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harmonysanreads · 1 year

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Pressed Periwinkles

characters: scaramouche, venti, zhongli, raiden shogun (ei), yae miko, yelan, al haitham, kamisato ayato

cw(s) : none. just some very much needed comfort and fluff to all my stressed birdies. there... maybe some implications but don't worry your pretty head over it and enjoy being spoiled and spoiling them <3

──⚝ scaramouche

Whenever something troubles Scaramouche, he seeks you out to press his ear to your chest and listen to you heartbeat. If you were to ever bring it up to him once he's recovered although, he'd never admit to literally have knelt for hours suffocating you in his embrace. Not like it affects him at all, he could stay in the position for days and weeks if he wanted, the only detriment would be you (ugh, the fragility of the mortal body). You cannot see his expression in moments like those but you feel every shift of emotions through the strength in his grip waxing and waning or from how closer and closer he buries his face in your clothes, desperate to not lose the timbre of your heart. Not even the hymns of the winds, streams, birds or fairies would rival to the simple marching of your soul ; the simple fact of your existence. He would be betraying himself if he never admitted to feeling envious of you, how lucky you were to be gifted with such a beautiful heart. His thoughts would wander to days long past, days painted in regret and blood, grip tensing so much it causes you pain but then, as if sensing his distress you run your hand through locks of the deep night, your free hand securing him and he curses himself. Wanting to slap the fool in him for even having that thought — because it is not the heart itself that is beautiful, it is the bearer and, he vows to eternalize its blessed prance.

Scaramouche is not a verbal person in terms of comfort, thus, his care is shown through the protective embrace he engulfs you in ; now, close to where his heart is supposed to be. It's a re-confirmation of your position, it's a reminder of your power over him, it's a beckoning that says—just say the word and I'll bring the world down to its knees. You hear it, loud and lucid and it intimidates you a little. The awareness that you hold such power over the Harbinger, over this being neither human nor divine, capable of any command leaving your lips — the absence of a heartbeat from such proximity intensifies your shudder. Worse, you feel the unadulterated sincerity behind this silent declaration. Doubt bubbles in your soul, were you even deserving of such love? Wouldn't it be just using Scaramouche if you were to confide? A stolen look to his eyes has you halt, taken aback by the significance barely contained in those cryptic orbs and you understand. Not uttering a syllable yet, you merely shuffle closer for ; what response proves itself appropriate to the man who gazes at you like you're the soul centerpiece of his world, rivaled by nothing bar the confines of it?

──⚝ venti

Venti knows you're feeling under-the-weather even before you do, all it takes is for you to release the first sigh after reaching home and he's already cradling and cooing you. You can't even find it in yourself to be bemused, melting in the bard's lulling embrace, the beat of the rocking of his body in symphony to the soothing lyrics leaving his lips. You let yourself sink further in that cocoon, far, far from the worries that were chasing you. For you know that as long as Venti's here, everything will be fine. If you're in the mood to rant, he's just the perfect person for it! No kidding, he matches every disbelief laced around your sentences, the dripping sarcasm and "can you believe this person's audacity?!" What you don't know is that he knows what/who's troubling you way beforehand (he's the wind, silly) but, Venti will still listen and be bewildered, annoyed, mad. His carefree smile hiding the schemes brewing in his head to teach annoyances a lesson. You'd never be notified of this shift of attitude though, much too smothered in his pampering.

“My dear Cecilia, why do you fret? You will get through it all, just like all the times before and then, you'll look back, smile and be proud of yourself. So stop worrying about something you've already won!”

And when he's certain you've drifted off to the land of dreams, he lets the muscles of his face relax, the shine of his emerald orbs fade in the slightest. The zephyrs cease their tunes and his grip tenses, firms and borders on desperation. He clings to you as if you'd be blown away like the dandelion seeds should he loosen his hold, he doesn't dare to think of that outcome. All things will wear out by the flow of time, even the strongest Cecilia will oneday take the wind's hand. He knows and Celestia, does he hate it. Despite the knowledge that only serves to burden him, he still indulges ; in hopes that you wouldn't leave him just yet, not so soon, not so suddenly. These momentary wisps of solace keep him sane : the warmth of your body molding in with his, your steady breaths and small mumbles of incoherence — all reminders that no, you're right here, safe in his arms.

So the winds rest, too.

──⚝ zhongli

Zhongli is his own genre when it comes to comfort. It's unpredictable yet never unwelcomed. There's a silver of sophisticated charm lining his actions, a touch of solemnity as you walk under falling autumn leaves arm in arm. Zhongli is not one to let any gesture of affection go to waste, specially if it were to be spectated upon by prying eyes. He considers every touch, every word and every moment shared with you to be exceptional. This sentiment materializes dutifully, too. You cannot think of a single memory with him proven trivial and neither can he with you. Liyue Harbor looks up to you two's unalloyed affections, too. Elders often seen smiling coyly, reminiscing their youthful day as children stare doe-eyed in curiosity, later re-enacting (or trying to) how tenderly the Consultant took your hand to his lips while playing house. You're the role-model couple of the City of Contracts, often analogized with the tale of the late Rex Lapis and his beloved and, whenever someone would bring the legend up, you two would share a shining gaze holding secrets between you two solely which instantly has the speaker feel perplexed. You two would simply dismiss it with the same smile and urge them to continue their tangent.

You, who always covers up Zhongli's blunders of leaving his wallet. Your disappointed sigh and stare doing nothing as he listens to your lectures, borderline enjoying the fiesty side of you. Arguments don't even occur between you two because of the level of mutual understanding you have with each other. You both value privacy, therefore, only show vulnerability in each other's sole company. Zhongli always cradles you in the firmest, safest embrace when your nightmares get too graphic to bear ; wiping your tears and whispering to you the tales of the days the Seelies pranced around every inch of Teyvat and the Moon Sisters would bless the land with their light. Every time, you drift away to sweet dreams of those days of peace. You love to comb and braid his hair, humming forgotten tunes as you do so and Zhongli never feels more at peace. At times like these, it's as if you're in your own little world of boundless serenity, safe from both the mortal and divine's scrutiny.

──⚝ raiden shogun (ei)

To Ei, you're the reason achieving Eternity is so important, so crucial. You're the reason she pushes through despite her grief, loneliness and despair. It's hardwired in the Shogun's constitution, too ; Eternity and You are beside each other. You're the lone candle lightening her darkened euthymia, one she will not allow to wane. Being the soul fuel of her actions might be a little bit overwhelming sometimes. Since she's always putting you before herself, you have to be the one to anchor her to the present and remind her that she's just as (if not more) important. Ei loves you, but you love her, too. It pains you to see her suppress so much pain, it frustrates you that she's not even giving herself the minimum care and how constantly runs from her trauma instead of learning to grow from it.

Which is why, sometimes it has to be her that's pulled away from her meditation to your arms, it has to be her laying on your lap with a hand loosening her braid in an inclining to let go, even just for an hour or so. Sometimes, she needs to forget about everything else and keep her attention on you as you lecture her non-stop. Often times, it flies over her head due to her stubbornness but since it's you... she tries her best. Eternity could wait, the Heavenly Principles be damned, right now, all that mattered was her and you.

──⚝ yae miko

You find it a little unfair, how the kitsune understands you even better than you do yourself. She effortlessly picks up on the slightest changes of your quirks to reach the conclusion that something is wrong. Once she's certain, she'd call you over to her side and pull you to her lap as a shrine maiden prepares tea. A stack of light novels set beside her along with all your favourite treats and you know you're up for a night of pampering and cooing. Your frustrations disappear quicker than electro seelies as she reads aloud the words to you in that smooth voice of hers, other hand occasionally shifting between running it through your hair or along your body and holding various treats for you to taste. When the night has deepened, the stack of light novels finished with and the lantern light has dimmed, she finally inquires of what (or who) exactly troubles you — if you haven't fallen asleep by then already. You, at rare times, want to refute to all her babying ; you cannot be blamed either, having Yae Miko's undivided attention can get a little overwhelming sometimes but the resistance is extinguished just as soon when you remember why you get this exquisite treatment. She's wasted no breath making it clear, too.

Miko loves both your rebellious spirit and how well you take it all. To her, you're just the perfect partner to get through a dragging existence. There's not much she demands of you either ; you just have to be by her side when she calls you (which is..a lot, frankly) and let her take the lead. It's peak entertainment for Miko as she spies the green gazes from her peripheral, aww, look how envious everyone is of you two! While she finds mild entertainment in jealousy of other people, that cannot be said when the monster decides to probe her, too. Kitsunes are territorial and regardless of how much of a refined one Yae Miko is, she's still not completely immune to it. No one will know of these irritating feelings bubbling in her chest unless she wills it. For the most part, she's chill because, she of all people would know that a random mortal is no threat to her or the trust you two share. But do not be mistaken : should an actual threat occur, she'll make it very clear to who you belong to.

──⚝ yelan

Yelan does not even know where to start when it comes to you and neither does she know where to put an end. Yelan despises sweets, you cannot go a day without that additional dose of serotonin ; she prefers chillies in everything and you cry if there's extra dash of pepper in the curry ; Yelan dances with the danger, you love your inner peace more than anything and yet, somehow, both of you fit together like soulmates. It stirs mixed reactions among people, too. Some think you're undeniably cute together while others raise their eyebrows in appraisal. She could care less, but she knows that you care a lot about other people's opinions so, she tries her best so that you'd remain innocent from their unnecessary judgement. It isn't difficult for her either to pull the strings and everything, benefits of being in the shadow.

There's much people are ignorant to, for example, how ruthless you can get with your words should anyone insult your loved ones, how unfairly good you handle bitter things, how unafraid you're of breaking the rules should the occasion call for it and she could go on. Her favourite memory with you would always be that time a handful of nosy people were jabbing at your relationship with her, even going as far as to throw suggestive comments at you right in front of her. Trivial matters such as this don't bother Yelan on normal occasions but due to her mood being already sour that day she lost her temper, how dare they? She was one breath away from causing a carnage until you stopped her, looked them dead in the eye, pulled her to press a kiss just shy of her lips and told them to pollute the air somewhere else — the memory still makes her swoon. Of course, she didn't waste the opportunity to join in, leaning to your already flushed ear to whisper loud and intended for others to hear, "You missed, darling."

(Those idiots never bothered you two again.)

──⚝ al haitham

Al Haitham who is like your personal bed from how often you fall asleep sitting on his lap. You don't need to worry about falling or the cold because he never loosens his hold of you, pulling his cape over your form like a cocoon when he notices your shivers. The intimacy is wordless yet conveys so much more than words could hope to express. It's such a win-win for him, too. He gets to hold you while reading in peace? To say he loves it would be an understatement. People also tend to bother him less when they notice this act of intimacy— and by people, he means his annoying roommate who but gags everytime he sees you draped over Al Haitham and him holding you like you're the most precious thing in Teyvat.

(Kaveh's just salty because he's single and lonely.)

There's another thing Al Haitham adores, looks forward to even ; lazy mornings with you, plus points if it's raining and none of you can go to work. Even if you insist on going out in that weather, there is no way the Scribe would allow it. Trapping you in his strong arms and being so affectionate you have to check if it really is the Al Haitham or not. The Akademiya won't be obliterated if you two skip— took a break for one day, come on, love. Your resolve would break pretty soon, too. How can it not when he's being so cutely clingy? So you two stay in and ruminate the remnants of your night's dreams in each others arms, the pitter-patters of rain and rumbles of thunder but background noise. For a spilt second, Al Haitham remembers the two keys still in his possession and the door being locked : aha, no doubt his roommate would have a lot to say (scream) about that. He notices your shuffles and a quiet ‘what's wrong?’ which he dismisses through a chaste kiss atop your head and beckoning to return to sleep.

──⚝ kamisato ayato

It's basically hardwired in Ayato's brain to seek you out when things get a little too strenuous. He likes to lay his head on your lap and just... enjoy the feeling of your skillful hands combing through his hair, hum him a song too, won't you? He's all yours to spoil. In this position, probably the only thing that would make him get up is if the Kamisato Estate caught fire. You shower him in all the affection you have to offer without hesitation, your way of saying thank you for everything, thank you for your hard work.

Since Ayato was deprived of the fancies of an ordinary child, he has an affinity for mischief and the twisted entertainment from rule-breaking. Nothing would make him love you more if you were to just randomly sneak in his office and whisk him away for some minutes. Running away from his duties wouldn't lessen them, he's aware. But just the thrill that comes from these little rendezvous washes away his fatigue and lethargy. It's both of your little secret, it's dangerous and frankly just plain indulgence. That would never stop him taking your hand and smiling like a teenager in love every time he hears you sing, let's run away?

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brittscafe · 7 months

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Hi! I hope you’re doing alright! :) I wanted to request the prompt, “Gentle wipe of your spilled tears after heavy arguments, a simple gesture that shows you how sorry they are for making you shed sad tears instead of happy ones.” with bleach men? Or something close to it! I really just want some heart breaking angst and a happy ending. Thank you in advance, I love your blog!!

ahhh yesss! I love this prompt! <3 <3 I can include the quinces and arrancars in my next post, if you would like!

Ichigo Kurosaki: You rush inside Ichigo's room and slam the door open. Ichigo turns around and you throw your arms around the man.

"What's wrong?" Ichigo asks, running his fingers through your hair as you squeeze him tightly.

"I thought you were hurt," you breath out, pulling away from his embrace. Ichigo's eyebrows furrows and he shakes his head.

"I can take care of myself, you know? I am a substitute soul reaper," Ichigo reassures you with a confident tone.

"I know," you chew on your quivering bottom lip. Your eyes rake over his bruised face, dry blood on his lips. His body shaking slightly and the pain written all over his face.

His breath shudders seeing the hot tears spill down your face. Ichigo stifles a tiny gasp and his heart breaks into a million pieces.

"Y/N," he calls out gently, taking a stride towards you and reaching out. His hand cups the back of your head and he lets out a heavy sigh.

Ichigo brushes his thumb over your face, picking up your tears.

"I just wish I was there to help you. Maybe you wouldn't have gotten hurt if I was there," you sob out, your chest crushing. Ichigo smiles warmly at you and his eyes soften.

"You were there," he speaks carefully, grabbing your hand and putting it on his chest. His heart thumps against your hand and you smile weakly.

Uryu Ishida: Your breath shudders as you walk up to Uryu, standing alone in the soul society, watching as the war between the soul reapers and quincies break out.

His white cape flows in the wind and you gulp.

"Uryu, what are you doing?" you call out, furrowing your eyebrows. When Ichigo had told you that your boyfriend was on the other side of the war, you couldn't believe it.

"What are you doing here?" Uryu asks, his eyes widening at the sight of you as he faces you.

"No, you don't get to question me, not right now! What the hell are you doing?" you raise your voice, speaking through gritted teeth.

Uryu stands there, staring at you in shock. He never expected you to come into the soul society or even find out about this.

"I'm a Quincy. This is my blood," Uryu replies dryly and you scoff quietly.

"You're betraying everyone you know! Are you sure this is the path you want to go down?" you ask, stepping forward.

Uryu reaches out with his hand and he touches your soft skin. His hand cups your cheek and tilts up your face, eyes meeting his.

"Hey..." Uryu calls out and you meet his eyes. The tears race down your face and a frown rests on your face.

"You're breaking my heart," you comment, your voice breaking. Uryu lowers his head with shame and lets out a heavy sigh.

"I know and I'm so sorry, y/n. You'll see why I chose this, soon. I promise, but you need to go back home," Uryu sighs out, wiping away your tears.

"Just...don't break your promise," you demand, stepping back from his embrace.

Renji Abarai: "What the hell was that?!" Renji's voice booms out as he marches over towards you. You wipe the sweat off your forehead and squeeze your sword in your hand.

"What? Me saving your ass?" you scoff quietly, glancing down at the dead hollow on the ground. Renji rolls his eyes with annoyance and scowls.

"I didn't need you to save me!" Renji raises his voice and your taken back by his tone. You take a step back and let out a tiny breath, pondering.

You didn't understand why Renji was being so cold and mean. You just wanted to help your significant other.

"I don't get it, Renji. I was just helping you," you shake your head in denial. Renji's eyes darken and he stomps over to you, towering over you.

"Yeah? Well, I don't need you.”

His words strike you like a knife to the heart and your eyes widen.

"I'm so confused. Don't you appreciate my help? I was just trying to help you!" you raise your voice, your mind rattled with pure confusion.

"You don't get it, y/n! I was trying to prove myself to Captain Kuchiki. I was sent on a mission and I wanted to prove myself. You ruin everything!" Renji shouts out with pure rage.

Your mouth gapes open and your body freezes with shock. You snap your jaw shut and nod your head, tears filling your eyes.

"Okay. I get it," you retort harshly, clenching your jaw.

You went home after that, spent a few hours crying in your shared bed. You were filled with rage, but mostly sadness. How could Renji say something like that?

Your eardrums fill with the sound of the front doors swinging open and your heart skips a beat. Renji's footsteps come closer and closer to your bedroom.

You don't even bother to lift up your head when he enters the room. Renji frowns widely at the sight of you and he lets out a heavy sigh.

He knows what he did was wrong, very wrong. Renji sinks down into the bed and places his hand over your back.

"Baby, I'm sorry," Renji coos out with a soft, comforting voice.

"No, you're not," your voice comes out as muffled.

"I am," he replies.

"I get it, Renji. I get that you were sent on a mission and you wanted to prove yourself to your captain. You didn't have to yell at me," you huff out, lifting up your head.

Renji's eyes widen at your swollen, red face. You glare at him and Renji frowns widely.

"I didn't mean to yell at you. I was mad and I took my anger out on you. I shouldn't have,"

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," you sniffle out and Renji cracks a grin.

"What? Why are you smiling?" you ask, chewing on your bottom lip. Renji places a hand on your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a tear.

"I'm sorry, but you're so pretty," Renji beams and your eyes widen. You were certain you weren't pretty in this moment. Tears running down your swollen face.

"Whatever," you sigh out, pouting.

"I'm sorry, my pretty girl," Renji speaks softly and you roll your eyes, but you can't help, but crack a tiny smile.

Shinji Hirako: Heated arguments were you and Shinji's thing for sure, but this was too much.

You decided to hide yourself in the bathroom, which was probably not the best place to hide from your boyfriend.

"Y/N, let me in," Shinji sighs in defeat from the outside, leaning his head against the door. You're curled up into a ball, arms wrapped around your knees that are tucked into your chest.

"No," you state firmly, your quivering voice giving yourself away.

"Damn it. Let me in!" Shinji raises his voice, running his hands over his face in frustration.

"Why should I?" you ask, clenching your fists.

"Because...I hate that I hurt you. I hate that I'm stupid and decided to hurt the person that I love the most. I hate that you're in here all alone, crying and I can't comfort you. I know that I don't deserve to, but please, y/n, let me in," Shinji explains with a raspy voice.

His words send a chill down your spine and you gulp. You sit in silence for a moment, before deciding to stand up and unlock the door.

Shinji swings open the door and his heart stops beating for a moment. Your red puffy face along with your tear stained cheeks is enough for even Shinji's heart to break.

He throws his arms around you and holds you tightly.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispers repeatedly, peppering kisses all along your face.

It felt so good to be in his arms, in his comfort.

"Shinji, I know," you mumble out in his chest. Shinji's body fills with relief. You didn't need to forgive him, he just needed you to know how sorry he is.

Jushiro Ukitake: I find it very hard to believe that this man made you cry. Anyways...

Emotions were running high as you and Jushiro argued back and forth. Both of your roaring voices fill the room and you end up with tears streaming down your face.

Jushiro wastes no time in rushing up to you as he feels horrible for making you cry. You bite down on your quivering lip and Jushiro gingerly places his hand on your cheek.

