard him jeer at enemies. She’d heard him snicker in contempt or dismissal. Sometimes she’d even heard him snigger at her expense when he thought she’d done something stupid. But never a laugh like that. So carefree. Wild. Completely unguarded.

Then he looked at her, still with that broad boyish smile, the hint of a fang poking out from beneath his lip, and said, “Ready to go again?”

She twisted her fingers into the material of his suikan. She opened her mouth to say “Hell no!” but instead heard herself whispering, “Okay.”

She wanted to keep that smile on his face.

He rapidly moved her to her previous position against his back, and then he was off, leaping high into the air.

And though her stomach roiled, and her limbs quivered, she just pressed her face into his neck and smiled, listening to him laugh.

________________________________

Thoughtless

“Could you be any more useless?”

Kagome couldn’t get it out of her head. His voice raised, harsh, dismissive.

She pressed her face into her raised knees, hugging her legs against her chest. The tree branches above her swayed in the breeze, leaves fluttering against each other. The sound should have been soothing, but she couldn’t hear anything beyond his voice in her head.

“Are you even trying?”

Her breath hitched. Her throat felt tight.

Of course she was trying. She’d been trying since the day she was thrown into the past. Trying to learn to fight, trying to use miko powers she hadn’t even known she had. Trying to befriend a prickly half-demon who wanted nothing to do with her.

“Could you be any more useless?”

Her arms squeezed more tightly around her body. Sighing against her legs, she turned her head to rest her cheek against her knees.

They’d been fighting, of course. And she’d certainly been just as insulting to him, giving back as good as she got. Even egging him on a bit. Part of Kagome knew he probably didn’t mean it, just as she hadn’t meant half the things she’d said. But remembering that sharp edge in his voice, part of her had to wonder…

She sat under the tree, trying to listen to the wind, watching the light slowly fade in the evening sky. She felt wretchedly alone.

There was a quiet rustle behind her. Lifting her head, she glanced to her right—and there he was. Sitting cross-legged beside her, a few feet away.

He wasn’t looking at her. He stared out into the woods around them, taking as much notice of her as he would a pebble on the ground.

She frowned, opened her mouth to say something. But then she stopped. Maybe it was the tenseness around his eyes. Or the grim line of his lips. Or the way his shoulders were a little hunched, as though waiting for some anticipated blow. Or maybe it was the way his ears were turned in her direction. Trained on her.

Closing her mouth, she lowered her head back down to her legs, watching him next to her in the twilit gloom.

A long stretch of silence passed. Kagome kept watching him—his pale hair almost glowing in the dusk—when finally his gaze cut to her, gold glinting in the starlight. She sucked in a breath. Waited.

He kept his eyes on hers, steady and resolute. Too caught to look away, Kagome lifted her head again. Parted her lips. “Inuyasha… I’m…”

She trailed off, unsure how to continue.

A beat passed. And then he nodded at her. Just a short jerk of his chin. She might have thought she’d imagined it if she hadn’t been paying such close attention.

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded back.

He glanced away, back towards the trees. Kagome couldn’t help but notice that the line of his shoulders looked less strained.

He sat there with her in silence, and she no longer felt alone.

________________________________

Jealous

"You smell terrible."

Kagome paused in the middle of her dismount from the edge of the Bone Eater’s Well, and glared at the hanyō standing nearby. "Excuse me?!"

It looked like Inuyasha had been lounging against a nearby tree before she arrived. Now he stood a few paces from its trunk, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. “You heard me.”

Kagome stepped away from the Well and approached him, clenching the straps of her backpack hard. She frowned and snapped, “What’s gotten into you?”

The hanyō leaned forward, took a loud exaggerated sniff, and growled, “What’s gotten on you? Your time ain’t exactly fragrant, but this downright reeks.”

“I do not reek!”

“You do.”

“Do not!”

“Yeah? And which one of us has the yōkai nose?”

Kagome’s face heated, and an unwelcome twinge of self-consciousness leached away some of her ire. She hadn’t exactly taken the time to bathe before she came back…. resisting the urge to sniff at herself, Kagome opened her mouth, closed it, and finally huffed out in a blustery sigh, “You are completely insufferable sometimes!”

She turned on her heel, heading towards the direction of the village, but stopped when he called out, “And here I thought you went back home for your tests. Tch! Lying bitch.”

Spine going completely rigid, Kagome slowly turned back around. Her blistering glare would’ve sent anyone else scurrying for cover. “What did you say?”

But Inuyasha had never had the good sense to back away from a fight, and had never had any sense when it came to the girl in front of him. “I said,” he repeated slowly, punctuating each word with a step towards her, “That you’re a lying bitch.”

Kagome walked forward to meet him, getting right up in his space and jabbing a finger into his chest. “I don’t know what your problem is, Inuyasha, but let’s make one thing clear.” Reaching up and grabbing a lock of his hair, Kagome tugged on it hard, making him snarl. “I’ve never lied to you! Not ever! What exactly are you suggesting that I do at home, huh? It’s not like I’m running away to goof off! I have serious things to do there too, you know!”

The sneer that lifted his upper lip had her blood boiling. “Sure,” he said, voice dripping in cynicism, “things. That’s why you smell like that.”

She grit her teeth, practically snarling herself. “Like what?!”

He leaned in an inch, and she was suddenly aware of how much taller he was than her, his body practically dwarfing hers. She wouldn’t let herself take a step back, though, and continued glaring up at him, fingers still tight around his hair.

There was no mistaking the animalistic aggression in his tone when he bit out, “Like some bastard has been all over you.”

Kagome frowned, blinked. “Huh?”

Inuyasha lifted his chin, eyes narrowed nearly to slits, and exhaled harshly through his nostrils. “You reek of some… some…” he floundered for a beat, then snarled, “some weakling boy.”

It took Kagome a few seconds to process that. Then realization struck, and before she could really think better of it, she murmured a quiet, “Oh.”

His face tightened, and he stared at her a moment. “Yeah,” he replied, “fucking oh. I’ve been waiting here for days, thinking you were at your school, and instead you were,” he faltered again, and flapped his hands angrily in her direction, “running around with some boy—”

Kagome’s hand released its grip on his hair and dropped down to clutch gently at his sleeve.

“—and it’s not like I fucking care, because I don’t, but if you’re leaving just to spend time with that,” he bit off the next word, growled low, “then you damn well should’ve had the decency to say so—”

Kagome stepped a little closer into his space. He didn’t seem to notice.

“—and I’ll tell you right now, Kagome, I ain’t gonna tolerate you running home just for him, got it? Your responsibilities here matter more than that little—”

“Inuyasha.”

Her voice was calm and quiet—no trace of anger or frustration—and that more than anything made the hanyō pause, eyes still narrowed on her face. When her lips started to twitch up at the corners, he growled, “Oi, you think this is funny? Hell, Kagome, if you think for a second that I’m just gonna let—”

Her hand tugged on his sleeve. “Inuyasha,” she repeated.

His mouth twisted, and he barked, “What?!”

“You have nothing to worry about. The person you’re smelling is just a classmate.”

Inuyasha’s lip curled ever so slightly, features still tense. “A classmate?” he repeated, an echo of that cynical timbre returning to his voice. “That sure as hell doesn’t explain why his scent is all over you.”

Seemingly unaware of the movement, his hand reached over and gripped her forearm where she was clutching at his sleeve. As he spoke, it slowly skimmed down her arm to lightly circle her wrist, his thumb resting against the heel of her palm.

Warmth suffused her stomach at the touch. She tilted her head, her gaze steady on his. “You know my grandpa’s been making up excuses for me at school, right? Everyone there thinks I’ve been sick. Like, really sick.” She sighed with mild chagrin, thinking of the ludicrous illnesses her grandfather had been coming up with. Then shaking her head, she continued, “When Hōjō saw me after class, he was just glad to see me doing all right. He gave me a hug. That’s all.”

Inuyasha’s eyes were still narrowed, but the longer he looked at her—her expression so open and calm—the tension began easing from his posture, his shoulders relaxing. Finally he snorted, nose wrinkling. “A hug, huh?” When she nodded, he grumbled without much heat, “Must’ve been one long-ass hug, then.”

Kagome felt her cheeks heat again, and her smile was somewhat embarrassed. “Um, yeah. It, uh, it was pretty awkward. Hōjō isn’t the best at picking up social cues.”

At the hint of discomfort in her tone, Inuyasha paused, watching her. Whatever he saw, it seemed to reassure him, because his face lost all its stiffness and the scowl cleared away. But he was frowning slightly when he said, “Oi. If you didn’t like it, you should’ve just stopped him.”

Kagome shrugged. “I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Not all of us enjoy being rude, you know?”

Inuyasha’s hand tugged gently on her wrist, drawing her closer. “If you don’t want someone touching you, just say so. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.” He brought up his free hand and flexed his fingers slightly, showing off his claws. “Or I can do it for you, if you want. Just point me at the bastard.”

Kagome bit her lip to keep from smiling at the gruff sincerity of the offer. “Hm, I’ll let you know if I need you.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Then Kagome slid her wrist from his grasp, only to replace it with her hand. She threaded her fingers through his, pressing their palms tightly together. At his bemused—and vaguely flushed—look, she smiled and said, “Let’s go.”

She pulled him by the hand towards the village, delighting in the feeling of his fingers curling around hers.

________________________________

Kind

"You know, if you're not careful, your face will freeze that way."

Inuyasha's menacing glower turned Kagome’s direction, followed quickly by a snarled, "The fuck are you talking about?"

Teeth gritted, eyes narrowed and furious, ears laid flat against his head, he looked on the verge of exploding. Kagome sighed. "Never mind."

With a muttered "Tch," the hanyō returned his attention to cleaning his sword, which was proving to be an exercise in futility. Thick, viscous yōkai innards of an indeterminable brown color—blood? bile? mucus? some form of stomach acid? it was impossible to tell exactly what that gunk was—coated Tetsusaiga from point to hilt. Inuyasha had spent a good ten minutes trying to clean it off, but had only managed to spread it around, smearing long sticky streaks along his hands and the sleeves of his suikan.

The consistency of the stuff reminded Kagome of superglue, which didn't bode well for Inuyasha's efforts. She wasn't going to tell him that, though.

Sighing again, she seated herself on the ground and watched him try to remove the slime from his sword by wiping it on the grass, scraping it against the bark of nearby trees, and even swinging it through the air with all his might, as though sheer brute force would propel the mess off.

"Was that stinking eel made of slime? Dammit!" Inuyasha slammed Tetsusaiga point-down into the ground and dropped to a crouch next to it. She could see a muscle in his jaw working even from where she sat.

Poor guy. It had been a rough day. They were two weeks into a shard-hunting expedition, and they hadn't found a single shard—or even the rumor of one—until that morning, when Kagome had faintly sensed the Shikon's power, like the minutest flutter in the back of her mind. But faint as it was, she'd struggled to pinpoint where it was coming from. They'd had several false starts, spending hours traveling in a direction only for Kagome to realize it wasn't quite the right way, or that they’d somehow veered off course. By that afternoon, even Kagome's frustration was getting to her. She could only imagine how Inuyasha felt doing all the leg work. He surprised her, though, and didn't say a word about it; he just silently went wherever Kagome directed him to go.

After half the day running near-aimlessly around the countryside, they'd finally hit on the right direction. The pull of the shard grew stronger and stronger, eventually leading them to sprawling swamplands swarmed by biting flies, littered with stagnant pools of water, and dotted with more than one human corpse in various stages of decay.

And the smell. Like sulfur and the mineral tang of mud mixed with rotting flesh. Inuyasha had looked downright queasy, covering his nose with his sleeve and grimly muttering, "Let's get this over with quick."

Kagome tracked the shard through the mire, shoes slipping and sliding in the sludge; she did her best to steer them around the stagnant pools whenever possible, but they'd both been forced to wade through muck up to their knees when they ran out of solid ground to walk on. The trail of the Shikon's power led them deep into the swamp, and finally ended at the largest pool of standing water they’d yet seen, the size of a small lake. The pull of the shard was coming from its center.

Kagome had only just lifted her arm to point towards the lake when a giant plume of water shot up from its depths. In the midst of that plume reared the massive, sinuous brown body of an eel. Kagome immediately saw the glow of the Shikon shard lodged in its jaw, buried behind rows of sharp teeth as long as her forearm.

Inuyasha hadn't waited for it to make a second move: he launched himself forward, Tetsusaiga raised with both arms, a hoarse shout ripping from his throat.

Under normal circumstances, Kagome doubted the eel would have presented much of a challenge; it was about the size of Mistress Centipede, an enemy Inuyasha had torn apart with nothing but his claws. But this yōkai had a distinct advantage over them: they weren't on solid ground. Inuyasha wasn't able to get traction in the swampy mud, which meant his jumps weren't as high, his landings sloppy, and his movements slower.

Which is probably why the yōkai was able to land a glancing blow on Kagome. The eel darted forward, jaws wide and ready to snap down on flesh; Inuyasha jumped out of its path, but quick as a flash it changed course, veering at an angle towards Kagome, where she’d been standing with bow at the ready. With a shriek, she leapt aside as quickly as she could, but one of those long teeth caught her arm, dragging up from her elbow all the way to her shoulder.

She’d barely registered the stinging, burning sensation in her arm when she heard Inuyasha’s ragged bellow.

“Stay the fuck away from her, you piece of shit!”

She didn’t see him move, but she heard his wordless yell; saw a spear of sunlight glint off Tetsusaiga’s blade as it arched down; felt the spray of water on her face as the eel violently writhed, Tetsusaiga imbedded into the flesh below its head.

Even injured, the yōkai’s body—pure sinuous muscle—flailed with such ferocity that it threw Inuyasha off his feet. He was able to hold onto Tetsusaiga’s hilt, dragging the sword with him as he was hurled into the ground. The eel reared and darted towards him.

“No!” Kagome roared, already standing and drawing her bow. Ignoring the burning in her arm, she drew an arrow back and released. It lodged deep into the eel’s left eye, her spiritual power flaring as the arrow hit, burning half its face.

Half-blinded and almost certainly mortally wounded, Kagome thought it was nearly over. But she’d forgotten: cornered animals are at their most dangerous when they’re most desperate. The eel’s tail lashed out from the water and shot forward with terrifying speed. Kagome tried to dodge, but wasn’t fast enough: its tail caught the edge of her uninjured shoulder and sent her flying through the air. She landed on her side in the muck, skidding a few yards before the boggy ground stopped her momentum.

Dimly, through the throbbing pain she now felt pulsing through her muscles, Kagome found herself grateful for the water-saturated quagmire. If she’d landed on solid ground, she’d probably have some broken bones right about now.

“Kagome!!”

She lifted her head a few inches, cracking her eyes open.

In the time it had taken her to hit the ground, Inuyasha had put himself between her and the yōkai. Half-turned towards her, he had Tetsusaiga pointed at the eel while he looked at her over his shoulder.

His expression was downright murderous.

“You okay?” he rasped through the snarl twisting his features.

When she gave a brief nod, he turned his full attention back to the eel. “What did I say about getting near her?” The lethal calm with which he asked the question nearly had a shiver going down Kagome’s spine.

Inuyasha raised Tetsusaiga—then planted it point-first into the ground next to him. Lifting both his hands, he flexed his fingers, knuckles cracking. “For you, motherfucker? I’m gonna use my hands.”

Then he was leaping forward with a low, guttural shout. Claws connected with flesh, biting deep. He sliced clean through the yōkai’s body, at the same spot he’d injured earlier. Blood sprayed into the air.

The length of the eel’s body slumped into the lake with a tremendous splash, slithering down under the foam, disappearing from view. The head fell in the other direction, towards the boggy shore. It landed in a clump of springy weeds, rolling for a few feet before coming to a halt in a patch of mud.

Inuyasha stood in swamp water up to his waist, looking at his blood-stained hand with a wrinkled nose and an almost pouting expression, as though already wondering how long it would take to get rid of the smell. Seeing it, Kagome couldn’t help the (admittedly pained) giggle that broke from her lips as she sat upright.

Inuyasha’s gaze went straight to her, and the rest of him quickly followed. He dropped to a crouch next to her, eyes skimming her body for injury. “You okay, Kagome?”

She took a moment to assess. She patted her abdomen, around her ribs; she slowly moved her hands and feet, arms and legs; she rolled her shoulders, especially the one that had been hit. Her muscles were definitely twinging, and the cut on her arm still stung, but... “I think I’m mostly okay. I’m just going to be really sore tomorrow.” She winced as she stretched her shoulder. “And probably bruised.”

Inuyasha’s eyes landed on her cut arm. He scowled. “We need to clean that up.” Vigorously rubbing his hands in the patchy swamp grass—wiping off as much of the eel blood as he could—he then slipped his arms beneath Kagome’s knees and around her shoulders, hefting her up against his chest. Pausing to scan the area around them, he mumbled, “Where’s your damn backpack?”

“Uh,” Kagome swiveled her head around, then pointed over Inuyasha’s shoulder. “There! I put it down when we reached the lake.”

Inuyasha started moving in that direction, but Kagome smacked the back of her hand lightly against his chest and said, “Hey, wait!”

Glaring at her, Inuyasha kept moving. “No. That cut could get infected. We need to take care of it now.”

“But—”

“Now wench, now.”

She sighed, her breath ruffling the ends of her bangs. “Okay, so you don’t want to collect the jewel shard, then?”

He stilled. Then he glanced over at the yōkai’s head where it lay in the mud; glanced back at her, the oblique set of his brows almost calculating. Releasing a loud, annoyed exhale, he turned back towards the eel’s head.

Kagome grinned up at him. “I can’t believe you almost forgot the shard.”

“Shut it.”

“Aww, don’t be embarrassed! It’s sweet that you were so worried about me.”

