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uknowyato · 1 year

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Hatori Yoshiyuki no baai volume 1: chapter 1

This is a repost from my old blog. Old chapters will be coming every Thursday until I catch up. Please enjoy.

Disclaimer:‌‌ ‌‌I‌ ‌do‌ ‌not‌ ‌own‌ ‌Sekaiichi‌ ‌Hatsukoi,‌ Hatori Yoshiyuki no baai ‌and the characters within the stories. Please support Shungiku Nakamura by purchasing the official emerald releases. Thank you!

Raw cre‌dits go to the lovely youmeandteddybears ‌on tumblr

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Vera, Cammie, Rose and Isaac I love you so much <3 <3

It was late December, and the world was enveloped in the spirit of Christmas. Hymns and Christmas songs were being sung here and there, and the lights that decorated the streets were gorgeous. The products on display in the stores were also in line with the season, and they were crowded with customers choosing gifts for friends and family. Although it had become much colder in the past few days, today was a relatively pleasant day. There was no wind even after dark, so it was perfect for walking outside.

It’s a perfect day for a date…

Looking up at the twinkling stars in the sky, his thoughts went to the meeting and interview he went to in Yokohama today. Since he was walking around the city with his lover, he supposed he could call it a date.

Hatori Yoshiyuki was thirty years old. Ever since he joined a publishing company called Marukawa Shoten and was assigned to the girls' manga editing department, he had been a dedicated editor.

He was not particularly interested in becoming an editor. However, since seeing his childhood friend, who had been drawing and submitting manga since he was a child, win a rookie award and make his debut, Hatori became interested in the publishing industry. He was quite happy when he passed through the narrow gate of publishing companies and got a job offer.

A publishing company was not just a place where editors work.

Between a publishing company and your average company, there was no difference in terms of human resources, general affairs, and sales. So he thought that there might be a job that he could do.

When he entered the company and was assigned to the editorial department, he was a little worried, but surprisingly, the job seemed to suit him. Of course, it didn't mean that everything always went okay.

There were times when he had trouble with work, and there were times when he had trouble with personal relationships.

However, he had gained a good amount of experience and achievements, and now he was in charge of sub-editing a girls’ manga magazine called "Monthly Emerald.”

"This month's progress has been amazing. I haven't seen it this good in years.”

"Do you know when the usual deadline is? Some of the authors are already almost finished.”

The reason Yoshino wasn’t in a dire situation was because, as he said, they usually had plenty of time to get things done. He was in the process of putting in the rough sketches, but from the looks of Yoshino, things were going well.

Yoshino was the type of person who took longer to pick a name than to make a plot.

Even after it was completed, Yoshino would go over it several times, rework it, and then ask for feedback. Hatori's job was to give him his rough and frank opinions. Whether the story was funny or not, he told them straight.

Of course, every writer responded differently.

Some writers, like Yoshino, thrived on being clearly told what to do, while others were more suited to theoretical and detailed pointers.

“I know what you mean. I do things at my own pace!”

“I’m going to die because of your pace.”

“Uh…I’m sorry…But! This time, things are going well.”

Yoshino had a big mouth and said many things as he struck his chest. He must have a lot of self-confidence to say that much.

"If you get carried away like that, isn't it going to be hard to make up for it in the end?”

“Since I’m doing so well, don't you think I should be praised for it?”

“Alright then. I'll believe you when I see it. I'm counting on you.”

“Leave it to me!”

Even if things were going well between the two of them, you never know when things might start looking bleak. The trick was to take Yoshino's big talk with a grain of salt. It was essential to be prepared in case there was a delay.

"Oh, Tori, wait a minute. I'm going to take some pictures there too!”

"Hey, Yoshino! Don't run, you'll bump into someone.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful!”

Hatori watched the back of his lover, Yoshino, as he ran off. He couldn’t help but feel his mouth slacken at the sight of his back, but remembering that he was outside, his face quickly tightened.

“Yoshikawa Chiharu” was Hatori’s childhood friend, along with being the author he was in charge of. It was a little over a year ago when they were able to add another category to their relationship.

After a long period of unrequited love, they were finally able to become lovers. But he still regretted that he got desperate and hurted Yoshino.

He had done something that could have ruined their relationship. Oddly enough however, instead of getting angry, Yoshino had forgiven him.

His generosity was something that was truly unmatched.

He was a very easygoing person but shouldn’t have forgiven him so easily. At the beginning of their relationship, he couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong. Yoshno didn’t show it on his face, but he could sense it.

If he was being honest, there were times when he wondered if he would wake up from this convenient dream at the drop of a hat. One day it may come to an end, but until then, he was going to hold on to this happiness.

Even if the day was to come when Hatori would have to put an end to it, he had experienced so much happiness. Hatori would not have any regrets if he were to wake up from his dream.

If I were to tell Yoshino this, he would be appalled at my negative thinking.

Hatori smiled at his own thoughts. Of course, he wanted to stay with Yoshino for the rest of his life. As long as he was allowed to be by his side, he wouldn't leave. However, he had a desire for that and Yoshino’s happiness.

But there was another thing.

If by chance, Hatori's existence became a burden or had a negative effect on Yoshino, he had every intention of leaving him. It would be a punishment for himself.

“Wait a minute,” Yoshino quickly returned, with a camera in his hands.

He would be turning thirty in a few months, but he was still restless. He was curious about everything and had lots of feelings. Many freelance people were of unknown age, and Yoshino fit the bill. With a baby face and big eyes, he also had a petite physique. When he was wearing casual clothing, he looked like a college student. When Hatori was with him, he felt like he was getting older.

“Did you take a good picture?”

“It's perfect! There was a really strange figurine in the storefront over there, and they let me take a picture of it.”

“Well…” Yoshino came back with a smile, showing him the picture on the camera monitor. He was happy to see it, and he wanted to take pictures of the background.

The single-lens reflex digital camera he was using now was a new one bought just the other day. Looking at the fact that he was using it quite well, he thought he must be using it often. He was passionate about escapism.

It was an old promise that he would improve what he did.

He recalled back in the day, Hatori had a hard time getting Yoshino to concentrate on his studies. There was not one textbook that didn’t have a doodle drawn inside of it.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here today. Would it have been better to take the pictures at a brighter time?”

It would have been better if he had arrived at an earlier time, but Hatori’s work dragged on which resulted in him being late.

It wasn’t as though he had any work he had to immediately complete, but Hatori took Yoshino’s word that he didn’t care he was late.

I know I have to keep my work life and personal life separate...

Perhaps it was because they have known each other for so long, his relationship with Yoshino caused that line to blur.

He had completed proofreading and had some spare time, but the detailed work kept stacking up and it ate up his time.

“These are good materials. The sky at night is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Well, that’s good to know…”

“I was able to snap a picture of the Ferris wheel earlier. When it’s more empty, I want to get on the Ferris wheel and take a picture at the top, but two guys on a Ferris wheel at this time would stand out too much.”

“Oh, if you wanted to get on the ride, why did you say anything? I would have waited at the bottom”

At the time now, they should still be able to make it just in time. He was sure the night view would be more beautiful than earlier when the sun was almost down.

“You’re asking me to stand in a line alone filled with couples?!”

“I have a SLR, so I can carry it and get on while collecting data.”

Being in such a date spot with his lover could make them stand out like a sore thumb. However, the camera and notes in his hands certainly mitigates this.

“Absolutely not! Oh, Why don’t you stand there Tori?”

“Why would I do that?”

“You’re still wearing a suit, it looks like you’re still working.”

Hatori had to work until noon, so he was still wearing his suit and coat. He couldn’t help but think that they help him in the midst of working.

He was often told that he didn’t look like the average editor upon the first meeting. But, that was probably because he would wear a suit just like any other company.

When meeting with other companies, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be mistaken for someone in sales.

Editors don’t normally wear suits everyday.

Since being an editor was a relatively flexible job, everyone usually dressed in more casual clothing. Hatori would wear suits because of his own personal commitment.

When he put on his suit and fastened his tie, he felt more and more serious. For Hatori, the suit was his on and off switch and initially, he decided against wearing a suit, but realized he couldn’t keep it up for long.

He tried to keep work to a minimum, but when he found himself in a pinch, Hatori would take work home with him.

Even at home, he couldn’t help but look over the plots and storyboards from the authors he was in charge of. He would read through the materials and reach out to them when there was something in front of him that needed to be completed.

Even then, Hatori didn’t want to contact them on his days off. He would particularly refrain from communicating with the writers he was in charge of as much as possible.

The only exceptions to that were the writers with significant delays, and Yoshino.

"Hey, are you trying to make me do something I don’t want to do? I don’t know how to properly use this camera in the first place.”

If he was being honest, he didn’t want to handle such delicate equipment without first looking at the manual. He was sure he wouldn’t break it, but it would be disastrous if he deleted the photos Yoshino took today.

“No luck. Well, let’s come back on a free day. There won’t be so many people first thing in the morning on a weekday.”

“What’s with that face? Do you really not want to ride the Ferris wheel with me?”

“No, it’s not like that…” He was quite surprised that Yoshino agreed to go on a date with him.

...Does Yoshino even grasp this concept?

He would promise he would play the next time, just like when they were kids. That was all it must have been to him.

“Ah, Tori, stand right there.”

“Don’t move!”

“If you’re collecting background materials, wouldn’t it be better if people weren’t entering?”

From the way he was holding the camera, it seemed that Yoshino wanted to use Hatori as a model.

“It’s easier to draw the background with people in it when I can compare them to the characters.”

“....I understand.”

Hatori didn’t mind being photographed for collecting materials, but he didn’t like himself being photographed.

He didn’t know what kind of face he should make when Yoshino pointed the lens at him, plus he didn’t think the photograph would look good.

“You need to smile more.”