"I'm sorry," you hiccup out between sobs and Jushiro's eyes widen.

"Why are you apologizing? It's not your fault," Jushiro furrows his eyebrows with confusion and you shake your head.

"But it is, I started the argument. Now, I'm the one crying just because of what you said," you stutter out, your body slightly trembling.

Jushiro shakes his head. He cam't believe what he's hearing right now.

"No, don't you dare be sorry. What I said was not okay and I'm sorry that I said that," Jushiro speaks gently and you sniffle, wiping your wet face.

"I feel like such a baby," you sigh out, lowering your head in defeat.

"I never want to make you cry, y/n. Please, forgive me, sweetheart," Jushiro begs you, tears in his eyes. He leans his head down and presses his warm lips to your forehead.

You clutch onto his forearms and relish in the moment.

"I will always forgive you, Jushiro," you whisper, smiling up at him.

Shunsui Kyoraku: Your body trembles as your sob tears through your body, unable to muffle your sounds of sadness. You clench your fists and Shunsui's stomach twists into uneasy knots at the sound of your crying.

He glances at you over his shoulder and his mouth gapes open. You glare at him with tears burning your eyes and he leaps towards you.

Shunsui grabs onto your shoulders and your body jolts.

"No. Get away from me," you demand, pressing your hands into his chest and shoving him back. Shunsui's eyes widen and he lowers his head with shame.

He had hurt you and he dreaded it.

You turn around, burying your face in the palm of your hands. Your face burns and Shunsui clears his throat, collecting himself and his emotions.

"Shunsui," you call out as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry," he whispers with a hoarse voice, dipping his head down into the curve of your neck.

"I'm sure you are," you retort harshly, feeling your walls start to break down. You lower your gaze to the ground and Shunsui lets out a heavy sigh.

"Y/N, let me comfort you. Let me take away the pain and hurt that I caused you. Please," Shunsui pleads with you in a ginger, soft voice.

You slowly turn around, facing him and you chew on your lip, pondering. You meet Shunsui's soft, loving gaze and you frown widely.

You step forward and throw your arms around his torso, burying yourself into his chest. Shunsui rests his chin on top of your head and grips you tightly.

Kenpachi Zaraki: You were silent. Deadly. Deadly silent. So, deadly silent as a tear runs down your cheek.

He easily catches your wrist and pulls you closer to him. Kenpachi towers over you and you gulp. Kenny wears a blank expression on his face, but his eyes are soften, so is his touch.

"Were my words too harsh, y/n?" Kenpachi asks with a deep, rough voice. Your lips tremble as you slowly glance up at him, trying to hold yourself together.

"Um, I guess. I don't like when we yell at each other like that, especially when we we're arguing over something so...so stupid," you explain yourself, your voice trembling.

Kenpachi steps closer to you as the tears stream down your cheeks. He leans down towards you and slowly raises his hand. You close your eyes at his soft touch, wiping away your tears.

"I am sorry for raising my voice," Kenpachi speaks truthfully and you nod your head.

"I'm also sorry, Kenny," you sigh out with shame, grabbing onto his large hand and squeezing it. You both share a kind smile, knowing that you will always forgive each other.

Byakuya Kuchiki: Although, he hides his emotions well, he could not help the frown tugging on his face. A single tear drags down your face and drips off of your chin onto the ground.

Byakuya's eyes watch as the tear falls onto the ground and his eyes widen. His heart pulse beats in his ears, blocking out all other sound.

His words were too harsh, cruel, and unruly for him.

Byakuya's muscles tense, but he dare not make a move towards you.

"I take it back. I take all this words that I said back," he speaks up and you slowly lift up your head, meeting his steady, unwavering gaze.

"You can't take them, Byakuya. That's not how this works," you mumble out and his mouth slightly gapes open. His mouth runs dry and he nods his head.

"I know. If I could, I would turn those words into blossom for you, my love. I don't know what I would do without you. My words were hurtful, even I, myself, was taken aback by them. I cannot express how sorry I am," Byakuya speaks gingerly, crouching down onto his knees.

You furrow your eyebrows as Byakuya tenderly grabs onto your hands, pressing them against his forehead. Your stomach twists into uneasy knots as you realize what he's doing.

Byakuya has never really bowed down to anyone in his life, but here he is. Right in front of you, on his knees for you.

"Please, forgive me," he begs you, a trembling voice. His thumbs brush over your hands and you let out a deep sigh. You bring yourself down to your knees and Byakuya slowly lifts his head up.

"You need not bow down to me, Byakuya. We are on the same level as equals, right? That's what you said to me when we first met," you explain, cupping his cheek.

"Yes, I remember," he bobs his head.

"Good. Then, I forgive you as long as can forgive me," you speak gingerly and his eyes widen.

"Of course," he speaks eagerly as you pull his face closer to yours. You smile warmly and press a soft kiss to his lips.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi: The shower starts running in your bedroom and you furrow your eyebrows. You leap up from your bed and rush into the bathroom.

The steam fills the room and you lean against the wall. You grab the shower curtain and slowly peel it back. Mayuri stands in the hot water, letting it drip down his body and soak his hair.

"I didn't know you were home," you comment, a slight smile on your face.

"I'm tired," Mayuri shrugs his shoulders, running his fingers through his electric blue hair.

"I'm tired of the nights when you aren't beside in bed. I miss you," you sigh out, a frown tugging on his face.

"You know how it is. The experiments take a very long time and it has to be precise," he rambles on and you nod your head.

"Yes, I'm aware," you reply dryly.

"I can't spend every waking moment with you! You can't be attached to my hip," Mayuri raises his voice and your jaw drops open.

"I get it," you sigh out.

"Do you really? Because it seems like you don't. You're my girlfriend, not my goddamn dog!" Mayuri shouts out and your lips tremble.

"I feel like an object to you, Mayuri. Like one of your experiments," you sigh out and Mayuri rips open the shower curtain. He glares at you with anger and his fingers wrap around your jaw, tightly.

The tears escape from your eyes and Mayuri shakes his head, inhaling sharply with anger.

"You're wrong. My experiments are nothing like you. They are not fragile, delicate, and full of love. I do not love my experiments the way I love you, y/n. Do you understand me?" he speaks harshly and you nod your head.

"Y-yeah," your voice stutters our, your expression dropping. Mayuri's eyes soften and he pulls you closer.

"Hey, come here," Mayuri beckons with a soft, raspy voice. He wraps his arms around you and your head rests on his shoulder.

"I've missed you, too. More than you know," Mayuri comforts you, rubbing circles on your back.

Tōshirō Hitsugaya: "What?" you mumble out, furrowing your eyebrows at your boyfriend.

"You heard me," Toshiro snaps at you and your breath shudders. Your stomach twists into uneasy knots as Toshiro starts to turn his back on you.

"You cannot be serious. You can't actually agree with that," you shake your head in disbelief.

"I do!" he turns back, facing you. His nostrils flare with anger and smoke practically hisses out his ears.

"This is someone's life we are talking about. It's a serious matter," you speak harshly, clenching your fists.

"I know that and I stand by my decision," Toshiro scoffs out, shaking his head. You chew on your bottom lip, tears welling up in your eyes.

"God, you are ice cold!" you raise your voice, echoing in the room. He scoffs quietly and rolls his eyes with annoyance.

"Whatever," he replies dryly. You clench your fists, your bottom lip start to bleed from how hard you're biting it. The hot tears sting your cheeks and Toshiro's gasps quietly.

"Stop. Stop it right now," Toshiro demands, marching up to you and grabbing onto your face.

"Stop, Toshiro!" you cry out, pressing your hands to his chest and pushing him away. He stumbles back slightly and he inhales sharply.

"I can't handle it when you cry, y/n. So, please, stop," he begs you with despair straining his voice. You glance over at him through your eyelashes and sniffle, wiping away at your wet face.

He steps forward and grabs onto your hand, interlacing your fingers. He pulls you closer to him and his free hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing over it.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbles out, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Kensei Muguruma: "So, you think I'm weak?" you scoff out, shaking your head with disbelief. Kensei glares over at you from his stance a few feet away from the bed that you're sitting on.

"I just can't believe that you got put away with such a move from your opponent. You weren't strong enough, y/n," Kensei comments with a careless tone.

"Are you serious? Is that actually how you feel about me?" you ask, your mouth gaping open.

You couldn't believe the words that were coming out of your boyfriend's mouth. They were hurtful and harsh.

"You know exactly how I feel," he retorts harshly and you chew on your bottom lip.

"You're right, I do now," you gulp, standing up from the bed. You rush over to the door and grab onto the handle.

"Where are you going?" Kensei sighs out, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know, just away from you. You obviously don't want to associate yourself with your weak girlfriend, right?" your voice wobbles as you glance over your shoulder at him, tears filled up to the brim of your eyes.

Kensei's expression slightly softens and he clears his throat. "That's not what I meant," he speaks with a careful tone and you roll your eyes with annoyance.

"No, it is and that's fine. I want you to be honest with me and you were. I'm not good enough for you, Kensei. You've made that clear," you demand and Kensei's eyes soften.

"What?" he scoffs out, shifting his weight. You blink and the tears start to roll down your cheeks. You sniffle and quickly wipe them away, but the tears keep coming.

Kensei rushes up to your side and grabs onto your shoulders, steadying you in front of him.

"No, y/n, that's not what I meant. I'm scared. I'm scared of losing you. I don't think you're weak, y/n. I think you are a very strong soul reaper, but I cannot lose you," Kensei explains with a soft voice and your eyes widen.

"Why didn't you just say that?" you sniffle out, your body rattling.

"You know me. I'm not good with expressing my feelings and emotions. I don't like to be vulnerable, but I try to be because of you."

You step forward and cup Kensei's cheeks. The hues of cheeks turn a bright pink and he gulps.

"I understand it now, Kensei. All you had to do was explain," you comment, smiling warmly.

"You make me a better person, y/n. Thank you," Kensei whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into the crook of your head.

Rojuro Otoribashi: Rojuro is always very careful with his words, but not this time. His words were mean and harsh. His eyes lock onto the tears dripping down your face and his eyes widen.

A frown tugs on his face and he walks over to you. His large hands cup your face and you sniffle, your body jolting.

"Y/N, are you okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," Rojuro shakes his head, thumb brushing your skin gently. You glance up at him, vision blurred because of the tears.

His thumb starts to brush away your wet tears and his eyes become soft. His blonde hair falls down into his face and your lips tremble.

"No, it's okay. I shouldn't be such a baby," you shake your head, trying to tug away from him, but his grip is too strong.

"Hey, no, it's okay. You're not a baby. I am so sorry for my choice of words and not being gentle with you. I promise to be more gentle with you," he speaks gingerly, fingers carefully pressing into your cheeks.

You gulp and nod your head as he leans his forehead against yours, smiling warmly.

Kisuke Urahara: After a big argument, Kisuke left the shop to be by himself for awhile. He enters the shop again and his eardrums fill with quiet sobbing.

His eyes widen and his breath hitches in his throat. He makes his way to the back of the shop where your room is. You're sitting on the ground, back pressed up against the wall and knees brought up to your chest.

He rushes over to your side and kneels down, arms wrapping around you and bringing you to his chest.

"Where did you go?" you mumble out between hiccups and sobs. A frown tugs on Kisuke's face and he clenches his jaw.

He's mad at himself. He shouldn't have left you after the argument, it was a horrible idea.

"I shouldn't have left the store. I just needed space, but I wasn't thinking about what you needed. I won't ever leave again, I promise," he reassures you, fingers brushing through your hair.

Izuru Kira: Your fists are clenched as your throat tightens up, tears welling up to the brims of your eyelids. Izuru lets out a heavy sigh, running his hands over his face with frustration.

He lifts his head up and his eyes lock onto you from across the room. You chew on your bottom lip, blood starting to spill out as you try not to cry.

"Whoa, hey, hey," he calls out, fear flooding his body as he rushes over to you. He grabs onto your shoulders and carefully pulls you closer to him.

He pulls you into your chest and you wrap your arms around his lower torso, tears staining his soul reaper uniform. His hand runs over your hair, brushing it down.

"There's no need to cry, y/n. I like you better when you're smiling and laughing," he comments and you let out a tiny chuckle.

"Me too," you mumble out, squeezing him.

Ikkaku Madarame: A gut wrenching sob leave your lips and Ikkaku gasps quietly. He leaps over to you and his arms wrap around your waist.

The two of you stumble around, falling back onto the bed.

"Oh, god. I'm sorry," his voice is filled with panic and worry. You gaze into his soft eyes and you let out a loud giggle, filling the room.

Ikkaku furrows his eyebrows and he stares at you in confusion. You bring up your hands and cup his cheeks, throwing your legs over his.

"I'm sorry for laughing. I just didn't expect to fall on the bed," you shrug your shoulders as his hands gently wipe away your wet tears.

"I love the sound of your laughter," he nuzzles his head into your chest, arms securely wrapping around your waist and squeezing you tightly.

The both of you forgot what you were even arguing about as you laugh and chat about the accidental fall.

Shuhei Hisagi: His blood runs cold as the tears drip down off your jawline and onto the ground.

"Y/N?" Shuhei calls out and your bottom lips quivers. You slowly shift your eyes up and meet his. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment and you gulp.

"I'm sorry," you mumble out, turning around and burying your face into the palms of your hands. He slowly walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

He rests his chin on your shoulder and presses a kiss to your earlobe.

"Don't ever be sorry. I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn't have said those things, I'm sorry," he speaks tenderly as you lean back into his body.

You glance down at his hands, resting on your stomach and you place yours on his, letting out a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry, too. It was stupid to argue over something like that," you shake your head and Shuhei nods his head.

"I hate arguing with you," he admits and a smile tugs on your face. You turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your lips to his.

"Then let's stop arguing," you smile, kissing him softly.

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 10 months

Text

Since it seems, I need to point all this out... again...

Anonymous asked:

Like, I have no trouble seeing WWX as a good guy, or even the least bad in the cultivation world, but if he can subject a man to forced autocannibalism and orchestrate a scenario where a woman is made to put her mouth around his penis before biting it off, then he’s far from an ideal guy imo. There are things no one deserves no matter what they’ve done. Mxtx could have done more to distinguish his actions from the way XY subjects people to cannibalism and JGY forces women to rape his father.

I've answered a bit of this before, I will repost my response as well as respond further to my own view as to why I don't condemn him the same as Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang. As well as how it is a fandom fallacy he did the act to force Wang Lingjiao to do anything.

About the supervisory office:

First, let me at least mark the difference between “gui dao” and “mo dao” as it will be important for the courier station antics.

魔道 (Mo Dao): Lit. Devil’s way/path/truth

鬼道 (Gui Dao): The Ghost’s/twisted/sly, way/path/truth

心 (Xin) Soul/center/core/heart

心魔 (Xin Mo): Devil, Soul/center/core/heart

鬼 (Gui) lit. A ghost/demon/crafty/cursed

With these in mind, the way Mo Dao is crafted as a cultivator, is that you have to have a center/a core, that is innately tuned to be crafted as evil, hence, a corrupted core. To use real mo dao, it needs to come from within to manipulate, not from outer external references, it is the corruption of the self and the still living to craft evil beings.

To use real gui dao, it comes from the dead, the ghosts and the supernatural, in other words not of much of the self. It is using the outside forces of death and non-living beings to use techniques. It is simply using what already existed before to craft an entity.

Now, on to the Wang Lingjiao and Wen Chao scenes and why these distinctions are important and it was just Wei Wuxian manipulating the two’s already heightened paranoia’s to exasperate the negative energy they fostered between themselves.

In that moment, as soon as she opened the chest, she was able to peer inside.

It was none of her beloved treasures, but the body of a pale, curled-up child!

She snuck within the room once again, found a long clothing pole, and flipped the chest over. Inside of it, her treasure sat peacefully.

There was no child whatsoever.

Wang Lingjiao sighed in relief. With the pole in her hands, she squatted down. Just as she was about to brace herself, she suddenly realized that two bright spots were shining underneath her bed.

It was a pair of eyes.

That pale child from before lay prone under her bed, staring into her own.

As he turned around, the rest of what he wanted to say stuck within his throat. He was staring at a woman in front of his door.

The woman’s features were broken, as though they had been smashed and then pieced together haphazardly. Her eyes stared in two different directions; the left upward and the right downward. Her entire face was horrendously disfigured.

Wen Chao, with some difficulty, was able to recognize her from her scanty robe. It was Wang Lingjiao!

Still on the ground, Wang Lingjiao immediately picked up one of the stools legs, and frantically, she began stuffing it into her mouth, laughing all the while, “Fine, fine, I’ll eat it, I’ll eat it!

Haha, I’ll eat it!”

She had already stuffed a significant length of the stool leg down her throat!

Remember, that just before these confrontations Wang Lingjiao had already assumed that Wen Chao’s time was up as well as she herself making plans to run away. They had already turned on each other, as she was planning to move on to a more prospective target, and he wanting her out of the way as an annoyance.

As such, both have created a negative space for themselves, also, remember all of the talismans for protection that they had placed on the outside of the courier station, and their effects which had been reversed by Wei Wuxian. Their 风水(geomancy) physically and mentally has been disordered. Their harmony is broken. Thus, they have cultivated an outside force for Wei Wuxian to manipulate and turn the two against each other.

The above scenes are simply the inner hell they created from their own paranoia and negativity they trapped themselves in. Wei Wuxian only had to change a few character strokes on the protective talismans to sic them on each other while he was on the outside looking in.

Wen Chao cried sharply in pain. It sounded piercing within the silence of the courier station.

Jiang Cheng asked, “Why is his voice so pitched?”

Wei Wuxian responded, “Of course it would sound like that with a certain something gone.“

Jiang Cheng replied in disgust, “You’re the one who took it? ”

Wei WuXian said, “It’s wretched if you think that. Of course I wasn’t the one who took it. It was bitten off by his woman when she went mad.”

There is no reason for Wei Wuxian to lie here, he has already proudly admitted to his tortures of Wen Chao before hand and his physical abuse against him and Wen Zhuliu. Wei Wuxian’s entire persona here was meant to be cruel and monstrous and he continued further torture of course, but it was added on to the existing abuse that Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao cultivated together already.

So, no, anon, Wei Wuxian was not a rapist in any capacity here. He simply played dirty tricks to make these two ruin each other even more by themselves.

Now, to the second part of your ask. Personally, I am content with the way MXTX portrayed the act of his vengeance as being different than Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang. Because ultimately, when he did choose to do this, it was for all the violence these two (Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao) reaped themselves, by the mandate of heaven and Chinese Buddhist belief, they have gathered their merits of "negativity" to face the consequences of their own actions. Cruelty is met with cruelty it has accrued. Nothing more, in Doaist terms, it is the way of nature righting it's harmony that humans are not made for. An eye for an eye.

The way of the world is for a human to be able to balance the self in it, and not for the world to cater to humanity. In this sense, the only ones who are in turmoil are those that have misrepresented their own words and actions (i.e. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian).

And, as I said, Wei Wuxian took revenge on none other than those that had wronged him. To Daoist principal that is as it should be. As for Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang however, they did not leave it to just that, they steeped in obsession of hate. To be doaist, you cannot place obsession, of any sort, over the tranquility of your own choices and way. They continued to cause ruin without the give. This has already set them apart as lost to the moral code of a daoist.

Daoism is not about the call of morality humanity is, it is simply the act of natural actions. Good and bad, are human and a fight that is constant to make peace with.

And for further details, let's get what geomancy is out of the way since it is critical to the usage of this scene and how the Wens there were easily turned against each other with just TALISMANS.

For starters, in China the art of geomancy is also divination , I Ching, specifically and has been used to say that by following the earth's natural patterns harmony can be achieved for life and home.