Color suffused the skin along the bridge of his nose. “Keh! I just need you in working order. You’re useless to me otherwise.”

“Of course,” she agreed, nodding solemnly. “I believe you, Inuyasha.”

He mumbled some curse word or other under his breath. When they reached the decapitated yōkai head, he gently set Kagome on her feet. She kneeled down, felt for the shard with her power, then pointed at a spot behind the eel’s gaping jaw. “It’s in there. Could you…?”

Inuyasha used one of his claws to slice open the flesh behind the rows of teeth. Then Kagome—visibly shuddering and chanting “ew, ew, ew!” to herself—probed with her fingers until she found the shard. She pulled it out, holding it up for Inuyasha to see. “We did it!”

“Uh-huh, great.” He scooped her up into his arms and leapt over to where her backpack lay on the ground. “Now we clean this.”

He sat her down on a large rock, then slid his hand under her elbow, lifting her injured arm up for closer inspection. “You got lucky,” he said, a slight growl underpinning the words, clearly still bothered that it had happened at all. “It’s not very deep. Won’t need stitches.” He considered her arm for a moment longer, then said, “Right, first thing’s first.” With his free hand, he used his claws to cut her sleeve off at the shoulder.

“Hey!” she cried as he pulled the shorn sleeve carefully down her arm and off her wrist. “These uniforms aren’t cheap, you know! I’m going to have to replace this.”

“It was ripped anyway.”

She pursed her lips, a sullen slant to her mouth. “I could’ve mended it.”

“Tough shit,” he said. “It’ll be in my way, and you don’t need loose threads getting stuck in the wound.”

She couldn’t exactly fault his logic, but she pouted anyway, fingering the sleeve now laying in her lap. Inuyasha bent over to rummage through her backpack. He pulled out the things he remembered seeing Kagome use before—cotton dressings, antiseptic spray, alcohol wipes, gauze. He picked up the package of alcohol wipes, sniffed at it, then made a face. Still, he took out a wipe and began cleaning his hands with it, even taking the time to get under his claws.

Kagome watched him, completely fascinated.

Tossing the used wipe into her backpack, he uncapped the antiseptic spray and held it up to her arm. “Ready?”

Biting her lip, Kagome nodded.

He sprayed the length of her arm, thoroughly coating the cut and the surrounding skin. She tensed up, and released a soft hissing breath. He frowned and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she replied. “Just stings.”

He used a piece of cotton dressing to wipe off the skin around her cut. His hands were so gentle, his fingers exerting a barely-there pressure around her elbow. Each swipe of the cotton was slow and almost cautious.

And the look on his face — Kagome couldn’t tear her eyes away. He was so intent, so focused, and yet there was a quiet, almost serene quality to his attention. She wondered if she’d ever seen him look so absorbed before. Certainly never so absorbed by her, anyway.

Kagome blushed a little at the thought.

Finally, Inuyasha had the wound cleaned to his satisfaction. Selecting two more strips of clean cotton dressing, he placed them carefully along the length of her arm, over the top of the cut. Then, unwinding the roll of gauze, he began wrapping her arm.

When he’d finished, he appraised his work by running a hand along the bandaged portion of her arm.

It shouldn’t have felt like a caress, Kagome thought, and yet…

Face heating up, Kagome coughed. Startled out of his concentration, Inuyasha shot her a swift glance. Noting the pink in her cheeks, and the way she kept looking at his hand where it still gripped her elbow, Inuyasha flushed. Abruptly dropping her arm, he took a big step back and shoved his hands into his sleeves.

“T-there. Don’t have to worry about your pathetic human body getting infected now.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his flustered frown, the way his ears kept twitching atop his head. “Thank you, Inuyasha,” she murmured, resting her hand on her bandaged arm.

He flicked an ear back at her. She didn’t expect him to respond, so was surprised when she heard a quiet “You’re welcome” drift over to her.

It was, Kagome thought, a wonderful moment.

Until Inuyasha glanced over to where he’d left Tetsusaiga impaled in the ground. And finally registered the thick layer of slime oozing down its blade.

It had pretty much gone downhill from there.

Leave it to a swamp demon to totally ruin a good moment.

Now safely on the outskirts of the swamp—Inuyasha hadn’t wanted to stay there a moment longer, not even to clean Tetsusaiga—the hanyō was glaring at his slimed sword as though it was flipping him the middle finger. His glower was beginning to take on a suspiciously sulky edge.

Poor guy. Sighing and casting her gaze to the side, she noticed her backpack sitting beside her. She blinked. Wait…

“Inuyasha,” Kagome called.

He was still glowering at his sword, jaw tightly clenched.

“Inuyasha,” she said again, injecting the word with a cheery lilt to get his attention.

He shifted his glare to her. “Not now, woman.”

“But—”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Doing what?”

“Thinkin’!”

“Hm,” she intoned, “so you don’t want help cleaning off Tetsusaiga, then?”

“What the hell are you—” His invective was cut off when Kagome tossed him the package of alcohol wipes.

He caught it easily, eyebrows lifting as he stared at it. “What…”

“The alcohol in the wipes should help break up that sticky stuff. Theoretically, anyway.” When he looked at her, she shrugged. “It’s gotta be better than scraping it against a tree, right?”

Inuyasha hesitated, glanced at his sword. Without looking at her, he took out a wipe and began rubbing it against the side of the blade. After several long moments, he pulled it away to reveal a small clean patch of steel.

Kagome beamed.

“Erm,” Inuyasha mumbled, darting a quick look her way. He applied the alcohol wipe to the blade again, rubbing away at the slime. Without looking at her, he said quietly, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Inuyasha.”

________________________________

Loyal

He stood at the door of Kaede’s hut, his head bowed.

“I’m sorry.”

He aimed his voice over his shoulder. To her, where she sat inside by the hearthfire. Her heart wrenched in her chest at the defeated ache in his voice.

“I know,” she whispered.

He lingered there a moment longer, clawed hand gripping the doorframe tightly. “Kagome, I… I’m…”

“I know,” she said again. “Go. You should see her.”

His knuckles turned white against the wood, but he nodded.

Taking a step out past the door, he halted long enough to say, “I’ll be back, Kagome. Just… trust me, all right?” Then he was gone.

She knew. And she waited for him.

________________________________

Gentle

Kagome woke with a frightened gasp, disoriented in the dark. Panting, she stared up at the starry sky and tried to reacclimate to reality.

“Oi.”

Jerking up to her elbow, she looked across the glowing embers of their earlier campfire and saw Inuyasha sitting there, holding his sheathed sword in the crook of his elbow, watching her with a frown.

“Inuyasha,” she whispered. “You startled me.”

“You were lookin’ pretty startled already. Smelled it, too.”

“Oh,” she replied, plopping back down onto her sleeping bag. She took a deep breath to settle her heart rate. “Yeah. I had a nightmare.”

She heard him shifting around. “About what?”

“Oh, um…” She took another, smaller breath and closed her eyes. “Nothing really important.”

A beat of silence. More shifting, the soft rustle of cloth. Then his voice, much closer. “Tell me,” he said.

She opened her eyes and saw him above her. He’d moved to sit right next to her, his thigh almost brushing the crown of her head. She could see his face so clearly now, the soft play of firelight warming his features. And he was looking down at her with concern, eyes nearly gilt in the dim light.

There could be no resistance to that look. “I dreamed,” she said slowly, “that I was stuck somewhere dark. Enclosed. And I was… alone.” She curled onto her side, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I couldn’t get out. I called for help, but nobody could hear me. Nobody came. I was just…”

She swallowed thickly and tried again. “I was just alone in the dark.”

She waited, listening to the soft snap of the dying embers.

Then she felt fingers slide into her hair, combing gently through the strands.

“It won’t happen,” rumbled his voice above her, his fingers weaving through her hair again and again. “You’re safe, Kagome. I promise.”

Taking another deep breath, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back into his touch. “Say… say it again.”

His fingers paused in her hair. Moved to graze along her cheek, down to her jaw, until he had her face cradled in his hand.

“You’re safe with me, Kagome,” he said. “I’ll protect you. I’m not going anywhere.”

It was like he’d taken something heavy off the very center of her chest. She could breathe again.

She placed her hand over his, smiled for him. “I know. And I’ll protect you too, okay?”

His mouth tugged up in answer. He ran his thumb across her lip, tracing her smile. “I know,” he said.

#Inuyasha #Inuyasha fanfiction #InuKag #my writing #All of Your Pieces

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princecharmingwinks · 3 years

Note

i cant believe you said you dont write for fandoms!! these are ending up AMAZING! have another fail date for you to make better: we went four-wheel driving over the dunes out bush, we took my car but he drove because he's done the route before. we were the second car in the convoy and because my car is a little smaller than the others it couldnt make it up the last dune! it nearly made it over before sliding back into the sand and ended up half buried! (1/2)

(2/2) the rest of the group had to drag and push us out with planks and chains etc while we were stuck inside because no way in hell i was opening the door to let the sand in! so three wheels in the sand, waiting on our rescue, irl it was a bit awkward but im hoping you'll rewrite a better ending <3

Awww concussed dragon, you are sooo sweet! Thank you! Your unique failed dates are great to work with. Alrighty, let's get into this one! So the pack got big in this one and while most don't have lines, I liked the idea of everyone being there (or almost for anyone I missed haha). I left some of the couple combos up to interpretation so feel free to ship at your leisure.

---

The pack, after much pestering from a certain human/spark, were finally going on their camping trip. The alpha had finally conceded when Stiles had shot him a pout and hopeful eyes. Derek had reluctantly agreed and ignored the snickering of his betas in the corner of the room.

On the morning of the trip, everyone was pairing up into groups of drivers and passengers so no one drove alone and there were less cars.

Derek and Stiles were the last members out of the rebuilt Hale House. Derek had been locking up and Stiles was finishing off some wards to ensure there were no unwanted visitors while they were away. He was still learning to harness his spark but small wards of protection were easy enough. Defensive magic was easier, offensive was another story.

Stiles threw his bag into the back of the jeep and glanced around.

"So, who's joining Roscoe and me?"

Erica snickered, "Derek."

"What?" Stiles and Derek snapped in unison. Well at least Stiles had a punctuation mark, Derek's not so much.

"I'm with Danny, Lydia and Jacks." Kira spoke up. "Scott, Malia, and Isaac are with Allison."

"I'm obviously with my boy." Erica jumped onto Boyd's back, who was used to his girlfriend's antics and easily caught her. "And Theo is meeting us there after picking up Liam from work. Everyone's paired up so that just leaves you two."

Stiles felt his heart flutter but managed to keep his voice even as he spoke, "Alright Alpha My Alpha, let's get going."

Derek didn't say a word as he slid into the passenger seat of the jeep. Everything would be fine.

Everything was not fine. Stiles was definitely going through a quarter life crisis at the realisation most of the pack were in couples. How did he not realise that? When had it become a prerequisite to start dating a pack member? And now it was just Stiles and the alpha. The alpha he had been in love with for years. Great...

"What's wrong?"

Stiles was pulled out of his internal panic by said alpha's soothing voice. Derek had softened over the years, showing care and concern for each member of the pack. He now bought scent-free nail polish for Erica (so the acid smell didn't upset all the were's noses), stocked Isaac's favourite gummybears and even hugged Kira willingly at her university graduation. Derek Hale was a softie.

"I'm fine, nothing wrong here, no sir." Stiles prattled. Even he heard the blatant lies without supernatural healing. He glanced to his side and was greeted by raised eyebrows.

"Ok, so I may have just realised how paired up everyone in the pack really is."

"Except us."

"Yeah," Stiles sighed. "Except us. Do you ever think about that? Like, why you haven't dated anyone since..." He trailed off. Derek didn't have the best track record for his love interests but he hadn't even been on a date for more than 3 years.

Derek looked out the window at the scenary, they were driving into the sand dune part of the journey, and for a moment Stiles thought he wasn't going to answer.

"I've been waiting."

Stiles blinked. Huh?

"For someone so smart, you're really clueless sometimes." Derek huffed, glancing back at Stiles.

"What have you been waiting for?" Stiles dared to ask. They had paused to allow Allison's four-wheel-drive to roll up the last sand dune, waiting for their turn. Roscoe would be the last time to make the climb.

"I thought it was my imagination at first but then you kept coming around and..."

It was Roscoe's turn now and Stiles slowly prepared for the final climb of the dune. He tried to keep focused on the task at hand, allowing Derek to speak his thoughts. You never rushed the alpha when he was being vulnerable.

"I know you kind of like me?" Derek voiced it as a question but all Stiles heard was sirens in his brain. Derek knew? Stiles' foot slid off the peddle and they immediately started rolling backwards, fast.

"Shit! Shit, shit shit." Stiles acted quickly but it wasn't enough. Roscoe descended the sand dune and sank, refusing to move. Sand on either side of them blocked the bottom of their doors. They were officially stuck.

Stiles rested his head on the steering wheel and slowed his breathing. There were multiple crises going on but most had solutions.

The others would work out they hadn't made the climb soon enough or Theo and Liam would find them on their way through. So either way, Roscoe being stuck wasn't a massive deal. The real dilemma was Stiles' outed feelings for Derek.

The same Derek that was eyeing Stiles with concern as he called Kira to request some assist. Stiles heard him hang up before the sound of a door handle being jiggled. He snapped his head up.

"Whoa there sourwolf, there is to be no sand storm in this car, thankyouverymuch." He reached out and tugged the alpha's hand away from the door.

"I figured me getting out and pushing was the preferred option to sitting here with you in a state of panic at my assumption."

Stiles pulled his hand back. "What?"

"Look, we can just forget I ever said anything, alright? I get I'm not the most desirable crush to have. It's probably just familiarity and your sense of loyalty that's fueled your scent around me anyway. Don't worry about it."

Stiles shook his head, "Oh no you don't. You opened that can of worms and I'm no coward." The spark met Derek's gaze. Had he been planning on ignoring his feelings for the alpha? Sure. But was he going to run away from a moment like this? Nope. Stiles Stilinski was a lot of things but after running with wolves and other supernaturals for most of his life, he knew when he needed to tackle something head on.

"Now, before you go down your rabbit hole of I'm-not-good-enough crazy talk, I've got something to say."

Derek nodded like the soft alpha he was and turned to face Stiles more fully.

"You, Derek Alexander Hale, are amazing. A little on the martyr side but that's because you are so protective of your pack. I'd be crazy to not fall in love with you. That's right, love not like. I've been in love with you for years but how was a kid like me going to catch the alpha's eye? I didn't want to ruin our friendship. This," He gestured between them. "This is important to me. I don't want to ruin it."

Derek released a sigh of relief? Stiles couldn't read his eyebrows which was disappointing when he was the most expert at interpreting the alpha's facial expressions.

Then Derek was darting forward and claiming Stiles' lips in a searing kiss. Stiles went with it, almost unbelieving that any of this was happening.

Derek eventually pulled back and rested his forehead against Stiles'.

"Worth the wait." The alpha whispered, grinning, bunny teeth all on display.

"Two way street here. You could've said something too. How long have you liked me?"

Derek blushed and it was only because they were so close that Stiles saw the pink of his cheeks and ears.

"I've always liked you, even if I didn't always show it. But love? I think I've loved you since you woke me up on an elevator floor by punching me. You could have left without me but you didn't."

Stiles pouted, "Since then?"

Derek raised an eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

Stiles pushed Derek back and clumsily crawled across the gear stick to straddle the alpha's lap.

"We could have been having the best sex of my life for years, Derek! Years! We've got a lot of making up to do." Stiles dove in to kiss Derek this time. The alpha happily drew Stiles in closer, curling his arms around the spark's slim waist.

A knock on the window, interrupted their make-out session. Boyd's face appeared with judging eyebrows to rival Derek's.

"Heard you needed a hand." Boyd spoke loudly with a smirk as Derek's hand moved away from Stiles' ass to rest safely on his back.

"What's Erica doing?" Stiles asked, leaning over Derek to squint at the blonde chatting wildly on the phone. Derek focused his hearing.

"Turns out I'm not the only one who was waiting." Derek grinned, "And everyone apparently owes Lydia money."

They did eventually get Roscoe out of the sand dune thanks to the advantages of going camping with multiple supernatural creatures. By the time everyone was settled in the camp and Erica had informed Theo and Liam on the events of the day, Lydia was a very rich woman.

Stiles couldn't complain though. Not when the alpha was snuggled between his legs as Stiles sat on the log and Derek roasted them marshmallows. Apparently no one trusted Stiles near an open flame following the incident with that vampire clan. Stiles combed his fingers through Derek's hair and looked around at the pack. This camping trip was the best idea ever.

Ok so I must confess I do not camp like...ever and have no idea how four-wheel-driving works so please forgive any major errors in that department. I tweaked things a bit from your prompt sorry. I just couldn't imagine Stiles letting anyone else drive Roscoe. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for popping in!

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #princecharminganswers #princecharmingwrites

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dxrkdreamer · 3 years

Text

Salvation Part 2

Sukuna had come back to be repaid for what he did for you, his original plan of terrorizing you went down the drain as he stared at a different girl from what he left and the way his heart and mind remained puzzled because of you.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Word Count: 2.3 k

Part 1

Part 3: coming soon… September 19

(A/N: Part 2 everyone! I hope you guys like this :)

Warnings: Mentions of fighting and some blood.

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

You heard stories as you started life with the newfound skills Sukuna helped you develop. The stories were enough to make adults shiver in fear, enough for them to offer their souls. But you laughed at them. Because you knew nothing, not even their soul would stop Sukuna from annihilating them if he felt like it. He didn’t need a reason. The stories of him burning down villages and torturing the inhabitants of said villages were most likely true. You heard a lot of villages began worshipping him out of their fear. It was foolish you thought, He’s just a man.