“That’s impossible.”

Since his mother loved events, he would have his picture taken from time to time until he became a senior. There were still many photo albums in his childhood home.

No matter at what age the photo was taken, Hatori’s facial expressions always remained the same. He was quite impressed at his lack of expression.

Most of the time, Yoshino, who was also in the pictures with him, was very expressive. Laughing, crying, pouting, etc. it made Hatori feel more unsociable.

“Move a little closer to the right.”

“Like this?”

"Don't just stand there with your whole body facing away from me, give off this feeling like we're meeting.”

“Don’t complain. I’m not a model.”

He sighed while Yoshino gave him detailed instructions. As much as he wanted to cooperate with him, he just couldn’t meet his high demands.

“Well then, how about you imagine you’re waiting for my late manuscript?”

Just by imagining what he just said, the frustration came flooding back. Though he knew that it was simply fabricated, that very feeling he had experienced countless times was very real.

Yoshino pointed and gave a drawn out laugh as he stared at his wrinkled eyebrows.

“...I’m sorry. I’ll leave you as is. Now, say cheese!” Yoshino adjusted the zoom and pressed the shutter button several times after his shout.

“Hurry up and finish it.”

Even though it was a weekday, every place was crowded with people on a Friday night.

Everytime the flash went off, it drew the attention of passersby. It was quite awkward seeing as everyone was looking at him, wondering what he was doing?

“Wait a minute while I take another picture.”

Yoshino moved to take another picture of Hatori from a different angle. Oddly enough, in his imagination, it seemed as though he was happy.

“That’s enough.”

“Yeah, thank you. This helped a lot.”

Hatori was relieved to be finally dismissed from his modeling duties.

“So, where to next?”

They found themselves nearing the station. He wasn’t aware of it, as they were occasionally stopping, but they must have been walking for several hours.

“Let’s go eat Chinese food! I'm just hungry. After all, if you're in Yokohama then you must get Chinese food.”

“Isn’t it a little early for dinner?”

It had been some time, but they still had a couple of hours before it was their normal dinner time.

“I’ve been to all of the places I wanted to go, took lots of pictures, so I think I’m done. It’s been a long time since I’ve walked this much and my legs are killing me.”

“You really should exercise more often. And didn’t you say you bought a meat bun and ate it? And didn’t you say you had a big meal before the meeting?”

Before meeting up with Hatori, Yoshino arrived early and wandered around aimlessly to kill time. He said that he had eaten lunch at a cafe that had recently opened.

In addition, the meat bun he bought on his way to the meeting was quite large, along with the hearty bite he took to sample it.

"I've already digested what I've eaten of the bun before I met up with you. Plus I have a dessert stomach.”

"Isn't that an expression you use when you want to eat something sweet…?"

"Don't worry about the details. You've only had one bite of the bun, you must be hungry.”

"Not that I'm hungry but…”

“Then it’s settled!” With that said, Yoshino pulled at Hatori’s arm enthusiastically.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“If I remember correctly, there’s this restaurant on the cross street that looked really good. I think it’s over here.”

“You’re good when it comes to these sorts of things…” He was good at taking photos and looking for great restaurants.

“I have a gourmet taste because I grew up with Tori’s cooking.”

“I don’t remember you growing up with that.”

The moment he corrected him, Yoshino laughed out loud. He didn’t know if it was because of that, but Yoshino seemed oddly excited.

Is it because he got hit with the Christmas spirit?

Confused by the change of the atmosphere, Hatori reluctantly followed Yoshino.

He stepped into the alleyway as if he was being dragged, Yoshino eyeing up a Chinese restaurant in front of him.

“Look, this place looks great doesn’t it?”

“Sure.”

As Yoshino said, it was a restaurant with a great ambiance to it. Hatori was rather amazed that he managed to catch sight of the sign in such a narrow alley.

When the two entered the store, they were greeted by a cheerful voice.

“Welcome.” The restaurant was small, but clean and quaint.

“A table for two?”

“Ah, yes.” As soon as they were shown to their seats, Yoshino pondered over the menu in his hands.

“Everything looks so amazingly good~”

“Keep it moderate.”

"I know. Ah, what will I order? Let’s see, stirred-fried shrimp in chili sauce, Peking duck and stirred-fried water spinach. Deep fried prawn wraps, xiaobo bao, juicy buns... Oh, please let me have the seafood soup.”

Yoshino ordered from every menu item that caught his eye.

"Are you sure you can eat that much?”

"That's about it for now. We can order dessert later, right?”

“You’re going to order more…?” Normally if Yoshino was hungry, he would feel a sense of uneasiness as he was picking up all kinds of food.

"Don't worry. We'll eat together.”

“I'm hoping it's…”

While he was reasonably hungry, he thought it’d be better to be prepared today. Hatori tightened his tie a little and sipped the tea that was offered to him.

“Are you going to finish your work by the 27th?”

“Yes I will.”

“What are you going to do this year?”

“Well, my mom and dad are going to spend New Year's Eve at a hot spring, so I'm going home after the New Year.”

Every end of the year, Hatori would usually return home to help with cleaning and make *Osechi Ryori with his mother.

"I see. I think I'll go back at the end of the year too~. I have to work on my manuscript, and if I slack off at my parents' house, they'll nag me.”

“You don’t have to slack off.”

“But, you know there’s not much to do at home.”

“Really? Then maybe you can come spend time helping me clean up.”

“...I knew you’d say that. I’d rather clean my room than clean my parent’s home.”

“You’re right. I should polish every nook and cranny of my home myself at least once a year.”

He wouldn't go so far as to call it a dirty house, but Yoshino's room was terrible.

The kitchen and dining room were always neat and tidy, as Hatori defended it, and Yoshino was dying to clean up his work room before he called in his female assistants.

However, the walk-in closet called the library was piled high with manga and materials. Lately, what he couldn’t fit in there was starting to invade his bedroom.

“You vacuum sometimes!”

"I do that on occasion. You should sort your mangas. And I was wondering why the windows were fogging up. Give me one day free before the end of the year and I'll help you, get rid of the large mangas.”

“Ser~iously…”

“You know I don’t owe you any help, right?”

“Oh, sorry! I’ll do my very best.” Glaring at him, Yoshino straightened his back. While he was making plans in his head for the cleaning, the food he had ordered was brought to the table.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Here you go, seafood soup, *xiaolongbao, and fried water spinach.”

"Wow, that looks delicious!” Feeling uncomfortable, Yoshino quickly changed the subject.

In truth, the aroma coming from the freshly steamed xiao long bao stimulated Hatori’s appetite. Saliva started to well up in his mouth.

“Ah, I'm going to eat it. Ah, it's hot...it’s delicious! Tori, eat it quickly before it gets cold.”

“Oh.”

He put the piping hot xiaolongbao aside for later and took a sip of the seafood soup. The soup gradually began to permeate within his cold body, and the fried water spinach was so chewy he couldn’t stop eating it.

All the dishes that came one after another were delicious. For a while, the two concentrated on eating the meal in silence.

Yoshino, who was eating the chili prawns that came later, suddenly stopped eating.

“What’s wrong?”

"It's really good, but I like your shrimp chili better. What's the difference?”

“I guess your tongue is just used to it.”

“I guess that's how it is. There are so many delicious foods in the world, but I don't think I could survive without Tori's cooking.”

He looked at Yoshino, trying to suppress his agitation at his casual remark. He tried to reply in a casual way.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“It’s true.”

“Flattery won’t get you an extension for the deadline.”

The reason he couldn’t give a straight answer was partly because of his shy personality, but it was also because he had a crush on him for so long that he tried to hide his feelings from him.

He wondered if one day he would be able to "flirt" with him like other lovers do.

He might call me gross…

He tried to imagine it, and raised his eyebrows at the uncomfortable feeling.

"Hey, is your phone ringing?”

“Looks like it.”

He was rather upset that he didn't notice the incoming call on his cell phone. It must have been a work-related call. Since he was in a “meeting with an author”, he would just call them back later.

Just to be sure, he took out his cell phone from his pocket and raised his eyebrows at the name on the display.

The caller was Nakahara, a new writer who had started working with him a while ago.

What’s going on?

She was currently in her sophomore year of college, and Hatori was assigned to her because she won the Rookie of the Year Award.

After her award-winning work was published, she aimed to complete her second work. This was the first time she and her editor, Hatori, had worked together on a story from the ground up.

The plot was OK’ed a few days ago, and he believed she was working on the storyboard now.

She told him that she would let him check it when it was finished, but Hatori was in no particular hurry. He was sure she knew that.

Even so, the fact that she was calling him on the cell phone he had given her for emergencies suggests that she may be in some kind of trouble.

There have been many times in the past when he had been asked to help an author who was in trouble.

No matter how well prepared you are, unexpected misfortune can strike on any given day. A leak in the apartment building can destroy the physical manuscript, data on your PC can blow up, or you could fall ill with the flu just before the deadline.

The important thing was to make sure you have enough time to get things done and to take care of things without panicking. As long as you keep those two points in mind, most things would work out.

“Is it from the company?”

"No, an author.”

“Maybe it's that newbie again?”

“……Yeah.”

He told Yoshino that he was going to be in charge of the rookie, just to keep him in the loop.

This was not the first time she had contacted him when they were alone. What was different was that it was a phone call, not an email.

The fact that she didn’t stop calling him may indicate that she was in a desperate situation.

“Sorry, it might be an emergency. I'll be out in a minute.”

“Hatori here.” When he turned on his phone, he heard a nervous voice.

“Um, it’s Nakahara!"

“What’s wrong?”

“I'm working on a storyboard right now, but I'm having trouble with it, so I was hoping Hatori-san could give me some feedback. I called your editorial department, but they said you were out of the office, so I had to call you here.”

“Are you asking about the storyboard?”