To garner negativity is to welcome negativity by being unaligned with those patterns. Which brings in the warding talismans that have been used all over by the Wens during this time. To shift the ward meanings is very simple and expounds the paranoia and hate that have already festered within this particular place. It has no Feng Shui based on natural energy that these people have. Harmony that is vital for daoism and cultivation has already been ruined and altered enough for it to be easy to manipulate through simple divination and the manipulations of the outside force that already is in existence.

Wei Wuxian already had the tools for all there to hurt themselves. Gruesome yes, but also in line with what is deemed as the energy accumulation and disruptions humans made themselves for revenge.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #is not morally grey #literally this does not work if we philosophically play into what daoism is #yin and yang are the two extremes of each other #to balance them doesn't mean morally grey because enlightenment means to let go of human morality and be above human thought #ascension means you are above human crisis #and why the primordial soul is so important it can be swayed to either extreme #please just look up basic philosophy for doaism as it is very much in extreme contrast to human hardship

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molly-ghuleh · 7 months

Text

Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 4

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: Sister Imperator gives you an ultimatum, and Papa helps talk you through it.

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: Here is where it gets interesting!! I'm proud of this one hehe, I hope you all enjoy!! <3

Warnings: Religious trauma, anxiety, brief mentions of family trauma

AO3 / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

“You are telling me,” Sister Imperator eyes you sternly, “that you have only translated one word?”

You shrink under Sister’s harsh gaze. She’d come to the restricted room just before the dinner hour, touting a poorly-masked frown of annoyance, to inform you that she’d scheduled a meeting after breakfast the next morning. There were no pleasantries whatsoever. No good afternoon, Sister, how are you? No How are you settling in? No How is the translation coming along? Simply a raised eyebrow and a request for your presence in her office at nine o’clock sharp.

You’d tossed and turned all night, trying to figure out a way to say ‘I’ve been working for three days straight and have almost nothing to show for it’. With sleep evading you, you’d trudged back up to the restricted room in the middle of the night to stare at the diary again until dawn.

Part of you had hoped Papa would come to the library again. A very large, very noisy part of you centered somewhere in your chest had pounded at the mere thought of seeing him. Maybe you’d get the chance to ask him what he’d been looking for the first night you met? He was poking around the romance section…

But you stamped that feeling down. You are no use to Elizabeth if your mind and heart are preoccupied with a man you know you shouldn’t be thinking about. He is just taking care of his flock, you’d told yourself. He’s Papa, it’s his duty.

He had been so sweet to bring you oranges.

Despite your efforts, you’d gotten nowhere this morning. You’re still stuck on Today, with no hints or prospects of figuring out what happened on that first Today of the diary. So here you stand, feeling rather like a kicked puppy in front of Sister Imperator. She’s frowning again but this time she has good reason to do so.

“Yes, Sister,” you say, hanging your head. Your face burns hot under her scrutiny. “But you must understand, the journal is in a—”

“I don’t care if it’s written in hieroglyphs, Sister. You are here to figure it out. Are you telling me you can’t do it?”

You shake your head. “No, Sister, I can—”

“Then do it.”

You’re eleven. Your mother stares down at you, holding your secret (or, what you’d thought to be secret) diary in front of your face. It’s opened to the page you’d hoped your parents would never see. The page which prompted your visit to Liège. If God loves me, you’d written, why does He make me question myself? Is it because I doubt Him that he makes me doubt myself?

“Yes, Sister,” you nod.

Sister Imperator lifts her glasses from the chain around her neck to the tip of her nose. It’s a sign of dismissal, you know, but you are almost scared to move without her permission.

“Come see me tomorrow. I expect progress, Sister. Otherwise I will have to look elsewhere.”

“Yes, Sister.”

You turn with a small bow (which she doesn’t acknowledge) and make for the door. Your heart pounds in your ears. If you don’t figure out Elizabeth’s method, you’ll be sent home.

You’ll be sent home to Marseille.

Perhaps you should allow her to send you home. That’s what you’ve wanted the whole time, isn’t it? Though you’re not sure which outweighs the other: your homesickness, or your curiosity about Elizabeth.

You hadn’t exactly been given a choice when Sister Imperator summoned you to the Abbey, but that doesn’t mean you hadn’t been intrigued. You had known you’d miss home, and you were somewhat prepared for it. What you hadn’t been prepared for, however, was to discover just how badly you want to unravel the history written in the diary. Elizabeth must be a significant figure in the Ministry’s past. Why else would Sister Imperator want it translated so urgently?

It doesn’t matter. If you don’t make some sort of breakthrough in the next twenty-four hours, you’ll be on a plane back to France in forty-eight and you’ll never find out just who Elizabeth was.

Why is that idea so abhorrent to you?

You close your eyes and try to calm yourself down. Sister Imperator is not your mother. She is not holding your faith over your head. No one is holding your faith over your head. Your worth as a person doesn’t go away if you fail just this once, you tell yourself, breathing intentionally slowly. Lucifer will not value you any less.

When you finally push yourself away from Sister Imperator’s closed door, you find Papa standing at the next door down the corridor, regarding you. His brows are furrowed, which carves the line between his brows a little deeper. He holds a key, slotted into the brass doorknob of what you assume is his office door. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn the key and push the door to enter his office, just… stands there, and looks at you.

You look back.

He’s wearing a leather vest with intricate gold clasps over a black shirt with a high, frilly neck. His sleeves are puffy, but cinched in at the wrists. On anyone else the shirt might look overly antiquated, but Papa wears it well. The high neck frames his jaw and chin, the black contrasted with the full Papal paints he’d decided to wear this morning. His trousers are, of course, black, and tight. Tight enough to make your face flush with heat when your eyes involuntarily wander down, following the curve of his spine as he stands sideways.

Oh, Hell.

“Sorella? ” Papa speaks. Your eyes flick back up to meet his and you find that your heart is pounding in your ears yet again. “Are you alright?”

You nod and attempt a smile. “Yes, Papa, thank you.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, and if you’re honest, you wouldn’t be either. He moves his gaze from your face to the closed door of Sister Imperator’s office, and then back to you. “She can be, eh…” he searches for the right word, “...harsh. Don’t let it get to you.”

You huff out a small laugh. “That is easier said than done.”

“Yes, it is,” Papa smiles back. The crease between his brows fades. “Will you… come in, for a bit?”

His invitation catches you off guard. You think it catches him off guard, too, because his eyes seem to flick back and forth between your own with an uncertainty like he’s anticipating your refusal.

Should you refuse? You do have a deadline to meet, but… It’s very likely you won’t find the missing link in time for your meeting with Sister Imperator. If you haven’t found it by now, chances are you won’t ever find it.

It’s not just about the deadline, though. You realize this as soon as you contemplate turning his invitation down—the thought of saying no and bidding him a good morning leaves a heavy weight in your chest. Satan, this hadn’t been part of your plan. You’d planned to keep to yourself, keep your head down. You weren’t supposed to crave connection with someone. You weren’t supposed to want to agree to invitations, to accept oranges, to hope he’d be in the library in the early hours of the morning. You weren’t supposed to want to stay, and it certainly wasn’t supposed to be for Papa.

But you do, and it is.

“Actually, you know what,” Papa says. Your cheeks blaze with heat again when you realize you must have been staring at him like a loon. He removes the key from his office door and pockets it. “Let’s go for a walk, eh? Have you seen the Abbey gardens yet? There’s a wonderful little path that goes all the way around the grounds. It might help you to clear your head. And then you’ll tell your Papa what’s wrong, yes?”

He extends an arm, inviting you to walk beside him. You push yourself up from where you’d been leaning on the wall and fall into step with him. “Thank you, Papa. I… I think I need fresh air.”

Papa leads you past the rest of the Clergy offices and down the staircase which leads into the main hall. The opening of the staircase had taken you longer to find than you’re willing to admit. It’s flanked on either side by large potted plants, making the doorway leading to the stairs virtually impossible to see until you’ve already passed it. You wonder how many other corridors and stairwells and secret doors you’ve missed because of conveniently-placed decorations.

Instead of turning towards the large front doors of the Abbey, Papa guides the two of you towards the refectory. The large room is empty at this hour, save for a few Siblings who use it as a meeting place. It’s a different way than you’d expected, but you don’t question the route Papa takes—he must know the Abbey like the back of his hand.

He leads you through the refectory and into the kitchens. Several Siblings are already working hard to prepare lunch. The large, brick-walled room is a whirlwind of smells and heat and aprons flitting about. Whatever it is that the Siblings are preparing today smells delicious, and it makes your stomach twist with hunger. Oh, Papa would be angry at you if he knew you’d skipped breakfast again.

The two of you skirt along the walls of the kitchen, careful not to get in the way of any Siblings at work. They hardly even notice you. One Brother of Sin nods his head respectfully at Papa and gives you a smile, which you shyly return, but he misses it when he ducks his head back down to focus on not mincing his fingers into the large pile of garlic under his knife.

Despite the delicious smells swirling around the kitchens, you breathe a sigh of relief when Papa leads you through a creaky wooden door and out into the chilly morning air. It’s an overcast day but not too dark, casting the grounds in a cool glow. A thin, grassy dirt path leads from the kitchen door down a hill to the Abbey gardens.

You understand why they’re called the gardens now, rather than the singular garden.

Four large greenhouses and a garden shed are lined up at the bottom of the hill. Through the transparent glass, you can tell that each greenhouse is filled wall-to-wall with greenery. Several Siblings carry baskets and walk up and down the greenhouses, checking soil, pruning leaves, and harvesting ripe vegetables. A basket full of ripe red tomatoes sits outside the rightmost greenhouse. The path from the kitchen door leads directly to the greenhouses, likely a result of Siblings carrying fresh ingredients directly to the door you’ve just stepped through.

About halfway down the gentle hill, the path forks to the left. It veers off and disappears into a labyrinth of shrubs. The only thing flowering this early in the year are the bright yellow daffodils, which flank the garden path leading into the flower bushes.

From this vantage point atop the hill, you spot another building off in the corner of the Abbey grounds, nestled just outside the edge of the forest. You hadn’t noticed it until now. It almost looks abandoned, but the neatly trimmed garden at its front suggests otherwise. The tiny steeple with an inverted cross, made of red and yellow stained glass, tells you that it’s a small chapel.

The step from the kitchens to the worn dirt path is a large one. Papa hops down with a small oof, and before you can step down after him, he turns and holds his gloved hand out for you to take.

The leather feels like smooth, warm butter against your palm. His fingers gently grasp your hand, and you meet his eyes as he guides you down the tall step. For a moment you understand the swell of music, the stray flower petals, the slowing of time that moments like these are described with in books. While it is a simple gesture, Papa handing you down off the step seems incredibly… intimate. You are not the type to swoon but you can see how a Lady might, while being guided down from a carriage or a grand staircase.

You almost reach down to gather expensive silk skirts, but the moment is broken when your foot lands on the ground. This isn’t a romance novel and you aren’t a Lady. Even if you were a Lady, Papa is the King and you are the third daughter of some country Baron with a tiny homestead and a measly dowry.

“There we go,” Papa says as you land on the ground. He gives you a warm smile and squeezes your hand for a brief moment before letting it go. “Now, would you like to tell me about what happened with Sister?”

You stroll next to him down the hill, following the left fork of the path which leads into the labyrinth of flower bushes. “Well,” you sigh. “Last night she asked me to come to her office this morning to discuss progress. She was… less than pleased that I’ve only been able to translate a single word so far. I’m sure you can imagine.”

“I can,” Papa says sympathetically. “What did she say?”

A humorless laugh escapes you. “She said that if I haven’t made significant progress by tomorrow morning, she’ll send me home.”

Papa’s head, which had been slightly bowed to watch his footing as he walks beside you, shoots up. “Home? To–-to Marseille?”

Oh, no no. Copia doesn’t like that idea at all. He is just starting to know you, to figure out why he feels so drawn to you. So attracted to you. You can’t leave him. Not yet.

You nod, but leave the conversation at that. The silence floats in the air between you like a mutual understanding. There’s something here, it says in the breeze. And there is something—regardless of how desperately you’d tried to stay detached, how adamantly you tell yourself you don’t care about him at all. There is something, and it will be gone tomorrow morning.

“I will talk to Sister,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “No, Papa, it’s alright. I will—”

“Copia.”

You blink. “What?”

“Call me Copia,” he asks gently. His gaze meets yours and you notice that there’s an errant lock of hair in front of his eyes.

He wants to hear his name leave your lips. Just once. Sweet Satan, just once.

“Copia,” you say, as if you read his very thoughts. And oh, you sound so sweet saying his name like that. He’s grateful for the full paints he’d decided to wear today, otherwise you might catch his very hot, very red face. Though, perhaps his ears give that away. He never does paint them.

The two of you finally reach the labyrinth of flower bushes. The sounds of the Siblings working in the gardens fades away until it’s just you and Copia, together on the gravel path.

“Let me talk to Sister,” Copia tries again.

You smile at him, grateful for his offer. “I tried. She didn’t seem to care that it’s written in a cipher. She said,” you paraphrase, “‘I don’t care if it’s in hieroglyphs, you’re here to figure it out.’”

That brings an unexpected bark of laughter from Copia. “Hieroglyphs might be easier. At least there would be some pretty pictures to look at.”

You laugh with him, then settle into another, more comfortable silence for a few moments. “I don’t know what to do. Part of me wants to just accept it and go home.”

“And the other part?” Copia asks.

“The other part of me wants to go back up there and try like hell,” you admit. “But what can I do? I feel like I’ve tried everything. I can’t think of anything else.”

He regards you for a second, then looks forward. “Maybe you need to, eh… take your mind off it for a little while. Think of something else, yes?”

Your stomach does a jaunty little flip. Is… is he suggesting—?

“Will you tell me about Marseille?” Copia asks. “I’ve never been.”

Oh. No, he’s not suggesting. Of course not, désespérée.

“I will tell you about Marseille,” you agree, turning to him as you walk side-by-side, “if you tell me about where you’re from.”

Copia looks at you as well, his heart swelling with fondness at the mention of his home. He adores that you want to know about him, about his life before becoming Papa. He finds that he wants to tell you everything, if only to draw out that shine that grows in your eyes when you’re happy. Copia remembers how your eyes had shone when telling him about La génie, and when you’d finally uncovered that first word of Elizabeth’s diary.

He hates that Sister Imperator is threatening to send you home. Does she not realize that to translate one word at all from that enigma of a diary is an accomplishment in and of itself? Does she not realize how hard you’ve been working, sacrificing meals and sleep for work? It’s one of the things he admires about you, but it makes him worry to no end. He hadn’t seen you in the refectory for breakfast this morning, but can he blame you? You must have been anxious to Hell and back about the meeting with Sister. He could see that from the second you stepped out of her office door.

Yes, he will tell you about his home. Because he wants to see you happy and distracted from the weight on your shoulders.

“Deal,” he says with a smile. “You first, cara.”

You’re happy to talk about your home. There’s a warm fluttering in your heart when you think about it, and even more so when you talk to Copia about it. You tell him more about the Marseille Abbey, about how it’s ancient and drafty but it breathes life into you. You tell him about your windowsill full of prayer books. You tell him about Bishop Beaumont, and about each Sibling who lives at the abbey, as well as the few Siblings who don’t. Then your focus shifts to the area outside your Abbey, to the hilltop it sits on as it overlooks the sea. You tell him about the wildflowers that bloom in the tall grass all through the summertime and how they must be budding this very second.

Copia asks about the city proper, and about the area surrounding your Abbey. You tell him that your small cathedral is nestled on a grassy hillside, between steep, rocky slopes which overlook the water. Not many people in Marseille actually know it’s there—it’s hidden from the city proper, and not a short drive away. The roads leading up to the Abbey are long, winding dirt paths that are hardly roads at all. You tell him that if one was in a hurry to run an errand, they would be better off using the ancient stone steps which lead into a smaller village and are likely older than time itself.

You tell him about Alphonse, a tomcat who lives in the village and who sometimes makes the journey up the hill for ear scratches and to sunbathe on the flat stones which surround the Abbey walls. He is scraggly and old but sweet as sugar, and yes, you spoil him whenever he visits.

And then, Copia asks about Liège.

“I… I was eleven,” you tell him. You find yourself wanting him to know, wanting to speak about what had happened. “I was going through a crisis of faith at the time, and my mother found my diary. She read all about how I was doubting the Catholic faith, how I was angry at God for one thing or another. I don’t even remember what I wrote at the time, but it was enough for my parents to bring me on a trip to Liège.

“They told me it was to tour Saint Paul’s Cathedral. And we did, but…” you pause and bite the inside of your cheek. “My mother said she wanted to bring me to the Cathedral so I could find the glory of God again. She said, ‘l'amour de Dieu est perdu en toi’. ‘God’s love is lost in you.’ Funny, how that was the day I found where I would eventually put my faith.”

Copia watches you silently. The line between his brows is back now, and deeper, but it isn’t a look of pity.

You laugh through your nose. “They told me we were touring the Cathedral. They didn’t tell me they were leaving me there.”

Copia gently takes your arm and slows the two of you to a stop. You’re somewhere in the bowels of the flower garden, far enough in that the bustle of the Abbey and the gardens has faded to a soft murmur. Somehow, despite how early it is in the year, the bushes around you aren’t dormant. No, they’re nearly bursting with color—white and pink flowers with layers upon layers of petals, so dense that you can hardly see the deep green leaves of the bushes they grow on. The chilly breeze carries their sweet scent and wisps it between you and Copia.

A neatly handwritten sign in the soil reads Camellia. You wonder how something so beautiful can bloom so early.

He dips his head down to meet your lowered gaze. “Tesoro,” he says so gently that you almost want to cry. The wounds you’ve just told him about are old and scarred over, but the way he coos at you in Italian… It rips open the hurt and stitches it back together at the same time.

“They enrolled me in a Catholic school run out of the Cathedral,” you tell him. “Do you know how far Liège is from where I grew up? Quite far. In a completely different country, in fact.”

Copia is silent. You realize that the warmth of his hand never left your arm. His thumb strokes small circles where it rests.

You smile at him, but there’s no joy behind it. “I had to leave everything behind. Everything I knew, everything and everyone that was familiar was gone in a moment. So you know what I did?”

He shakes his head.

“I left God behind, too.”

Copia wants to hug you. He wants to pull you into his arms and never let you go, even if you begged him to. He wants to whisper little reassurances in your ear. Lucifer below, he hates what happened to you. He understands now why you are so reserved. How could someone not be, after going through what you’d gone through? But… look at who you’ve become.

He’s proud of you. Not just as your Papa, but as… something else entirely.

“What happened after?”

The two of you start walking again, and he removes his hand from your arm. You wish he wouldn’t. You move past the blooming camellia bushes and the air loses that slight sweetness. “Well, I spent a lot of time with La génie du mal while I was there,” you smile, this time with a bit of fondness. “And then when I was old enough to leave the school, I enrolled in a University and learned all I could.”

Copia watches you as you speak, as he had been the whole time during your stroll in the gardens. Though now, the path leads you out of the flower grove and along the tree line at the back of the Abbey grounds. It’s even quieter here, with only the light birdsong of Spring to interrupt you.

From this far, the Abbey looks like a dollhouse. It sits pretty on the hilltop, with little figurines dressed in black flitting back and forth between the kitchens and the greenhouses. Everything seems so distant, so small from where you are now, that even the worries you’d had fade away into the background. The only things that matter are the birds, the trees, and Copia. Just Copia. Not Papa, not the figurehead of the Satanic Ministry, just… Copia.

You feel as though you’ve talked his ear off. All through the flower labyrinth you’d talked, answering his questions or telling stories of your own. But now you find that he knows much more about you than you do about him.

After a brief pause as you walk past a small cluster of stone benches, you turn to Copia. “Your turn,” you say. “I think I’ve talked enough for half a lifetime by now.”