You may have not been the fittest back then, but you were one of the smartest. You knew he left you when you were 5 because he did want to kill you- but only when you were begging for your life. He wanted to enjoy the pain he’d bring upon you. But if he still wanted that he could have killed you when you were learning from him. You were happy and trusted him, and what hurts more than someone breaking your trust?

He did not want to kill you now either. You knew that. If he did, he would have done it long ago.

So you stared at him, right in his eyes as he looked down at you. Not bothering to pay attention to the other people around him, they were like maggots to him after all.

After he had left you, you lived in the same cottage and fended for yourself. It was not difficult for you to do. But eventually the meat you hunted, berries you picked and plants you harvested would start to spoil. It was too much for a young teenager so you started sharing them with the fellow orphans from your village. But after being with you, they wanted to learn how to fend for themselves too. And you taught them what he had taught you.

Eventually you had become quite popular in the village, and even the nobleman would send their children to you for martial arts lessons. Your students were skilled enough to go to the competitions held in bigger cities where people from all over the country would come to see. And your students won often.

But after 7 years of this you were bored. So when you spotted the peculiar man from your childhood during a martial arts competition your body could only bubble up with excitement inside.

The host man announced the winner and Sukuna smirked as he saw it was one of your pupils. Your name had become known since you were the first female teacher, let alone a female teacher with such a high success rate. The stories he had heard of you made his chest swell with pride… Because I was the one who taught the brat he’d tell himself at the strange feeling. He looked down and noted how much you had grown, from a scrawny preteen to a beautiful woman. Your old tattered clothes were replaced with a silk robe- a very suggestive robe with a deep neckline and the hem at the bottom just barely touching the top of your ankles. So that when you walked your lower leg would be in clear view of ongoing lookers. He knew you wore the cheeky robe on purpose, you loved the attention you got from all the gasps and looks of distaste from other females. What a lecherous woman.

As you walked over to congratulate your student, he swooped down onto the center of the stadium. Chuckling as he heard the gasps from the audience, his four arms stretched out, claws protruded, ready to attack. The sun’s rays made him appear like an ethereal being that demanded attention.

“It’s time you repaid me brat.”

The crowd went crazy, everyone running out, looking for a place to hide as fast as their legs could take them. But his focus was just on you. Your student is long gone, leaving you alone. You never taught them about loyalty so it didn’t matter.

“How can I do that?” you asked tilting your head, you spoke with such calmness it made Sukuna question if you knew who and what he was.

“By coming with me, as my servant”

“Sure” you said nonchalantly. Life was boring, he had come to save you again… from a mundane life. But nonetheless saved you even if it was not from an immediate danger. You did not feel any sympathy for your village, the label of a traitor did not bother you. The village betrayed you first by not batting an eye or offering you any form of help during your time of need. You owed Sukuna a lot, and you were not scared of him, just extremely grateful.

“Women I am taking you with me” He repeated again, slightly deadpanning. Could your pathetic human ears not hear his majestic voice? He brought down a hand and the seating of the studium tumbled down as his power slashed it. The rubble flying everywhere as debris and sand made your sight hazy.

“And I said yes” you spoke and walked towards him, stopping a few inches away where you grabbed one his arms, pulled it down and pressed his claws to the exposed skin right above your heart “You can’t kill me” you said answering the question he had not asked yet.

His arm stayed still in the girl’s hand as he looked at her curiously. When he felt you push his claws further onto your skin, enough that blood started seeping from the puncture wounds his nails created he realized it. He really could not kill you. You saw him not as a monster that terrorized innocent people in villages for his pure joy, but as a powerful man who saved you and gave you a life with purpose. You were the first acting out of love rather than fear.

The dust had cleared and the sun had become visible once again. The hot rays burning the back of his neck, it would surely burn you too if he was not standing two and a half feet taller than you, shading you from it.

“Very well then women”

“Sukuna-sama I’ve washed and hung your clothes to dry and have cleaned your quarters” he heard you say. He looked back at you from training, your cheeky robe now traded to more modest apparel. A yukata that would not expose your ankles or your chest, in fact the fabric would sometimes drag on the floor and the neckline was almost choking you. You hated it, but that was all the more reason for him to make you wear it.

It had been about 2 weeks since he “kidnapped you”, he called it but youd respond saying you went willingly- which was the truer of the two stories. Cleaning and cooking and doing the basic servant duties. Normally you’d hate this more than your previous lifestyle, but with Sukuna-sama there was always some excitement. Mostly watching him have trouble with the most basic things and yelling out to you to “fix the mess” in disguise of needing help.

He grunted in response but noticed you settling down, back resting against a tree trunk and you sat in the soft grass he had not wrecked yet. “Woman, have you finished everything?”

“Yes Sukuna-sama” perplexed he brainstormed for another task he could give you but came up with none on the spot.

“Spar with me.”

“What?” You looked up, mouth open as you stared at him. Had you heard him correct?

“I should not have to repeat my words for my servant to do as she is asked.”

Oh.

You stood up hesitantly and walked up in front of him, standing face to face as you took your position. He on the other hand lifted one set of hands so his head could lean back at them, the other lazily at his sides.

You ran up to him, getting ready to punch him, which he stopped with one hand grabbing your fist, so you took it as an opportunity to kick him. But this outfit made it very difficult for you to do as you were thrown to the ground.

“Have you grown weaker?” he mocked. This time with more fire in your body you stood up, ripping the bottom of the dress off, exposing your knees. And you ran forward again, now with more mobility.

What the…. He stared at your exposed legs as you ran, he was distracted allowing you to land a harsh kick at his side making him stumble and fall.

An even score, 1-1.

Dumbfounded he looked up at you, you smirked but deep down you were just as surprised as he was.

“Brat” he mumbled, standing up, stretching his limbs. “One more time” he smirked at you before charging at you with speed. It caught you off guard and you only recovered a second before his right fist came right down at you, giving you just enough time to block it with your forearm, pushing his hand to the side. His left hand was already moving, but you were too and you blocked it again. He was fast and you knew he was not at his full speed, he jumped clasping his other set of hands together as he brought them down on you but you dodged again, jumping back creating a gap of a few meters between you two. You ran to him your fist ready to make contact against his smug face, but he caught your fist and swung you around before throwing you against some trees, the force breaking the tree as you went flying into the trees behind it, each tree falling as your back crashed into them, finally stopping as the force faded.

“Ughhh what was that...'' you groaned trying to move, but your back was in too much pain, and you felt like the bones in your body had all changed places and were swimming around in whatever blood was left in you. In your clouded vision you saw him approach you, tsking and sitting down on a fallen trunk.

This move was different, you knew that much. More powerful? But how and why?

“That had cursed energy in it,” he simply said.

“Cursed energy? What’s that?” you asked confused, your brows furrowing up. “Like curses?” you had heard about those but only thought of them as wive tales.

“Curses are apparitions made from cursed energy” he said, watching carefully as your eyes lit up with curiosity. “The energy is a manifestation of negative emotions”

You nodded pretending to understand what he was going on about.

“Tsk let me show you women” he said.

This marked the next part of your training from him, he taught you how to manipulate your own cursed energy to the point you could also see these apparitions and use it to your advantage.

And you grew stronger than ever before, much to his delight.

Throughout the time spent with you, Sukuna began growing fond of you, he enjoyed your presence. To the point he rushed through his usual escapades of terrorizing the lives of people. He’d perk up watching you look through the many offerings he received, picking through them and smiling in excitement when something caught your eye and you’d beg him to let you have it.

“You seem deep in thought?” your soft voice asked from across the room, you were sitting on a floor cushion, mending one of his robes using a needle and thread. It was getting late, the sun was setting and the colors spilled into the room, lighting you up in it’s warmth. You looked ethereal, he thought, taking in the sight of you. You were humming quietly, your eyes focused on the needle, your hands holding the soft fabric of the robe you had picked out for him, your legs tucked underneath you towards the side, the skirt of your dress riding up to reveal your legs. His eye twitched.

“When did I allow you to wear such skanky clothes?”

“Sukuna-sama it's just so much easier to move in these” you argued. He scoffed looking away, but looking at you through the corner of his eye.

“You’re nice to be around women” he grunted.

“Sorry, what?” you lowered your head, hair spilling over your face to hide your grin.

‘I’ll cut your useless ears off myself once you’re done with my robe.’ he tried saying, but he couldn’t lie to you. As he opened his mouth to attempt to say it again he felt the futon dip as you sat near him, placing his finished robe to the side.

“Are you saying you like me?”

“If I didn’t like you I would have killed you and smeared your blood all over the filthy village you came from”

“So you do like me.” How annoying he thought

“Why must I always repeat myself around you, I should just slash you up right now” he says as he lifts his finger, expecting you to dodge it but you sit there not defending yourself as his power cuts through the cloth and flesh over your shoulder, you just grinned up at him. You were so troublesome, getting hurt for his attention. Leaving the room he came back with water, a cloth and some gauze. As he sat down to clean the wound he inflicted you laid your head in his lap, legs sprawled out as he cleaned the wound.

“Hey” you whispered, lifting your hand up and caressing his jaw with gentle fingers “I like you too”.

“I didn’t ask”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fics #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader

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nationalharryleague · 3 years

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Ivy: Chapter One - Incandescent Glow

A/N: Chapter One is here!! I’m so excited to share this with you all and I hope you enjoy it!! You can find the rest of my writing in my masterlist and I would love love love to hear what you think about it in my ask! Thank you so much for reading I hope you enjoy it!!

Word Count: 6.5k

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Before their paths had crossed, she had resigned herself to an existence void of the excitement, passion, and the simple enjoyment of a life in love that she consumed every day in her books. Their worn and yellowed pages held stories of adventure, mystery, and her personal favorite, romance, etched onto pages that held the ability to transport the novel’s reader. She turned to their worn leather binding as a way to escape her own dismal and boring life, living vicariously through star crossed lovers, double agent spies, and explorers who had set out to find the fountain of youth.

The tall tales were never enough to fill the void or tame her desire to escape, but they placed a temporary bandage on the wound she would rather keep covered.

She spent most of her time among her books, curled into the small pink velvet couch that sat next to the large fireplace, immersing herself into the words on the page and the silence that surrounded her, as she reveled in the warmth of the open flame. The library was the one place in the large estate that felt like a home to her. Books lined the walls, placed carefully into floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Most of them had been read through already, patiently awaiting their turn to be picked up once again for her to experience another journey through their pages.

She chased a homey solace within those four walls, a comfortability she could never obtain anywhere else on her husband’s large estate. The mansion was a massive stone fortress that sat on acres of land she had never been granted permission to fully explore. The greatest freedom allowed to her were the well mannered and dignified walks she took around the garden, sometimes a trip to the small stream that ran across the edge of the property with a book tucked into her basket; but as winter fell, as it always did, she was forced back into her library.

Snow fell gently outside, covering the large and manicured lawns with a bright white blanket of quiet, but her concentration and tranquility were startled away from her when three too loud knocks fell onto the large mahogany door. She knew the knocks well, and exactly who they belonged to. They were the only ones that ever seemed to disturb her.

“Dear,” she heard her husband, William, call through the door. “May I come in?” He was boring and overbearing, but he was always polite when it came to her library. She could give him that.

“Of course,” she hummed in a slight annoyance, hearing the door swing open with a creak, as she tucked her bookmark into Gulliver’s Travels’ well loved pages. It was hard for her to tear her eyes from the book, not yet fully out of the story land she had been consumed by for hours now, but when she did, she was met with two men instead of one.

“I wanted to introduce you to the new groundskeeper, Mr. Styles.” William spoke far too loud for her quiet room and in his usual dull tone, which was somehow made even more boring by the beautiful man standing next to him.

Mr. Styles was striking.

He had chocolate brown curls that fell in tousled waves pushed back from his forehead and vibrant green eyes that zeroed in on her with an intense but friendly gaze. A polite smile graced his pink lips which caused a pair of dimples to ghost over his cheeks, softening his rather imposing large figure.

He was tall and had broad shoulders and muscular arms that didn’t completely fit into his vest and suit jacket, and she could tell he was uncomfortable in such formal dress. He stood perfectly straight up and down, like any sudden movements might bust him out of the most likely hand me down outfit, and his slightly awkward appearance made it difficult for her to fight off a more than friendly smile.

She moved towards him, the pink roses embroidered on the delicate white fabric of her dress falling down around her as she stood from the couch, and with a greeting knod of her head, she extended her hand towards him to delicately shake. His hands were frozen as he took her hand and bowed his head to her, a side effect of the snow blanketing the ground outside, but they were also strong and calloused.

Their contact shot a spark up her arm, assuredly from the cold of his fingertips.

“It’s delightful to meet you, Mr. Styles,” she spoke with a soft but confident voice, bowing her own head towards him gently as he released her hand.

“Thank you for having me, Lady Taylor,” he spoke smoothly, with a deep and musical voice, his sharp jaw brushing against the starched high fabric of his collar. She liked the way he spoke and made a note to make sure she heard more of it in the future.

She hoped she had controlled her face and didn’t outwardly cringe when he called her by her formal title and her husband’s last name. It was an identifier she deeply loathed, representative of all she had become. She looked forward to whenever they got a moment away from her husband and she could ask him to call her Y/N, similar to moments she had in the past with all of the staff in the mansion.

“Of course,” she smiled. “We’re glad to have you.”

“He’ll be staying in the cottage on the east side of the property,” William informed her, bringing her attention back to him.

“That is the one near the stream with the ivy on it, if I’m not mistaken. Correct?” she directed her question towards her husband, toeing the line of an appropriate amount of small talk, while also encouraging the conversation to move fast so she could return to her book.

“That’s the one,” the dull man answered with a nod. “I’m going to show him to it now. I wanted to introduce him because you might be seeing him around the estate.” He paused, stepping closer to her and she felt her muscles tense slightly. “We wouldn’t want you getting startled by a stranger, now would we, darling?”

“No, we wouldn’t,” she answered with a tight lipped smile. She could never get used to his patronizing tone, even after three years as his wife. With a deep breath, she steeled herself as he got even closer, reaching his hand out and pushing a curl that had fallen from her gathered bun at the base of her neck behind her ear, then pressing a kiss to her cheek that lasted far too long to be in front of a guest. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment and she watched as Mr. Styles’ gained an uncomfortable blush to his as well.

With a patch of dampness still clinging to her cheek, William backed away and returned to their new guest’s side.

“It was lovely to meet you,” the new man said, a seemingly sympathetic look in his eye. “Your library is beautiful.”

His complement of her books brought a hint of joy back to her features. “Thank you very much. If you ever need anything to read, I may have something you could borrow,” she chuckled, raising her hand to gesture towards the rows and rows of books. “I can only read so many at a time.”

“I will keep that in mind,” he said, his lips perking up in a sideways smile that showed off one of his dimples.

William left the room without anything else to say, Mr. Styles following soon after, but for some reason she could not shake the sound of his voice and the look of his dimple from her mind. Even when she settled back down next to the fire, knees tucked up beneath her and Gulliver’s Travels back in her hands, his face remained. She found herself rereading sentences two or three times before comprehending them, her focus lost to the handsome man who was now living in the small ivy covered cottage. She was intrigued.

A few days passed before she saw him again.

Once again, he had roused her from a book while she read, making an awful scraping noise as he tried to remove the ice hanging from the outdoor windowsill of her library. He must have been watching her through the window because when her head shot up to investigate the noise, he already held an apologetic look in his eyes and mouthed ‘I’m sorry!’ to her through the window. He looked quite cute like that and she couldn’t help but release a laugh.

She decided to abandon the epic love story she had been consuming, choosing to focus on another object of interest as she moved towards the large window and opened it. A frigid wind seemed to slap her in the face, making her realize just how red his nose was. She could only guess how cold he was and how long he had been scraping ice off the house in only a flimsy wool coat.

“I am so sorry I disturbed you, Lady Taylor,” he profusely apologized, but she only smiled in return.

“No trouble at all,” she shook her head. “And please call me Y/N. I’m only Lady Taylor in front of my husband.”

His face held a slight surprise, obviously unfamiliar with such a casual relationship with his bosses. “Oh, alright then, Y/N.” He held a shy grin on his face as he looked up at her through the window, extending a hand for her to shake. “Well then, call me Harry.”

Harry, she repeated to herself. It suited him. She liked his name and the way his strong jaw and pink lips moved when he said it.

Their hands met in a less formal handshake this time, her body hanging halfway out the window into the cold to reach him. The same shocks made their way up her arm again and she blamed them on his frozen hand.

“Harry,” she started, liking the way his name felt on her lips. “You seem like you are about to freeze to death out there. Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea?”

She knew her husband wouldn’t be home for at least another hour, a result of meticulously monitoring his schedule for the last three years in an effort to appreciate her limited freedom to its fullest. William was a creature of habit, spending every Wednesday across the county with his younger brother in his own massive home; allowing her time to relax, no longer held to the absurdly formal high standards her husband held for ‘the lady of the house.’ And today, she decided she could exercise that freedom by inviting Harry in for tea.

“I couldn’t,” he tried to politely deny, bound by strict rules of etiquette in ‘high society,’ whatever that meant.

“I insist. You look frost bitten.”

When he nodded his head in concession, she couldn’t help the bright and triumphant smile that stretched across her features.

It wasn’t long before she was leading him through the massive home towards the servants quarters and her favorite part of the mansion: the kitchen. As they walked, they moved under ornate arches and impressively high ceilings, passing walls decorated with portraits of her husband’s dead relatives that seemed to judge the two commoners as they passed. She assumed her husband hadn’t given Harry a tour of the main house, as every time she snuck a peak at him, his eyes were wide in amazement at the lavish home.