"Yes! Yes, I'm confused about-”

“You're not in some kind of trouble, are you?” He softly interrupted Nakahara’s words to confirm.

“Huh? Ah, yes.”

“I'm sorry. I'm having a meeting outside, so I'll call you back.”

He would love to consult with her, but he was out with Yoshino. His mood was half private, but as the writer in charge, he couldn’t make Yoshino wait any longer.

“Oh, I'm sorry! I hope you didn't mind that I called you for advice. It didn't work out and I got anxious. I'll think about it a little more on my own.”

“There's no need to rush. There's still time, so let's take it slow.”

“Hatori-san…” When he said that gently, Nakahara seemed to calm down a little.

“Can you please send me an email with the part you need help with? That would be great.”

"Okay, I'll email it to you right away.”

“Thank you very much. I'll call you back from the office on Monday.”

“Huh, Monday...?”

He could hear the disappointment in her voice. He understood the desire to move on quickly, but Hatori was simply a company employee.

In that sense, I'm too soft on Yoshino.

It didn’t matter if it was the weekend or a long vacation. He would do anything for Yoshino. In a way, he guessed you could say that he was driven by his own selfish desires.

Hatori didn’t indulge him when it came to work, but when it came to other things, he usually listened to him because he wanted to see Yoshino's happy face.

“I’m sorry. The company is closed on the weekends.”

"Oh, yes, of course! Well, I'll be waiting for your call.”

“Then, excuse me.”

He hung up the phone and let out a breath. He had planned to return to Yoshino immediately, but it took him a while to end the call.

It had been quite a while since he had been in charge of a rookie.

At first, she seemed wary of Hatori, who didn't seem like a typical editor, but gradually she came to approve of him.

Or rather, does she cherish me?

Of course, it was good that she was willing to talk to him about her problems, and Hatori was willing to think about and solve them with her.

However, he felt as though their contact was a bit too frequent. If he gave the OK for one thing and moved on, he was immediately asked for advice again for the next thing.

Well, I guess that's the way it is in the beginning…

He didn’t think there was any artist who didn’t worry about how his or her work would be perceived by others.

Yoshino, who had been an author for almost ten years, was both happy and sad to receive fan letters and awards.

In fact, the pressure may be greater now that he has become an established and successful writer.

He thought the job of an editor was to steer the ship, so to speak.

Of course, as a commercial work, they order the colors to match the published colors. Hatori asked the writers to show their individuality within that framework.

As the editor in charge, he would give his advice and offer ideas when necessary, but he cannot dictate every step of the way.

The reason why she asked Hatori for his opinion on everything was probably because she felt insecure. He understood the desire to seek someone’s approval.

However, if everything was done in accordance with the editor’s opinion, the work would no longer be her own. He wanted to lighten her nervousness.

Nakahara was a skillful artist who had lots of talent. Her prize-winning work was published and was very well received. He thought she had a lot of room to grow, but the problem was that she lacked confidence.

For Hatori, who had no interest in drawing, just being able to create a story from scratch was a great talent. He had been doing everything well since he was a child, but in other words, he was average at everything.

Since he didn’t have any outstanding talents or inspiration, he had to do what he could do.

Throughout his life, he had rarely been so obsessed with something that he forgot who he was. That had helped him to develop an objective viewpoint.

Fortunately, he felt that this perspective had been put to good use in his current line of work. He was trying to calmly judge how he could better convey the goodness of his work, but when it came to Yoshino, everything was an exception.

Even before he realized he was in love with him, Hatori’s world revolved around him, and after he realized it, the symptoms became even more severe.

Now that they were lovers, it was nearly impossible to look at their relationship objectively.

He tried to think as calmly as he could, but the negative part of him got bigger and he only thought about the bad things.

I can’t help myself it seems...

It was difficult to control his romantic feelings with reason. If he was in a position to give himself advice, he would tell himself to calm down.

It had been said since ancient times that love made people go crazy, and Hatori was no exception to that rule.

When he returned to the table, Yoshino, who had been in a good mood earlier, was now in a bad mood, drinking sake.

“I’m sorry, I’m late.”

“No problem. I’m working.”

“You ordered a drink?”

“You didn't come back, so I thought I'd have a drink alone.”

Yoshino usually doesn’t drink much alcohol outside the house. Today, however, he was gulping down a bottle of *Shaoxing wine.

He had never been so pissed off about Hatori sitting on the phone for work, and he knew the contents of Hatori's work better than anyone.

“So, are you okay?”

“Yeah, she wanted to talk about the storyboard to me, so I called her back.”

“She went through the trouble of calling you to ask about the storyboard?” Yoshino seemed to become annoyed when he explained the situation.

“I guess she got impatient because she couldn't do what she wanted. She called the editorial department and they told her I was on, so she called me."

“Hmmm.” Yoshino continued to eat in silence with an unamused look on his face.

He wasn’t sure what to make of that. He knew from experience that leaving Yoshino alone in a situation like this could be troublesome later on.

“What are you angry about?”

“I'm not mad at you." Yoshino replied to Hatori's question without hesitation and gulped down the wine.

“I'm not even mad at you.”

“I'm sorry I left my seat.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It's your job.”

“Then why did you...?” The waitress put an end to their argument with her words.

“May I bring you some dessert?"

“Oh, yes, please.”

“Are you sure you can eat that much?”

“I told you, I'm fine. I ordered one for you, so don't leave any behind.”

“......"

Yoshino seemed to have changed his mind and was happily eating the Almond jelly that was brought to him. If he pursued him further, it would only lead to more trouble. Deciding that, Hatori also silently reached for the spoon.

As if his previous moodiness had been a lie, Yoshino was as normal as ever after leaving the restaurant. In fact, the tension seemed to have risen somewhat.

....Come to think of it, I wonder what he'll do for Christmas this year?

Christmas Eve was in a few days. They hadn't talked about how they would spend it, but they didn’t do anything special every year.

Christmas was a day for Yoshino to eat chicken and cake. If Hatori put a big pile of french fries on it, he would be overjoyed.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t spent time alone together, but that was before they started dating. And so far Hatori had been working his butt off on work that he was behind on, or being interrupted by Yanase.

Bad memories came flooding back…

Hatori put the not-so-pleasant memories out of his mind and composed himself.

No promises meant business as usual. If he went to Yoshino's house with a gift, Hatori would probably spend the night.

Since this year’s progress wasn’t urgent, there wasn't any assistance coming in and out and Yanase was stuck at *Seinenshi sensei’s place.

“Well then. Go to bed early and don’t stay up late. Good luck with tomorrow’s manuscript.”

“……”

For some reason, Yoshino didn’t try to step out even though Hatori tried to see him off on the road to his home. On the contrary, he picked and held Hatori’s coat.

“Yoshino?”

Yoshino’s slightly red cheeks were looking down. It didn’t look like he was drunk, but was that the afterglow of alcohol?

“You know, normally you wouldn’t go home on a day like this?”

“?”

He didn’t understand what exactly Yoshino was saying, and the former had a perplexed face. In response to Hatori’s dull reaction, Yoshino stamped his feet on the ground.

“So! You’re on your way home from a date!” He looked wide eyed at Yoshino who raised his voice in frustration. Hatori couldn’t hide his surprise at the fact that Yoshino perceived today was a date.

“What’s with that face! You can add embarrassing scenes to a plot, but you can’t do it in real life…” Yoshino murmured those words with dissatisfaction. Hatori rubbed his eyes, trying to see if he was in a convenient dream, but it seemed to be real.

“That is to say, I just want to confirm---”

“In times like this you have to read the room!”

He held his breath while Yoshino glared at him with a flushed face.

Is it…is it okay for me to accept this invitation?

In retrospect, Yoshino was always somewhat strange. He could say it was about to snow, but it would be troublesome if he got angry.

“Can I stay the night?”

“…”

When asked straight, Yoshino’s blush dyed to his neck and he slightly nodded. They were both silent on their way to Yoshino’s house.

The tension rose with every step he took, even with the cool air brushing against his cheek, his body temperature only grew.

“Huh? Where did I put the key?” Yoshino was panicking in front of the door. He looked in his coat pocket and his trouser, it seemed that he forgot the bag on his shoulder.

“Is it in your bag?”

“R-right."

His trembling hands were trying to open the door. Yoshino, who had no sense of control, dropped the key. The sound of the bumpy metal crashed into the hallway.

“I’ll open it."

Hatori picked up the key and opened the front door. At that moment, Yoshino looked small and he seemed to be holding his breath.

“Th-thank you."

He opened the door and encouraged Yoshino to enter first. Yoshino’s movements in front of him started to look shaky.

The voice asking the question was trembling. Even though Hatori was just as nervous, it seemed as though the tension was infectious.

Hatori assumed he should have gotten used to this, since they had done it so many times in the past, but he didn’t want to look so dismayed in front of the person he loved.

“No.”

“Ah, then how about we take a shower.”

“Ah…”

His pink nape caused the little amount of his reason to dissolve. Hatori held Yoshino’s shoulders, turned him around and forcefully kissed him.

“Nnn…”

Perhaps because of Hatori's brute force, Yoshino’s eyes were wide open. However, immediately, the tension was leaving his body and his eyelids fluttered close.

Eating his lips and twisting his tongue, Yoshino put his arms around Hatori’s back. As the kiss deepended, the more they clung to each other.

“Nnn, n, nn…”

He embraced Yoshino’s body -which was gradually melting- Hatori caved in and engulfed his lips.

He heard a wet sound every time their tongues entangled. He teased Yoshino’s tongue, which was trying to entangle awkwardly and enjoying his mouth that was hotter than usual. Hatori wanted to continue further but when he noticed Yoshino was suffocating, he broke the kiss, feeling his hair getting pulled.