Copia laughs. “I’ve said it before, cara. I enjoy listening to you talk. But, eh… I suppose we did have an agreement, yes? What would you like to know?”

“Everything,” you say before you can stop yourself. And it’s true, you do want to know everything, but you weren’t supposed to say it out loud. “Uh, I-I mean, whatever you wish to tell me.”

He wishes you wouldn’t censor yourself like that, but watching you nervously flick your gaze around to everything except him makes his heart do strange flips and jumps against his ribcage. You are so honest with your emotions, even if you don’t mean to be. You might say one thing but your face betrays another, and it’s something Copia adores about you—how expressive you are. Perhaps he’s just good at reading people after having been a fly on the wall for most of his life, but you are something different. You seem to trust him past the mantle of Papa. And, well, if he’s honest, he trusts you as more than just a member of his unholy flock. Like he could tell you his secrets with full confidence that you would keep them.

Copia wonders if you’ve noticed he hasn’t called you by your title since you stepped foot in the gardens. He wonders if you’ve noticed you haven’t called him Papa, either.

“I was born in Rome,” he begins, “but I was raised in the Florence Abbey until I was ten.”

“Away from your brothers?” You ask, hoping you’re not prying too far already.

Copia nods. “Eh, yes. My brothers were born and raised in Rome, with my father. I was sent to Florence because my mother… Well. I believe she didn’t want my father to know about me.”

You want to take his hand and squeeze it. You don’t.

“So I stayed in Florence, raised by the Sisters of Sin there until I was ten. Until I started to ask questions about this.” He gestures to his white eye. “And then, people started to wonder why a nameless Florentine boy had the mark of the Morningstar, like all the Papas before.”

You watch as he turns about, as if looking for someone. He tilts his head back to peer over the tall shrubs of the flower labyrinth, which you stand outside. The tops of the greenhouses are just visible, as well as the spire of the small, stone chapel far beyond. Seemingly not finding who he’s looking for, Copia turns back to you. “Primo came to the Florence Abbey after he heard about me. Word travels fast in the Ministry, sì? Until then it was common knowledge that Papa Emeritus Nihil only had three sons. But Primo took one look at me and said, 'sì, sei mio fratello', and scooped me up and took me to Rome.”

The way Copia says the last few words makes your heart warm as if the memory was your own. He seems to remember it fondly—there’s a small, warm smile on his black-painted lips. “Were you happy to leave Florence?”

“Yes—eh, yes and no. The Sisters who took care of me were kind, and I hold them in my heart dearly, but… they were no Primo.”

“Papa Primo raised you, when you went back to Rome?”

“He did,” Copia tells you. “He raised all of us, you see, and very well, too. I would like to think we all turned out alright. Our father was… he was busy being Papa, I suppose. No time for three little rascals and a teenage son more responsible than him.”

There’s an unmistakable edge of bitterness in his tone, and you can imagine why. To find out he had a father, a father who was Papa no less, but to learn that he had no regard for children as anything other than proponents of a bloodline… it must have hurt him terribly. You remember craving approval at that age, doing anything and everything you could for your parents’ praise. But you can’t imagine how it must have felt to be pushed aside by the father you didn’t know you had, who you’d craved your whole life.

“Copia,” you whisper. “That’s… I’m so sorry. No one deserves that, especially not a child.”

He looks at you then. His hair, slightly graying at his temples, is a little disheveled from the chilly breeze at your backs. He still holds that smile, but now it’s rueful. “It’s alright, cara mia. I had my brothers. I still do.”

Your hand is in his before you realize. His palm is warm underneath the leather.

“And your mother?”

Copia looks ahead but his gaze drops to his feet. “I… never found out. Not for sure.”

You don’t want to pry any further. It’s obvious that this is a sore subject for him, and so you let it hang in the silence between you.

You feel as if you could peacefully coexist with Copia. Both of you know that nothing more needs to be said. You let the quiet float between you, enveloping you like a warm blanket. Neither of you interrupt it with forced small talk about the weather, or your favorite books, or what might be served for dinner tonight. You can talk about those things later.

It almost startles you when you realize that you want there to be a later. You want for there to be a tomorrow, a next week, a next month. You want for there to be stupid little chats about favorite books and food and weather, and you’re still holding his hand but you don’t want to let go of it. You want to hold his hand on walks like this, or when you’re both sitting quiet on a loveseat and reading those favorite books you might have talked about, or when he raises it up above your head to twirl you around and then pull you into him and kiss you sweetly.

But oh, if you only knew how he felt the same. How he wishes you’d come and work in his office so the two of you could just exist in the same space, even if you don’t talk for hours. How he wants to drag you back to the Abbey to work on Elizabeth’s diary, and help you think until you both are sleep deprived and a little loopy, just so you can figure it out because he doesn’t want you to leave him. You can’t leave him so soon after he’s found you. Sweet Lucifer below, you’re the only bright spot in the lonely darkness that he’s seen in so long. You’re the flowers blooming in the early spring, beautiful and sweet and unexpected after walking through a labyrinth of routine. You’re his camellia.

The two of you stroll on the path behind the row of greenhouses. Copia doesn’t remove his hand from yours. He doesn’t care that Siblings or ghouls or Primo might see. The two of you find comfort in each other, and holding onto that feeling is the most important thing in the world to him right now. This feeling, and you.

A fat drop of rain lands against the side of your nose. You reach your free hand up to swipe it away, and pull your finger back to look at the offending droplet. “Oh,” you hum. “I think it’s going to rain.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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eleanore-delphinium · 5 months

Text

For Sauce Weekend: Day 3: "Put This On For Me"

This idea isn’t mine completely, this came from a book in goodnovel (app) titled ‘ Yearning for Her Return’. And it bothered me so this is me amending it to make it make sense.

Also, The Life of A Vampire & A Witch in the Woods, was supposed to be a halloween special. I forgot to say it there and it has bothered me for days.

And A03 link for this fic if you read there (my ff.net is fucked my stats always shows 0 for 3 months now.)

Disclaimer: Modern AU, again not really smut more on domestic fluff. CEO Dami, MATURE.

For Sauce Weekend: Day 3: "Put This On For Me"

Word Count: 10 310 (ish)

~.~.~.~.~.~

"Put This On For Me"

Damian Wayne and Rachel ‘Raven’ Roth were arranged to be married and on the evening of their wedding, Raven was shipped out of Gotham like some unwanted child after a divorce. She didn’t even get to have her long-awaited wedding night, not that she was actually anticipating it.

People had told her such wonderful things about the wedding night, all the bells and whistles you could ever think of. But she was aware that her wedding was nothing but a show and that expecting all those promises was foolish.

She knew they only told her that to comfort her.

It’s been three months since her wedding and she never saw or heard from her husband. But it didn’t matter, she had other things to worry about, like finishing up her university and getting her degree in Metropolis.

She returned to her apartment rather early in the morning, having not slept there because she was out doing a project. When she opened the door, she wasn’t really paying attention as she was tired and closed the door the moment, she opened it. Her back turned to the living room instantly. She leaned against the door as she locked it, sighing aloud.

“You should pay more attention to your surroundings.” A male voice came from behind her and she yelped, jumping to the door and hitting her head on the wood.

“God, and I married you?” The voice said and Raven turned to the voice and she gasped taking a step back, her back now pressed on the wooden door.

She’d recognize that face anywhere. Even though she had only seen him once. On their wedding ceremony.

He wore a black suit and a dark green dress shirt underneath. It matched his eyes well. He was the most handsome man Raven had ever had the honor to meet if she'd be honest. His green eyes that were locked on her were nothing less than intoxicating. Or maybe it was his effect on her. He was just that handsome.

“How- how did you get in here?” She asked, trying to breathe normally.

“I’m your husband.” He just answered back and she frowned.

“I should talk to my landlord.” She mumbled under her breath.

“I will deal with that for you, dear wife, but first we have other pressing matters to deal with.” He approached her and she watched him come closer to her.

She nervously gulped, “Like what?”

“Like the fact that you ran off right after our wedding?” There was an edge to his voice and it annoyed Raven.

She frowned and the annoyance became anger, “You were the one who sent me away!”

Damian froze and she watched his jaw tighten and his gaze turned even colder, “What?”

Raven wasn’t dumb, she could see it in his body language that he didn’t send her away. Then he continued making his way to her, she was shaking in her spot against the door. She didn’t know him on a personal level, so being afraid was quite natural.

“How about you changing your number?” He asked, putting a hand beside her head, pinning her to the wall.

She got even angrier, “What are you talking about?” She glared at him then placed both her hands on his chest, pushing him harshly, “You blocked me!” But he didn’t even budge and her hands on his firm chest felt like they were burning.

His chest was really hard underneath all the layers of clothes.

Damian’s face softened a little but not significant enough, even so, she noted how his brows looked less close to one another. His other hand that wasn’t near her head, rummaged inside his blazer pocket and she couldn’t help but look down. He took out his phone and then showed her the screen.

She pulled her head away a bit and blinked as she looked down at the screen. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the light.

After a few seconds he said, “Isn’t this your number?”

Raven frowned and then nodded.

“Then press the call button for me.” He stated as she looked up at him, looking like she wanted to say no but still did what was asked.

“Sorry, the number you have dialed is out of service.” She looked genuinely shocked hearing the robotic voice of a woman tell her that her number is out of service.

For a moment, the anger subsided, “I never changed my number…” She mumbled to which he raised a brow at her.

Then she tried to push him away again, “But you blocked me!” She countered recalling how many times she tried to reach out to him. And to prove a point, she pulled out her phone and did the same thing he did.

“This is your number, right?” She showed him his phone number on her phone and he nodded. She quickly dialed it and they got the same robotic voice.

Her husband’s angular jaw seemed sharper as he clenched his teeth. “Looks like someone is playing tricks on us.”

Raven pressed her lips, she had nothing to say, and had no idea who would go to such lengths.

“Well, now that that mystery is solved– What are you doing here?” She asked carefully and he studied her.

He smiled, a quite enchanting smile if she may add, “Well, I didn’t get to have my honeymoon.”

Her body stiffened then the words sunk it, “You sent me away!”

“I didn’t.” His smile and gaze were alluring and distracting her.

The next thing she knew, his hands were on her waist as he took one step and now his face was just a breath away. One of his hands caressed her spine.

“I didn’t block you nor did I send you away.” He inhaled deeply. “We were robbed of our own wedding night. As a responsible husband, it seems like I owe you a lot due to your grievances. That includes our first night as a couple.” He whispered and she swallowed her saliva.

Raven only realized now how deep his voice was and how dangerously close he was. His mouth was hovering over hers and, to be honest, she was anticipating the kiss. His eyes locked on her lips and she didn’t notice it but she had licked her dry lips, making the corners of his lips twitch.

The next moment his lips were on hers and the couple continued to explore each other’s mouths.

Eventually, he pulled away, “Tell me where the bedroom is or I am having you on this damn floor.”

She swallowed and raised an arm while her eyes fluttered, pointing at a door almost directly across the entrance.

He nodded and smiled at her then lifted her up by the waist. Her eyes widened as he pulled her to him and she naturally wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her with ease while also groping her ass.

Raven felt embarrassed but they were married.

“I’ve been waiting for this since our wedding ceremony, you can imagine my disappointment when I heard you just left.” There was a tinge of anger in his voice and yet, she just felt even more embarrassed by what he said.

He looked forward to fucking her?

The nervousness couldn’t be controlled, not with his implications.

The next thing she knew, she was placed gently on her bed that had white sheets and he lightly lifted her chin, “I will rectify this issue and I will treat you well, but I expect the same from you.”

She didn’t even know why, she just nodded.

He kissed her neck, “I mean I don’t want you cheating on me, wife.”

Raven snapped out of whatever trance he induced in her. She poked his shoulder harshly, “Shouldn’t I say that to you?”

He lifted his head from her neck and raised a brow at her, “And why is that?”

She frowned, “Business meetings? Women and half their tits out bouncing to get your attention?”

He chuckled casually, “I don’t think that is a business meeting, beloved.”

She choked, oh how easy it was for him to pull out a pet name for her out of thin air.

He stroked her jaw, “Don’t you think it suits you? Beloved?”

She couldn’t answer, she couldn’t even look at him. But she felt that her face was crimson red.

“We will discuss other details later, for now,” His hands found their way under her shirt and to her slim waist. “Let’s have our long-awaited wedding night.”

He was overbearing. She knew this the moment she met him. And as he tossed and turned her for hours, all she could think about was how right she was.

He was so overbearing.

He did make her feel good though. And tired.

Raven sighed as she woke, she remembered that she had a class. She tried to get out but strong arms wrapped around her.

“Where are you going?” He sounded displeased and even though her mind told her to obey, even though she was sore, she knew she had a class. So, she fought through her desire to comply with whatever he would demand of her.

“I have a class.” She mumbled trying not to shy away from his presence. She was her own person before she met him.

The strong arms that she was wrapped around with were starting to feel familiar to her and he easily pulled her back to his chest. He twisted a little, trapping her between his body weight and the bed.

“Skip it.” He just mumbled back, lips finding her neck.

“I have never skipped a class in my life.” She struggled to escape his stronghold as she spoke.

“Well, there is always a first.” He answered back and she sighed loudly. “Your husband came all the way here to Metropolis to see you. We’ve been apart for long enough. You can afford to skip a class.”

She pinched his arm hoping he would let her go, but he didn’t even flinch.

“We didn’t get the chance to get to know each other. Why don’t we take this fine opportunity, dear beloved wife?” He whispered into her ear and she stiffened. She felt him angle her body so that her butt touched his growing erection.

She gulped, “You seem to like giving me a lot of pet names.” She tried to focus on other things and refused to move an inch, but he had other plans.

He pressed himself against her supple ass, rendering her nonmovement useless, “I think ‘beloved’ suits you the most, but I have to get used to the idea of having a wife. With that said, you should call me husband so the idea doesn’t get forgotten, don’t you agree, beloved wife?” He blew against her ear.

Raven’s eyes were swimming, she couldn’t focus, not with the goliath poking at her butt.

“Wife?” He sang grinding against her with one stroke of his hips and she gasped and gripped the sheets. She couldn’t see how his lips curled up cunningly.

He really was overbearing. And she was married to him.

When he was done with prying and probing every inch of her body, yet again, he studied the woman before him. She was laying on her back on the bed, her legs spread before him forming an M, her chest rose and fell carefully with eyes glazed and lips ajar. He was kneeling in front of her between her open legs.

His hand traced her collarbone then went down between her breasts and pressed her lower abdomen as he watched his cum slip out of her slit. A soft moan came out from her lips.

Then his eyes suddenly lit up, not with desire but a sharpness that could not be identified as a good or bad sign.

“Are you on birth control?” The question from his lips made Raven wake up from her trance. She propped herself up quickly with wide eyes.

She gasped, “Oh my god! No!”

The sharpness in his gaze turned dark. “Do you not want children?” His jaws tightened but his companion did not notice this.

“Of course not!” She pulled away from his touch as she twisted and tried to get off the bed. “I have to finish university; I don’t want to be pregnant yet.”

Damian looked pleased with her answer, ‘yet’ was the word that calmed him, not that she noticed his distress. His hand wrapped around her ankle and she was suddenly pulled back to the bed, putting her in the same position she was previously laying.

She looked at him confusedly.

“I will have someone buy you some pills, so don’t worry about it.” He simply stated and all she could do was study him. “But I would like you to decide on what kind of birth control you would prefer in the long run.”

“Okay.” She quietly answered, she didn’t know why but it felt like he was talking to her like a business partner. Although to be fair, their marriage is business for their families.

He leaned down to her, “I don’t mind you getting pregnant, after all, you are my wife and there is nothing wrong with that. But since you want to focus on your studies, I will adhere to your wishes.”

With the way he looked at her, she was really convinced that this was merely business for him.

“Alright. I understand.” She repeated meekly.

Damian felt that she sounded like a schoolgirl being scolded by her teacher and he sighed. He then lifted her chin with his fingers.

“Raven,” He called her name and she looked up surprised, eyes locked onto his lips, “You are my wife, and I respect our union even if this marriage is arranged. I will treat you the way you deserve. Do not doubt that.”

She gulped nervously and nodded and he hovered over her body.

“I will deal with whoever tried to make us have this misunderstanding. You do not have to worry about anything. In the meantime, for now, we have to act as if we have not–” His finger swiped her crotch, putting stray liquid back in her, “finalized this marriage.” His green eyes were firm on her face.

He leaned back into her, his face just above hers, “I will honor this marriage and I hope you can do the same.”

She nodded and he frowned, tugging at her chin and tilting her head closer to his face, “I need words, beloved.”

“I will honor this marriage.” She answered quietly, chest rising from the tension he was causing.

He smiled and it took her breath away.

“Good.” He kissed her forehead. “I will have someone buy us new phones; we shall communicate through them as well as acquire your pills.” He pulled away as he got off the bed.

“It’s best we still keep our old phones and use the new ones to exclusively communicate with one another. We would need to make whoever is behind this plot think we haven’t made contact. And I came here in secret if you are wondering.” He explained as he picked up his phone. He could feel her eyes on him.

Was it bad that Raven kind of felt like she just made a deal with the devil?

Damian then got back onto the bed and pinned her down.

“Why did it sound like you don’t want my kids?” He suddenly asked, his sharp eyes studying her, “Other than school.”

“I’m a virgin.” She just answered instantly and he looked like he got punched.

He pulled away, the confusion on his face clear, “What?” His eyes studied her legs.

“What, looking for blood?” Her voice sounded on edge, “Men are always the same.”

She could feel his annoyance as he said, “It’s not like that.”

There was indeed an absence of blood and there was no complaining about pain. A common idea of how female virgins act when their virginity is taken from them.

He brought his lips against her ear, “You seemed to know what you were doing.” His tongue flickered on her ear.

She had placed a hand on his chest and his hand captured her fist. “It seems like you and I are very sexually compatible.” His teeth tugged at her reddened ear.

She couldn’t answer him, she didn’t know how to. There was a voice in the back of her head agreeing to his words.

And as if to prove their sexual compatibility he fucked her again. Oh and how he did her good.

“Fuck!” She swore, forcing herself to roll off of him after another round of his probing.

He groaned in disapproval. “Where are you going?” He asked her, his belly lying on the bed.

“I told you I had class.” She glared but struggled to get up. And she looked like she was about to cry, she was so sore. Who said having sex with their husband is magical? She pressed her lips as she sat up.

It was magically painful in ways she didn’t think that her body could possibly ache.

Damian honestly enjoyed seeing her struggle and seeing her bare breasts– among the general bareness of such a beautiful body.

“You know you don’t really need to go to classes physically. You can still get your degree while you're in Gotham.” He drawled, flipping over, not attempting to pull her back into bed which she was grateful for.

His words, not so much.

She glared at him as she stood up gasping with wide eyes and finding her balance, “I’m sorry we can’t be like you– graduating uni at age sixteen.” She hissed, “Oh my gosh.” She whispered leaning on her nightstand.

He shifted in the bed and she suddenly added as she turned away from him, “We can’t all have two degrees–”

“Three actually.” He cut her off and she turned to glare at him.

“Besides, I like seeing my classmates and teachers.” She added gently but the discomfort was clear in her face and in the way she moved or lack thereof.

“I didn't. Which was why I finished uni as fast as I could. Father, however, did not enjoy it and kept putting me to school.” He shrugged and pressed his lips when his wife’s face told him to shut up.

“I’m sorry for being dumb.” She muttered and he didn’t know how to respond.

“If you want to go to school, I won’t stop you. I advocate for education.” He propped himself up on the headboard, the blanket covering his lower regions.

He caught the surprise in her eyes and she nodded with a small happy smile.