The deep maroon satin fabric of her dress flowed behind her as she led him down winding hallways and past massive grand staircases. The grandiose decorations and atmosphere began to dwindle as they made their way to the servants quarters, the house taking on a much more bare-bones look. The hallways were smaller and left a pale white, a stark contrast to the brightly colored walls that lived in the rest of the house.

He followed her down a small spiral staircase that opened into a kitchen that emitted a welcoming warmth the rest of the sterile house lacked. A large stone fireplace was set into the wall to their right and copper pots and pans hung from the walls. A large cabinet held stacks and stacks of dishes of every sort and a perpetually bubbling pot of water hung over the open flame. But the centerpiece of the room was the long wooden table that was covered in flour and surrounded by smiley women kneading balls of dough.

“Hello sweetheart!” chimed one of the women from the table, her older round face framed by grey hair holding onto flushed cheeks and a wide smile. Her grin seemed to calm an anxiety that was perpetually inside her. “How are you doing today?”

“I’m doing very well. Thank you, Mary,” she smiled back at her. “How are you?”

“She’s been talking our ears off all day, Y/N,” the youngest girl, Grace, piped up from across the table, her long black hair pulled from her face in a ponytail that reached her bum. She couldn’t have been older than 16. “Thank goodness you came down here to distract her for a moment.”

“Oh hush, Grace,” Mary playfully scolded her before turning her attention back to Y/N. “My boy had the highest marks in his class this week. Isn’t that just incredible?”

“That’s fantastic!” she exclaimed, knowing how hard the boy had been working on his studies as of late from how highly his mother always spoke of him.

“It’s all because you let him borrow your books,” the older woman said in a softer and more sincere tone. “He reads them so fast now and his instructors are so impressed.”

“I am always happy to lend them to Robert. He’s such a good boy. I always miss him in the winter when it is too cold for him to come to the grounds to play.”

“Spring will be here soon enough,” the last woman at the table, Siobhan, spoke up in a thick Irish accent. Her fiery red curls were pinned up on top of her head and flour was smudged onto her freckled nose.

“The almanac predicts that we should have an early spring this year,” Y/N heard Harry’s deep voice cut into their conversation behind her. She watched as all the eyes belonging to the women at the table went wide in his direction like they hadn’t noticed him prior.

“Ladies, this is Harry Styles,” she introduced him, turning back to face him just long enough to take in his shy and somewhat awkward wave to the women. “He’s the new groundskeeper.”

“What happened to John?” Grace asked in a slight whine, her face falling in disappointment at the news.

“She had a crush on John,” Siobhan cut in quickly to give Harry context. And while Grace denied her infatuation with a defiant ‘did not,’ her cheeks betrayed her as they turned a beet red.

“William said he got married or something of the sort,” Y/N lied, knowing William had fired him during a particular mood swing. While she held a deep distaste towards her husband, she was afraid to hint at that to the women in the event they didn’t follow his explicit orders due to their second hand dislike of him. She would never forgive herself if they happened to lose their jobs because of her.

These women were her only friends and she cherished them.

“Good for him,” Mary said before quickly turning her attention back to the curly man in the corner, staring at him intensely, as if she could see all his deepest secrets if she just looked hard enough. “It’s good to meet you, Harry,” she finally spoke, voice holding a motherly suspicion. “How did you become a groundskeeper?”

He seemed shocked that anyone would ask him a question at all, stammering slightly as he answered. “I always enjoyed being outside when I was a child, and as I got older, I found that I had quite the green thumb,” he spoke shyly, pulling his hand from behind his back to flash the ladies a thumbs-up. “I started working on estates a few years ago and I send whatever I can back to my mum and sister in Cheshire.”

At the mention of his mother and sister, Mary’s face softened. All in the room could tell that she had deemed him trustworthy and respectable, pushing away her worst nightmares of him having bad intentions on the estate she ran inside and out.

“What a good boy,” she spoke jovially, like if she was closer to him she could have pinched his blushed and dimpled cheeks.

“Well,” Y/N began in an attempt to change the subject, “Harry has been out in the cold for who knows how long so I’m going to fix us up a cup of tea.”

“Y/N, that is what we are here for,” Siobhan said, letting out a chuckle.

“Oh no,” she waved her off, making her way towards the cabinet and retrieving a sachet of her favorite tea and a teapot. “You’re all busy and I am very capable of making my own.”

She felt Harry’s eyes on her, surely confused about the relationship she had with her staff, as she skillfully navigated around the kitchen. She knew she looked out of place wearing her formal dress, a jeweled belt even wrapped around the empire waistline, as she moved about with the women in aprons covered in flour. But she felt comfortable here, like she was experiencing a loving hug from an old and less stressful life she once lived.

Soon she was holding a silver tray with an ornately decorated tea set delicately placed upon it, Harry trailing behind her while she carried it back to her library without spilling a drop. He continued to watch her with an inquisitive eye as she expertly crafted teas for both of them, although she knew his chill had long left his bones, before she settled onto her pink couch, Harry sitting in a matching armchair across from her.

“The way you are looking at me makes me think I owe you an explanation,” she smirked over her tea cup as she brought it to her lips.

“Ma’am,” he began, but corrected himself to “Y/N,” after she shot him a playful yet disapproving look. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Fine then. I’m just going to talk to myself and if you happen to hear details about my life that might help you understand me and this house a bit more, then so be it.” She spoke calmly, with a regality that she had spent years perfecting.

Harry’s lips perked up with a closed lipped smile that seemed to say ‘you got me’ and an attentive gaze, signalling her to go on.

“I think it is probably quite obvious at this point that I did not grow up in wealth like this,” she started, ready to explain herself to the man across from her for some reason she couldn’t pinpoint. “I’m friendly with the staff because I was one for most of my life. I was a servant girl growing up, very much like Grace. My family did not have much other than too many children and I left home to start work in estates like this one when I was 11.”

He watched quietly from his seat, not giving her much of a reaction at all.

“I met William when I was 17, when I started working for his aunt in her home. He tried to propose, for the first time, after I knew him for three weeks, but his mother said no because I wasn't born into the nobility. And honestly, I was relieved because I did not like him one bit.”

Harry let out a small chuckle at her words that quickly and involuntarily brought a grin to her face.

“His mother died two years later and he proposed again, no longer needing her blessing as he then became the head of their family. He offered me the world if I were to accept. He told me that we would travel and see the sights and that he would support my dream of becoming a writer. But most of all, he promised to take care of my family financially.” She took a long sip of her tea and swallowed hard before finishing the most painful part of her story. “So I accepted, but he never followed through on any of his promises.”

“William isn’t a bad man,” she continued, “although he isn’t a particularly good one either. He likes control of his house and his wife. It is I that made a naive promise to him and I have spent every day of the last three years paying for it.”

She watched as Harry’s exterior softened slowly as she spoke with radical honesty, looking like he wasn’t sure what to say that could comfort her. While she retold the story in a calm, cool, and collected manner, she hoped she was able to fully conceal her true hurt that attempted to fight it’s way to her face.

“Well,” she said with a cheerful new tone to her voice, brushing off her somber and self-pitying mood, “now that I have spoken about myself and you may have heard some of it, would you like some more tea?”

He raised his eyebrows inquisitively at her sudden change in tone, but decided not to push it any further. “I would,” he nodded. She felt his eyes on her as she stood up and made her way back to the tea pot, wishing she could read his mind. When she returned, she poured his tea carefully and went to set the pot back down, but she was stopped when his hand grasped onto hers.

His skin was now warm, hot even, from his tea cup; but the same shocks still remained when he touched her. She couldn’t help but notice how well her hand fit in his. Her eyes first found where he held her, both of his hands cradling one of her’s gently, then they flickered to his face. Emerald green eyes bored into her own, that surely held an element of shock in them at their contact. His face was soft and sympathetic as he looked up at her from his seat. “Y/N,” he sighed, goosebumps forming over her arms as she felt his warm breath float over her skin. “I’m sorry.”

Before she could answer, she heard the familiar roll of the wheels of her husband’s carriage begin to crunch on the gravel outside the window. Her eyes shot towards the sound coming from the circular driveway and she regretfully peeled her hand away from his own, immediately missing his warmth.

“You have to go,” she instructed softly. “Head out the door to your left, make a right at the end of the hallway, and then head down the second staircase. There’s a door that leads out to the back garden on the left.” Her directions were detailed and concise, like she had used the escape route herself many times.

Harry quickly scurried out of the chair and towards the door she was now holding open for him, but before he made his departure he turned back to look at her one more time. “Thank you for the tea, Y/N,” he said, previous panic traded for sincerity on his face.

“You’re welcome, Harry. I quite enjoy your company,” she confessed. “We will have to do this again.”

He smiled softly before turning on the ball of his foot and taking off down the hallway. As he rounded the corner and disappeared, she heard the front door open and William’s lumbering footsteps clomp onto the shiny marble tile of the foyer. Her eyes flickered back towards the two tea cups that sat on the small table in the library, knowing if William came to find her, he would inquire about who she had tea with. Gritting her teeth and letting out a sigh, she made her way to the front door to greet him. But not before she closed the library door tight behind her and made a mental note to ask Mary to retrieve the cups.

“Hello my dearest,” she breathed through her perfectly rehearsed smile. “How was your visit with Gregory today?”

“Fine,” he dismissed, leaning in to kiss her cheek and scratching her skin with the stubbly mustache he was desperately trying to grow for some reason. “What’s for dinner?”

“I can go ask Mrs. Jefferson if you would like,” she offered, always feeling odd when she referred to Mary by her last name. He didn’t answer her with words, just a negative grunt that she assumed was denying her attempt at escape.

“Is that a new corset?” he asked abruptly and she watched in disgusted horror as his eyes settled in on her chest. She knew that she was just a warm body to him most of the time, but his grotesque excuses for manners always shocked her.

She pressed her lips together into a hard line, holding back every awful thing she could think of that she wanted to spit in her husband’s direction. Instead, she just sighed and gave him a kurt “yes.”

“Alright,” he grumbled. “They looked bigger. I thought you might finally be pregnant.”

Just the thought of being pregnant with William’s child made her want to refund her lunch onto his riding boots. She could only imagine what a child consisting half of him would look like. She hoped it wouldn’t inherit his bulbous nose, or his beady eyes, or his sparse black hair that seemed to be perpetually greasy.

She prayed every day that the rank smelling tea Mary gave her to drink every morning was enough to stave off a pregnancy forever. It came from a healer woman a few counties over, that some insisted was a witch, but the tea had kept her from falling pregnant so far and she had no plans of stopping her morning routine anytime soon. She didn’t care if the woman was Satan himself, as long as she never began to swell with whatever creature William routinely attempted to put inside her.

“No.” She tried to sound regretful. “I started my cycle this morning.”

“Too bad,” he said, eyes still staring down the front of her dress. “We will just have to keep trying.”

He eventually stopped oggoling her, starting down the hallway and leaving her in the foyer without another word. She let out the sigh of relief that she always did when he left her, releasing the tightly wound ball of stress inside of her that tightened whenever he was near, but she felt it return to her when she sat down at the long dining room table for dinner later that day.

She sipped her wine carefully, watching her husband scarf down his meal at the other head of the table, thankful for the long wooden surface that kept her far from him. But for the first time in forever, her husband and his revolting habits were not at the forefront of her mind.

Her thoughts were occupied almost exclusively by Harry. Surely it was because he was new, like when a little girl receives a new doll and it becomes the center of her universe until the novelty wears off. She also realized she knew almost nothing about him, cursing herself for overrunning their conversation with her own story before they were rudely interrupted. But the small fragments she did know about him, like his love of nature, the care he took for his mother and sister, and his general kindness and care for those around him, had begun to take root in her brain and she just couldn’t shake him.

“What are you thinking about?” William seemed to shout across the table, pulling her from her dreamland.

“I was trying to decide what china pattern we should use for this year’s spring gala,” she lied seamlessly.

“There will be no spring gala this year,” he said with a mouth full of food. “I’ll be in France on business.”

The spring gala was the highlight of her dismal life and she couldn’t help but feel like she had just been punched in the gut by the news. It was a celebration on the spring solstice that the Taylor family had been holding for the last century and was the most lavish and exciting event of the year. There was endless food and drink among lively music and beautiful opulent gowns, but most of all, there were people. This party was a priceless connection to the outside world and to have it ripped away like this was heartbreaking.

“But I’ve already had a dress made,” she weakly argued, picturing the light blue satin ball gown overlaid with a delicate white floral lace.

“You can wear it next year. I have to go to France for six weeks.”

“What is in France that is so important?”

William let out a frustrated huff and looked up from his plate for the first time to shoot her a threatening glare. He was not used to this sort of push back from the usually docile woman, even if her passivity was a meticulously rehearsed act. “A lady should not concern herself with her husband’s business.”

Knowing not to push the conversation, she kept her mouth shut but shot him angry daggers for the duration of the meal. She barely touched her food, but she continued to drain and refill her wine glass.

He pushed himself away from the table after his plate was all but licked clean, looking over at her crossed arms and slumped drunk body in the chair at the other end of the room. “I know you enjoy the gala,” he spoke as gentle as his brooding voice could. “But we will not be discussing this manner any further.”

“Fine,” she said curtly. When he turned to leave the room, she childishly stuck her purple tongue out behind him. She listened to the small bursts of air Grace released next to her, stifling laughter. She grinned lazily at the young girl clearing his plate. “What a pompous knob,” she muttered as she pushed herself away from the table and exited the grand dining room through the opposite exit William had taken. She heard Siobhan’s delicate footsteps following behind as she marched towards her bedroom, the thoughtful woman knowing she wouldn’t be able to undo her tightly laced corset with her currently clumsy fingers.

Siobhan held her hand and securely guided her up one of the many massive staircases that inhabited the mansion, saving her when she tripped on the fabric of her dress. Y/N was thankful for her support, but couldn’t stop thinking about how her contact with Harry felt earlier in the day felt so different. She had originally attributed the electric feeling to the cold, and then considered it a result of not being touched by another person in so long. But Siobhan’s hand did not hold the same sparks.

She stood facing the mirror in her bedroom and stared at herself as Siobhan carefully removed the layers upon layers of her clothing. Her fingers skillfully released the corset from her body and Y/N took in what felt like the first real breath she had taken all day, leaving her in the bright white shift dress that was the first layer she put on every morning.

“Siobhan,” she spoke softly as if she didn’t want to disturb the silence, “do you believe in true love?”

She was quiet for a moment before she answered. “I think I do.”

“Do you think everyone gets to have it?”

“I think everyone has chances, but not everyone actually gets it.”

“Do you think a life with William is a life worth living?”

Y/N’s own question startled herself, her lips letting the words materialize and fall from them without her consent. Her eyes fell towards the floor, unwilling to make eye contact with the other woman in the mirror after the jarring question.

“Y/N, you have had a tad too much wine tonight to be asking big questions like that.”

“I know.” Her voice was just above a whisper and laced with shame. “Will you get me my nightgown? I want to go down to the library and read before bed.” Siobhan nodded behind her, slipping the lilac fabric and wrapping a cream colored night robe around her, before helping her back down the stairs and into her library.

She ripped a dark red leather bound book off the shelf, not particularly caring what it was called or what it was about, plopping herself down on the ground next to the warm fireplace. She just needed to be somewhere else, transported far away from the nightmare that had become her life.

It took three pages before tears began to prick at the back of her eyes. This book wasn’t a tale of pirates, or war, or mythology; it was a romance, one she had read before. It told of a soldier returning home from war to rescue his one true love from a domineering stepmother, sweeping her off her feet and escaping to start a new life together. She remembered that they lived happily ever after at the end.

She couldn’t help the jealousy and sadness that boiled within her, mourning for a love and a life she would never get to have. She would be trapped within the giant fortress that had been designed to keep enemies out, but had ended up keeping her shut inside with her own nemesis. She grieved for a life she would never be able to experience.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted her wallowing. She didn’t recognize it. Mary knocked loudly, but only once, and William always knocked three times, with Grace and Siobhan usually knocking softly twice.

She unwillingly dragged her still wobbly limbs off the ground and made her way towards the door. When she opened it, she was met with the bright green eyes that had been stuck in her head all day.

“Harry,” she greeted with a weak smile, trying her best to wipe all her tears off of her hot and angry cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping to borrow a book from your collection, but I can come back later,” he said hurriedly, eyebrows knitting together as he took in her tears.

“No, come in,” she said, sniffling and stepping aside so he could enter.

“Y/N,” he said with concern in his voice, his gaze narrowing in on her like the books no longer existed, abandoning his original goal of the visit. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, not sure if she was telling the truth or not. She held her robe close to her body, trying to hide herself from embarrassment, refusing to make eye contact with him and directing her attention towards the walls. “Uh-,” she stumbled over her words, “what kind of book were you looking for?”

He got the hint to stop his line of questioning about her emotional state, turning his body to face the walls as well. “I was going to ask you for recommendations.”

Her heart swelled with his words. No one had asked her about her opinions on anything other than drapes or china patterns in years. In this house, she was meant to be a proper lady, and proper ladies weren’t allowed to have brains with real thoughts or opinions.

“I have a few,” she cleared her throat. “I keep my favorites on this shelf,” she said, directing him to follow her. The shelf was at eye level for her and when she went to stand in front of it, she felt Harry hovering over her shoulder, his warm breath falling over the skin on the back of her neck. He was too close, far too close for ‘proper society,’ and too close for a married woman to be to a single man. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to move back because all she wanted in the world was for him to move even closer.

“These are adventure stories,” she stammered and pointed to a few, thrown off by his proximity, “and these are mysteries.” He hummed in her ear as she spoke. “And these,” she spoke softly and pointing towards the largest section of books, “are romance.”