“Idiot, we’re still in the hallway”

Yoshino complained while out of breath. Hatori roughly pulled Yoshino’s waist as he glared up at him with a flushed face and whispered in his ear.

“It’s your fault for enticing me. And you were responding, too.”

“Huh? That’s just a conditioned reflex…”

“Is that so?”

“What do you want me to say!”

“It’s written all over your face.”

He was sulking but there was a sweetness in his gaze. Yoshino showed a sullen face due to Hatori’s embarrassing and sadistic desires.

“What is written, can you carefully tell me?”

“Eh? ---uwa!”

Holding his waist, they headed to the bedroom and fell on the bed, entangled together.

“Hey Tori---”

Fueled by Yoshino’s wet eyes, Hatori kissed him like he was drawn in. He continued the deep kiss and ran his hands over Yoshino’s clothes.

While singing and moaning into the sealed kiss, Hatori pinned him down and felt around his thin body. Rolling up his thin shirt, he touched Yoshino’s bare skin.

Hatori managed to get rid of his coat, and while he was distracted with the difficulty of removing his belt he realized he hadn’t even taken off his jacket.

I seriously can’t keep calm

Internally, Hatori laughed at his own impatience. He roughly stripped off his jacket, which would normally be dutifully hung up, and pulled out his tie.

“Hey, slow down a bit……”

“No way.”

“Then try harder!” If he were to immediately answer, all he would get was a retort from Yoshino.

When he caressed the area where Yoshino’s ribs had previously been, Yoshino stirred underneath Hatori. He was still a bit thin, but he had gained some weight after all of his efforts.

“I’m deeply moved that I’m allowed to caress this.”

“Hey! Hey, don’t rub that…!” When Hatori grabbed his side, Yoshino squirmed ticklishly.

“Then, how about here?”

“Hya-”

He moved his hand up further, gently caressing the top of his nipple with the pad of his thumb and crushed it, hearing a high pitched voice escape from Yoshino’s lips. Yoshino was sensitive there as well. When stimulated, it hardened easily.

“Ah, nnn, ouch, idiot not so hard.”

“You like it when it hurts, don’t you?” When he pinched it, his body jumped.

“Ahh, nnn…!”

When he kneaded it with some force, it became red like a fruit and Yoshino rubbed his knees together as if he was frustrated. It looked like his nipples weren’t the only thing getting hard.

Hatori felt something hard and alluring when he forcibly split his knees apart and pressed his knee against his groin.

“Uh…ah, wait ah ah!” Rubbing it with his thigh made it even harder. Hatori pulled down Yoshino’s pants -which had been loosened at his waist- and his underwear had changed color at some point.

“You’re already wet.” Yoshino blushed to his ears when Hatori told him that fact.

“W-well, I’m not the only one…ah.”

“Maybe so.”

“Ahh……?!”

Hatori ran his index finger over the elastic part of Yoshino’s underwear and lightly pulled it down, revealing his hard member. Hatori traced the underside and scooped the moistened tip with his fingers.

“Ahh, ah…” When he wrapped his fingers around his entire cock and gently rubbed it, Yoshino let out a sweet and seductive voice. The appearance of him clutching the bedsheets and enduring the pleasure was lovely.

How cute.

Yoshino was quick to whine, and he was usually sloppy. But at the root of Yoshino’s character was a stubbornness that absolutely hated to lose. Once he had made a decision, he was not going to change it no matter what.

“Yoshino, take that off.”

“You idiot, get ready first…” While scolding Hatori, Yoshino reached into the drawer on the nightstand.

He had found what he was looking for and was embarrassed to present what would be used against him. He carelessly pressed it against his chest.

“Thank you.”

The bottle of lotion and the box of contraceptives that were ready were new. Hatori wondered what Yoshino’s face looked like when he was buying those things.

Resisting the urge to pursue an answer, he took the contents on the palm of his hand. Making sure to spread it all over his fingers, he wrapped his fingers around his cock again.

“Hya…ah,ah…!”

Yoshino’s moans became even sweeter when Hatori spread it up and down. After feeling its tightness, he probed behind with his wet fingers.

“Mmm, mmm.”

Yoshino moaned when he forcibly pushed the tips of his fingers into the tight opening. He didn’t realize he was making it even tighter, but he still pushed his fingers deeper and deeper.

“Ngh, nghh……”

Yoshino clenched his teeth as he endured the sensation of his fingers probing inside his body.

His opening was not originally designed to accept foreign substances, but as lotion was added several times along the way, he slowly got used to it.

Every time he pulled his fingers in and out, a lewd squelching sound was heard.

“Ah…ah, ah…mm.”

Yoshino’s hands wandered around the bed looking for something to cling to. Eventually, he grabbed a pillow and pulled it over his face, burying himself. Realizing that he didn’t want to let out his voice, he moved his fingers even deeper.

“Ah, ah, ah…!” With more fingers inside him, he pushed hard against the inner wall and Yoshino’s body jumped like a fish on land. He could tell that he was getting pleasure from his pleasured moans.

Hatori already knew all of Yoshino’s sensitive spots. He couldn’t afford to tease him today. Just severly torture the spots where he would surely react.

“No, not there, ahh, ah!”

Yoshino wasn’t opposed to getting pleasured, but when he felt too good, he suddenly got scared.

He couldn’t understand the uneasy feeling like he wasn’t himself. But he had no intention of toning it down.

“Aahh, no, ah, ah--!”

The root of his arousal that was about to burst was suppressed. Yoshino -who was about to come- stared at Hatori with an agitated expression.

“W-why.”

“You can hold it in a bit more, right?” If he made him come first on a tiring day, he would often fall asleep immediately after that. As expected, it would be a problem if that were to happen today. He was already painfully hard and it wouldn’t be easy to take care of it by himself.

“You have to take responsibility for the invitation.”

“Ahh……”

As he pulled out the fingers that were probing inside, a sweet, trembling voice escaped. He had feared it might still be a little tight, but his patience had already reached its limit.

“Are you ready?”

“……suit yourself.”

With Yoshino’s permission, he spread his knees apart. He restlessly loosened his pants and pulled his excited self out of his underwear.

He quickly put on the condom and when he pushed into the prepared spot, he could vividly see his cock throb.

“Ah---” He pushed the tip in with a huff. Running out of patience, he shoved it in mercilessly.

Although it was still as tight as he thought, it had already learned Hatori’s shape and accepted him without refusal. He secretly let out a moan from the pleasure of being wrapped around his tight entrance.

“Nghh…why…why is it so big…ngh.” Yoshino glared at him resentfully with tears in his eyes.

That might have been him whining rather than him complaining. He was embarrassed to hear him complain about his body’s physiological reaction. It wasn’t something that could be controlled by will.

“Of course it's because I want you. There isn’t any guy who’s not excited about holding someone he loves.”

“Idiot……ngh.”

It was unreasonable for him to be verbally attacked like that even though he answered his question. In a fit of anger, he forcefully pushed it to the root, and cloudy whiteness was scattered by the force.

“Ahh……ngh.”

He seemed to have come just by stimulation because he was made to endure it earlier. The bodily fluid overflowing from the explosion was scattered across his thin abdomen.

“I didn’t say you can come first right?”

“B-but……” He wiped the overflowing bodily fluids with his fingers and smeared it on Yoshino’s arousal. He rubbed it hard, and with Hatori inside, it got tighter.

“Ahh, ah, no, I’m gonna come again……”

“That won’t do. It's better if we come together right?”

“Yeah ... but ...ngh.”

“Can’t you hold it in for me?”

“You’re so mean Tori……Uh, ah, ah, nghh, ngh!”

When Yoshino said not to do something, it was really him saying what he wanted you to do. The reaction inside changed depending on the intensity of the stimulus. As he was enjoying the change, Yoshino was complaining, while he was on the verge of tears.

“No, idiot, don't play anymore……ngh.”

“You want me to focus more here?”

“Ahngh!?” He gave a hard shove at the place where their bodies connected.

“No, ahhh, ah, ah……ngh.” He put himself into the root and shook up their connected bodies. Every time he sent his hips in, Yoshino's body jolted and trembled.

He grabbed Yoshino's waist and held him up, bending his back, and mercilessly stirred his lotion-soaked insides.

“Ahhngh, ahh, no……ngh” While greedily gouging out the tight entrance, he drilled into the back again and again. When he sent his hips into the right place, Yoshino gasped as if to cry.

That voice and expression further fueled him. Hatori threw his self-control away and within in his lust, he thrusted into Yoshino.

“Agh,ahh,ahhng,aah!”

At first, Yoshino was at his mercy, but gradually he started to move. It was unintentional, and probably unconscious.

It was a pleasure that threw away all reason, and he was trying to get more of it. Even if it was an act of instinct, it didn’t change what the expectation was.

What Yoshino wanted, he just gave him exactly that.

I’m really cunning

Every time he held Yoshino like this, he felt an indescribable elation and guilt.

All Yoshino must have felt for Hatori -until the later revealed his hidden feelings- were the feelings of comfort, friendship, and trust of his childhood friend.

There might have been some sort of monopoly, but it probably wasn't that of love. He dragged Yoshino to this side, imposed his not-so-pretty desires on him, and instilled his lust.

Even if Yoshino had had such experience, it was with the opposite sex and he was not in the receiving position. As a man, there must have been some confusion for him.

Nevertheless, it was thanks to his generosity that he had accepted the position of being embraced on the receiving end.

He might not be aware of it himself, but Yoshino was the one who had the courage when the time came. Hatori's prudence was a mask to hide his mean, negative and cowardly self.

“Ah! Not there, no, aghn, ah, aghn!”

“Can't you say anything other than denial once in a while?”

“Sh-shut up…..nghh.” When Hatori pointed out his lack of vocabulary, he glared at him with wet eyes.