“I will be right where you left me, wife.” He said with crossed arms, his eyes filled with joy from seeing his wife filled with marks he made.

And what a lovely piece of art he made indeed.

Raven absentmindedly nodded and made her way to a door at the side which he assumed was the bathroom. And indeed, it was the bathroom when he faintly heard the sound of water from a shower.

Once she was out of the bathroom, she shyly changed her clothes with an audience. She supposed she’d have to get used to it eventually. She changed her clothes with her towel still covering her up.

Raven was sore but she endured and had to cover up really well because of what her husband so graciously left on her entire body. She could feel that this relationship would not be easy or convenient.

Damian could tell she was having a hard time changing but she’ll get used to someone being in the same room. And he still enjoyed the little show. It was like peek-a-boo.

“I’ll go to school now.” She awkwardly said, her eyes trying not to look at him. His abdomen looked so goddamn nice. What the fuck!

“I’ll be right here, where you left me.” He smiled, giving her a little salute and wink.

Damian was really true to his words; he really was where she had left him by the time she returned home. He was on the bed shirtless and looking over papers.

She frowned at him, “Don’t you run a multi-million company?”

He glanced up from the paper he was holding, and she didn’t think he’d look even hotter with the eyeglasses he had on. For someone who was a virgin a few hours ago, was it bad that she could feel herself get wet at the sight?

She gulped down her desires as she anticipated his answer.

“That's what this is.” He raised the paper casually.

“Don’t you need to be there?” She tried to clear up.

He looked at her thoughtfully, she was still standing by her door. “I still haven't taken my honeymoon leave.” His eyes for the briefest second locked at a certain part of her body with the slightest hint of displeasure. But she had not noticed the very quick change.

She scrutinized his face and body language, was he serious?

He placed the papers on the side table, “I am all naked underneath waiting for your return, beloved wife.”

It took a moment, but Raven’s face turned crimson when his words sunk into her brain.

Again, he was true to his words, this was starting to feel like a honeymoon– the one filled with nothing but sex. She wasn’t even sure how she reached his side and how they got to grinding against one another’s naked bodies and moaning.

When he was done, and she calmed from her high with his body over hers on the bed. His hand slipped to one of her hands, caressing her knuckles. There was an absence of a ring on either of her hands.

Raven suddenly said, “I used to do gymnastics.”

He looked really taken aback, not understanding where this was coming from. Thankfully his mind was always sharp. He chuckled suddenly to which she frowned.

“Have you been thinking about that this entire time? While you were at school?” He asked after shaking his head. He glanced down at her and saw her serious face and he reeled in his laughter. “I believed you when you said you were a virgin. It doesn’t matter to me if you weren’t either. But now that we are married, again, I expect loyalty and faithfulness.”

“I don’t think I can handle being with another man with your libido.” She muttered, clearly not paying attention to her words and her eyes widened when she realized what she said aloud.

He laughed heartily, “Good.” He kissed her forehead.

She had to be honest, she thought he’d scold her. And then she felt his hand caressing her thigh. Ah, there it was.

Raven was sure she was being punished, but fuck was he doing it so gently and all she could do was moan into his hand. He thrust from behind her with a softness that seeped into her heart.

“I hope you kept some of those leotards, I think we can make good use of them.” He whispered hoarsely against her ear, still pounding at her. His hips hit her plump ass.

He couldn’t tell if the moans into his hand were out of agreement or just pleasure, he was more certain it was the latter, but he had to cover her mouth as she had become rather loud. He didn’t want the neighbors banging on her door.

When they were finished, he wrapped her in his arms and whispered to the exhausted woman, “Which reminds me, I got us our new phones–” He stopped, noticing that she was struggling to keep her eyes open. He kissed her forehead.

“Later then.” He mumbled, closing his eyes.

The fact that she lacked a ring did not escape his mind.

Raven’s husband had been staying with her for three days. And she had no choice but to miss some classes because of him. Much to her dismay.

And every time she went back home from her classes, he’d be propped up on the bed naked, a blanket over his legs while he read papers and with his eyeglasses on. But now it seemed that he had bought a laptop.

“Oh, I noticed you didn’t have a laptop and printer. They are yours, but as of now I am borrowing the laptop.” He nonchalantly said. She absentmindedly nodded.

Raven did need a laptop and printer for school so she was appreciative.

He didn’t look up from reading his report, “Oh, by the way, I talked to your landlord. I told him your contract is invalid.”

“What?” She glanced at him. She was making her way to her closet, used to having company now, and was planning to change. She had gotten used to his domineering personality too.

He glanced up to look at her and she studied his face trying to understand him.

It dawned on her and she replied with an edge on her voice, “Because I wrote Raven on the contract?” He frowned and she continued on, “You are making a big deal over that?”

He sighed, making her stop as she watched him take off his eyeglasses and placed it on the bed. She pressed her lips, the sight was so hot, that she couldn’t help but admit.

Raven tried not to avoid his gaze and tried to glare at him to focus that she was angry at him. The implications of an invalid contract were less than ideal.

“I don’t care if you write Rachel or Raven,” he said carefully and she looked very confused. “But you are a Wayne.”

He heard her gasp from where he was and she blinked.

“Would you rather resign the contract or move?” He asked and saw how she frowned when he suggested moving.

“I like my apartment.” She stated simply and he studied her room. He knew he could give her better.

He sighed aloud, it was clear to her that he didn’t like her answer. He reached out for a stack of paper that had a pen clipped on it as he offered it to her, “Here is the contract and sign in properly. I will give it to your landlord.”

Raven was surprised, she thought he would tell her to move. Her feet moved by themselves as she approached him and sat beside him as she took the papers from him. She signed Raven Wayne on the paper and gave it to him for checking.

She was nervous as she waited for his approval, head cast down. She didn’t even know why she was feeling like this or acting like this. She didn’t see how her husband’s lips twitched seeing her name.

“Alright.” He said and she looked up. She was still expecting him to tell her that she couldn’t stay here. From what she heard of Damian he was the excessive type. And with how he had been handling her in the short time they have been together, she can’t deny the statement.

“Oh, I have something for you.” He said and opened the drawer on the nightstand at his side. She tilted her head at him in confusion.

What else did he have for her?

Damian pulled out a black velvet box and her brows furrowed to show her confusion.

“I noticed you don’t wear your wedding ring.” He said and she stiffened and he opened the box. “I figure it’s too much for school.” He showed her the wedding set inside the box and her eyes twinkled.

“I had this made, I thought this was more to your taste.” He spoke as if they were talking about the weather.

It was a gold set of two thin band rings. One was a half eternity diamond ring and the other was a larger solitaire ring. This set was far smaller than the platinum set she got at their wedding. Being that the two-ring platinum set was filled with big diamonds stacked with another bigger diamond.

The design and appearance of the two sets were similar, an eternity ring with a solitaire diamond on one of the bands. But Raven thought the rings she got at her wedding were so gaudy she was embarrassed to be seen wearing them. And it would be too much for school as Damian pointed out. She was also certain she’d be robbed if she so casually walked around wearing the platinum set.

With Damian’s free hand stuck out, inviting her to put her hand atop his, he said, “This is just a mere placeholder for now. When I get to the bottom of who is trying to fuck with our relationship and when you are ready, we will go and have something made which fits both our preferences.”

Raven slipped her hand on top of his and watched him slide the two rings onto her finger and she was surprised by the perfect fit. Though, now that she thought about it, was there really something her husband couldn’t do?

“I was rather upset to see that you didn’t wear any kind of a ring as a placeholder to show that you are married.” He sighed putting her hand down and he reached out to his other hand playing with a ring on his ring finger that she didn’t even realize he had one on until now. “I always wear mine.”

His ring was three-toned, mostly black, but had gold and platinum on it. She would like to say it was simple, but with three colors on it, it clearly wasn’t.

“I’m sorry…” She couldn’t help but mumble, finding the new set on her finger with her other hand. “And thank you.”

He smiled thinly, eyes on her fingers brushing her wedding rings.

“Alright, when you figure things out we’ll go to a jeweler.” She mumbled and he nodded.

Just when she was about to stand up, he grabbed her wrist. And he pulled her to him.

“But now I must welcome my wife home.” He smirked as he watched her eyes widen.

Again. This man always gets what he wants. Though, he could have forced her hand and made her move, but he didn’t.

Maybe this time her spreading her legs for him was to show her silent gratitude that he didn’t force her hand and made her move. But maybe not, once his body touched hers it was like her skin was aflame. Memories of how good he fucks her would flash into her mind like a flash flood and she just can’t think straight.

And God, he really fucks her good.

They had finished yet another passionate moment and the two were cuddling in each other’s arms. Her head rested on his chest as she listened to his steady heartbeat. His hand caressed her arm.

“I think I know what I want for my long-term contraceptive.” She whispered, fingers playing with the curves of his abdomen muscles. For a second, she wondered if he really had a desk job as a CEO and all. How does he have time to work out?

“Oh? What is it?” He asked, breaking her chain of thought. He pulled away from her and shifted her in his arms so they could gaze at one another.

“I want an implant.” She stared at his eyes. She had thought about it. With his libido and her studies, this sounded… well sound. The best option so she didn’t have to think about taking contraceptive pills or injections on a regular basis.

She thought that he would say no, but he surprised her again, “Alright, I will arrange a hospital appointment for tomorrow.”

She thought he would say no, but she didn’t expect that he would set an appointment just like that.

Damian saw how his wife frowned and he kissed her forehead, “It is a good choice, beloved, I don’t mind you getting pregnant.” He squeezed her in his arms briefly. “I can take care of you and our child. But we have to pretend like we have not met since our wedding. I’m still looking into who is trying to screw our marriage up. It would be a problem if everyone believed you were fooling around with someone else and that's how you wound up pregnant.” He sighed into her hair.

He made a very reasonable explanation and she nodded her head that was against his firm chest.

Yet still, he didn’t argue with her. She was certain that he could have. He could get what he wanted by force. And yet, he didn’t.

His attitude was starting to become endearing for Raven, even his arrogance.

Damian has been staying in her apartment for almost a week now and every time she arrived home she wished and hoped he would have already left. At this point, it’s what she hoped for because his sexual libido was so high she believed she couldn’t handle it. But every time he made a move she couldn’t say no, like quite literally the word disappeared from her mind. And she winds up in various positions with him.

She was convinced that he was right about their sexual compatibility.

Again, she entered her bedroom to see Damian on the bed. The same way he always was when she got home. But it was clear that he was very upset over something as he read the paper in his hands.

Raven studied her room, she realized that their clothes from their latest rendezvous were still scattered on the floor. Only at this moment did she realize that he cleans up the bedroom by the time she comes back from school or even when she is in the shower, but he’d always be on the bed when she reenters her bedroom.

She picked up his boxers, “Put this on for me.” She tossed it on the bed.

It appeared that he didn’t even realize that she had returned. Whatever troubles he had, it appeared to be deep. But the moment she spoke, his face softened and he glanced at his boxers and scrunched up his face.

He clicked his tongue and she thought he would say no. But she knew better now, she should not approach the bed because he would have her on her back the second, she was in arms reach.

To her surprise, he reached for the boxers and heaved a sigh, likely a show that he didn’t like what she was asking. He got out of the bed and he was indeed naked underneath the sheets like always.

Raven quickly looked away; she still wasn’t sure how that fit in her.

“You act like you weren’t enjoying this just before you left.” He chided pulling his boxers on and her face turned red. She felt even more embarrassed.

“Can’t you learn to put on clothes?” She rebuked helplessly. He just chuckled at her response.

“I don’t have clothes here.” He innocently answered and she glared at him.

“I’ve seen your bodyguards or whatever the hell they are, I know you ask them to bring you boxers.” She crossed her arms as she looked at him. She was thankful he had bottoms on, but that well-toned body was still distracting. “You can ask them to bring you more than just boxers.”

He shrugs at her casually, “It’s not like I plan to leave any time soon.”

Raven’s eyes were starting to stray and so were her thoughts. She quickly turned around and cleared her throat, “I will make us dinner and I would like it if you are there with me.”

She didn’t try to argue with him as she knew it would be useless.

She didn’t need to ask him to join her, truth be told, normally he’d follow her around if she decided to cook or if she went out of the bedroom. But this was the first time that she asked him to go with her to the kitchen. She didn’t see it but there was a very happy smile on Damian’s lips.

“Alright.” He replied after clearing the smile off his face, sounding casual and whatever.

Raven didn’t take a peek at him because she knew she would swoon and if he laid his hand on her she’d jump him. She coughed to clear her throat and her naughty thoughts.

In the kitchen, Raven was cutting a carrot and he sat across the counter watching her in all his shirtless glory. His chest had claw marks from her, but at this point, she was way past being embarrassed. His choice of not wearing clothes for almost a week has trained her eyes and mind to the sight. Thankfully, he would wear his boxers when outside the bedroom, but other than that, he was virtually naked as he stayed in her apartment.

He had a strained smile on his face as he watched her.

“What is it?” She pouted, glancing at him.

“I genuinely enjoy your cooking and the fact that you enjoy cooking for me.” He emphasized each word and she frowned as she stopped chopping. “But I admit my palette is used to world-renowned chefs.”

Raven put down her knife, “So, you’re saying my cooking sucks?”

He approached her, placing a hand on the counter, and genuinely said, “No, your cooking is superb, beloved.” He smiled and she actually believed his sincerity. It felt like he was radiating truthfulness from his very pores.

Or maybe because the sex was so good, she couldn’t get mad at him. He literally just said her cooking sucks by implying he only eats from some classy chef. But they were married and already fucking so she has to endure his attitude, right? Fuck!

Raven was chewing on her lower lip and he placed a thumb against her lip making her stop.

“I am a picky eater; I won’t deny that. If it isn’t a chef I approve of, I don’t eat the dish.” He spoke.

She wanted to bite his thumb. And to think she had been cooking for him out of the goodness of her heart.

“It’s why I learned how to cook.” It felt like Damian had dropped a bomb on Raven. Her feet were unsteady.

“What?” She almost chuckled as she studied him, “You cook?” She raised a brow at him.

He smiled politely, “Yes and I truly love your cooking,” The sincerity in his eyes was something she could not deny. His hands found her waist. “But let me cook for you this time.”

Damian swiftly pulled her to him and their lips were so close to one another that she was expecting a kiss at the back of her mind. Raven gulped as her eyes locked on his mouth.

He turned themselves around, exchanging spots with his lovely wife. Then he pulled away quite easily from their contact.

“Alright?” He smiled at her and took a step back, reaching for the knife. “I can make do with these ingredients, but I will have my men buy better ingredients for you as always.”

Raven hummed a response, having no choice but to watch him. She went and sat down on the seat where he would always sit when he watched her cook. And damn it, she felt so fucking stupid.

Damian was cooking like he himself was some world-renowned chef! How the hell did he let her make him just sit and watch her cook?

She was utterly speechless and embarrassed. She must have looked like a buffoon.

When he was plating the dish he made, adding the last leaf on the plate he said, “Plating matters too, beloved.”

She wished she could make a snarky remark but the dish he put before her was so beautiful. With the same ingredients, she couldn’t possibly make such a beautiful dish.

Damian tilted his head when he placed the plate before her but she did not move.

“Le-let’s see how it tastes then!” She grabbed the plate and turned around from him. He could tell that she was embarrassed by how red her ears were, but he didn’t point it out.

“How is it?” He instead asked as he walked around the counter and slipped a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, God and I cooked for you?” She looked up at him with her back arched forward, eyes watery.

His Adam’s Apple bobbed at the sight. A similar image of how she looked right now overlapped in his mind, and it was a very very different kind of image, that of when he would confine her in her bedroom to have some fun.

He cleared his throat, “Sit up properly.” He gently told her and rubbed her back upward briefly. She instantly did what was told and he withdrew his hand from her back.

Raven was temptation incarnate for him. A seductress.

And what's worse is that she doesn't know how much she could ignite his desire for her with one flick of her wrist.

“I feel so embarrassed cooking for you.” She admitted in a soft voice and he was surprised.

“What? No.” He stood in front of her and pinned her by placing his hands on the counter that was behind her. “Your cooking is world-class.”

She pressed her lips as she looked up at him. God, his sincerity was intoxicating.

“I should know. I have expensive tastes.” He stated nonchalantly.

He watched her glance down at her plate with a soft smile.

The next thing she knew, her head was lifted up and they shared a kiss. A rather chaste kiss.

Maybe even the first chaste kiss since their wedding. Honestly, quite comparable to the chaste kiss at their wedding.

“I wish I could stay longer, beloved, but I am needed back in Gotham.” He confessed softly.

“Oh.” She grabbed her fork and tried to prepare a bite of the food he made. “Well, I can finally take a break from you.”

He wished he could get mad or laugh, but he felt neither emotion at her words. He did wish he could just be with her.

“Oh, don’t go celebrating yet.” He leaned to her, bringing his mouth near her ear. “When I return, you and I both know I will make you regret being happy that I’m leaving right now.”

Damian felt her body stiffen and he smirked. “But for now, let us enjoy our remaining time together.”

And they did. They enjoyed their time together, laughing a little. His hands strayed on her body but never did more. He had texted his men to bring him a fresh suit complete with all his accessories.

He showered in her bathroom and used her things. He smelled like her and it made her blush. He was adjusting the cuff of his white shirt from under his dark blue suit’s jacket cuff.

This was the third time she had seen him in a suit. He looked colder, yet still hot. He smelled of her and yet looked like the boss that he was.

Oh my God. She was gushing.

And so was her pussy.

“Oh, before I forget.” He looked up at her and she stared at him with wide eyes and a smile trying to think of anything but how he made her feel. “I will pay you back for the rent you paid on the apartment.”

She looked confusedly at him and was about to argue but he raised a hand and she pressed her lips shut.

“It’s my responsibility, and besides, I want to do it.” He looked at her as if he was inspecting a product for his company, at least that is what Raven felt like he was doing. He then pulled out his wallet and handed her two cards. “One is a credit card, buy whatever the hell you want, it doesn’t have a limit. The other is an ATM card. Your allowance from me will be deposited every month on the same date as our wedding day. I placed the money you paid for the rent of this apartment in there along with the allowance I owe you since you've been staying here since our wedding.”

She sucked in her lips and stared at the items he was holding out for her. She licked her lips and he patiently waited for her to accept it.

Raven wanted to reject it, but with one quiet glance at his calm face she knew he wouldn’t allow it. And the thing was, she was surprised that he even remembered their wedding day and was going to give her an allowance on the same date every month.

After a minute or two passed she nodded her head and sighed as she took a step forward and reached out for the cards. “Thank you…” She mumbled.

Damian was pleased that she took the cards and she could tell.

His hand reached out and cupped her face and she looked at him. He kissed the top of her head.

"Rachel Wayne." She mumbled reading the names on the cards.

"Rachel is your legal name. Unless you want to change it to Raven, in that case, tell me and I will have it arranged." Everything that came out of Damian's mouth was factual. It's just how he always talked.

"Wayne. I'm a Wayne." She muttered and he pressed his lips atop her ear.

"Yes, that's right." He whispered with a sigh.

FIN.

~.~.~.~.~.~

BONUS SCENE:

Damian and Raven's relationship was pretty good. She was still in Metropolis over a year later and he'd visit her often since they reunited.

"Augh, I hate this city," Damian said, glaring at the city by the ceiling to the floor window in their apartment.

Raven rolled her eyes, she had known him long enough, he was baiting her.

"You'd rather I finish uni in Gotham?" She asked, of course, she'd still bite.

He turned to look at her thoughtfully, "I suppose it's safer here." He answered as he always does when she asks him if she should go back to Gotham.

He placed her safety a priority, something she noticed fairly quickly since they started a relationship with one another.

She no longer lived in the apartment where they reunited after their wedding; due to the frequency of his visits her former apartment became too small. You’d think he’d respect her space, but somehow, he started taking up so much space in her apartment that she had no choice but to suggest moving.