She stepped aside so he could examine the spines of the novels, watching closely as he recited their names under his breath, perfect pink lips moving smoothly as he spoke quietly. She couldn’t take her eyes off of them. She jumped when he moved to grab a book off the shelf, breaking the trance she had fallen into as she took in his incandescent glow.

“I think I’ll take this one,” he said just above a whisper when he turned back to face her, his face hovering only inches above hers. Their faces were so close, one move and their lips would connect, indulging herself in her wildest fantasies since she had met this man only days ago. He brought the book up beside their faces and she quickly stole a glance.

Pride and Prejudice, was embossed in gold on the dark purple cover. It was new, but had quickly become her favorite romance of all time.

Her eyes connected with his once again, taking in the mischievous glint they held and the boyish smirk that had found its way onto his lips. His smile was contagious, her previous angry tears swapped for a small grin of her own. “Who doesn’t love a romance?” he asked her, smirk turning into a dimpled grin.

She wanted to reach out and grab him by the lapels of his jacket when he stepped back from her and pull his face to meet her own. She wanted to tell him not to go, to lock the door, and take her on the couch. She wanted to ask him to take her far away from this fortress and never return again. But she didn’t. She just let him walk to the door, a new book tucked under his arm.

“Before I go,” he said abruptly, turning around once again to face her. “I have a question.”

“I have an answer,” she quipped, earning a laugh from the man that sounded like the most beautiful symphony she could have ever imagined.

“There’s ivy crawling up the house on the east wall. Would you like me to take it down?”

His words reminded her that he wasn’t some gallant rescuer coming to save her from a loveless marriage and bring her to a better life. No, he was the groundskeeper of her husband’s estate. Her heart sank slightly, but she was glad to be back in reality.

“Let it grow,” she instructed softly. “Let’s see where it goes.”

Chapter Two

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

first base

part 6 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2.7k

warnings: strong language, illusions to part trauma

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need ot know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, the guys start to explain baseball both as a game and a career to the reader, and Frankie takes a step in the right direction instead of running.

It was Francisco’s idea for someone to walk you to your car, but Will ended up doing it, his mind too lost in thought for his usually sharp eyes to see. They missed the drop in Frankie’s shoulders, the tilt of Santi's head, and the way that even after the goodbyes, your fingers waved an extra wave at just one of them before you turned away. He didn’t say anything as you walked and thanked him again for inviting you to his grandparents with everyone, and apologized for James’ absence.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his accent was more pronounced and you almost thought he was going to shake your hand before he pulled you into a rough hug.

“What for?” the Millers, you were learning, were physically affectionate, but there was something in the way he did it, something in the way he said it that made you pause.

“The other night, and,” he shrugged, for once not quite knowing what to say, and you could almost see the words swimming behind his deep blue eyes. With a content sigh, you perched on the edge of the hood of your car, settling in for a real conversation with William Miller. Ironhead, they told you, a golden top athlete and responsible older of Ben, and the whole group. There was a huff, as he acknowledged it, smiling a little bit.

“You guys protect him,” you offered, and he crossed his arms, leaning next to you. Will blinked, then uncrossed his arms again.

“Yeah,” his hands moved along the grooves of the car, as if he was concentrated on being open with you. “We have to.”

“You’re his big brother.”

You didn’t ask, but they’re not? but it was implied. The sturdy first-baseman stilled, looking right at you. If this had been less of a conversation, it would have occurred to him that the prolonged time alone with you was creating a curiosity what was killing his friend inside.

“We were all him, a few years ago,” his eyes felt like they were boring into yours, intense in a comforting way, like he would ask permission before peering into your soul. “High on attention, moving too fast to think, caught up in the parties and girls and... all of it.”

Nodding while he talked, you muttered not relatable underneath his voice and he half smiled as he continued. Still, you understood what he was getting at.

“It got bad,” he said it like he had rehearsed it, or maybe had said it before. “Redfly wants it back, bigger, better. He could do it, too, if…” Will talked with his hands just enough to wave off the end of that sentence. “We all made mistakes. Did shit we aren’t proud of. Still sort of recovering from that. Just… don’t like seeing him make some of the same choices.”

“He’s got a big heart,” you said, asking not for confirmation, but out of curiosity. He grinned, breaking his frustrated reminiscing and nodded.

“You’re good for him,” he pushed off the car, a signal that he said what he needed to. Another hug, and at the same time as you said, “I like you guys,” you could’ve sworn he added, “For all of us.”

Pulling back, you stared, but he didn’t repeat himself, and you finished your goodbyes. The drive home, you forgot to turn on the radio the whole drive, thinking.

There was a place for you, with those five boys, it wasn’t a crazy once-in-a-lifetime thing. And maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

There was nothing about Francisco that you didn’t like – except he spilled your secret.

I actually don’t know anything about baseball.

Frankie was mad he shared it, too. His daydreams of having you pressed against his side – or better yet, in his lap – as he explained the beautiful game to you dwindled before his eyes. His friends were yelling, indignant, and excited. Already the evening was being planned, to watch a game and explain it to you and with resignation he knew they were all looking forward to it.

So, two evenings later, he found himself trying to get a seat next to yours on the little couch of Santi's rental. You brought snacks and a recording James had given you, and were wearing an old team tshirt that made his heart flip over in his chest.

It was silly, how eagerly they all waited for the recording to start, just boys excited to strut their stuff and show off.

“So exactly how much do you know?” Will was on your other side, the most relaxed of the bunch, sipping something fizzy. He seemed amused, more than anything.

“Let’s just assume I know nothing,” you shrugged. They were sure that wasn’t true, but it made it more fun.

“That’s me!” Santiago said, raising his eyebrows and pointing. It was, which you obviously knew, but you asked for it. Tom, who was gripping a beer while hovering by the food and texting, coughed a laugh.

“Okay, smart-ass,” you grabbed a handful of candy off the coffee table and threw one at Santi’s head. “You’re the pitcher. What do you do, other than throw the ball?”

He caught it, grinning, before Ben chimed in.

“Nothing.”

Santi made an offended noise in the back of his throat. He explained it to you – he was in control, throwing the ball in different ways to manipulate the batter.

“So, if all goes well, the batter misses and you catch it,” your eyes found Frankie’s, confirming, and he shrugged, more focused on restraining himself from pulling you against him. They then explained, strikes were good, but sometimes it was equally good to make the batter hit it badly.

“What’s a bat hit, at this level?”

Benny’s chest swelled a little with pride as he said anything he could catch. They corrected him – anything anyone could catch. That would give the other team an “out" faster than three strikes.

His voice was deep, but his laughter was lighter as Benny launched into a story like a overgrown kid trying to share. You could barely follow it as he jumped around and the others began to interject the pieces that he missed. It made you smile, how passionate they were about what they did.

Frankie saw a chance in the midst of the loud conversation, swallowed hard, and took it, sliding a little bit closer to you. He kept his voice low, as he explained that he and Pope would communicate the plan with hand signals. It was a gift from them, really, to let him show them you, your eyes alight as you looked at his broad, scarred hands.

The snap of the ball hitting a bat broke the moment, and all of you turned back towards the screen. Tom tuned in, telling you what he did in the outfield – mostly standing and running and catching and throwing – before he excused himself and slipped out. There was a joke somewhere, about the differences between infielders and outfielders, but no one made it.

You watched a tiny version of Will hit the ball, and the camera followed it as if flew all the way over the heads of the opposing team, past the fence and into the crowd.

“A home run?” That was one thing you didn’t really need to ask, but Will looked proud, anyway.

“Who has the record?” The real question, executed with raised brows and a conspiring sip of your drink as Santi made a face at you. At this point, you had their measure - jealousy wasn’t stronger that their comradery.

Your elbow bumped Frankie’s ribs and even though it didn’t hurt, he winced. “Will,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“It’ll be me in a few years,” Benny added with his wide smile, not even trying to dodge the pillows and pretzels thrown at his face.

“Sore subject?” eyes in Frankie’s, it made him thaw -that you were talking just to him.

“I’m a bad batter.” It was the truth. It wasn’t really in his skill set and he normally didn’t mind because it meant he had to do it less, but… he really didn’t like letting you down. It didn’t seem like you really cared, though, he hoped with all his heart that he wasn’t hallucinating when you slid closer to him. You made a joke about how you would certainly be worse, and his daydream about teaching you returned in force.

“Actually,” Santi’s quiet voice seemed more thoughtful than teasing, and he leaned in so only Frankie could hear him. “Recently you’ve been better,” he punched his friend’s arm and added, “Because you’ve got a good luck charm.”

They both looked at you, squinting at the screen and comparing your score sheet to the correct one.

“I guess so,” Frankie’s tone was just as thoughtful.

Throughout the evening all the remaining men were affectionate with you, and it was weirding you out. You had just gotten used to being friends with minor celebrities, and now?

It may have been the fact that you were just letting them show off their skills but something had definitely changed. It was like it was settled, your place with them, your value to them. Ben had sat in front of you, and asked you to run your fingers through his hair like you had before, as he explained what a shortstop did. He played it off like he didn’t do much, genuinely humble – but as it turned out, they were the most valuable player on the team, the core to communication and guidance. It was sweet, that he got so excited to share it with you, and accidentally let it all spill out.

Will remembered your drink, and teased you more than he ever had, letting himself banter with you and Santi.

Their hands were on your shoulders, ruffling your hair, on your arm, your knees, brushing or squeezing like they were trying to communicate to you how thankful they were that you actually cared. It was nice, but most of all, it was comfortable. It reinforced what Will had laid the foundation for - you really were a part of this, for the long haul.

Best of all was how close you were against the solid warmth of Francisco’s side. His arm was over the top of the couch, respectfully, and his fingers caught on your shoulder and the tips of your hair, like his restraint was crumbling.

When the game was over and the Miller boys faked yawns and slipped out, the weight of his arm settled, finally, and you leaned into him. Soon, you would have to pull away, pretend you hadn’t wanted to cuddle him fully so you wouldn’t overstay your welcome, but it was hard when it seemed like he wanted you to stay, too.

You made the time less awkward for Santi, though, since your final question was for the two of them, anyway.

“Will talked to me the other day, about before.” They snapped to attention, looking at you cautiously. “Would you guys… tell me, sometime? About all of it?” Knowing what you meant, the air was thick as they exchanged glances.

They didn’t have time for it all. Frankie’s hand fidgeted on your shoulder, and his grip on you tightened. You reached up and touched his hand, a reassurance, or maybe insurance for his overthinking mind, before you forced yourself to pull away. It didn’t need to be right now.

“Yeah, if you want,” Santiago was a man prone to talking, charming, working his was out of unpleasant situations. He fought the instinct.

It came out haltingly, the high of their success, and how each one of them had crashed down in their own way. They didn’t share too many details of the other men just themselves, and how it had felt.

For Santi, he threw himself into the game, overworking his mind and body until his knees gave out. It cost him a small fortune in treatments, a lost contract with his last team, and forced him into a break with his long term girlfriend. He thought his life was over, shot straight into the ground, and ended up in continuous therapy for both his mind as well as his knees. Will dated a girl who was in it for the wrong reasons, had his proposal on tabloid covers before he saw it, and locked himself away. Tom drank himself into a quiet, secretive 30 day rebab.

It was the hardest to share - Frankie’s drug use, his spiral as he balanced the two extreme sides of his life. He mentioned his family, his sister and he baby like weights on his shoulders, and his eyes told you and Pope both that he would tell you more later, when and if you wanted him too.

They each had been devastated by their mistakes, and you were almost in awe of them as they talked about keeping each other accountable, building and holding each other up, these past few years. There was plenty, like Will said, that was still healing, still being worked on, but it was amazing to see how far they’d come.

Francisco watched you closely, also fighting himself internally. It was a miracle you hadn’t run away, and he could see it like a sunrise on the horizon - hope. An actual real chance that he would get a shot with you, a real shot without secrets and faking it and anxiety.

You were thanking them both, hands cleaning up as you asked them if there was anything you should be conscious of in the future. He wasn’t jealous when Pope hugged you for a beat longer than normal, and he had to smile at his friend’s excitement as he talked about what baseball had become to them, and how tight their friendships were.

“Now you’re stuck with us,” Santi really meant it, and Frankie made a sound so you knew he agreed.

His mind was running as you walked together to your cars, but the feel of you wouldn’t leave his chest and he couldn’t stop just... talking to you.

The conversation had turned back to the game, and your growing love for it had nothing on his growing feelings for you. When you stopped at your car, he couldn’t bring himself to keep going, to move past and head home. The flow of words lulled and he found himself hovering close to you, above you like he had in the kitchen of your abuelo’s home. Your eyes flickered across his face, and he watched your tongue wet your lips subconsciously, and it was all over.

Frankie pulled you into him, kissing you as gently as he could manage. He meant for you to be able to pull away, if you wanted to - if it was too much, all of the information. You didn’t take it, kissing him back and letting him press into you until your back was against the cool metal of the car.

When you had watched them play, really watched and understood, Frankie had loved the way you looked at him, had thought nothing would feel better than your adoration.

He was wrong.

Feeling you in his arms, pinned between his body and your car, kissing him back like you wanted this as much as he did was the most intense thing he’d ever experienced.

Pulling back, his voice was rough as he asked you if you’d want to talk, sometimes soon, just you and him. You were just as breathless as he was, and your affirmation felt as good as a homerun. When he stepped fully back so you could open the driver’s side door, your head ducked as you smiled at him, and he wanted to eat you alive.

But he let you go, and as you drove away he thought about stealing after you, but he didn’t. There was a time and place for that, but after such a perfect moment, Frankie was content biding his time. He still had more work to do.

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ushidoux · 4 years

Text

Hesitant (Ushijima x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 3350 words (I can’t believe I wrote this much)

Summary: You find out why Ushijima has been a little hesistant about things getting too steamy between you. NSFW.

A/N: This is awkward af and quite cracky but hopefully in an endearing way.

---

Ushijima Wakatoshi was essentially perfect.

Just the right amount of unexpectedly charming and unintentionally hilarious, the man had a way of tugging at your heartstrings with even the most basic gestures. The way he reached for your hand instinctively when you met up with him after your college courses, the softening of his usual glower as he turned in your direction in response to your voice calling his name, or the short but sweet morning texts - all things that made your heart swell for him.

He was straightforward and most importantly, explicit with his actions from the very first moment you got involved. You never got the impression you were being strung along and despite how hyperaware you were about the ills of the current dating landscape, not once did you consider the possibility of getting ghosted or benched.

Weeks then months passed and you fell fast for him. You were in love.

In love with everything: his facial expressions, whether serious or smiling, his dedication to his craft, his warm, large hands, the timbre of his voice and the way it softened especially for you...

He was perfect.

But when your third month anniversary (not that you were keeping track, of course) came and passed and you had not yet had that kind of intimacy, you could no longer ignore the ache in your core he left you with after his lips parted from you minutes into a deep, passionate kiss...

Or worse - when he came from behind and held you tightly around the waist, the familiar but not-familiar-enough bulge between his legs pressing against your lower back and demanding your attention in a different way Toshi did.

In mere moments, every touch went from wanted and appreciated to craved and needed, and it began to hurt.

Why was he holding back?

“T-toshi?” You mumbled, interrupting your makeout session by pulling back from him as far as you could with your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Mm…?” His eyes connected to yours then slid back down to your lips, wanting, waiting for you to continue. Was he actually listening? You weren’t quite sure, but his hold on your hips firmed, keeping you steadily settled in his lap. He rested his chin on your shoulder, making sure to keep you close, and you could feel his heartbeat, slightly quickened as he waited for you to speak.

You wished he would look at you when you asked this next question but instead you pressed your cheek to his.

“Do you find me attractive?”

Your voice came out somewhere between soft and assertive, and you could feel Ushijima tense ever so slightly before straightening his back so that he was looking straight at you. His hands didn’t move from where they rested on your side and he remained very still, as he did often when he was unsure of what to do next.

His face remained unreadable and the behavior didn’t reassure you.

“Well, do you?” You pressed, your voice smaller this time.

“Why do you think otherwise?”

His deep voice was almost as quiet as yours, and he sounded almost apologetic. You felt a small weight land in the pit of your stomach, embarrassed to have made the mood so awful. But you couldn’t help what you wanted. You could feel that familiar heat rising within the space between your legs, and your breathing was getting quicker and raspier, and his hands had been roaming... A large hand had slipped under your shirt, then under your brassiere to palm and caress a breast, and suddenly his tongue was down your throat, and you knew soon he would stop and you would be left to smile and bite your lip while he hastily made up an excuse to leave.

Was it you? Was it him?

Your arms slowly slid down from around Ushijima’s neck and dropped into your lap. A small frown crossed his face very briefly in response and he gently withdrew his hands from where they held you.

You sat quietly together for a moment as you attempted to formulate words to express how you felt. Horny? Yes. Desired? You weren’t sure, and that was the issue.

“Sometimes, I feel like…,” you trailed off, carefully scrutinizing Ushijima’s face for a reaction. He continued to watch you cautiously, and you grimaced before continuing. Confrontation wasn’t your strong point, but communication was a must.

“I feel like things escalate and then… stop.” You paused there, and he tilted his head slightly. You mentally scolded yourself, knowing very well that you weren’t doing a great job of making sense, but in that surprisingly intuitive way of his, he seemed to know exactly what you meant.

“You don’t want me to stop,” he said, slowly.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you repeated, warmth flooding your cheeks once again. “U-unless you’re not ready to, you know, have sex... I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to coerce you into doing something that you don’t want to do, I just-”

You were interrupted by Ushijima’s hands finding their way back onto your hips again, and then standing you up completely straight so that he could rise to his full height. Seeing him tower over you now suddenly, you swallowed hard once. He could be so intimidating without meaning to, even if he was unequivocally sweet with you.