He usually had a face that didn’t seem to have anything to do with sexual things. But when they were having sex {t/n: embrace is the orginal translation. Embrace= to have sex}, he had such a face, so he couldn’t stand it.

As he repeatedly thrust into the back, the connected part became looser. At that moment, he pulled himself out as much as he could and pushed back in.

“Aaahhh……ngh.”

With each extraction, the voice that spilled out became sweeter and sweeter. As he continued to gouge out the tightly-clung inner walls, Yoshino's face became distorted with pleasure.

“You like it here right?”

“Yes, it feels good……ngh.”

The reason why he deliberately asked the question when his reason had failed was because now he could hear an honest answer.

“Here?”

“Ughhh, ah,ah, ah….ngh.”

Yoshino, who was writhing and gasping, was driven into even harder. When he squirmed and swayed, his thin body slid up on the bed.

“No, nghh, agnh, ah, ah……!”

Vigorously pushing his hips closer and thrusting even deeper, Yoshino also tangled his legs around Hatori's waist and his hands clung to his back.

Yoshino’s lips came close to his as if they were pleading. Biting and kissing, he devoured them on impulse.

“Nn,n,n,nn……ngh.”

As he rocked his hips with their bodies close together, Yoshino's erection -which was overflowing with semen- rubbed against his abdomen. It seemed that his limit was already in sight.

When he parted their lips, there was a face that looked like it was about to burst into tears right then and there.

“Tori……ngh, already, I’m coming, please……nghh.” In the blink of an eye, a single tear fell from Yoshino's eyes. He thought he’d tease him some more, but looking at his facial expression, he changed his mind.

“I know.” Immediately, he increased the pace and caught up with Yoshino.

“Ahh, ahh, ah……ngh.”

“----Chiaki.”

“Ah------!”

After an intense urging, they came almost simultaneously. Yoshino's lower abdomen quivered sporadically, overflowing with white turbidity.

“Ah, nn……ngh.” Then, after Hatori poured all the proof of his desire into Yoshino, pulling himself out.

They remained silent, waiting for the heat to recede from their bodies. As he closed his eyes and surrendered to the pleasant exhaustion, Yoshino opened his mouth, roughly breathing.

“……I've been meaning to tell you this for a while.”

“Hm?”

“It’s foul play to call out my name like that!” Yoshino caught his breath, then paused, and grudgingly complained in Hatori's ear.

Footnotes:

Xiaolongbao: A is a type of small Chinese dumpling that gets its name from the basket it’s steamed, a xiaolongbao.

Osechi Ryori: The traditional food enjoyed during new year’s in Japan. They come in an assortment of colorful dishes packed together in special boxes called jubako, which resemble bento boxes. Every dish of these traditional foods has a special meaning in welcoming the New Year. (Taken from this site)

Shaoxing wine: A traditional Chinese wine produced in Shaoxing (eastern China). Mainly used as a cooking wine and a beverage in Chinese cuisine.

Seinenshi: Magazine for adult men

#sekaiichi hatsukoi #sih #sih domestica #hatori yoshiyuki #yoshino chiaki #hatori yoshiyuki no baai #it's the queue shot #lilly's translations

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reshuffleadventures · 2 years

Photo

5/1/22 - Ghosted HD at Lambs Knoll & Drawing with the Roomies

Aimee showed up at my house right at 6:30 AM. She’d planned to come get me at 6:25 AM, since we were supposed to be at ZAC by 6:30 AM, but she was running a little late. On the 3-minute drive to work, Aimee said, “I’m sorry I’m late, especially since it’s your trip.” I turned toward her and said, “what do you mean, ‘my trip?’” Aimee proceeded to tell me that she was ghosting me. And then she said, “wait, did Jess not tell you?”

“Ghosting” is when one of the lead guides follows around a paired guide who’s been checked off on all of their rescue skills. The lead guide is around just to make sure that if a problem arose, they’d be there to help if needed. Ideally, the lead guide doesn’t have to interact at all with the paired guide or the clients. Aimee ghosted me on my half-day canyoneering adventure.

2 clients, Maria and Cathy. Neither had experience rock climbing or rappelling or being in a harness. I took them to Lambs Knoll. Bowl up to Ritze Bolts, rap down Ritze Bolts, rap down Arch Start. At the bottom of Arch Start, I forgot to take out my figure 8 knot, and I pulled the rope with a knot still in it. The rope got stuck. I had to run around to drop it. Aimee actually beat me there and untied the knot and dropped the rope. I climbed back down to the bottom of Arch Start, and met up with my clients. This entire process only took me 5 minutes. I was lucky that it happened here. The whole trip, besides getting my rope stuck at that one spot, was really great. I felt really confident and competent and prepared.

I talked with Anna on the phone about her coming to visit this coming week. We talked about canyons, and gear, and planned food for while we’re camping.

At the end of the day, Zaq, who was sitting at the kitchen table, drawing, asked me about tattoo ideas that I’d had, and I just so happened to have uncovered a tattoo idea that I’d drawn years ago. I grabbed my tattoo sketches and showed them to Zaq and Sophie, while we sat together at the table. Sophie popped some pizza rolls in the oven. We talked about tattoos for a while. When the pizza rolls came out of the oven, we all snacked on them (Photo #1). It was a perfect moment; all three of us were jamming out to Zaq’s smooth tunes (Tom Misch), drinking a little bit of beer, all three of us were munching on pizza rolls, and all three of us were drawing artwork. We were a family. Zaq and Sophie helped me hone my ideas and “iron out the rough edges” so to speak. At the end of the night, I’d come up with the sketch shown in Photo #2. Zaq is going to give me a tattoo!

I’m grateful to Aimee for being so chill and helpful as she ghosted my trip. I’m grateful to Jess for trusting me to be the only guide on a trip. I’m grateful to the clients, Maria and Cathy, for being patient with me when I got the rope stuck. I’m grateful that the day went really well for the most part. I’m grateful to Anna for being enthusiastic and positive and excited about coming to visit me. I’m grateful to Zaq and Sophie for being such fun and supportive roommates.

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skoobug · 2 years

Text

THIS post I saw by @mlekonya I saw was begging for Adrienette.

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illyaana · 3 years

Text

Cursive Ink - Yamaguchi Tadashi

Collab: Pain Tolerance by @haikyutiehoe

Thanks for making this collab, hun! the idea of pierced and/or tatted anime characters got me squealing~! Do check out the other works involved in the collab in the link up there~

Tags: Yamaguchi's POV, Angst, Fluff, Yamaguchi x Tattoo Artist! Reader, Binaural

Synopsis: Love never really goes the way we plan it to be - and Yamaguchi was no exception. His failed confession to his former best friend left him heartbroken. However, his decision to go to a tattoo parlour may have been the best (and craziest) choice he's ever made in his life. (I also believe Yamaguchi is pansexual, so don't get so confused XD)

Word Count: 2552

A bit of context: In Japanese, 'Yama' means mountain, 'Tsuki' means the Moon

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Want to get a personalized drabble about your love life with an anime character you like? Check out my 50 followers event's post here! You can choose any character from BNHA, Haikyu!!, AOT, JJK and Kuroko no Basketball <3

“Yamaguchi, no,” Tsukishima said, pulling his hand away from my hand.

“Why are you lying to yourself? I know you feel the same way, Tsuki - don’t lie to yourself.”

“I don’t, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima said, eyes turning cold, “I am not gay - I am a straight, heterosexual male. I love women and women only.”

Lies.

You are lying to me.

You are in love with me.

You are already mine, Tsuki - just wake up and see it.

I know you can.

what was that kiss under the tree when we were kids?” I whispered, not wanting my voice to break, “If you never loved me, why kiss me, Tsuki?”

“We both agreed that it was a mistake, didn’t we?” The blonde male said, anger rising, “We both agreed - not just me.”

I said yes - I know I did.

That doesn’t mean I meant it.

You know me, Tsuki - I’ll agree to everything you’ll say.

Why aren’t you realising it?

I’ve waited for so many years for you to ask me out, but you never did.

I’m here, right in front of you, asking you to be mine - just say yes.

I don’t want to wait anymore - it’s too painful.

“I lied, okay?!” I scream, “I loved you ever since we were kids, Tsuki. I want to be the one you come back to when you leave, the only one you kiss, the only one you hug, the only one you dream about - I want to be that to you. Is that so hard to believe?!”

I hugged myself, not wanting to break down anymore.

That small hug was the only thing stopping me from letting all hell break loose.

I had kept this in ever since I knew Tsuki - ever since he saw him in that park.

I knew everything about the tall male. The way he smiles, the way he hides his anger when he wants to be respectful, his secret love for dinosaurs, his soft side, his small quirks - I knew it all like the back of his hand.

I knew what he needed to be the middle blocker’s lover, and I was willing to sacrifice myself to be the best thing for Tsuki.

One thing was clear in my head; Tsuki felt the exact same way.

“Yamaguchi, I’m sorry. I don’t love you the way you want me to,” Tsukishima said, kneeling beside the green-haired male.

“I don’t believe that.”

I forced his lips on Tsukishima’s.

I closed my eyes, trying to memorise how the lines of his soft and pale lips felt on his - how it softly caressed my lips without even responding to the intimate kiss I was trying to initiate.

I felt Tsukishima trying to push me away, but I didn’t let go of the male’s collar.

He already took my first kiss - what is the difference if I took another?

The second our lips left each other’s, Tsukishima punched my nose.

Blood dripped from my nose, but I couldn’t care less.

“Don’t you fucking call me Tsuki ever again, dumbass. Better yet, don’t call me.”

My last day of high school ended with blood and tears, but the pain in my heart from losing my best friend hurt more.

⁜

I stared at the stars, lying down in the little treehouse we made as kids in my backyard.

I tried to cry it all out, but I couldn’t.