Damian of course moved her to a high-rise with a great view and space that was way too big for just them. He had come by to help her move and had stayed ever since, helping her adjust and arrange their apartment.

She was convinced he purposely took up so much space in her previous apartment so she would move to a bigger ‘safer’ apartment that he of course chose and showed her just as fast as when she suggested moving.

It seemed planned is what she was saying. But still, he had wormed his way to her heart that she could not find a flaw to what he did, that is if he really did it.

"You always say you hate it here." She mumbled as she reached out for his waist with both arms and embraced him.

"It's bright." He answered, enjoying her warmth.

She never understood what he meant by that.

"Well, anyway," She pulled her head away and glanced up at him, "I have to go, I need to meet some classmates for a project."

He studied her and said, "Why don't I join you?"

She laughed, shaking her head, "Your face is rather well known, I wouldn't want my classmates to be intimidated by you."

She pulled away from his hold turning around.

"I can wear a hat and sunglasses." He followed her and she paused then turned to him.

"Hmm… Alright." She agreed with a soft smile on her lips.

"I won't be a bother." He promised.

And as always, he was true to his words. When he went to the bathroom and was about to return to her side, Damian heard her friend ask why her husband was wearing a beanie that covered his ears and dark sunglasses.

"Oh, he is sensitive about his hair and he got a terrible eye infection..." He frowned at her lie.

He stepped out from his hiding spot and kissed his wife, "Oh, what are you talking about, beloved?"

"Oh, you know, how best to do this paper," Raven answered calmly.

He just smiled. But the moment they got back home, he pinned her to the door and whispered hoarsely.

"So, I'm balding?" He asked as he pulled the beanie off his head and to the floor. His black thick and luscious hair shone against the light coming from their windows.

Quite the opposite of what she had just made her classmate believe.

Her eyes widened in realization and she pressed her lips as she reached out to remove his sunglasses. "And with an eye infection." She whispered back seriously, tossing the shades away too.

"I will have to punish you." He said, pressing her by the arch of her ass against his hips.

"I know, for being caught." She sighed, and she could feel his erection on her lower abdomen.

He chuckled, "Well, for lying." His tongue licked the curve of her ear.

When the punishment was done and she was sprawled on the bed, lying on her belly, he caressed her hair.

"I hope you don't lie often." He told her with a dark tone in his voice.

She understood his implications. With how the two grew closer even if it was just a glance she could tell what he wanted to convey to her. He was the same with her.

"I don't lie about being married." She whispered, and his face softened. The answer to the question that was never truly asked.

"Good." He scooched over to her side, his crotch pressed against the side of her hip as he littered her shoulder with kisses.

She sighed, closing her eyes, but also refusing to move. If she moved the thing pressed on her side would wake up instantly and she'd be done for. Not that she couldn't tell that it was starting to stir. But if she didn't move, her husband wouldn't either.

"Which reminds me," He pulled his head away from her shoulder and her skin was relieved of the pressure pressing on her thigh. He laid on his side and she turned her head towards him with curious eyes. "I'm transferring to Metropolis."

"What?" Raven propped herself up a little with her confusion clear in her face and voice. He never talked about this before.

He should feel some form of displeasure with her reaction. At least he thought he should because it would seem like she wasn't happy with the news. But he felt calm.

"With how frequently I visit it seems impractical to stay in Gotham." He explained gently and he watched her eyes widen as a soft blush appeared on her cheeks. Maybe this was why he didn't feel upset, he knew her like the back of his hand. Unconsciously he must have known that her confusion was not because she didn't want him here.

"I made plans with Father, and I will be stationed here for the time being as you finish uni. Thank God Wi-Fi exists, it will make this transfer seamless." He smiled at her and she cupped his face.

"You'll be here every day?" She whispered, brushing his cheek with her fingertips. The excitement on her face was clear.

"Yes." He whispered back, snuggling near her.

Then suddenly her eyes widened in fear, "Then you need to control yourself." She poked his shoulder and he chuckled.

At first, he was afraid that she didn't want him here but then understood why she was scared. The fear wasn’t unfounded.

"Oh, whatever do you mean." Damian blinked innocently.

"I'm serious, Dami, if you expect me to spread my legs every day– I'm moving." She stared at him and the smile on his lips was wiped off his face.

"Do not threaten me, beloved." He responded, darkness brewing in his aura.

"I'm serious. I have school." She did not back down. She knew him and she knew he almost always followed her lead no matter what.

He sighed aloud, and then again while he looked away and then one more time. "We'll arrange something."

Damian reached for his wife's waist and buried his face on the side of her shoulder. But she could tell he was pouting. He had actually stuck his lower lip but she couldn't see that.

His libido was really something even after a year he didn't show any signs of not being turned on by her. Though, to be honest, she was the same.

The moment he'd pin her down and the desire was clear in his eyes, she got so wet. It didn't matter if she was exhausted from school, she'd strip without him even asking.

She recalled what he told her so long ago, "We really are sexually compatible."

He looked up from her side with wide eyes gazing at her and his eyes sparkled as a smile bloom.

"I have to agree, beloved." His love for her is clear in those beautiful green eyes.

"We'll make it work; we always do."

Put This On Me: Graduation Gift

Raven had no regrets about the birth control that she chose. Sometimes she'd wake up the next day after their midnight sessions thinking that she forgot to take the pill.

Then she remembers that she has an implant.

Her burst of fear of an unexpected pregnancy always came after several rounds of fucking from her husband especially when he goes all out for a couple of days straight.

Currently, she was looking out at the city through their apartment window in their living room. When she woke up this morning she had a little burst of fear, yet again. Which was why she was thinking about her birth control.

They've been together for almost four years but gosh was he built differently.

Strong arms wrapped around her body from behind.

"You're graduating soon." He mumbled against her shoulder and she leaned back to him.

"In a few months." She reminded him.

One of his hands was now on one of her shoulders and the other snaking down to her lower abdomen. "What do you think of a baby for your graduation gift?"

She froze. She knew there was a reason for her unreasonable pregnancy scare. She swatted his hands and stepped away from him. "Not yet."

He sighed and studied her back.

"I want to work first." She turned to look at him.

"You can work for me." He answered immediately and she rolled her eyes. Her eyes locked at his dress shirt collar and she took a step closer and fixed his collar for him.

"If you had your way, you would just have me on your desk panting and moaning, I'm sure." She clicked her tongue and noticed how he bit his bottom lip lustfully and she shook her head but still smoothened his shirt of invisible wrinkles. He had strong pecs.

One of his hands slipped onto her upper spine and slid down to her lower waist pulling her closer to him and she gasped, "Well, then what would my beloved wife want for her graduation gift?"

His eyes looked down at her softly.

"Hmm, I don't know." She admitted.

"Really a no to having a baby?" He asked again with a boyish smile. She giggled at him.

"Hmm, I will have to think about that." Her hand reached out for his black tie, then suddenly tugged at it bringing his face closer to her, "But while I do, you can use it for some sexy dirty talk." She licked her lips.

"Well, don't mind if I do…" He leaned down and captured her lips.

"Doesn't the thought of you pregnant as you get your hard-earned diploma hot, beloved?" He whispered to her kissing her neck and she smiled. She didn't mean for him to do it at this very instant, but God was this man insatiable. "Or maybe– imagine, you accepting your diploma with my cum tightly clenched inside you? Considering how often you are taking in my cock in your tight pussy.”

She choked at the visuals he was painting for her. She felt his teeth tug at her ear as he continued on, “How many times did you fuck me before going to school? Or how many times you went to your classes with my fresh cum still in that naughty pussy? Or when your first meal is my dick.”

Raven’s face was red. She was now regretting telling him to use it for dirty talk.

“Tell me beloved, what would be written in your diploma, Master’s Degree of sucking cock?” His voice had become hoarse and Raven was breathless, “Masters of my dick?” His lips sucking on her ear.

She regrets it. But she also felt the need to fight him back. She was also very embarrassed by his words. She tugged at his tie, making him pull away from her ear. She stared at him seriously.

“On the note of graduation day,” Her free hand brushed the buttons on his shirt. “Should I be completely naked underneath the graduation gown?” This time it was her turn to whisper in his ear.

She felt his body tense up.

This was something she knew to be a fact. Damian was the jealous type.

“In that case, I will buy you the gown and we can use it in the bedroom.” She thought she could hear his teeth grinding. The flirtiness disappeared from his voice.

Raven smirked; it was her win.

Another thing she noticed about her husband, he didn’t even like the thought of someone possibly seeing her in any potentially suggestive way. He rarely vocally object, sometimes he’d make a face, but she could always tell when he didn't like it when someone looked at her in the wrong way for even just a second.

She would notice how his cold face would change on a micro level when she purposely wore a dangerously short skirt or a really revealing outfit. But he had only told her to change clothes a couple of times since they'd been married. All of which were outfits she wore on purpose to see his bottom line. Still, he rarely says his objections but often she can tell when he doesn't like something.

She looped his tie around her hand, “In that case, we can pretend you're the professor, and I, your naughty student.”

It was clear that he wasn’t happy, “Is there a hot professor I didn’t know about?”

He knows her classmates and her teachers but Raven thinks this is the first time he sounded threatened by a teacher she randomly mentioned.

She studied her husband’s face, it seemed that he was riding his jealousy. “Hmm, hotter than my husband? Quite impossible.” She let go of his tie and placed both her hands on his chest as she rubbed his torso soothingly.

“Then why the professor suggestion?” He quietly asked and she sighed.

“I was thinking you were my hot professor.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he still wasn’t convinced.

In all the years that they had been together, he was often cockier than not, but very rarely he would show her this side of him. Uncertain and unsure, so opposite from how the whole world perceived him.

A man who knows what he wants and gets it without fail.

Damian was often gentle towards her. The only time he'd be rough was during sex. But unsure of himself? Rarely.

“About the baby…” She watched him carefully and it seemed to have caught his attention. He stared at her as he waited for her to continue. “In a few more years, I promise.”

She saw the small smile on his face as the uncertainty disappeared which turned to a gentleness in his demeanor that honestly made her swoon.

“A baby?” He smiled as his hands found her waist. “Then I’ll have to start looking for our future home with our children.” He said dreamily, there was this softness on his face that tugged at her heart. How could he easily make her swoon and wet in mere seconds?

“Children?” She ventured, eyes carefully observing his face.

“One is not enough.” He answered back in a quieter voice. No hint of doubt on his face but the volume of his voice might say otherwise. Yet, it was just factual to him, that much she could tell.

She smiled and leaned her forehead against his jaw, “Hmm, you’re always right, beloved.” Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he hugged her back with his muscled arms around her waist.

There was clear surprise in his eyes at her words but he smiled and pressed his upturned lips against her temple.

He was going to have a family with her. Even if their marriage was arranged, he was happy and excited for their future. He was glad he married her.

"Our fifth wedding anniversary is coming around the corner too. How about another wedding as your graduation gift?" He whispered and Raven pulled away looking up at him with wide eyes. "One where we profess our love and where we plan the wedding the way we actually want it."

She smiled brightly. "I don't think that's a graduation gift." And she saw how his lips were about to frown, she quickly added. "It's a gift for a lifetime."

She watched her husband's tan cheeks flush at her words.

"I love you."

FIN.

~.~.~.~.~.~

A/N:

Well, in the book I read the couple got married, she got shipped out on their wedding night and they never met for like 3-5 years. Apparently, they tried calling each other but only to hear that the number is out of service. And the two knew each other since childhood tho still arranged (and forced) marriage, but still you’d think someone would go find the other. So, this is me coping.

And I still don’t know why they were getting ‘out of service’ when they called each other.

And then the image of Damian naked but with a blanket over his legs working on the bed with eyeglasses on was stuck in my mind and so I decided to use it here. It also makes sense to me in modern AUs that Damian is cocky. On Modern AU notes, I have like 3 on my drafts with cocky Dami because I was inspired.

I didn’t even think I would participate too, I wrote this in a few hours in a span of a couple of days. I am impressed but this is also rushed. And I do have some other bonus scene ideas floating currently in my head. But this is already quite long so, maybe I might dump it somewhere, one day. (11/16/23, I do not remember what I had planned, but I will keep this here, so I know that I did at one point. I think one was about the wedding.)

I thought that using the line “Put This On For Me” in this manner would be unique. Which also drove me to write, but it took a while to get there. I think the common thing people would think when they see this line is some sexy outfit. So doing the opposite really called to me.

And if someone is going to ask why the sexy is like that, I am still traumatized from writing smut. There was a time I was writing 5 different smut scenes back-to-back… it left an impression. I can write it if I don’t think about it, but it’s something I have to think about most of the time to write so…it’s hard… anyway…

Before I forget, the end of the bonus scene and the graduation gift, who said it is up for your interpretation, maybe even they said it both.

And to add, in my head this Raven attended college or uni later than normal.

Hope you guys enjoyed it.

Ciao.

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thezombieprostitute · 2 months

Text

Changing Minds - Part 2

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.

Word Count: ~1200

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +). This is part of the Garbage Men AU. I'm not yet sure if this will be a full series or just a two part story.

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

"Kent," Nick calls as he walks towards the two of you. "I didn't think I'd ever see you at this kind of event." Clark gives him a confused look and he continues, "you usually only attend the highest society stuff."

"Ah," Clark nods, "I agree. Normally this wouldn't be my kind of party but it's one of my niece's first charity events and I want to be supportive. Of course," he looks to you, "if these events are frequented by people like this lovely lady, I'll have to attend more."

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you bat your eyes at him, missing how tightly Nick is gripping his glass. "You're too kind," you reply.

"Nonsense," Clark gently chides. "You are far more interesting to talk to than I would've expected."

"Oh," Nick interjects, raising an eyebrow. "What did you expect?" He moves closer to you and you raise an eyebrow at him but he doesn't look away from Clark. He almost seems to be daring the taller man to say something wrong.

To Nick's annoyance Clark remains unflappable as he replies, "you know what? You're right. This has been a nice lesson in rethinking my beliefs about people based on class."

Nick bites his tongue, knowing Clark has had many years of experience in being the media's superman. Ever playing up the idea of a humble every man. Nick knows he'll have to be smart. More importantly, he'll have to be careful.

“Nick,” you get his attention, “are you okay?”

“Oh, you two are together,” Clark asks.

“Yes,” Nick interrupts before you can say anything. “The lady is here with me.”

“As friends,” you say. “It was really very sweet of Nick to ask me.” You smile up at Nick so you don’t notice the brief dark expression that passes Clark’s face. Nick definitely notices and puts an arm around your waist as an attempt at protection.

“Really, Nick, only friends?” Clark raises an amused eyebrow, “then you won’t mind if I keep talking to her.” Clark takes your hand and kisses it. Looking at you he continues, “or we could keep this conversation going over dinner?”

You giggle at the attention but Nick’s grip around your waist seems to tighten. Not entirely sure what’s going on, you tell Clark, “thank you for the compliment, Mr. Kent, but I’m afraid I have to work in the morning so I can’t stay up too much later.”

“That’s a shame,” he opined. “Where do you work? Perhaps I can take you out to lunch tomorrow.”

“Mr. Kent, you flatter me,” you giggle. “A gentleman such as yourself wanting to spend time with little old me?”

“As I said previously, you are a very interesting person to talk to.” His grin grows as he gestures to Nick, “and you have such good friends as well.”

“You and Nick know each other,” you ask.

“I was acquainted with a good friend of Nick’s,” Clark confirms. “What was his name again?”

“Eddie,” Nick almost whispers. “Eddie Brock. Reporter.”

“Ah yes,” Clark nods. “Whatever happened to Eddie? He seemed like such an up-and-comer that would take over the news industry!”

Nick speaks through gritted teeth, “he was put into a coma. Some time ago.” What Nick doesn’t say, can’t say, is that Clark was the one who had Eddie put into the coma. Eddie was making significant progress in running down leads that would take Clark down but then got beaten into a coma in a supposed “random mugging”. Nick knew better. He knew Clark knew better. But, as always, he had no proof. Nothing that would stick.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Clark intones.

“Nick, I’m so sorry,” you consoled. “Do you want to step out and get some air? You’re looking a little sick.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Please lead the way, sweet Lady.”

Once you’re outside you see Nick visibly relax but he doesn’t pause. He starts walking you towards the car.

“Nick,” you chide, “what is going on?”

“He’s not a good person,” he whispers. “You don’t want to get involved with him.”

“What do you mean?”

“In the car, first,” he pleads as he opens the passenger door for you. You nod and sit in the car without protest. You wait patiently as he gets the car on the road, especially when you note how white his knuckles are as he grips the steering wheel.

When he’s calmed himself down a bit he glances over at you, “I owe you an apology.”

“No,” you tell him, sternly, “you owe me an explanation.”

He nods as he bites his lip. “Kent is not the man he portrays himself to be. He is not a good person.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been investigating him for a long time.”

“And you’ve found proof of his not being a good person?”

“I’ve…I’ve found evidence. But nothing that I can take to the DA. Nothing I can take to the feds. Nothing that sticks.”

“What kind of evidence? What kinds of things has he done?”

“His fortune and power are built from keeping a boot on the neck of his workers. He’s funded anti-union groups. He’s greased the palms of enough politicians to keep regulations out of his steel mills. He’s paid bad people to hurt others who threaten his position, his reputation, his money.”

“And yet?”

“All evidence is circumstantial at best,” Nick admits. “The money goes through enough shell corporations that it’s impossible to link back to him. The ones he bribes are so well paid they’ll never turn on him. The ones that try to end up meeting those goons he hires.”

“You do realize this sounds a bit…conspiracy theory?”

Nick sighs, “yes. I know. Because I said the same thing to Eddie.” Your eyebrows raise at the confession. “He had even more evidence than I do and I still thought he was crazy. Thought that, at worst, Kent was just a puppet or a face for the actual power holders.”

“What got you to change your mind?”

“The medical report from Eddie’s supposed mugging. I know enough to know the signs of a professional job when I see it. The specific bones that were broken, the lack of tracks or mess at the scene. A lot of details added up to one thing: Eddie was right.”

“You realize I’m going to have to think about this for a while, right? I know you’re quite smart but this is…it’s a lot to think about.” Nick nods in understanding. The rest of the drive is spent in silence.

When you arrive at your building Nick asks if he can walk you to your building’s door. You smile gently at him and agree. He quickly gets out and opens your door for you, “gotta be a gentleman for such a lovely Lady as you.” Your smile grows and you hold his arm as he walks you to the door.

“This has been an…interesting night, Nick.”

“I definitely didn't deliver on my promise of a good night,” he sighed. “Is there any chance you’d be open to giving me another opportunity? No conspiracy theory stuff, I promise.”

“Are you actually asking me on a date? A real date?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. You know what time I get out of work tomorrow. I’ll see you then.” With that, you enter your building and head up to your apartment.

Nick feels a lot more relaxed, hoping he’ll be able to keep you away from Kent. He was so stressed earlier he failed to notice the car that was tailing him.

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey

@rebekahdawkins

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know.

#nick fowler x reader #mafia!nick fowler x reader #dark!clark kent #mob au #nick fowler #mob!nick fowler #nick fowler x female reader

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sanest-bsd-delegate · 11 months

Note

Hei hei hei! I was wondering if I could request airy fairy (clumsy) reader accidentally asking Kunikida out on a date, like it either slipped out or she said something that was basically a confession?? Lots of fluff!! Thank you 🥰

Coldshakes

Summary: half slipped confessions because in the end we need to pay the bill Kunikida x readerTysm anon for the request, I don't think so I did a great job at the fluff part. Blame the writer block. Masterlist Please look at the request rules in masterlist before requesting

“Youuuu can't hide those feelings anyways Y/NNNNNN” Dazai nagged you, as you held your hand hiding your face, blushing profoundly for the past hour.