He let out a wistful sigh and ran a hand through his hair with his eyes closed before refocusing his gaze back onto you - you who were now standing awkwardly, twiddling your thumbs as you waited for him to decide to either tell you he was interested in touching and kissing but not outright having sex with you (but maybe some day!) or to just walk out the door never to be seen again without even bothering with an explanation.

Instead, he suddenly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, to your surprise.

“Wait, Toshi! Now?” You almost shrieked as he almost hastily undressed his lower half in the middle of your apartment without a single qualm. He was already unfastening his belt before he stopped to look at you - a good thing because your heart was now beating so fast in your chest, you were sure you were going to become lightheaded enough to pass out.

“We can if you want to. I’ve wanted to for a while now,” he replied, and to those simple words, your heart started to flutter and both elated and aroused you were again.

“The problem is, I was, and still am, a little worried that I might hurt you,” he started, and you wondered why he would be concerned about such a thing up until his pants dropped to his ankles, and your eyes grew wide as you realized what the limiting factor may have been. No wonder he had been avoiding sex for so long.

“I’m a bit large down there, it turns out.”

Large is an understatement, you thought, your eyes glued helplessly to the thing hanging between his legs. For the second time tonight, you swallowed hard - for once, you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

---

One very efficient store trip, a couple extra-large condoms, and a generous amount of lube later, you knelt across from Ushijima onto your large bed, your heart pounding again. Both of you were now stripped down to the bare flesh and while you wanted to drool over the sight of his bare chest and indulge in the feeling of his weight pressed against your body, you found yourself movement paralyzed, unsure of what to do next.

You had felt silly asking him to redress again so you could go out and buy supplies, but the truth was you needed time to come up with a game plan. Anyone who saw that monster cock for the first time would take a pause. Would you be able to take all of that? Could anyone take all of that?

“___, are you okay? You’re staring.”

You were trying to figure out if the condoms would fit him, then thanked the heavens that you were on the pill anyway if the condoms broke by any chance. When he waved his hand in your face, you were brought back into the reality of the here and now. You nodded, but the thinly veiled distress on your always expressive face was starting to remind him of the many locker room jokes and nicknames he’d endured once he’d reached the end of puberty.

Spear Ushijima was the first to come to mind and he grimaced, then rested back into a sitting position, cross-legged on the bed.

“We don’t have to do anything, I understand.” he said, flatly. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed it, concerned that he would look too upset. He smiled now instead to mask his disappointment and reached his arms out for you.

“We can cuddle. Oh, but if you would prefer that I put my clothes back on, I could do that too,” he said hurriedly, getting up to make his way off the bed, but you interrupted him by moving close and pressing a hand on his chest.

“Wait.”

And his surprised expression turned to another smile, more genuine this time, and he relaxed into your touch.

“___,” he whispered your name softly. You smiled, then keeping your eyes in fierce contact with his, you reached down to wrap your fingers around his considerable length. Even only semi-hard, the girth was impressive and you could feel the warmth shuttling in as he became aroused. His mouth parted just slightly in surprise.

“Are you sure?” His voice was already thick with lust.

“Yes,” you whispered, “but we’ll have to take it slow.” You added a smile to that last part and leaned forward to peck him on the lips once before you started to stroke him up and down his shaft.

He let out a soft moan and leaned back, watching you carefully as you worked your hand up and down his penis. You could tell he was trying very hard to keep still and let things run at your pace, and you relished in the opportunity fully.

“That… feels really good, ____,” he offered, his voice low and husky, and encouraged by his words, you added another hand, offering a few more pumps to his length before the piece de resistance to your lovely handjob, the application of your soft lips to his waiting cockhead.

He was already leaking a little precum, you could tell by the salt on your tongue as you licked at the slit at the tip of his member. He let out a low groan, and you could feel his muscles tense beneath you as he rose quickly.

“Y-you don’t have to if you don’t want-” he started, but you wouldn’t let him interrupt what you had going on.

“I want to, Toshi!” You exclaimed, almost indignantly, and as if to supplant that claim, you descended as far down his shaft as you could go in a fluid motion, but then to your misfortune, you must have triggered your gag reflex because you choked once then twice, and pulled yourself back to cough once more.

“Babe, are you okay?!”

Ushijima shot up like a board to hold you steady by the shoulders while you coughed, and as tears started to form in your eyes, you took one glance at his intense look of concern and you burst into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?”

You doubled over onto him, laughing even more against his chest, which only made him more concerned as he wrapped you in his arms.

“I told you this was dangerous and this is why I held myself back, ___.”

You pulled back once more, tears welling into your eyes as you finally said through snorts:

“Can you PLEASE stop acting like your dick is a lethal weapon?”

The look on Ushijima’s face was that of such extreme shock that you were pretty sure you would never stop laughing, that your fate was now to perpetually cackle until you died of asphyxiation. He frowned again, and you felt just a little bad but still the mixture of stress and confusion and awkwardness and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation rendered you unable to stop.

And finally he added, “It might be funny to you but I’ve never done this before.”

That sobered you up enough that you actually did cease chuckling, and with a final, unintentional chuckle, you faced him seriously this time, your faces only inches apart.

“Is it really your first time?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Another silence hung in the air, maybe because it was hard for you to believe that no one had ever touched him in this way or maybe because despite the fact that he looked either mildly irritated or severely embarrassed, you could still feel his erection hard against your lower belly and you weren’t sure if that meant you should continue (and to be honest, you really wanted to) or that sex was off the table for the time being.

But his arms were still wrapped around you, and you could feel the thump of his heart against your chest, and you wanted him, and you believed he wanted you too, and suddenly it was silly that you had been so intimidated in the first place.

Again you were caught staring into his eyes, and you felt warm again - different layering types of warm.

“Do you want to continue?” The two of you asked, almost in unison. You could hear the hint of persuasion, the please say yes in his voice.

You smiled, and pressed your lips to his again, and a hand went into your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and a hand went around your waist, securing you firmly against his body. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your tongues danced together again, and when your hand found its way again around his member, he tensed for a moment, but then in a decision to ignore his reservations, broke your embrace to pepper kisses along your neck and into your bosom.

You moaned and arched your back, gripping his member just a little tighter, and he took the opportunity to circle his tongue around your nipple before taking the mound in your mouth.

Consumed in the feeling of him suckling you, you were unprepared for the thick fingers that found their way around and then onto your clit, rubbing gentle circles that sparked waves of pleasure through you. Another moan escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, and then he slid a finger inside you, pressing just hard enough and in just the right place that you jerked almost violently against him.

His finger slipped out almost as fast as it had gone in.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, it felt good!” You reassured him. “P-please continue.”

He nodded, and replaced his finger, pressing more gingerly this time, using the slowing and deepening of your breaths to guide him. You occupied your mouth again with kisses along his collarbones, onto the expanse of his broad chest, pressing your breasts against him, rolling against him. His breaths also started to slow as he fell in rhythm with the way your hips moved, and when he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he flipped you over onto your back so that you lay beneath him.

A pause.

His olive eyes scanned you ravenously, and you could hear the hunger sealed within his breathy sighs, as he hovered over you. Your half-lidded eyes, your body warm and receptive and waiting for him, stating in every way possible that you wanted him - it was like a dream for him. He had wanted this for so long, to know what your insides would feel like around him, to know if he too, could make you scream his name in pleasure not pain, to do what his friends and teammates did with their partners, and now here you were, laid out for him like a whole meal.

“Are you ready?”

You didn’t look down at the warm, throbbing length resting on right on your pubic area, but instead at him, your gentle giant, and nodded.

“Yes.”

You closed your eyes and shivered ever so slightly at the sensation of lubricant being slathered right at the opening of your vagina. You could feel him repositioning himself right at your entrance, and trying to stay as relaxed as possible for him, you waited for him to enter you.

And he did, interlacing fingers with yours as he broke through your sopping entrance, feeling your hold tighten around his and hearing your breath hitch then relax as his cockhead made it through you.

Then he stopped so you could adjust to the stretch, and he rested on his elbows, trying to rub the wince out of your facial expression with a caress of the cheek.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Keep going.”

He pushed a little further and you uttered another low moan with the painful, yet pleasurable stretch, and he almost felt guilty for how good you felt around him, how desperately he wanted to fill you up all at once, how aroused he was by the sound of your whimper as you felt him.

“K-keep going,” you mewled as soon as he stopped to let you adjust, and he worried that he really would tear you apart this time, but you clung to his chest again and his desire to go as far into your guts as possible was too much for him to bear.

A groan and he was in almost to the hilt, and he wiped the tears forming in your eyes as you endured the searing pain, the pressure of him stretching you to your limit. The fact that he wasn’t moving was starting to become excruciating for you, and you began to squirm under his weight, indicating your wishes.

“Are you okay, my love?” He murmured carefully.

“Toshi, m-move, please…”

He obliged, withdrawing just a bit to crash back into you, and you cried out but not in pain, in a strangled cry of pleasure.

“Toshi!”

Again!

He could hear the cry for more in the way you said his name and the force with which you dug your nails into his back and again he obliged, thrusting into you again, and you could feel your head spin.

Again!

He settled into a rhythm and stroke after stroke you could feel yourself wind up, your cries and moans and grunts of pleasure loud and clear for him, for all to hear.

“Toshi- ah~!”

His pace quickened every time you called his name and his angle changed so that he was deep enough that it was almost uncomfortable (almost), and he was now grunting, sweating, making sure to leave no part of you untouched. Your thighs clamped around his waist and you muffled your cries into the meat of his shoulder, clinging to him so tightly you thought you would meld into one.

Ushijima was moaning your name now, enthralled by the way your insides, your outsides clamped onto him, claimed his body for you, and he couldn’t believe he had been nervous about this part of the relationship, you had been perfect every other way…

Your coil snapped suddenly, and your orgasm rippled through you like electricity, and now he was muffling your moans with his tongue down your throat, fingers wrapped firmly around your jaw keeping you in place.

“You came?” He whispered in a gruff voice, now into the space between your breasts, his dick still throbbing and twitching within you. The thrum of yes vibrating through your body brought a grin to his face.

He rose up off your body again so he could look at your eyes, glazed over in a love-drunken haze, and finally, he was no longer concerned but confident - dare you say it, cocky - as he hovered above you.

“Let’s aim for at least twice tonight.”

A promise he kept.

The first time would be a time to remember, in more ways than one.

#mae.writing #daddyjima #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #not sfw #wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima #wakatoshi #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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hey! idk if you've seen that cut video about how couples sleep together but i just cant stop thinking about the team doing it. It would be SO cute with your amazing writing :))

Thank you! I absolutely adore this video and I’ve watched it probably twenty times--each couple is just so cute! Quick disclaimer: while this may seem a little odd, since the Lions are basically celebrities, I think the channel wanted to do it to show the diversity of the team and emphasize love above everything else. Hope you enjoy!

“Hey, Lions!” Marlene says cheerfully, waving to the camera. She stands alone in the studio for once. “We have something a little different for you today. Four of the couples on the team agreed to let us record them sleeping for a night, which we’ve combined with short interviews from each of them. Hope you enjoy!”

The video cuts and a title card appears, reading Couple Number One: James and Lily Potter.

Their bedroom is moderately sized, with a crib at the foot of the bed and a fluffy red comforter that accents their walls. James is partially visible as he brushes his teeth, but Lily is fully in frame in her oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants while she climbs into bed with Harry in her arms.

“How long have you been together?” Marlene asks in a voiceover.

“We’ve been married for just over six months,” James’ voice says; on the screen, he walks out of the bathroom and tucks his legs up to kiss the tops of Lily and Harry’s heads. “But we dated for several years before that.”

“What time do you normally go to bed?”

“Maybe eight? Eight-thirty?” Lily says. Sure enough, the clock on their nightstand reads 8:07. “We stay up after the baby’s gone to sleep, though.”

“What story are we doing tonight, kiddo?” James asks, pressing a raspberry kiss to Harry’s belly until baby giggles fill the bedroom. “How about…Make Way For Ducklings?”

“Ducky!” Harry squeals, reaching for his glasses.

“Alright, baby love.” Lily smiles as she takes a book of the nightstand and opens it up.

“Would you say you sleep well?” Marlene asks.

“Oh, that’s a tough question,” James says—in the bedroom, he and Lily take turns reading pages to Harry as he sits between them and points to the ducks. “It’s better now that he can sleep through the night. I’d say we get a solid seven hours each night, maybe more.”

“I wake up pretty often because I worry,” Lily adds.

“Do either of you talk in your sleep?”

She laughs. “No, thankfully. Once we’re out, we’re out until morning.”

“What’s your body language like?”

“I’m cuddly,” James says with a light laugh. In the video, he wraps an arm around Lily’s shoulders and traces the picture book with one finger, kissing Harry’s chubby baby hand. “She likes to starfish.”

“We’re both big cuddlers,” Lily agrees. The video skips forward in time, showing Lily lowering Harry into his crib while James grabs his phone off the nightstand and squints at it.

They curl up together while the clock continues to tick, and an hour or so later they put their phones away and snuggle under the covers. The night goes on and, slowly, Lily begins to splay out on the mattress, her hair in every direction as James keeps one arm securely around her waist. During a brief pause, their snoring harmonizes.

Harry wakes up just past four with a sniffle and babbles for a moment until James stands up, taking him out of his crib and humming softly as he bounces him; Lily barely flinches. “Baba,” Harry mumbles while he holds on to the edge of James’ shirt. “Baba, baba, baba.”

“Shh, buddy.” James touches their forehead together before setting him back down in the crib. “Sweet dreams. I love you.”

Marlene’s voiceover comes on again as the sun rises outside their window. “What time do you usually wake up?”

“James gets up earlier than I do for practice,” Lily says. A soft alarm jingles on the nightstand and James clumsily turns it off, scrubbing at his eyes for a second before digging his glasses out of the nightstand and sitting up—he leans over to kiss Lily’s forehead before getting up for real.

“Around seven, seven-thirty usually,” James confirms. “I don’t actually know what time you get up most weekdays.”

“Oh, probably eight-thirty or nine? Once Harry’s up, I’m up.”

Marlene hums. “How important is your bedroom to you? What about your bed?”

“Both are so important.” James doesn’t hesitate. “Evenings and nights are the longest period of time we spend together because of my job.”

“It’s a very safe space,” Lily says. “Life is so hectic, but once we’re in bed we don’t have to go anywhere else.”

The bedroom disappears—Lily and James sit in chairs in the Lion Pride studio with Marlene across from them. “Thanks so much for joining us today, you guys!” she says with a smile. “I’m really looking forward to filming this video.”

Couple Number Two: Kasey Winter and Natalie Darcy

Their bedroom is smaller than the Potters’ and painted light blue with large windows. Outside, night has fallen and the light of the city shines through their blinds as Kasey closes them; Natalie is already in bed, reading a paperback with her legs crossed on top of the blankets.

Kasey turns the light off and climbs in next to her, resting his head on her thigh as he dozes off and she continues to read by her bedside lamp. “Goodnight,” he murmurs. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Natalie smiles and runs her fingers through his hair.

“How long have you been together?” Marlene asks.

“We’ve been dating for four years now,” Kasey’s voice says. In their bedroom, the video speeds up until eleven thirty, when Natalie puts her book down and settles into Kasey’s arms.

“Do you go to bed early or late? It’s just the two of you, right?”

“Right. Kase likes going to bed before me because he has to get up earlier, but I’m a night owl.”

“Does that make it hard for you to sleep well?”

“Not at all,” Kasey says. “She sleeps like a log and I’m always careful not to wake her up on workdays. We like to sleep in on days off.”

Marlene hums in agreement. “Do either of you talk in your sleep?”

“Nope. I’m a light sleeper, so it’s nice that neither of us do it.”

The video continues through the night and sure enough, the only sound is their soft breathing; Natalie presses against Kasey’s chest with an arm over his shoulders. “What’s your body language like when you sleep? Are you cuddlers?”

“I love cuddles!” Kasey says with an almost-audible smile. Sure enough, he snuggles into Natalie with a soft sigh as the clock on their wall turns to 4 am.

“How many hours of sleep do you get every night?” Marlene asks.

They take a moment to think, and the sun begins to shine through their bedroom window. “Ten to six am is…about eight hours? I can get by on six, though.”

“I need a solid eight, eight and a half to function,” Natalie says. “Though sometimes I’ll get up and do something before going back to bed until nine.”

“How important is your bedroom to you?”

“That’s a good question.” Kasey hums in thought. “I value it a lot because it’s a place to be close to her, and that’s hard to get when we’re both so busy.”

“I agree.”

On screen, Kasey’s alarm begins to ring and he stretches, gently detaching Natalie’s hold and kissing her shoulder as he pulls the blankets up to her chin and slides out of bed. “Have a good day, baby,” she mumbles sleepily.

“Love you,” he whispers back as he brushes her hair out of her eyes.

The video cuts; Kasey and Natalie have taken James and Lily’s places. “Thanks for agreeing to do this, guys!” Marlene says.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Natalie says with a slight smile.

Couple Number 3: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin

The third bedroom is cluttered and neat at the same time. Knickknacks line the dresser and various items are scattered on the nightstand, but the floor is clean and the dark blue bedspread is tidy as Remus reads against the headboard. On the other side of the room, Sirius stops midway through brushing his teeth to change into a sleep shirt and Remus laughs at his muffled grumbling.

“How long have you been together?” Marlene asks again in her voiceover.

“We’ve been dating for over a year now,” Remus says.

“What time do you go to bed?”

“Oh, maybe ten pm? Eleven?” Sirius guesses. “Whenever we’re tired.”

The clock reads ten forty-five as Sirius gets under the covers and wraps his arms around Remus’ torso, cuddling against his waist and leg while Remus strokes his hair. Ten minutes pass until he puts the book down and turns off the light before scooting back against Sirius’ chest to be the little spoon. “Love you,” he says quietly.