I feel cheated by you, Tsukishima Kei.

You made me make you my everything.

My voice was tuned to calm you down.

My hands we moulded to keep you warm.

My life was made to keep you safe, but you don’t need me to be you.

But I do - I need you to be me.

One-sided crushes are the worst form of love, aren’t they?

You give it all for that one person - to please and cherish them.

They just think it’s just a form of showing how strong your friendship is, but you want more.

You are the only one who wants more.

You are the one crying at night about how you wished they were by your side.

You are the one craving for their touch.

You want them, but they don’t want you.

I don’t care about you bruising my face, Tsukishima-san.

I care about you fucking me up like this.

I will no longer wait for your messages.

I will no longer look at your tweets and be the only one giving reactions.

I will erase you from my narrative, Tsukishima-san.

You can wonder about how much you’ve hurt me when I have reached somewhere you can’t even touch me.

⁜

“You are absolutely sure about this, right?” Hinata said, worry laced in his words.

I open the doors to the tattoo parlour and I was instantly mesmerized. The walls were filled with such intricate designs - sizes ranging from as small as a finger to as big as my whole body. The smell of fresh ink slowly hit me, reminding me of my schooling years.

“I am sure, Hinata. I was planning to do this ever since I was small, either way. I just wished it was under better circumstances,” I reply, eyes locked on all the flower motifs.

I always wanted a tattoo - it didn’t matter how big or small it was. I always thought of how beautiful the idea was - to have something permanently inked on your skin to remind you of who you were. Flowers drew with such hidden meaning, curved lines speaking words of poetry, ideas brought into life - tattoos are an artist’s masterpiece meant to paint on my skin as a canvas.

“Do you want me to stay? I don’t mind waiting here with you - “

“Weren’t you supposed to meet up with Kageyama later today?” I remind him, chuckling.

“That man is late for everything. I think he can handle me coming late for once.”

“I’m seriously okay, Hinata! Go get ready, I’ll send a picture when it’s done,” I say as I push him out of the shop.

“Okay, okay - make sure to send me that picture!” He said as he ran out of the shop.

Why follow me if you’re itching to leave?

“That friend of yours has really bright orange hair - is it dyed or natural?” I hear someone say.

Holy shit, you’re hot.

“Oh - uh- um- It’s natural,” I say, forming some space between us.

Holy shit, you’re hot.

You tied half of your hair in a small bun, showing me the small, intricate designs on your neck. Flowers decorated your soft skin, moving down under your shirt’s sleeve. Small golden piercings decorated your ears. They were encrusted with gems of various colours that shifted under the soft lighting gracing your skin.

You looked so beautiful I couldn’t stop staring.

“So, do you have an appointment?” You asked, breaking my train of thought.

“N- no.”

Stop stuttering, Yamaguchi Tadashi.

“First time, huh?” you smiled, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. The pain is different for everyone, but I think you can handle it.”

“T-Thanks.”

God, stop stuttering.

“God, you’re cute,” you laughed while looking at my frazzled face, “Don’t worry, my dearest client - you’re in capable hands. Come - let’s discuss your design, shall we?”

You grabbed my wrist and brought me to your corner, leaving me blushed mess.

Cute.

They called me cute.

I’m breathing, right?

Okay, I’m breathing.

As we were walking, I got to see the back of your neck - more specifically, a part of your tattoo.

It was a blossoming rose - a huge one. It had vines that grew from it, encircling your whole neck, moving down your shirt and reaching the tips of your fingers. Smaller roses grew from it, branching even smaller vines surrounded by leaves.

I wanted to know the story behind that tattoo. It looked so beautiful yet so dark. The thorns that came from certain vines alarmed me, but I kept my thoughts to myself. My attention was brought to your piercings - more specifically, the design of the encrusted jewels. They were flowers, as well. In the middle of each jewel held a line of gold that branched out, just like the vines of your tattoo.

“Oh, you’re looking at my tattoo and piercings, aren’t you?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Is it okay if I am?” I ask, worried.

You laughed.

“Of course it’s fine. Who would get a tattoo and not prepare for all the staring? Not going to lie, here - these piercings and that tattoo help me fuel my ego. After all, everyone’s staring at them,” you joke, playing with your hair.

You sit on your chair, pointing at the one opposite you.

“What are you waiting for? Sit.”

⁜

“So, you want some small vines surrounding a moon, right?” You ask as you brought out your tablet.

“Yeah, on my middle finger.”

I had enough of his little orders - I’ll twist his words into something much more meaningful. If the Moon isn’t willing to dance with the mountains, let the vines make the Moon feel the mountain’s pain from its rejection.

“That sounds really pretty,” you say, smiling at me, “Give me a minute - I’ll do a rough sketch and you can tell me if it’s to your liking.”

You took out the tablet’s pen tool and began to sketch. I eyed your eyes as you continued to sketch what would be my tattoo.

Thanks to the light from the tablet, I could see a part of another tattoo hidden under your shirt.

It was multiple birds flying across your collarbones, but there was one bird that moved to your neck. It was a smaller bird - much, much smaller. However, its wings were bigger - bigger than the other birds’.

“My family isn’t very appreciative of my more artistic side,” you began, knowing I wanted to know the story behind it.

“I love art - all types of art. Writing, drawing, painting - I loved how you could make a whole new world just with a few lines. My family…” you paused, “As much as they loved me, they couldn’t see a world where I could make a living from it. They tried to throw away this side of me, but the more they pushed it away, the more I needed it.”

You raised your tablet, showing me your sketch.

I loved it.

It was a crescent moon, wrapped in vines. Vines grew both upwards and below, accompanied by stars. Small buds were growing from the ends of the vines, leaves surrounding them.

I don’t know how you did it, but you captured all I felt about him in a few minutes - it astounded me.

“I took a few creative liberties, but-”

“It’s amazing - don’t change it.”

You’re amazing.

You smiled, getting off your chair.

“Head to that room,” you pointed to the smaller room right beside us, “I’ll get all the tools ready.”

⁜

“You ready?” you said, placing the pen right above my middle finger.

Why did I choose my middle finger for my first tattoo? It’s literally right on a bone, it’s going to hurt like hell.

“I guess…” I whisper.

“It won’t be that painful - trust me. People overexaggerate,” you say, trying to calm me down.

People weren’t overexaggerating - it hurt.

It hurt a lot.

I bit my lip, holding back the scream on the end of my lips.

“Hold on,” you said, removing the pen.

You soon came back with candy and began to unwrap it.

“Open your mouth, my liege.”

After chuckling, I opened my mouth and you plopped the sweet in my mouth.

Ooh, mango.

“Focus on the sweet, okay?” You said, patting my back.

It felt less painful, surprisingly. Focusing on the sweet rolling in my mouth helped reduce the pain significantly.

I raised my head slightly so that I could see your intense focus on my finger. You were biting on your lower lip as you slowly moved the pen on my finger, following the temporary tattoo you made earlier as a guide. You were annoyed by a strand of your hair that refused to stay behind on your ear - your anger-filled expression said it all.

Using my other hand, I pushed it behind your ear to help you focus.

A soft thank you came from you as you continued.

Blood rushed to my cheeks the minute those words left your lips.

So cute.

“You didn’t finish your story…” I asked, trying to end the awkward silence.

“It was that interesting to you?” you smiled.

You’re interesting, Y/N.

I nod.

“I asked them if I could draw again. I didn’t want to lose that skill I finetuned all my life - it felt so wrong. They thought I’d never succeed in life if I focused on ‘these useless hobbies’ and shouted at me. I remember crying for hours, but they didn’t care,” you say as you turn off the pen, wiping the tip.

“I began to spend more hours in school just so that I could scribble and draw. They’d never know what I did there - all the drawings I did, all the stories I wrote, all the songs I sang. I am not like my parents. I strayed from the thought of ‘art is useless’- I am the bird moving away from the flock,” you said, turning your chair towards me.

“Why did they hate art? It’s something that makes you happy - If it’s something you like, you should do it,” I said, slightly pissed.

Thank God they didn’t listen to them.

“Best part - they have paintings all over the house,” you snickered.

You sighed, stretching your arms in the process.

“I don’t really care about their opinion about it, anyway. I’m no longer under their wing - I’m my own person. I get money by doing the thing I love, and that’s so fulfilling. The only thing they’re paying for right now is my college education - that’s it,” you said as you pressed a wet cloth to my new tattoo.

“Wait - we’re the same age?”

“Yeah, we are,” you smiled.

“I expected you to be way older,” I say, embarrassed.

“I am utterly offended, sir,” you say, feigning sadness.

“Come on!” I say, laughing.

“I am expecting a tip,” you say, walking towards the door.

You’re amazing, Y/N. I just wish I met you earlier…

⁜

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Yamaguchi Tadashi,” you say, closing the cash register in front of you.

“And I you, my friend.”

I walk to the door, gripping on the door handle.

I want you in my life, Y/N. Even if we spent just a few hours together, you’ve made me so happy. If you are open to the idea, I want to be friends with you - and who knows? We might become something…

I walk back to the cashier.

“Oh, did I forget something?” You ask, worried.

“No, no…”

Come on, say it.

“Hey, wanna exchange numbers? I wanna hang out with you - of course, only if you want to,” you say smiling.

Holy shit.

“Yes, please.”

You held back your laugh the minute you saw my face.

How many times have I made you laugh just by you looking at my face?

“Here’s my number,” you passed me your card, “Message me so that I get your number, too!”

“Okay!” I smile.

Holy shit. I did it.

“See you again, ‘guchi.”

⁜

73 notes · View notes

separatist-apologist · 2 years

Text

A Christmas Prince

Summary: When reporter Feyre Archeron is sent to the small European Principality of Aldovia to cover the upcoming coronation of Prince Rhysand, she's mistaken for a royal portraitist. Deciding to lean into the lie in order to get a better story, Feyre is caught up in the drama and politics of Rhysand's life with no way out that doesn't betray them both.