Dazai and you were sadly recruited at the same time, and since then, his presence nagged your existence. You and your suicidal partner it is. Your superior on the other hand, more like your mentally stable partner, was the one who restricted you from killing him yet.

“Seriously, I don't see the point in liking him, I am way better than him, '' Dazai commented flirtatiously, flexing his non-existential muscles he built from malnutrition. “As you wish for Dazai” you commented, as the colours on your face started to restore. “Y/NNN you can't deny that-”

Whack

“Oii waste of human bandages, work for yourself will you! Not only are you disrupting Y/N’s work but also the working atmosphere” Kunikida responded, as he straightened up viewing his watch to see time.

Putting his hand on your shoulder he passed some documents towards you, as you both silently communicated understanding the situation.

“Ohhhh secret love language I see” Dazai jokes, not before earning a head slap from you and Kunikida.

“When?”

“3 pm at the yokohama port”

Dazai could only watch amusedly on how you tried to compose yourself despite your crush around you, as you exited the office with Kunikida following behind.

The Yokohama port was quieter than usual. After yet another mystery case solved, all these detectives needed was a break.

“Kunikida we can visit the Elysian bakery if you want, it's just near and I am sure they got some cold shakes” You commented, hopefully looking at Kunikida so that he could say yes. “Well we still have time before my next schedule, guess we can visit Y/N” he replied, looking at his watch yet again, “Where is the bakery?”

Mindlessly you hugged him saying thank you before taking his hand to show him the way, “Come this way, I am surprised you never visited it before”.

Shit.

You were holding his hands.

“I-I AM SORRY I DIDN'T-”

“It's fine Y/N, We reached the bakery.”

“My,My such a beautiful couple” The old lady at the counter commented, as she proceeded to put away the cash from the last customer that paid, “What a lucky day for you, on a date I presume?”

“No ma’am we-” before Kunikida could finish the sentence, you elbowed him, indicating that you took matters in your own hands. “Miss, Elysian, It's glad to see you again, Can I get two milkshakes please? Thank you”

As you choose the table, Kunikida silently yelled asking why you would tell them false information on your relationship, to which you could only respond, “The lady halves the bill if you bring your significant other, it was a fair deal”

“Y/N but we cant-”

“Guess I will bring Dazai next time”

“That's not what I mean-”

“Oh look at you two, fighting, are you married already?” The waitress questioned, as she served the drinks on the table, “Sorry if that was a personal question, I hope you enjoy it!”

Well that was quick. As you both finished up your drinks, Kunikida responded, “They indeed have the best drinks, I am fairly impressed.” You could only hum at his response.

“Well I didn't know you both would be visiting this cafe together? OH!! Is it a date!? Y/N Did u finally had the courage-”

‘Please god pick this man up already’ you thought as you hid your head partially from him to see you.

“OI Dazai! What are you talking about? Why are you here-” Kunikida asked, his face clearly filled with annoyance. He couldn't say more due to the already caused commission they did at table 4, but was still confused.

“Well you see-”

“Dazai shut your mouth up before I make sure you earn a painful death”

“You are no fun Y/N tell him already, the tension is knife cutting”

‘Says the one who shamelessly flirts with his own ex partner’ you thought as you glared at the bandage wrapped human, silently threatening him on the way.

"Come on Y/N, we all know how much you ahem ahem him"

“Y/N? What is he talking about?”

“Well Kunikida you see ummm-”

“Y/N” Kunikida seemed to judge her now, and at the brick of the moment she could only answer him with,

“Solikeiwasntthinkingbutyouknowireallylikeyoufromthestartbutumyouknowiadmireyouandallnevermindleavethisyousee”

“Slow down Y/N”

“I just really enjoy spending time with you and you really have become someone very special to me and- So um like I like you?” You nervously responded unaware of the response you will receive.

“Thank you Y/N I admire you too, that's appreciated”

“WAIT WHAT?” Dazai screeched, half way holding up the most dramatic face.

“NO KUNIKIDA I MEANT THE ROMANTIC WAY”

"Guys sorry to burst in here but can you please pay the bill?" a person from behind them said, this time a young waiter who with a face of dissatisfaction looked at the three of them before elbowing Kunikida, "Man I know you guys aren't together yet, so I am routing for you make me proud kay?"

"No Sir you have got the wrong-" Kunikida tried to reason with him but failed.

"So who is going to pay the bill?"

Welps sorry to disappoint but idk if this can yet qualified to good fluff.🤓 but practice makes things perfect and I hope in future whenever you ask for requests, i can freshly serve it to you.

#kunikida x y/n #kunikida x you #kunikida x reader #kunikida fluff #bungou stray dogs x you #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou sd #bsd headcanons #kunikida #bsd kunikida #kunikida doppo #doppo bsd #doppo kunikida #requests to sbd #sbd kunikida asks

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keegansgf · 1 year

Text

"spring cleaning"

pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

word count: 1.2k

synopsis: spring cleaning inevitably leads to finding old memorabilia, this time, John found his old journal!

tags: domestic bliss, slight reverse comfort?, mostly fluff

A/N: I had this idea in my notes!! Though it's probably not canon to the timeline, I desperatley needed soaps journal to be mentioned in a fic somewhere soooo...

anyways, I'm back :3 (PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF SOMETHING GLITCHES I HAAATEEEEEE COPY AND PASTE FROM GRAMMARLY)

"This one's of our captain, Price."

"Price doesn't look like that now... does he?"

"No, but that's probably for the better. I won't say anything more about his beard then, for his sake. It looks better now, trust me."

You were sitting next to each other at the dining table with boxes of personal items and cleaning supplies on the floor. The smell of chemicals wafted through your tidied dining room, and afternoon sunlight flooded your windows. Every season, you and John clean your place together if he's back home with you, and fortunately, he's right next to you, flipping to another page in his old journal. He found it in one of the boxes full of old documents and notebooks. This one had more personal significance to him.

John's eyes sharpened at the page he was on. He sighed in annoyance before showing you the doodles of a pretty mean-looking german shepherd.

"This page... you already know I'm not a fan of dogs, but this was the day I found out. War is vicious as a whole, but the dogs just... I'll just say rabies treatment hurts like hell and leave it at that." Your eyebrows raised, and you looked up at him.

"Is that why you avoid our neighbors' dogs? They aren't even that large-" John immediately cut you off.

"Shhh. If we get a pet, it'll be a cat– and to be completely fair, he owns pretty big dogs."

"They're huskies, love. They're just fluffy and loud for the most part."

"They're practically the size of that man! You know what, let's stop."

The both of you laughed it off, and he continued skimming through page after page. Occasionally, you glanced at a few of the doodles he made about his surroundings or faces he met along the way. Some of the pages were more military-centered than others. If they were, you would take in a lick of the words and wouldn't bother trying to understand the rest– John's handwriting wasn't much of a help either. Of course, you didn't tell him that out of kindness, but you're sure he knows.

"I still find it odd that I didn't know you liked to draw– you're super good at it too!"

"Well, thank you, sweetheart."

"No, seriously, didn't you say you drew some of these in under ten minutes? Knowing that you quickly mapped out a room's dimensions, your technical skills are great." He laughed at your little compliments before speaking again.

"Y'know, I didn't really pick up art until the start of secondary school– It wasn't my passion– and still isn't– I probably dropped it when I was... 19, maybe? My boredom in all those safehouses got to me enough to resurface a few art skills when I finally had the time to pick up this journal." His eyes widened in shock as he skipped over about four pages quickly, but not fast enough for you to not catch what the paper was covered in.

Blood. Lots of blood, with a few notes, maybe only a paragraph worth. John took a deep breath in and loudly exhaled. He hoped he didn't make you feel uncomfortable.

"Sorry... I didn't want you to see all that." He said, setting the journal down and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you in for a brief side hug for some consolation.

"No, it's fine, I understand. I couldn't imagine what happened to you back then."

John pursed his lips and looked at the table's surface, tapping his foot to think of a palatable explanation. He never liked telling brutal war stories to those who worried about him the most– you were in the top three of those people. However, it felt like this needed its story. He grabbed your hand to put it on his lap to soothe both of you before giving the page its context.

"Our mission went wrong, and a colleague saved us. I felt a lot of survivor's guilt at the time– probably because this wasn't the first time this guy helped us when we fucked up. Most of the team, including me, were roughed up pretty bad, hence the blood." John squeezed your hand under the table before trying to lighten the mood again.

"It's remarkable I could pick up a pen during that, huh?" John tried to joke, but it came off a little flat. The energy in the room wasn't uncomfortable or tense– it was just unfortunate for your own reasons. Sad for you because your loved one was severely hurt, and tragic for John to expose these memories again. The silence was broken by your lover shuffling to face you.

"Alright," He started, "What matters is that I'm here now, right? I know you don't like when I brush these things off, but it's in the past now– and I'm home with you."

"You're right... I love you, but you know I worry about you. It's okay to talk to me about this stuff when you're comfortable. Bottling it up and putting a happy face around me probably doesn't help you much."

John has always been secretive about what's going on in his mind for your benefit, never his. It's impressive how he hasn't cracked yet– but if only he knew you're more than happy to talk to him about his troubles. John is big-hearted in nature, maybe too much for your liking. Someday, he'll accept that being a little selfish is okay, especially with you.

"I know, I know– we can work on it, I promise. I love you too much to have you worrying about me this much."

"Well, you should get used to it. Not a day goes by where you aren't on my mind somehow," You giggled, "Don't feel forced to talk about it, okay? Put yourself first sometimes."

"Sounds easier than it looks, I think." John said, sounding unsure of himself. He's always been the type of guy to feel unaccomplished if he couldn't do something right instantly. Mental health being a nonlinear journey didn't help his case. You picked up on his uncertainty from his tone.

"Hey, it's a learning process. We all drop out of old habits, and so will you, John. You're too hard on yourself sometimes." You got up to kiss his cheek and headed to the kitchen

"I think that's enough of the sad talk for now– I don't want to press you on the matter. How about we make lunch and continue cleaning? I don't think you've eaten since, what... 6am?" John smiled at you and got out of his seat. He picked up the box where he found his journal to put it back in storage. Then, he walked to where you were standing to give you a sweet kiss on your lips, wrapping his arms around your lower back.

"I'd love that. Thanks for letting me share all of that, by the way. I love you."

"Of course. I love you too."

John had a weight lifted off his shoulders after your chat. Maybe it took revision about the things he was troubled by to finally feel acceptance. He smiled to himself while thinking about that. You were always right in a way. That's why he loved you so much.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #cod #cod mw 2 #cod mw22 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #domestic bliss #domestic fluff #fluff

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tinalbion · 2 years

Note

Hey can I get a Englund character piece (phantom, Freddy, buckman, or whoever you want) comforting their significant other who’s been stressed out at work. This one is from personal experience as I’m a cashier at a grocery store and we’re getting out asses handed to us and people are not nice. Thank you so so much and happy belated birthday.

Aww thank you so much for the belated birthday wishes, hon! I appreciate it very much <3 I'm sorry this took so long to fulfill, but hey, better late than never I hope lol. I decided to add in Inkubus and Warden Kane mostly because those two are also pretty underrated, and the more Englund characters the better!

Hope you enjoy it~

Englund Characters x GN!Reader

Rating: Mature; does have some sexual references but nothing too in depth

Freddy

If you want comfort, you may not exactly get it in a typical way with Freddy. He loves to pick on you, and naturally, it's because he cares, so the more he annoys the absolute hell out of you, the more he shows that he cares.

He's not one to pick up on cues that you're exhausted, you don't want to deal with any more bullshit, especially when you're at home and trying to rest. So you'd have to spell it out for him immediately if you want him to catch the idea.

"Aww someone is grumpy, aren't they?" He'd tease you relentlessly until you either stopped responding or snapped at him. Freddy wouldn't be offended either way. But if you did just sit there and tell him you couldn't handle him today, he'd cozy up to you but with something in mind.

You knew his tricks and how he thought, well, sometimes you did. But when his glove magically disappeared for a moment and his hands began to deeply tub at your aching muscles, once he got that first official moan of pleasure to tumble from your lips, you knew you were in danger of his charms. It was hard to resist when he would lay it on extra thick.

"C'mon, you know you wanna, plus I never hear you complainin' when I make you scream." His hands would go lower, and pushing him away was hard when he was making all the right moves with his fingers.

So Freddy would definitely take care of you and make sure your sleep would be extra worth the annoyance he dished out at you.

Erik

Eric is a tender soul although very tortured as it was, so when you'd come back home feeling extra stressed and drained from today's events, he'd understand immediately. He's one who'd cater to your every whim if it was attainable, and if you asked extra sweetly, he'd make it happen somehow.

You were his world, so the least he could do for you was to make sure you felt absolutely pampered when you'd be home. He didn't quite understand why you put yourself through that constantly, but to a degree, he knew there weren't many options.

Eric would even offer to do something for you in return, like writing music and possibly selling it off to people who could appreciate it, but you refused to let him do that for you. It was a sweet gesture though, and you thanked him profusely for it.

So he did the next best thing: he ran you a relaxing bath with as many candles and flowers as he could manage to set up. There would be no other work for you to do, he would take care of it all, and he'd pop in every so often to make sure you weren't cleaning anything up.

Afterward, he'd greet you with your robe and wrap it around your frame, peppering your shoulders with kisses and gentle touches. He couldn't help but grab you and hold you, thankful that you'd be with someone like him after all he'd done and been through, but he also thought he was the luckiest guy in the world.

Eric would be one of the sweeter ones if you were to be in a relationship with him, especially since if he loves someone, he loves them hard and unwavering. A very dedicated man who would happily show you that you should have the world at your feet, even if it's just because of a stressful day.

Mayor Buckman

Mayor Buckman is no stranger to having rough days, but ever since he'd become mayor, they were more mental exhaustion rather than physical exhaustion. And now that he was a vengeful spirit that didn't need to eat, sleep, or do much of anything other than killing, it was much easier for him to go about his business.

But upon meeting you, he found out you were a hard worker and did all you could in order to earn that paycheck you needed, and he respected that. So when you'd come back into Pleasant Valley looking like you'd been run ragged, he ordered his boys not to bother you as much and asked Granny Boone to make you your favorite dish for dinner as a surprise.

When he saw that you went upstairs to relax in your room, he came up to visit a while later and asked if you needed anything, in particular, to help you unwind. You thanked him but just wanted to rest, so he slipped out of the room and allowed you to do whatever you wanted to do in order to unwind.

A few hours later, Buckman knocked on the door, which jolted you from a nap. "Sorry to interrupt, darlin', we just wanted to let you know dinner is downstairs. We're havin' a nice little outdoor picnic, you rarin' to join?" You thanked him and said to give you ten minutes in order to wake up and change.

When you were greeted at the last step of the staircase, Buckman held out his arm and guided you to the large picnic table they had out where they'd throw their barbecues, and he waited till you were seated before you and him shared in a very delicious meal together. You told him to thank Granny Boone for working so hard. "She's always happy to spoil you," Buckman would say.

Something simplistic as sharing in your favorite meal after a rough day was one of the best feelings, and you were thankful you got to spend it in peace and in the presence of your favorite person.

Inkubus

Being around an incubus of all things was draining in itself since he used a lot of serial energy to feed himself, but on days when you were feeling particularly roughed up, he'd back off and wouldn't suggest feeding from your energy, instead, he kept it simple and used good old fashioned romance to make you swoon.

Considering he'd been around humans and dealt with them for millennia, he knew that nothing cheered people up quite like a good old-fashioned shopping trip. Since he was quite well off financially, although he really had no need for such trivial things, it gave him the opportunity to show you in gifts to help cheer you up.

You looked at a book through the window and stared at it for more than five seconds. It was yours, now. A cute outfit that made you think you'd look like a million bucks? What size did you want, because you were getting it. You scolded him sometimes for his wasteful spending habits, but he waved you off and just laughed. "If spending money on my favorite human and seeing that very cute smile on your face is wasteful, then I guess I'm the worst ever, aren't I?"

You couldn't help but feel special after he'd tell you that he loved seeing that smile go from innocent and fun to devilish and sexy, especially if you were to wear a new outfit just for him, and he even urged you to pick out whatever skimpy little outfit you wanted to try, because he'd happily buy it for you.

It was just in his nature, and no matter how much he tried to keep his hands off of you, it proved to be insanely difficult to do so. So when you were both back in the privacy of your place, Inkubus wouldn't be able to stop himself from dropping to his knees and servicing you right there in the kitchen. He tried his best not to wear you out any further, so he figured the best way to do that was make sure you were relaxed while he did most of the work..

Luckily for you, you didn't mind so much if he were to take care of you like this, and you were thankful he didn't push you to do things you didn't want to do, but you found it rather cute how he could barely keep his hands to himself, even if he promised to behave. It's just how it was being bound to an incubus, after all.

Warden Kane

The Warden knows what it's like to have an awfully stressful day, that's practically an everyday occurrence for him, but that's why he works hard, so you don't have to. When he sees you coming home looking like you hadn't slept in weeks, he almost wanted to call and complain to your job that if they couldn't hire extra help around the place, maybe THEY should step up and do the extra work. He was always aggressive when it came to your job, he knew people were being worn down, he didn't want that for you.

You'd wave him off, telling him that it wasn't that bad and you were just doing the work you were asked to do, but he wasn't having it. An hour or so later, he came back to you with a smug smile on his face and handed you your phone, which you forgot in the kitchen. "What did you do?" You asked suspiciously, to which he only answered with a chuckle.

"I may or may not have landed you a week's paid vacation starting next week", he bragged. You always gave him an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes, but if anyone could do it, it would be him. So you thanked him and couldn't wait to do absolutely nothing on your newly obtained vacation. He wondered exactly what you'd get up to, and he even went as far as asking if you could both share in at least one of those days.

"Why don't you take a break, too? You're always working and it's constantly. Take a couple of days with me, please?" You'd bat your eyes and push your lip out into a pout, hoping he'd cave in and take a little break with you. You both worked so hard, you both deserved it. So after some convincing, he finally called into his job and said he'd take several days off, which they didn't have a problem with anyway.

When the day finally came for you both to have a few days off together, the Warden wasn't exactly good at spoiling anyone, let alone someone he'd been with. Work was always his priority, so when you came into his life, he had to learn by trial and error. So he made sure to tell you he didn't know how to plan anything when it came to having time off, he was only used to a day or so, so you promised you'd help him along the way.

Dinners, simple movie nights staying inside, and even having fun just taking a drive somewhere to get out of town were what you both partook in. Kane was having the time of his life with you beside him, and he couldn't help but want to plan more vacation times with you. "So uh, would you be mad if I said I could get you a vacation once a month?" He'd ask sweetly. All you could do was laugh. "Don't push your luck TOO far, honey."

#tinalbion writings #slasher requests #slasher community #slasher fandom #slashers x reader #slashers headcanons #slashers imagines #freddy krueger #inkubus #warden kane #mayor buckman #freddy krurger x you #warden kane x you #inkubus x you #mayor buckman x you #adumpsterblog #englund characters #erik destler #robert!erik destler x you

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taetaespeaches · 2 years

Text

“You were so pleasant when we first met.”

hoseok x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 4.4K

a/n: Hi lovelies! Petal/reader is meeting Hobi’s family for the first time in this and she’s a bit uncharacteristically anxious. And Hobi is honestly the sweetest. This could serve as a part 3 or a resolution to “You’re a shitty liar” in which Petal finds out Hobi has been hiding her from his family for 6 months. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

“Are we sure it’s not too soon?” You asked your boyfriend, picking at your cuticles as you avoided eye contact with him. He was seated on the sofa a few feet away as you stood at the edge of the room.