Sirius kisses behind his ear. “Je t’aime.”

“What’s your body language like when you sleep?” Marlene asks. “Cap, everyone knows about your famous cuddles.”

He snorts. “Usually we spoon, but sometimes it changes up.”

“We kind of have to spoon,” Remus laughs. “You’d wake up on the floor otherwise.”

“I would not!” Sirius protests. In the video, an hour has passed, and he unconsciously tries to roll over Remus, who reaches up and pushes his shoulder back without opening his eyes. He shifts a few more times before settling down.

“Do you talk in your sleep as well?” Marlene continues.

Remus sighs. “No, that would be me.”

“It’s cute and awful at the same time,” Sirius says. “On one hand, it wakes me up, but on the other, we have the best conversations.”

At 2:12 am, Remus scrunches his nose up in his sleep. “Hey. Hey.”

Sirius huffs and cracks an eye open. “Quoi?”

“Go away.”

There’s a pause and Sirius sits up, clearly still half-asleep. “Huh?”

“The cat’s in the garden, dumbass. That cat—the cat is in the garden.”

With a heavy sigh, Sirius gets under the covers again and wraps his arms around Remus. “Okay, mon coeur.”

“Blueberry milkshake.”

“That doesn’t exist.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Shut up, Pots, nobody asked you.” Remus says playfully, then hums and pulls Sirius closer. “Bonjour, honey. Je t’aime.”

In the voiceover, Marlene laughs. “What do you two talk about?”

“Oh, everything,” Sirius replies.

An hour and a half passes in fast motion on screen; they move around a little bit, but overall stay cuddled up and comfortable. “The tea. Honey, the tea. Tea’s burning.”

Sirius reaches over and puts his hand over Remus’ mouth gently. “Shhh.”

“Tea’s burning,” Remus repeats, though his voice is muffled until he bats Sirius’ hand away. “Hugs and kisses, hugs and kisses.”

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s the meaning of life?”

Remus is quiet for a beat. “Pun’kin pie.”

“Why do you talk in your sleep?”

“I love you.”

“How could we have done better in our last game?” Sirius is grinning now and rubbing slow circles over Remus’ back. “I was a little worried about our defense.”

“Hmm. Apples.” Remus turns over and nuzzles against Sirius. “See you later, alligator.”

Sirius shakes with suppressed laughter for a moment until the voiceover starts again. “What time do you wake up in the morning?” Marlene asks. “Practice starts pretty early.”

“Sirius wakes up earlier than I do, but we don’t get out of bed until seven-ish,” Remus says, sounding far more awake than he did in the video. “We try to aim for eight hours of sleep, but that doesn’t always happen.”

“How important is your bedroom?”

Sunlight streams through the cracks in the blinds at six am, lighting up Remus’ face on one side as Sirius starts to wake up. He pauses with a smile and runs his thumb along Remus’ cheek before kissing his forehead and settling onto his back.

“Our bedroom is really important,” Sirius answers. “It’s a safe space where there’s no pressure to do anything and we can just be ourselves.”

Remus smacks his alarm at six-thirty and starts sitting up, only for Sirius to wrap all four limbs around him and drag him back down for more cuddles; Remus laughs, but happily obliges. The camera cuts out just as they start getting out of bed half an hour later.

“Thanks for answering my questions,” Marlene says with a grin. “I gotta say, I’m looking forward to the sleep talking.”

“It’s so funny,” Sirius snickers.

Remus rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Yeah, yeah, alright. Exploit me in my most vulnerable state, why don’t you?”

Couple Number 4: Pascal and Celeste Dumais

“We have been married for fifteen years,” Dumo says as the video begins.

Celeste is already out cold in the bed while he tiptoes around their bedroom, sliding in next to her as quietly as possible; she smiles in her sleep and scoots over to lay her head on his shoulder. It’s clearly a comfortable place for them—the walls are a warm beige and a colorful quilt lays heavy across the sheets.

“Do you sleep well?”

“Sometimes,” Celeste says. “We sleep better now that the kids are older, but I wake up a lot in the middle of the night because I still worry about them.”

“How many hours of sleep do you think you get?”

“Oh, probably seven? I go to bed early, though.”

“I get a steady six to eight,” Dumo says.

“Do you sleepwalk or talk?”

Celeste laughs as Dumo groans. “He used to sleepwalk, but after the kids were born there wasn’t enough consistent sleep to do it anymore.”

In the dark of their bedroom, Dumo moves around quite a lot—he rolls onto his back, then his side, then curls around Celeste, then lays a little bit sideways before she quietly shushes him just past 3 am and puts her hand on his chest. He sighs and leans his head against hers with a drowsy half-smile.

“Do you cuddle?” Marlene asks.

“Sometimes,” Dumo says. “Though we’ve been together for so long that we don’t really have to. I always know where she is.”

“That’s adorable,” Marlene says at the same time Celeste makes a soft sound of affection. “What time do you wake up?”

There is one window in their bedroom, high on the western wall, that shows the slowly-lightening sky. When the clock strikes six, both of them stretch and roll onto their backs, though they stay close enough to share body heat as Dumo combs his fingers through Celeste’s long hair.

“Around six. It’s easier to get up early now that we’re older,” Dumo says. “Besides, the kids don’t get up until later, so we finally get some time to ourselves.”

“Bonjour, mon amour,” Celeste murmurs in the video with a sleepy smile, pressing kisses to Dumo’s cheek. “Hmm, je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime, ma jolie chérie.”

The video returns to the studio after that; Dumo and Celeste hold hands while they talk, and Marlene puts away her notecards with a smile. “Thank you for agreeing to do this, it means a lot. We tried to get a variety of different couples for this and I’m sure the video will turn out great.”

“Ne rien. Good luck with filming!”

A final title card appears. Thanks for watching, Lions! Be sure to like and subscribe for more content.

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alreadyblondenow · 3 years

Text

Paint the lot red | Qian Kun

Qian Kun x Reader

▸ FLUFF, ANGST, Smut, Vampire au ▸ Part of the Stephen King’s collab, hosted by @starryqian & @takitaro ▸ Inspired by Stephen King’s, Salem’s Lot

Summary: Kun is a vampire, buying humans in exchange for immortality. He wanted to buy you and your house, but love changes everything. Convincing each other to be something you’re not. Kun wants to turn you into a vampire, but you want him to embrace being a human. Will Kun leave his family for you? Or you will accept the immortality he offers?

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: mentions of car crash, family loss, Vanilla sex, depression from family loss, bloodsucking, virginity loss, unprotected sex, swearing, major character death, blood, mentions of alcohol, depression

A/N: Salem’s Lot is a handful but great book. I can’t follow the entire plot of Stephen King’s work, so heres my version of it. This is also inspired by Vampires VS. The Bronx... HAHAHA so, here. And sorry if the ending is SLIGHTLY close to my Jaehyun’s Body, but I plotted this first so 🤷🏼‍♀️

Tag list: @jimjamjaemin @inseonqt @thefouranemoi @jaehyunoos @sunshinedhyuck @neospirited @shanghai-lu @loeygotospacenow @mal-nakamoto23 @svteencarat @commentgirl @yukine-smx (I hope I did not missed anyone)

NEWS FLASH: The family of the famous writer Y/N, died in a car crash on their way to the airport for a family trip to Hawaii. All four passengers are dead on arrival including the driver. The funeral will be closed and private, as per the writer Y/N’s request.

The sky has your favorite shade of orange when you arrived at the house. Home, you thought. Always the same big house that you grew up to. It’s been almost ten years since you step foot in this house and seeing it again for the first time made you regret every Christmas that you purposely missed just so you can avoid spending time with your family. And besides feeling that you’re home, you feel regret suffocating you. What was I thinking, you murmured. This house used to be filled with laughter and happiness. Nights where you and your family will watch TV together in the living room with all the lights closed, countless meals together and talking about random stuff while eating, drinking coffee with your mother, playing board games with your brother. But now, the house is filled with dust and despair.

The house feels cold and dirty but either way, it’s what you need. You would rather feel the emptiness of this big house and miss your family than be alone in your apartment. Maybe being home can make you write something worth reading for again, maybe being home will help you be alive again. Losing your whole family is a different kind of pain. The word ‘alone’ does not cover what you’re feeling right now.

It has been nine months since the accident but the sad news is still fresh in your heart that sometimes when you remember it, you just turned into stone and start crying out of nowhere. Thankfully, the town was understanding enough about what you’re going through in life. They were all careful not to make you remember your family’s death, and made sure to take care of you in ways that they can.

“I see some stores are closing? What happened to Miguel’s Ice Cream shop?” you asked Sophie, the owner of the small grocery store in town. You’ve known her since you were just a little girl, and your mother and father helped her grow her business.

“Well, since your father’s death there's this vampire family who’s been buying the whole town. One by one, Qian Properties. Offering money and immortality as payments” she says. The worry in her tone is quite evident as if she knew that vampires will soon knock on her store and offer her the same thing. Money and immortality.

After your family’s passing, the world has gone mad like they took every good thing from this world with them on their graves. Crazy how in nine months the things that are used to be fiction like vampires, are now the new normal. Everything happened so fast. Their kind grew and grew and now their population covers over almost 1/4 of the world. Vampires school, condominiums for vampires, hotel ran by vampires, humans being vampires. It’s crazy. But even though the world has gone mad, it doesn’t bother you because the pain that you’re dealing with right now is taking too much of your sanity.

As months slowly pass by, even though you hate writing right now, you still try and find your way back to loving what you used to do for a living. Writing was everything to you. There’s no greater feeling than sharing something you’ve created to the world, show it entirely, and watch the people love every bit of that thick thing we called a book. You lost your spark with writing when the accident happened and it changed your life. Everything you published became the talk of the world, people hating it and blaming what happened to your family. It was your darkest time. Losing your family and watching your career end.

You type, delete over and over again, and tried writing your feelings away until you see the sun setting again. A good reminder to call it a day. Then someone rang your doorbell. You quickly grabbed your robe and make your way downstairs, you see a man’s figure on the other side of the gate, wearing a nice suit, black trousers, and nice leather shoes.

“Good evening. I hope I did not interrupt you, I’m Qian Kun” he offered his hand for you to shake it which you accepted with a straight face. Qian. The family name of the vampires who are buying properties in this town and you’re not stupid to not know what he came here for. You wanted to shoo him away and tell him that you’re not interested in anything that he will offer. You have a lot of money and you don’t need immortality.

You crossed your arms and waited for him to talk more. “May I come in? I’m looking forward to this meeting for quite some time now” he says. You turned around and did not say anything but left the gate wide open. “Please” he added and he sounded desperate.

“Mr. Qian, I left the door open. What are you waiting for?”

“I- I suppose you don’t know that vampires cannot come in unless you invite them in” you didn’t of course.

“I’m sorry. I did not know. Please come in”

When you two settled in the living room, he started the conversation by introducing himself. You notice that he’s well mannered, polite, and careful with his words. He doesn’t sound fake like the monsters who pretend to care for you in the writing industry. Kun was straightforward without offending you, intimidating but not enough to make you feel small. He stated his intentions very clearly, “As a firstborn, I want my family to have a nice home. And this house is perfect. You will not be homeless, of course. We will find you a new house, cash, and immortality” he says.

You couldn’t agree more with what Kun told you. But the reason that he’s here to buy your house is something you can’t let him do. Even if he’s polite, nice, and handsome if you’re being honest. You can’t let him take away your home.

“It’s good that you love your family so much and you’re taking care of them. Something that I regret not doing” you take a sip from your coffee before you continue saying something that will bring you to tears, “are you aware that I lost my family, about a year ago?” you were calm when you said it, but it still hurt like hell. Admitting that they’re gone.

Kun was speechless. He felt like he ruined your peace and your time to mourn your family but most of all, it felt like he’s disrespecting you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know” is all he can say.

“I have way too much money and I don’t want immortality. Thank you for your offer, but this is all I’ve got”

“I cherish my family too. I have a family and we don't have a home, you don’t have a family but you have a home. Be part of us, we can be your family”

You got offended, but still, there’s not enough reason to burst out and be hysterical. You gave him a small smile and shook your head, “Good luck finding a home Mr. Qian. I admire you taking care of your family”

The night ended coldly, both disappointed with personal reasons. Although he felt sorry about his visit, he still got his eyes on the prize. Kun will stand his ground and will try over and over again until you say yes to his offer. You, on the other hand, don’t know why you have a soft spot for the vampire even though he already offended you. Maybe it’s because you were moved for his honest reasons that you can’t let out your anger towards him even if you force yourself. He was just trying and finding his family a stable home, no need to get mad, you said to yourself.

As days go by, the vampire did not give up as expected. He continued his visit and greet you with the sweetest smile. He tried pursuing you, giving you flowers, bringing you books to read, chocolates, fruits, anything that crosses his mind that will try to change your decision. He was desperate for his family’s sake and it was obvious.

Sophie said that Qian properties chose this place because it’s far from the city. There’s a lot of trees and the neighborhood is peaceful. “That’s why he’s desperate. Your father made this town great. Don’t let that Qian family eat up of what your father built” she says sternly.

You walked alone to your house with a bag of take out, thinking of other ways to make your meal even more delicious. Since you’re alone in life, you don’t have someone to cook you a decent meal. When you were living alone in the city, you have your manager cook you good food. But now that you’re completely alone, you just have to make the best out of this take out.

“Hi” of course the vampire waited for you to come home. You smiled and let out a small laugh because both of his hands are carrying grocery bags.

“What are you doing? I have food and enough stocks for a whole family, and I live alone” It was a joke. You giggle and opened the gate, this time you did not forget to invite him in.

“That’s not why I’m here. I’m here as a friend a new vampire friend- Let me cook for you please, I need a friend”

Hearing him say those words made you think that Kun is a blessing in disguise. Finally, decent food. You don’t want to admit but having Kun’s company tonight made you feel happy. Not genuinely happy of course, but it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Surprisingly, he’s talkative but not annoying. The words that came out from his mouth made sense to the point that you’re learning new things from him. He was right, he’s here as a friend and not as a buyer of your house.

“Why do you want my house so bad?” you asked. Stirring the spaghetti sauce that he made.

“Hmm. I thought I’m here as a friend?” he smiles and refuses to answer your question. He looked handsome up close, but his unbelievably white skin is scary. It reminded you that he’s a vampire.

“Well okay, if you don’t want to answer that question. I didn’t know vampires eat. I thought you only drink blood from humans” you quickly changed the subject so he can feel comfortable.

“I love food and I love cooking. It’s my guilty pleasure. It doesn’t make me full, but if what I made taste good then I’m satisfied” he answered your question with a big smile. Proud and happy to talk about how he loves cooking.

For someone who doesn’t have a soul, Kun is a vampire full of life. You listen to him talk about the things he sees on TV and watches his eyes show you and tell you how he’s curious about the world. He’s well aware that there's so much you can do in a lifetime, he wanted to learn many things and go around the world. He’s almost more human than you are. “Well if you have all these dreams of yours why don’t you embrace life instead of living in the shadows for your family?” you hope he answers your question this time.

“My family is more important than my dreams and my wants in life. The things that I long for will forever be in this world, but my family can die anytime-“ he realized what he just said, “I’m- I’m sorry. I got carried away. Please- Uh, how’s the food?” he tried changing the subject but it was too late.

He’s right. Everything he said is right and you’re realizing it just now, “I wish I met you before my family died. Unlike you, I chose my dreams and turned my back against my family. And now I’m regretting it. Don’t worry, you didn’t offend me and the food is great. Really great” your tone was slowly turning sad and gloomy. The vampire was quick to be concerned but he can’t do anything to help you heal. So, he changed the mood and joked about offering you immortality and you argued with him and tried convincing him to embrace being human. It was a friendly debate that made him blush and your heart flutter.

Kun hates lying, even to himself. As he listens and watches you speak very closely while you drink your wine, he's slowly liking you and he's not afraid of what he's feeling right now. He loves how you talk about the things you've experienced already like he's listening to a book about wonders. You must be a great writer. The whole time you were talking about your first book to him, he was really impressed by your talent but he can't listen to you further. Instead, he just admired you closely.

Then he kissed you.

He noticed how your lips were plump and red because of the red wine and the kiss was something he can’t control because he wanted to do it. “I’m not sorry about the kiss, I wanted to do it” at least he was honest about what he feels. "Please continue your story" and so you did, but this time you were smiling from ear to ear.

Good things come to an end. You felt that you went out on a date with Kun when the night ended. You felt nothing but happiness, butterflies in your stomach, cheeks hurt because of too much smiling. He flashed those handsome dimples of his and waved goodbye to you. Neither of you wanted to end the night so early but he had to go home to his family.

The next day, while you were trying so hard to put what you feel into writing, you look over the window and hope to see Kun’s figure outside your huge gate. But no, he’s not there. Until the sun is finally setting again and the sky turned into your favorite shade of orange, you were disappointed but only for a short span of time.

The same thing happened for a week. You waited for the vampire to show up outside your gate, but he never did. Maybe he finally gave up.

One fine beautiful evening, you were reading the books Kun gave you while you enjoy a cup of warm tea then your doorbell rang three times that it almost sounded so desperate for attention. Finally, the figure that you’ve been meaning to see showed up. You welcome him in like an old friend and he greets you with an exhausted smile. He looked tired and dull you noticed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t show up for days” you haven’t seen each other for a week and the first words you heard from him are apologies. “I was busy running the family business” he clears his throat and sat comfortably on the couch.

“Which is?” you asked.