This is based loosely off the Netflix movie A Christmas Prince and was my first full length Feysand fic so be kind.

This was also my Secret Santa gift for @arrowmusings and I hope they enjoy it.

You can find it on AO3: Here

Rated T for some language

Part 3/4

Part 1 | Part 2

“I’m supposed to be painting Rhys,” Feyre complained. Mor wrapped a scarf around her neck, grinning while Cassian and Azriel jammed their hands into the pockets of their jackets.

“He’ll be in the village,” Mor said for the second time that day. “It’s hard to paint someone who isn’t around.”

“It would be easier if you stopped dragging me to all his events,” Feyre mumbled. She was getting nowhere with her story. It was hardly news, at least according to Lucien, that Keir was better suited for the throne and Rhysand would be better off abdicating. His image as the playboy was world renowned. He didn’t seem terribly interested, if how difficult it was to pin him down and paint his portrait was any indication. Her sketch had been done for a good two days and Rhys only blew her off every chance he got.

His friends, on the other hand, seemed bound and determined to make her one of them. Feyre was struggling. She’d never really had friends, not like this. Lucien was the closest she’d ever come, and she’d stolen him from Tamlin when that relationship fell apart. She thought, if she asked to stay, that Mor, Cassian, and even silent Azriel might welcome her even if Rhysand never said another word to her.

She wasn’t sure what to do with that information so she let Mor bundle her up and stuff her into a car so they could drive to a little fare in the nearby village. The royal family was hosting a charity drive for St. Joseph’s Orphanage and Feyre might have found that in and of itself charming were it not for the quaintness of the cobblestone village. Feyre had her nose practically pressed to the glass as she stared.

“They don’t have architecture like this in the states, huh?” Cassian teased from beside her in the backseat. Even Azriel was smiling when he opened the door to the passenger seat, his tanned nose red from the cold. The village was packed with people waiting to participate in a myriad of activities. A winding line to sit on Santa’s lap wrapped around the town square, decorated with a lush, fat pine tree that had clearly come from the surrounding forest. Children ran and laughed through the slick, icy streets while their parents meandered about the booths selling the town’s wares.

At the far end of the village was a steepled church where the press was congregating already, waiting for a speech or a chance to ask some questions. She ducked behind Cassian when a familiar face peered in their direction, not wanting to get caught. Not yet…not like this.

Mor took Feyre for hot chocolate and a lesson in the village history.

“The village is older than the palace itself,” Mor told Feyre, watching an idyllic family walk by. “The people were agrarian back then. Now the village is mostly supported by tourism. I suppose a lot of Aldovia is that way now.”

“Why was the castle built here?” Feyre asked, looking up at the towering, snow-capped peaks. Mor shrugged.

“Who could say for certain. Defense, probably. This is a rough hike through snow and the wind, especially when you’re marching an army.”

“Do you like living in a palace?” Feyre asked Mor, taking a sip of the burning hot liquid. Mor smiled.

“Sometimes. Occasionally. I liked it more when we were kids and didn’t have to worry about the politics of our parents. Back then I didn’t know my father wanted to be King and Rhys’ family was still alive…everything was better. Now he’s withdrawn, he’d secretive…sometimes I think the press is right and he plans to abdicate. Hell, sometimes I think it might be better if he did.”

That was interesting, Feyre thought. Unable to stop herself, she asked, “What happened to his parents?”

“Car accident,” Mor said quietly. “Icy roads in the mountains…Rhys was lucky to survive at all.”

Feyre gasped. “He was in the car?” Mor nodded, face etched in sadness. “I don’t know how much he remembers. He’s never spoken about it. Don’t run off and ask—”

“I wouldn’t,” Feyre assured her. “I won’t.”

“It was all so tragic, and the press made everything worse,” Mor confided, steering Feyre away from the main road. “All they cared about was who would be King but Rhys was only fourteen…he didn’t care about that. Keir took over for him and now we’re here, in this mess of will he, won’t he.”

“I’m sure he will…” Feyre said, pausing beneath a stone archway behind the church. Rhys had a cadre of boys lined up like a military unit, all facing down a row of snowmen.

“For his crimes,” Rhys began, ever stately despite the way the children giggled. “I sentence this snowman to death by firing squad.”

Feyre laughed, delighted to hear him say such a thing. Rhys whipped his head in their direction, grinning at his cousin when he saw her. A moment later his eyes met Feyre’s and she swore something softer passed between them.

“On your mark,” Rhys continued. “Fire!”

The children scooped snow from the ground beneath them, balling the ice up before launching it at Rhys himself, laughing wildly as Rhysand ducked for cover.

“Traitors!” He cried, laughing as he tripped his way back towards his condemned snowman. Feyre and Mor couldn’t resist—Mor immediately ran to join the children while Feyre, misunderstanding what they meant to do, joined Rhys behind the wall of snowmen.

“Good to know someone is still loyal,” Rhys joked, taking a snowball to the face. Mor cheered, betraying that shot as hers.

“Run!” Feyre told him, helping Rhys dodge from behind the church and into the surrounding woods. He didn’t get far—Rhys was laughing so hard he kept doubling over and eventually the children caught him, led by Mor, and pelted him until he faked his own death in the snow. They might have kept going but Cassian appeared with Az, the two looking grim.

“I’m late, aren’t I?” Rhys asked with a sigh, helping Feyre to her feet. Az nodded.

“The press is circling like sharks,” Cassian added. “Desperate to know if you’ll abdicate or not.”

“Of course they are,” Rhys said with a sigh, brushing a piece of hair from Feyre’s face. “It was fun while it lasted though, wasn’t it?” She nodded, hanging back so he could hike back to the village. Mor went with him, arm tucked into his own and when they walked towards the crowd, something about them seemed to shift. They seemed to become the royals they talked about, as though it were a skin they could take on and off at a whim. Feyre couldn’t watch. She didn’t know why, but it bothered her to see Rhys and Mor that way, so clearly unhappy and yet pretending they enjoyed speaking up on that balcony.

The car ride back was silent, though Rhys kept his leg pressed against Feyre’s even when she shifted closer to Cassian, refusing to move even when Mor stopped the car and Cassian got out.

“Maybe we could paint tonight?” Rhys murmured moments before Feyre slid out. She nodded, palms tingling with anticipation.

He found her in her bedroom, packing up her paint supplies to lug down to him. Dressed casually in jeans and a fitted shirt, Feyre’s heart nearly stopped when she saw him in the doorway of her bedroom.

“Thought this might be easier,” he said with a charming smile. She nodded, allowing him to step inside. Rhys took a seat at her desk, stretching his long legs in front of him.

“So do I just sit here or…?” He asked, his eyes tracking her every move.

“That’s fine,” she agreed, unsure. She’d never painted a live person before and certainly nothing as beautiful as Rhys. He watched while she got her palette together, clearly curious.

“Do you paint a lot?” He asked once her brush made its first stroke on the stretched canvas.

“I used to,” Feyre replied, mindful of her brushstrokes.

“What stopped you?” he pressed. Without thinking, Feyre said, “My father died.”

“Your father died?” He repeated, his voice just a little softer than before. She looked up, cursing herself for forgetting his own family’s death.

“It ah…it was right before my junior year of college. It caught me off guard…I had to move in with my sister and I guess I just…stopped.”

“And your mother?” He continued. Feyre focused on her painting, on soft strokes of midnight black hair that would look both elegant…and right.

“She died when I was eleven,” Feyre murmured. “I don’t really remember her much.”

“I do,” Rhys said, so softly Feyre thought she’d misheard him. She looked up, surprised to see how far away he seemed in that moment. “About my parents, I mean. I remember everything some days. My father turned to me in the car and told me he was proud of me…and lost control of our car.”

“Rhys I’m…I’m so sorry,” Feyre murmured, her brush hovering in the air.

“I’ve repaid him poorly, I think,” Rhys said with a clearly faked smile. “He’d keel over in his grave if he knew Keir had the run of things. I should have taken it when I was eighteen…certainly when I was twenty-one. Now…now what excuses do I have?”

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Feyre said, unsure fear encapsulated everything Rhys was feeling. He looked up and she knew she’d never capture the right shade of blue for his eyes or the way the light reflected almost purple off his hair.

“We survive, do we not?” He asked with a heavy sigh.

“Sometimes I wonder how well,” she admitted for the first time. She was so used to putting on a brave face, to pretending everything was fine that it felt almost uncomfortable pulling down the mask and letting another person see her. She got the sense, from the way he watched, that Rhys saw her.

What did that mean for her?

“I’m not really a horseback riding girl,” Feyre told Mor, who was not listening.

“Every girl loves horses,” Mor was saying, gesturing for Feyre to climb up in the saddle. Feyre adjusted her bag of paint and her dried, rolled up canvas on her back and got into the saddle. “There’s a perfect cabin not far from here where you can complete your painting. It’s like, three miles up the mountain in a straight line. You can’t miss it.”

“You’d be surprised what I could miss,” Feyre replied but the sun was shining brightly overhead, and Mor’s confidence gave her confidence. “I’m from New York City, you know.”

“Yes, you remind me often.” Mor’s laugh was like a bell. “If you get lost, text me. But you won’t.”

With that in mind, Feyre trotted off atop a reddish-brown horse that seemed nice enough, even if she didn’t entirely trust the animal. “I hope you know where you’re going,” Feyre murmured, rubbing the horses neck.

The problem was Feyre. She didn’t know how far three miles were, not on horseback and not as she plodded through an alpine woodland. She’d left too late in the afternoon to be able to count on the sun and by the time Feyre was sure she was lost, the sun was already dipping low in the sky.