You were met with silence for a few seconds before a sigh met your ears, the man discarding the phone from his hands and setting it on the couch cushion next to him. He had been interacting with fans, but your expression of doubt had gained his full attention. “You know they genuinely want to meet you, right? I want you to meet each other.”

Your anxiety getting the better of you, you added in chewing the inside of your cheek to the nervous habits you exhibited as you nodded. “I know, it’s just-” Shrugging at him and scrunching your nose, you lifted your gaze to finally meet his considerate and concerned one.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized suddenly, shaking his head as though he was disappointed. Pulling your eyebrows together in question, you waited for him to elaborate. “I can’t help but feel this is my fault, Petal.”

“Hm?”

“With me not telling them about you for so long, I just, I don’t know, I feel like I gave you an anxiety you wouldn’t have had otherwise,” he tsked at himself, twitching his head to the side as he directed his eyes to the ground. With a huff, he looked back up at you to see you staring at him thoughtfully. “It should have been easy for you to meet them, but I fucked that up.”

“No you didn’t, I would have been nervous regardless,” you defended him. However, he wasn’t totally wrong, as much as you hated to admit that. Of course it was always nerve wracking meeting your significant other’s parents, no matter the circumstance, but it did get scarier when you found out you were kept a secret for six months. The people raised Hoseok and he adored them, so you had no doubt that they would be incredibly kind and welcoming to you. But you still couldn’t help but worry that they’d be scrutinizing you with a magnifying glass as they searched for reasons as to why you would be kept hidden for months. You knew it wasn’t like that, Hoseok only keeping you secret because he simply didn’t want his parents to think he was taking their sacrifices for his career for granted. However, the doubt in yourself still lingered in the very back of your mind. The idea of being picked apart in search of faults by people you really wanted acceptance from was unsettling to say the least.

Suddenly the man was standing in front of you, breaking you out of your thoughts as his hands reached out for yours. “Petal,” he spoke gently, pulling your hands apart to stop you from shredding your cuticles. You hadn’t even realized you were still picking at them. Intertwining his fingers with your own, he caught your gaze, holding it as he talked to you. “You’ve always been so sure of yourself, ever since I’ve known you, even back when you couldn’t stand me,” he smiled, you chuckling slightly at the memories. “I can’t help but think I put this little seed of doubt in your mind.”

“I’m gonna be fine,” you assured him. “You’re important to me, so it’s just scary meeting the people who raised you.” When he looked at you skeptically, you rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, stop blaming yourself. I’m just nervous.”

“Even my tough girl gets nervous sometimes, huh?” He cooed at you, making you sigh in feigned annoyance.

Through a small pout, you admitted the insecurity that rarely existed but made its appearance every now and then. “I want to impress them and I know I don’t always make the best first impression, as you know.”

Widening his eyes in feigned shock, he dramatically shook his head at you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, you were so pleasant when we first met.” Laughing, you used the back of his own hand that was wrapped up with yours to gently hit him on his hip. You were horribly unpleasant your first time meeting Hoseok, along with the few times after that, and if it hadn’t been for his persistence, patience, and generosity with his kindness and understanding, you wouldn’t be hand in hand with him inside your apartment that very moment. “You were very intriguing, I have no complaints.”

“I just worry about small talk and all that for a whole dinner, I’m not great in those kinds of situations. And your family is so bright and communicative, I just don’t want them to think I’m cold and uninterested in them.” Sitting at a dinner with damn near strangers was pretty much your nightmare. You typically needed five to ten business days with a person before you started warming up to them enough to show that you actually did have a personality and you weren’t aloof and stuck up like your face and demeanor tried to introduce you as.

Hoseok’s expression became serious as he searched your features. “They will love you,” he assured you. “Your parents love me.”

“You’re so easy to love, Sunshine,” you groaned, the man smiling as you bit back a grin of your own.

“So are you,” he told you, and he said it so earnestly that you couldn’t even argue it.

“Ok, but what if they think we’re not compatible because you’re so openly bright and I’m this cold little witch?” you proposed, half joking, though your boyfriend could sense the seriousness behind the comment.

“Witch?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “First of all, you’re not cold and I love your personality. I always have. And second of all, I don’t care if they think we’re compatible or not because I know we are.” Humming at him, you nodded slowly. He made valid points, damn him. “Listen to me,” he started, his voice slightly stern. Letting out a small sigh, you stared into his eyes as he flashed you a stunning and comforting smile. “I love you, and they’ll love you, because there’s nothing not to love. You’re great, it would be impossible for them not to see that.”

Biting back the smile that was threatening to spread across your face, you chose to roll your eyes instead. Groaning at you, Hoseok wrapped his arms around the back of your head pulling you against his body as he pressed kisses across your face, despite your half-assed attempt to squirm away. You didn’t really want to go anywhere that was even two inches from the man, but you didn’t want him to know that. “Tell me that my parents are gonna love you,” he insisted, looking down at your features as he held you close. Whining in his arms, he giggled at you. “Say it.”

“Your parents are gonna love me,” you groaned, Hoseok only laughing further in content and victory.

“And why are they gonna love you?”

“Oh jesus,” you dismissed, trying to pull out of his hold, placing your hands to his waist and attempting to shove away from him. His arms stayed firm around you however as he pressed more kisses to your forehead.

“Say it!” He demanded cheerfully.

“Because I’m great,” you groaned.

“Damn right you are,” he immediately agreed with a proud grin, letting you push him off of you.

“You’re so obnoxious,” you lightly giggled, not taking any steps away from the man.

“I know,” he beamed, watching as you stayed firmly in place, noticing how you didn’t put any space between you both. “Want another hug?”

Without answering him, you rolled your eyes once more before reaching out to grasp the oversized hoodie at his abdomen, tugging him to you. Giggles slipped from his mouth, ringing beautifully in your ears as he wrapped his arms around the back of your head again, yours snaking their way around his waist. “I love you,” you mumbled against his shoulder.

Hoseok’s lips met the top of your head in response. “I love you too. So much,” he whispered into your hair. “And so will my parents,” he added teasingly, eliciting an immediate groan from you. “Because you’re great.” He was so annoying, but beyond sweet. And you appreciated him more than he would ever fully comprehend.

Stuffing cold kimchi rice into bowls for you and Hoseok, music playing from his phone, you hummed along to the tune. “Hey is the studio you do pottery at open tonight?” He asked out of the blue, confusion setting into your features.

“Um, no,” you answered. “They close early on Tuesdays.”

“But you have a key right? They let you go in whenever you want?” He questioned you, making you slightly suspicious as you glanced at him.

“Yeah,” you confirmed skeptically. He hummed in response, making you raise your eyebrows expectantly. “Why?”

“We should go.”

Scrunching your eyebrows together, you looked at him in confusion. “We have dinner with your parents tonight.”

“Exactly. Don’t you think you’d rather do pottery instead of a stuffy dinner?”

“Wait,” you halted your movements, holding a full bowl of food as you stared at him curiously. “Are you saying we should do pottery with your parents? Instead of dinner?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, taking the bowl out of your hands and placing it in front of him, preparing to dig in.

Opening your mouth to respond, you closed it again, cocking your head at him. “I- but- would they even like that?”

“I think so,” he nodded sincerely at you. “Plus, your opinion matters too and I just had a feeling you’d rather do something like that instead of a dinner.”

“Hobi,” you sighed. “I don’t want to make your parents do something just for me, their comfort matters more than mine.”

“It definitely does not matter more than yours, and also, like I said, I think they’d enjoy it.” He ate some rice, chewing on it for a moment before continuing to speak with his hand covering his mouth. “I’m not just talking out of my ass, I told my mom a couple weeks ago that you do pottery and she was super interested in it. Said she always wanted to try it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my dad too, actually,” he said just before shoving another spoonful of rice into his mouth. Grinning at you around the bite, you chuckled lightly, shaking your head.

“So you’re saying I could teach them a little something?” The man nodded enthusiastically. “Okay,” you agreed tentatively. “If you’re one hundred percent sure that they would be good with it. Actually, one hundred and fifty percent sure,” you corrected as Hoseok swallowed the food.

“I’m sure,” he assured. “I promise.”

It felt as though a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, along with some of the doubt that had taken residency in your mind. Staring at Hoseok as he ate, you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. When his gaze met your own, he mimicked the expression, his eyes narrowing in question. “What?”

“I just can’t believe you,” you told him, staring at him in utter appreciation.

“In a good way or-?”

“Yes,” you breathily giggled. “You’re amazing.”

He simply smiled in response as he continued eating his rice. And your heart was full of gratitude for one Mr. Jung Hoseok.

“So you’re bringing them here, right? I’m not in the completely wrong place, am I?” You asked your boyfriend through the phone as you trudged around the pottery studio, gathering supplies and laying them all out. You had agreed earlier that he would pick his parents up and bring them to the studio where you would be waiting, but your nerves had you second guessing everything.

“Yes, they’re in the car right now,” he chuckled, heat rushing through your body in embarrassment. “We’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

“Oh,” you commented tentatively, unsure whether you were on speaker or not. “Ok, good.”

“You’re not on speaker,” he chuckled as he answered your un-asked question, drawing an immediate groan from you.

“Hoseok.”

Laughing at you, you could picture the warm smile on his face. He’s lucky he’s adorable, you thought. “See you soon, Petal.”

“Ok, tell them hi for me. Or- I don’t know, I’ll see you soon,” you groaned once more.

“I love you,” he cooed through the phone’s speaker. You could have cringed at the affectionate words being tossed around so blatantly in front of your boyfriend’s parents, but instead you found yourself smiling softly as your heart pounded inside your chest in fond appreciation.

“Love you, too,” you smiled just before hanging up.

Less than five minutes. Fuck.

It was rare for you to care so much about what someone thought of you, and it wasn’t a feeling you were all too fond of. You liked being sure of yourself, not caring if someone found you to be cold or aloof. You knew who you were, you didn’t need anyone else’s opinion of you, and quite frankly, how someone else thought of you was none of your business. These people weren’t just anyone though. They were Hoseok’s parents, the people who raised him, who loved and supported him his whole life, the people you wanted desperately to accept you as family.

And they were minutes away from finally meeting you after over half a year of dating their son; the secret girlfriend. You were minutes away from their first impression of you dictating the trajectory of your relationship with them. All you wanted from this evening was for them to see you as worthy of their son’s love and affection.

Sighing to yourself, you looked over the supplies, ensuring each pottery wheel had buckets of water, sponges, ribs, wire cutters, aprons, and towels. You had already wedged the clay for them so there would be no air bubbles that destroyed their pieces. Everything was set up perfectly, but setting up pottery stations wouldn’t make you appear impressive to them.

When the sound of a car pulling up out front met your ears, your eyes immediately fell on the familiar vehicle. Fuck. Hoseok was the first out, looking over the top of the car to find you inside the building. He flashed you a stunning smile, the expression putting you at ease just slightly. You were doing this with Hoseok, he would be at your side all night, and with Hoseok next to you nothing could go too wrong. You knew that.

His parents stepped out of the car next, waiting patiently for their son to guide them inside the building. As the door opened, you hoped they wouldn’t be able to hear the pound of your heart against your ribcage.

“Hi Petal,” Hoseok greeted you instantly, flashing you that same comforting smile as he quickly stepped across the room. As soon as he stood in front of you, he wrapped an arm around your lower back and pressed his lips to your cheek in a sweet welcoming kiss. “You look beautiful,” he whispered to you before smirking teasingly. “And you’re great,” he jokingly told you, nearly making you roll your eyes before he stepped to your side, but keeping his hand on your lower back in a comforting gesture. You were so thankful for him in that moment, despite the teasing, that if you were alone you probably would have burst into tears or made love to him that very second. Maybe even both. Realization flooded your entire being as you understood what he was doing. With his greeting, your nerves settled immensely as you discovered he was leaving zero room for any judgment to touch you, simply because of his sincere and obvious love for you. Hoseok made it immediately clear to his parents that ultimately their opinion of you would not change the way he loved you. You both wanted them to like you, and that was very clear to you both, but it was beyond relieving to know that no matter what opinion of you his parents carried out with them at the end of the night, Hoseok’s love for you was unwavering. You were untouchable in Hoseok’s eyes.

“Hi,” you looked from Hoseok to his parents. “Hello,” you bowed politely.

“Mom, Dad, this is my girlfriend,” Hoseok introduced you by name. “And Petal,” he turned to you, flashing you a soft smile. “These are my parents.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you told them, putting on your friendliest face, as you bowed once more.

The properness of the interaction was shattered almost instantly when his mother sighed dramatically. “Finally,” Hoseok’s mom sighed, marching toward you with a bright smile that resembled your boyfriend’s. “It’s so good to meet you,” she told you just before pulling you into a hug that stunned you, though you folded your arms around her back nonetheless. “Hoseok is foolish for not introducing us earlier,” she took a lighthearted shot at your boyfriend, though the glare she directed at him told you both she was a bit perturbed with having been kept from this portion of his life for so long.

“Ah, I made a mistake,” he defended, eliciting a soft giggle from you. Hoseok’s dad then made his way to you, closing your hand between both of his, shaking it gently and warmly.

“We have a pottery class at the school and I’ve always wanted to try,” he told you, looking around the studio. At the mention of a school, you were reminded that he was a high school teacher. With his warm presence, you were certain he was one of those teachers that made students excited to come to class, or at least not completely dread it.

“Oh, well I’m happy that you’re looking forward to this,” you replied with a smile.

So far, so good, you thought.

As you walked around like an instructor, helping Hoseok and his parents with centering the clay on the wheel, you finally felt somewhat settled into the evening. Your heart was no longer pounding as though it was trying to break free from your chest and abandon you in the stress of the night. Instead, you felt rather comfortable in the interaction, you and Hoseok’s family feeding off of each other’s energy fairly easily.

“Petal,” your boyfriend called for you as he struggled to center the clay. “Is this centered?” He asked as he failed to wrangle the wild piece of clay in front of him. Smiling in amusement at him, you shook your head.

“Absolutely not,” you told him, the man tossing his head back in laughter. “Your arms and shoulders shouldn’t wobble at all when it’s centered, your body should stay totally still.” He definitely knew this, as you had taken him on pottery dates in the past and have already taught all of this to him. It had been a while, though, so it was possible he had genuinely forgotten the learned skills. It was also entirely possible he was putting on a bit of an act to keep things light and fun.

“You might need to come show me. Ghost style,” he flirted, making you immediately shoot him a glare before stealing a glance at his parents, worried about the intimate movie reference he casually threw out for everyone to hear. They appeared amused at least.

“I haven’t seen that movie in years,” his mom commented, replying to his Ghost comment. “What particular scene are you referring to, Hoseok?” Oh? You thought as you realized she was fucking with him, fully intending to embarrass him into leaving you alone. You watched as your boyfriend’s face flooded with red as he shied away from his teasing of you. Go mom!

Chuckling at the way she put her son in his place, you nodded to the clay she had expertly centered on the wheel. “Sunshine, look at your mom, that’s what it looks like when the clay is centered.”

“Why are you so good at this?” Hoseok asked in shock as he stopped his wheel, looking over at his mom.

“Ok, so this is where you open the clay up,” you told her, making your way back to your own wheel. All three of them watched as you quickly and easily made sure your clay was centered so you could show the next steps. You had already thrown a bowl, basic and simple for you, but challenging to the beginner potter. Hoseok’s dad was the funniest of the bunch as he ooh’d and awe’d while you quickly created the bowl before setting them loose on their own wheels.

“Ok, so you want to make sure you have a good amount of water in your sponge so you can keep the clay pliable as you open it up,” you told them, dunking your sponge in the bucket of water and squeezing it onto the rotating clay. “And then you place your thumbs at the top, right in the middle here, and you start pushing them into the clay to create a hole,” you spoke as your hands exhibited the instructions you were giving. “You leave about an inch at the bottom and then start widening the opening by dragging your thumbs outward,” you continued your lesson. When you looked up, you found Hoseok’s mom’s eyes bouncing between your hands and her son’s face. Directing your gaze to your boyfriend, you noticed he was watching you in awe and appreciation, a soft smile on his face. The man had watched you create pot after pot, yet his amazement at how your hands worked with the clay never seemed to dissipate. In fact, he seemed to be fascinated with everything you did, your supposed impressiveness never being lost on him.

His mom seemed to be fond of how her son looked at you. And that fact only made you more comfortable in the situation as your heart grew just a bit bigger to accommodate your growing love for Hoseok and his family.

Hoseok’s mom was definitely the best potter of the three, having created three bowls already, another one in the process. His dad opted to make a cup, which was a bit bulky on the bottom but not bad for a first piece.

Hoseok had managed to make a bowl as well and was working on a mug, though he was already stressing about having to make a handle for it. You mentioned he’d need to score the pot when it dried a bit more so the handle would stick to it and his confused expression made it seem as though you had just asked him to do calculus in his head.

Standing beside your boyfriend as you helped him drag a wire cutter underneath his to-be mug, you couldn’t help but smile as his mom let out a small cheer after completing the final pull on her fourth bowl. Your eyes fell on Hoseok when you realized he was looking up at you. “You know, I’m a bit jealous of how many smiles my parents have earned from you tonight compared to the night I met you.” Glaring at him, he giggled. “Getting a smile from you was like a victory back then and here you are, flashing your pretty grins left and right.”

“Hoseok,” you complained through your shock and embarrassment. He was so unabashed when referencing details of your relationship. When you noticed both his parents staring at you in expectation of a story, you cleared your throat, but not without a light poke at the side of Hoseok’s abdomen as just a minimal piece of payback. “Uh, when we first met I don’t think I had ever met anyone so openly and sincerely bright before and I didn’t really know how to take it, so I was a bit standoffish with him.” Standoffish was a nice way to put it, considering you were outrightly perturbed with the man, but you were thankful Hoseok didn’t correct you.

“I took her by surprise,” your boyfriend gloated. “She made me work for her,” he shook his head fondly. “Took me ages to get her to give me a chance.”

“Ok, but you enjoyed teasing me so you weren’t exactly helping your case,” you smiled fondly at the memories. You actually found him to be arrogant and a bit phony the first few times you met the man, but you were glad he didn’t use those exact terms.

“Touché,” he responded giddily. You noticed the way his parents smiled at how you and Hoseok spoke to each other, finding your rapport cute. “I also won her over instantly when she finally did give me that chance.”

“I wouldn’t say instantly,” you teased, Hoseok’s dad chuckling warmly at your comment. He absolutely did win you over almost immediately, which your boyfriend knew as he flashed you a knowing grin.

“The best partners are always the ones who challenge you,” his dad noted, drawing your eyes to him as he went back to work on his pot.

The piece of wisdom stuck with you long after that night, because of the truth within them. Hoseok was constantly challenging you, convincing you to look within yourself, and encouraging you to pull the best of you out. It was one of the reasons you loved and appreciated him so much. The idea of being challenged by Hoseok for the rest of your days excited you, while bringing you an immense amount of comfort. You had known for a while that you wanted to be with Hoseok forever, but it was perhaps that moment that you realized just how badly you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, always challenging each other, while always giving each other a home.

Glancing at your boyfriend, you found him already looking at you with a smile, and you felt your heart pound and melt at once inside your chest. And when the man nudged your bicep with his nose, just before leaving a kiss to the bare skin on your arm, you found yourself smiling fondly, lifting your clay covered finger to swipe some of the substance on his cheek.

Hoseok giggled lightly before speaking. “My little challenge,” he teased, making you scoff as you rolled your eyes. And then, in a moment just between you both, he mouthed the words, I love you. And god, you were so lucky he did.

Smiling softly at him, you nodded, as if to tell him you knew. You felt it always. And you hoped he felt it from you as well. I love you, too, you mouthed back. You really truly did. With your entire being. And the smile he flashed at you told you that he knew that as well.

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