“Buying humans so my family name will forever live,” he said oh so cooly. Surprising you with honestly again that never bothered you. In fact, he continues to surprise you. “And looking for a new town to buy” he added. You noticed during your long walks that people in this town continue embracing immortality in exchange for their establishments and loyalty for Qian properties. It sounds complicated, their business, but really it’s not hard to understand. It’s like a normal business that buys and sells properties and a big company that needed a lot of staff. But for Qian properties, lives are involved.

“What happens to the people you turn to vampires?”

“Besides being rich, they will have a long life, my family owns them and as long as they live, they will work for my family. But I can assure you that their lives are safe. We don’t harm them, rather we help them adjust to this new life they swore to- How are you?”

His sudden concern for you caught you off guard that you smiled and became shy in front of him. He’s not here as a businessman again, he’s here as your friend, Kun. Whom you kissed and waited for his presence every day.

“I waited for you every day” he smiled at your honesty. But then, his smile slowly fades away. He holds his chest and pretends that he’s okay to not make you worry. “I’m not stupid you’re hungry. When was the last time you drank blood?” you brought him to your kitchen to give him a plate of raw steak. But he told you steak does not cover it. You were trying so hard to help him ease his hunger. Then you realized, you have blood.

“Try not to kill me? Or turn me?” you exposed your collar bones to him and standup in between his legs. He was sitting on the kitchen counter like a bored teenager with a bottle of water in his hand. He let out a cute laugh and fixed your robe.

“No. I can’t do that to you. I’m not here to ask for blood. I’m just tired and pressured because of my family. I just needed to see you” he smiled so sweetly again, making you fall in love with his gaze. Even though he’s tired and weak to the core he can still make your heart flutter.

“I’m not going to take no for an answer. If you don’t drink my blood, you can never see me again” it was a dangerous bargain but you had to try. You came closer to him, felt his cold skin, smelled his cologne, and hope that he smells your blood. It was a struggle for him and he enjoys your sweet torture. Until he finally gave in.

“Just one swig,” he says.

“That’s all I want to happen. Please, you look dead” you insist.

He took his time untying your robe, remove it from you and watch it hit the tiled kitchen floor. He kissed your neck like the gentleman that he is making you weak and let out soft moans. His lips are cold and it sends a shiver straight to your spine. Then he bit you. Drank your blood like he’s just kissing your neck. It felt like you’re high on drugs, everything kept spinning and the moment he stopped. You feel weak and he was quick to catch you with his strong arms. Kun kissed the part where he had bit you a few seconds ago and kissed you all the way from your collar bone, neck, chin, and finally your lips.

Everything turned slow. Like a moment being kept for safekeeping and no one dares to move too fast. Scared to ruin such a beautiful moment.

You took him to your room and there you two continued that beautiful moment. He watched you remove your clothes in between his legs as he comfortably sits on the edge of your queen-sized bed. Once you discarded all your clothes and exposed your bare body to him, his hands roam freely around your body. It’s his first time, he whispered. “I’ll try not to disappoint you” he promised.

While you help him remove his clothes, Kun learned to kiss your body. He was shy but you told him he doesn’t have to. He learned to kiss your chest, the valley between your boobs and your stomach. “Why are you avoiding my boobs?” you asked with a slight giggle, waiting for his lips to brush your perked nipple and make you shiver. He looked at you directly in the eye as he starts sucking your left nipple, then he turned to your right boob, and in a matter of minutes, he finally learned how to use his tongue. You gasped and breathed in deeply as you were just standing in between his legs, naked, shivering, and moaning at the things he’s been doing to you.

“You’re going to make me cum undone” you informed him. He stopped and leaned back, admiring your swollen nipples as if he’s proud of his work.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked oh so innocently.

“No” you pushed him slowly to the mattress, “But I’d rather cum in other different ways,” you said. This time it’s your turn to kiss his cold body and let him experience the pleasure he’s been giving you. His low groans were music to your ears when you licked his nipples while you unbutton his pants and remove it swiftly leaving him only with his boxers briefs.

Given that this is his first time, you decided to stay on top tonight and take charge. You kissed his abs, feel it with your hands, and took time kissing his lower abdomen, making the vampire impatient and push his underwear down so your lips can finally make contact with his cock. You gave him his first blow job, sucking his dick slowly and pumping it over and over again until it’s really hard and thick. “I promise to give you a proper blowjob someday” you crawled on top of him until your wet folds are coating his cock with your pussy juices.

“I can get addicted to you, you know that?” he says and smiled before you reach for his lips to distract him as you line his cock to your entrance and slowly sink down on him. His reaction was something you will never forget, the sound that he made once he’s fully inside you. You intertwined your fingers with him before you roll your hips deliciously.

“Ready?”

“Yeah- Oh, ahh” he part his lips and did not get shy anymore as he continues to let out his moans and feel your warm walls around him. He pulled your body closer to him, wanting to never leave those beautiful lips of yours. You made his arms rest on your hips, as you bounce up and down on his cock with utmost care. There’s no need to go wild and crazy for tonight. Everything is perfect.

“I’m close” he admitted. But you didn’t stop moving your hips.

“Can you make me pregnant?” you cage his head with your arms, your face is close to him so you can nip his lower lip and kiss him every second.

“I can’t” he answers your question. There was a slight disappointment of course. But this is not the right time to think about having kids.

“What are you waiting for? Let go and cum inside me”

Kun did what you said and had the time of his life, enjoying his first orgasm from having sex. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t cum tonight, Kun’s cock felt great and that alone satisfies you. He didn’t let you go for some time, you stayed on top of him as he continues to kiss and talk to you while he still enjoys your warmth.

Soon, you lay beside him and covered you with your clean thick sheets. You talked some more, about things that are intimate and are for the two of you only. You never felt so happy being in the arms of a… vampire. You felt alive again but you don’t say it out loud, you just wanted to bask at this moment with Kun and feel the happiness flood your heart.

“How are you feeling?” you asked. Maybe he needed more blood?

“I’m feeling just fine. Thank you. And I’m not talking about the sex and your blood. Thank you for letting me in your life” he was holding your hand while drawing small circles using his cold thumb.

That night, you two slept really late and talked more about life and the things you wanted. You learned that the two of you are very different from each other but you’re ready to love him deeply and he’s ready to take great risk for you too. And you think the beauty of loving someone so different from you is a different kind of great love.

Kun’s cold figure still hugs you tightly when you wake up the next day. The morning light hits his skin perfectly that he shines effortlessly. “fuck” you muttered and quickly tried getting out from his cold embrace to close the curtains. But he tugs you even closer to his body making you panic even more, “are you hurt?”

“No” he kissed you good morning and sweetly requests, “can we stay a little bit longer like this? I still don’t want to face the day”

You raked his hair away from his face and gave him his morning kisses, “we can stay like this forever” you said.

“Does that mean you’re accepting immortality?-“

“That’s not what I meant”

“Oh”

Even so, being human and vampire in a relationship did not stop you two from loving each other without bounds. Every day has been nothing but happiness with Kun even though you both have your own disappointments with yourselves. You’re disappointed with writing, he’s disappointed with his family’s business. Every bit of the relationship was not easy but you two chose to be happy together every day and face each day together.

He starts calling your house his home because you are his home and you don’t mind him calling you that. It makes you happy. Every day, when the sky turns to your favorite shade of orange, Kun will ring your doorbell and you will welcome him home with kisses and warm hugs.

Soon, you two became confident about telling each other everything about your family. And for the first time, talking about them didn’t make you sad, but rather happy because you can share that part of your life with Kun who listens to every word you say attentively. He told you that his mom was the one who told him to give you books to read, give you flowers and treat you with respect. His stories about his family make you want to meet them someday. It will not be easy but, “We will get here eventually”

Speaking of eventually, he finally learned how to fuck after a few nights of making love with Kun. He finally became confident in bed, making you moan his name over and over again. Memorizing every inch of the places you loved being touched the most. Oh, he’s a fast learner and a great one if you’re being honest to the point that night after night you grip the sheets so hard because he was fucking you good.

Perfect. Everything is perfect.

“Good morning” you greet him with loving kisses as always before you make your coffee. He’s still shirtless and just wearing his pajamas while he makes breakfast. You hugged him from behind and enjoy his cold skin on a beautiful warm morning. “Can we stay like this forever?” you asked, hugging him tightly.

“Is that a yes for immortality?” he’s serious when it comes to ‘immortality’ but it never annoyed you because it’s his love language. You understand him.

“I want to be with my family, Kun” you bit his shoulder playfully and placed soft kisses after. He loves it when you do that.

“And I don’t want to watch you die,” he asked for a kiss on lips, which you gave happily.

“Why are we having this conversation?” you roll your eyes.

“You’re right. I love you, I’m sorry”

See. Push and pull. And it’s a decision that one day you’re going to face and not even ‘i love yous’, ‘i’m sorry’, hugs or kisses will solve that problem for you. Someday he will not joke about it. And you’re scared because the question is, family or Kun?

During the day, you kept thinking about the conversation you had with Kun before breakfast. It made you think hard and ran through every loophole. You imagined life without Kun, you imagined him watch you die in a hospital bed, and you imagine not being with your family ever again. Every decision broke your heart.

When Kun finally came home, you try shrugging the thought of making a decision one day and admire your boyfriend as he is about to prepare you dinner.

Having a very handsome vampire in your kitchen cooking you good food is definitely one for the books. It’s like watching a live cooking show and you’re the only audience who can taste what he’s cooking. The way he walks around and smiles at you from time to time is making you feel things you shouldn’t be feeling. Heck, even watching him sprinkle salt and pepper, chop the peppers, and squeeze some lemon is making your heart jump.

Such a waste.

All these talents for singing, great skills at the kitchen, handsome face… And yet he chose to live in darkness. You have nothing against the vampire, he didn’t choose to be born as a bloodsucker, but he did choose to serve his family. His number one mistake, honestly speaking.

“If you’re not a vampire, what would you want to be?” you asked him bluntly, sipping on your wine while you watch him cook. “I hope you know that you’re talented and that if you embrace being a human you can be many things. For starters, you can be a cook at a famous restaurant or a pilot”

“Are we seriously having this conversation?” he chuckles, turns off the stove and faced you, leaning on the kitchen counter, looking handsome as ever, “Do me a favor and imagine yourself being 200 years old still looking young and beautiful. Or being happily married for hundreds of years. With me” he left a kiss on your forehead and goes back to plating the food.

The words ‘happily married’ doesn’t sound so bad.

“So you’re telling me that if we stayed like this, vampire and human, and I’m finally old and wrinkly, you won’t love me anymore?” you tease him, not letting him know that the idea of being married affects you.

“Why can’t we have a normal dinner without being on each other’s throats? Come on let’s eat. Grab the wine please,” he offered his cold hand to help you come down from the stool and go together to the dining area.

Before eating he did notice you were spacing out, he puts down his spoon and fork and reached for your hand. “Look at me,” he says, “Vampire or not I’m going to marry you and we’ll live happily together”

“You promise?”

“I promise. Now, come on eat. Tell me if it’s delicious, I just learned this from the cooking show I’ve been watching”

The constant push and pull continued. Your relationship has always been a never-ending convincing each other to be something you’re not. But ever since you let Kun in your life happiness is present in your life again and you’re worried that maybe someday that happiness will be taken away from you again. Kun is literally the reason why you smile first thing in the morning and sleep peacefully at night.

After having dinner and you two are ready for bed, you can’t stop thinking about the conversation you had this morning. The decision you’ve been thinking about has been running in your mind the whole day but there's another thought that’s been bugging you all along and you’ve been wanting to ask Kun.

“Can you really not die?”

He must be tired. He closed his eyes and kept you close. You wait for his answer but it seems like he doesn’t want to keep the conversation. Then he looks at you, “I can. I just have to be careful. I can die like how humans die except for dying at old age” he explains and you don’t want to pry further. “I'm scared of dying, you know. There’s so much I want to do in my life even before I met you. But since then I became even more scared to death. This world holds everything important to me, my family, and you. I can’t die” he answered your question honestly of course.

The next day, Kun woke up before you because he’s been planning to do something lately but can’t execute his plans correctly. He was about to do it last night but you asked him a heavy question so he didn’t have a choice but to set aside his intentions first.

He carefully opened the bedside drawer and reached for the tiny object inside. Since he doesn’t know anything about romance, he doesn’t know how to propose beautifully to you. So he went for something he’s confident with. Honesty. He grabs your hand and slips the ring on your finger, carefully but his movements still woke you up.

Any girl would freak out seeing her boyfriend propose to her the moment she opens her eyes in the morning. The diamond is quite big and it made you gasp. Not that you cared about the rock but the fact that Kun just proposed to you the moment you wake up is just enough reason to panic.

But he made a ’Shh’ sign that made you follow him and kept yourself quiet. You feel your heart thumping and beating so fast at this moment that you want to burst out of happiness already but Kun is calm in front of you. Just calm.

“Listen” all you hear are birds chirping and comfortable silence, “peaceful right?” you nod your head, “Let’s never break that peace in our relationship. I don't know how to make things easier for us but let's start with, no more push and pull. Last night I promised you that vampire or not, I’m gonna marry you and this is me keeping that promise. I would rather watch you die at old age, wrinkly and weak than lose you” He kissed your hand, and the panic that you’ve been savoring is long forgotten. Instead of screaming your lungs out because of too much happiness, you kissed each other and engraved that beautiful moment in your hearts.

And because you and Kun have been living together for quite some time now, you’ve become the talk of the town. Everyone thought that Kun is keeping you hostage and is only using you to get the house and to get the whole town. Even though he has been really successful in buying lives lately and earning the people’s loyalty in this town, the ones who strongly refused Kun’s offer is now making a plot behind his back.

A plot where they plan to kill him and save you. They’re just waiting for the perfect timing to strike the vampire.

“He’s just using you to get the house. Of course, he had to marry you so he can have legal rights to your house. Trust me, that vampire will leave you” Sophie hated Kun so much that when you told her that you’re engaged she didn’t take it lightly. The old woman shoos you out of her store and told you to be smarter. It’s sad how she can’t see that you’re really happy with Kun.

When you got home from grocery shopping, you wait for Kun to arrive before you leave him for one night to meet your manager back to the city. It pains you to be away from Kun. It’s like there's this magnet that’s keeping you near him and stopping you from leaving the house but finally, you finished a good book. All thanks to Kun. Your manager wanted to meet you so you can work on the details and finally, go back to the world and show everyone how you’ve been.

“The city is great. You sure you don’t want to come? There's a lot of vampires in the city-“

“And my fiance is a famous writer. Who’s about to have her come back to the industry that she loves. I don’t want to give you a problem before you can even go back out there. People will not take it lightly if they see you with me” he kissed you and hope that you will not argue with him further.

“But we just got engaged. I don’t want to be away from you” you pout like a little girl.

“Well then come home soon” he smiles sweetly to you and finally made you stop your whining.

Leaving home never felt so wrong. But you realized, he’s right. You just have to come home soon.

When you were back in the city and in the familiar office of your manager, you can’t help but feel out of place. Is this really what you want? Because if your manager agrees to publish this new work of yours, that means you have to leave home again. You have to leave Kun and live in the city. Something you think you can’t handle. It's like making the same mistakes again.

“I love it! You’re back- amazing work. I have to meet this vampire that you’re talking about. The one who inspired you to write this beautiful masterpiece. Ugh! Welcome back!” he exclaims excitedly. But his approval did not make you excited or anything. You’re happy of course, but you’ve been thinking about coming home and telling Kun the good news.

“Are we done here?”

“Uh- yes, bu-“

“Great. Call me if you need anything. I have to go home now. Thank you” you shake his hand and bid him goodbye. You were quick to get out of there and head home already. The plan was to stay the night in your old apartment, but you can’t. You really can’t. It’s almost 3 in the morning and Kun must be sleeping already because he hasn’t answered your calls. You drove excitedly while playing with the ring on your finger, thinking about how to spend the following days with Kun as an engaged couple.

When you finally arrived in town, people in their sleep wears welcomes you in the street. But their faces looked worried and concerned. What’s happening, you murmured. Since a lot of people are blocking the street you decided to get out of the car and check what’s happening.

“Y/n… the house….” someone shouted.

“My house?” you ran as fast as you can to see what they’re talking about. Hoping that everything is fine and that Kun is safe and not inside the house.

Then you see it.

It was your favorite shade of orange. Eating your house, ruining your home. You watched the house burn and you never thought that watching it will make you hate something you used to love ever since you were just a kid. You wanted the bright colors to fade. Your hands are shaking as you call for help. Screaming at the top of your lungs as people try to stop you from running towards your house.

“Kun!” you screamed and asked for him but no one is answering you.

Sophie tried to make you listen to her while you push everyone away. “I’m sorry. We had to do this. The town was slowly dying and turning into a vampire town. Y/n! He will leave you in the end or worst, he will change you” she was apologizing but you didn’t want to listen to her anymore. You slapped the old woman and tried to kick her with all your might but the people are quick to stop you.

The fire spread so fast that Kun didn’t have time to save himself. He tried calling for help but the lines were already cut. It’s obvious the fire was planned. He was trying so hard to escape death, coughing and covering his mouth, crying while he bangs through the door that seems to be locked from the outside. I don’t want to die. He repeats over and over again, thinking about his family, his brothers, and of course you.

But he couldn’t go out. He banged through the door until his last breath and strength but it did nothing. Soon the fire ate him and all he can do is scream through the pain, cry, and accept death.

The next thing you know, you’re at the hospital. You see your manager sleeping on the couch. Tears started falling but you don’t know why. On top of that, your heart feels heavy. It’s a familiar feeling, you thought. Like when the news that your family died reached you.

Then you see your ring. And suddenly you understand why you started crying out of nowhere and why that familiar feeling of losing someone is back.

Kun is dead.

And once again you’re back to rock bottom but this time you don’t have a home or a place to help you heal.

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