“You guys will go back home if no one is directing you, right?” Feyre asked, sliding out of the saddle. That was a mistake. The horse immediately began trotting off, dumping her art supplies in the snow behind it. By the time she’d gathered them up, her horse was gone and Feyre had no idea which way would take her back to the castle or how close to the cabin she was.

Feyre decided to keep walking in the direction she’d been riding and hope for the best. It had gotten colder in the hour or so since she’d left, and everything seemed to be a monster hiding in shadow. Lurking among the trees might have been the monsters of old and the darker it got, the more Feyre was sure something was tracking her.

She was right. Feyre heard a growl and saw a pair of yellow, moon-reflective eyes staring out from behind one of the tall pines. She screamed, skittering backwards, certain death was coming for her. A gunshot pierced through the cold night air and a moment later Rhysand appeared atop of bright white horse looking every inch the heroic prince.

Whatever animal hunted her in the night took off, hidden in the darkness. “Bit late for a moonlit stroll,” Rhys joked, offering Feyre his hand. He was warm and she was grateful, letting him pull her up onto the front of his horse as though she weighed little, if anything at all.

“I got lost,” she admitted, leaning into the hard muscle of his chest with a puff of air. “I was going to some cabin to paint.”

“You’re close,” Rhys told her brightly. “Let me show you.”

It took two minutes of light trotting to reveal the wooden cabin perched against the side of the mountain. Feyre groaned, feeling foolish for screaming. She’d nearly been there.

Rhys swung off his horse and offered Feyre his hand, bringing her back to the ground. While he led the horse away, Feyre took a golden key sitting in the lock, turned it, and stepped inside.

Wall of smoothed, gray rock and the wood the cabin had been carved from gave the cabin a distinctly rustic—if not expensive—look. A massive fireplace with a cliched mountain deer head just above drew Feyre’s attention first.

Rhys, walking in with arm stacked with logs, drew it second. “There’s only one bed,” Rhys told her with a wink. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Feyre replied, heart racing in her chest. Rhys rolled his eyes and took her bag from her shoulder, dropping it onto a heavy wooden table on the far end of the room.

“You came to finish my painting. Can I see it?”

Feyre nodded. “I’m nearly finished. Should be done in time for the Christmas Eve Ball tomorrow.”

“Lucky me,” Rhys replied, unrolling the canvass. She waited for a joke or some other lighthearted remark, but Rhys had gone wholly silent.

“You painted this?” Rhys finally asked, turning to look at her with burning eyes. Feyre’s hands trembled.

“Yes?” Did he hate it? He seemed…angry.

“This is what you see when you look at me?” He pressed, looking back at his likeness. “I did my best to capture you,” Feyre told him honestly and earnestly.

“I don’t like who I see most mornings…when I look in the mirror, I mean,” Rhys told her, turning quickly. “I like this man. You see this man?”

Feyre swallowed hard, nodding as Rhys approached, her canvas set behind on the table. “And you…like that man?”

“I do,” she agreed. “Maybe more than I should.”

His hand slid along her cheek, tangling in her hair. “It’s been a long time since I’ve liked anyone, Feyre,” he murmured, his skin close enough she could smell how strongly he smelled of pine and cold, salty ocean air. “I’ve liked you since I first saw you. Why, do you think?”

“Proximity?” She guessed, trying to make a lighthearted joke. Rhys brushed his thumb over her skin.

“Mor told me you were coming out here and I jumped on a horse to join you…and I barely know you. That doesn’t feel like proximity to me.”

“What are you saying?” Feyre asked, swallowing hard.

“That I like you. That I want you to stay longer than just Christmas.”

“You barely know me,” Feyre reminded him. Rhys’s mouth ghosted towards her own.

“I want to know you, Feyre, so bad it makes my bones ache.”

The first touch of his lips to her own broke Feyre into a million pieces, shattering like glass at Rhys’s feet. She didn’t think she’d ever kissed anyone that made her whole body shake the way he did. She was sure it wasn’t her imagination running away from her that made her feel like she was somehow free falling and flying all at once. It was magic between them and she couldn’t help but reach for his neck, hoisting herself up on her tiptoes to bring them closer.

Her lips parted and Rhys took advantage, his tongue sliding into her mouth to taste her. Rhys groaned, sending a thread of desire through Feyre so hot she thought she might be consumed by the heat. He tasted like the faintest hint of whiskey and the cold air they’d just escaped from—she was addicted. It would never be enough. That was a terrifying thought and prompted Feyre to break the kiss, her heels slamming back to the Earth along with what remained of her common sense. He was a prince, about to be King and what was she? An American reporter lying to him in order to further her own career. Even if she’d been honest, if she’d told him everything from the start, she still would have been an American from a poor family that had nothing to offer a future King.

“I uh…” She looked up at him, surprised to see how wild he looked. Had she messed up his typically immaculate hair or had he done that himself? His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, a blue that shouldn’t exist and certainly not against the golden skin of Rhysand.

“You came to paint,” he offered, running a hand through that same messy hair. “And I assaulted you with my feelings.”

“No!” She assured him hastily. “I just…I need a minute to think. Do…can I set up my stuff?”

“Can I ask you questions while you do?” He shot back, clearly looking for a way in. Feyre flushed. He’d said he wanted to know her…what could it hurt to let him?

Rhys pulled out a wooden chair from a nearby table while Feyre set up her easel and began squirting paint onto a palette. Rhys watched silently as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“Where did you grow up?” Rhys asked the second Feyre’s paintbrush touched blue.

“Iowa,” she replied quickly, her mind flipping through a litany of unhappy memories of her childhood.

Rhys’ nose wrinkled, betraying he had no idea where that was. Feyre envied him for that.

“Why did you move to New York City?” He continued, leaning forward in his chair.

“School,” she offered. “My older sisters were there and they seemed to love it…and I got a really big scholarship so it made sense.”

“Did you love it?” She shrugged, concentrating on getting the way his hair seemed to reflect blue just right. “New York isn’t something you love. Sometimes I think it’s just a place you survive.”

“You make it sound so romantic,” Rhys accused dryly. Feyre sighed.

“No, movies and television make New York seem romantic. It’s a massive city filled with people and unless you live in a million dollar high rise, you understand what New York actually is, which is just a place. It’s great and it’s awful and everything in between but it doesn’t care if you survive it…and the city will try and destroy you.”

She hadn’t realized just how lonely and tired she was of New York City life until that moment, sitting in the quiet of Velaris, Aldovia’s capital city. Everything felt urgent, alive and in some ways Feyre loved that just as much as she hated it. She wanted to slow down, to be present and not feel like she was missing out if she wasn’t constantly keeping track of what was happening around her.

“What about your sisters? What are they like?”

“Complicated,” Feyre replied automatically. “Our relationship has always been complicated. I’m the youngest and I always felt left out when my sisters and I were little.”

“And now?”

Feyre looked up at Rhys, who’d leaned forward so far he was practically falling out of his chair. Had anyone ever been half as interested in her before? Even Tamlin had only been pretending to listen on their first few dates. It only added to her nerves.

“My middle sister and I are better…I think she’s sleeping with my best friend, though.”

“Awkward,” Rhys chuckled as Feyre thought about the painting that had been just behind Elain’s head the last time she called. She’d thought she recognized it and realized now it was the Autumn Woods she’d painted for Lucien. Feyre had been too stressed to recognize her own work or Elain’s duplicity…not that Feyre cared all that much. Lucien had likely pursued her relentlessly, dialed up the charm…if Elain held out at all it was a testament to Elain’s will power.

“You haven’t seen some of her other boyfriends. Lucien is a step up, trust me.”

Rhys frowned for a moment but said nothing, reclining back in his chair.

“I do…trust you, I mean,” Rhys said, his words innocent enough.

She wished he would have said anything but that.

Feyre stared at her laptop later that night, filled with the notes she’d taken from conversations she’d had with Mor, Cassian, and Rhys himself. The story practically sold itself– a prince consumed with guilt over his parents death, that didn’t believe he deserved the throne despite being literally born to rule was the thing that belonged in a Hallmark holiday special. Her promotion was all but secured…all she had to do was type it up and send it to Amren.

His finished portrait was taunting her across the room. She’d made him too lifelike and now it was as if he was watching her, judging her for both not having the courage to call this what it was. She wanted to call it the beginnings of love but suspected that Rhys would never forgive her if he learned.

She didn’t even want to type up the article. Feyre hated writing and always had. Painting the portrait, false as it was, had reminded Feyre what she really loved, what she was really good at. Her art had always been the most important thing to her and though it had been an accident, she didn’t think she could go back to that cubicle or that office.

She needed to talk to Lucien. Feyre face-timed him and was almost amused at how little he was trying to hide what was going on. Hair in a bun, clearly shirtless, Lucien lounged against Elain’s gray fabric headboard, shit-eating grin on his face.

“How is Aldovia?”

Feyre scowled. At least Elain had the sense to pretend nothing was going on. “How is my sister?”

“Showering. She’s fil–”

“Stop it right now,” Feyre interrupted, irritated. “Tell me nothing else.”

“Fine. Why are you calling at midnight if not to catch me…doing something I shouldn’t be doing?”

“Was there no better way to phrase that?” Feyre demanded, regretting having ever called him. “I forgot about the time difference and honestly just assumed you’d be at home. I want to talk about work.”

“Ugh, Feyre, you’re in Europe. Think about work when you get back.”

“I’m thinking about quitting,” she admitted. “I’ve been painting again…and I hate that place. I dread the idea of going back or having to write this story.”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Fey, but I think it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you quit.” His face was so sympathetic that Feyre forgave him for his earlier teasing.

“Am I bad person for this?”

Lucien shook his head. “You’re human. You made a mistake, you took an opportunity and now you’re thinking better of it. That doesn’t make you bad.”

Feyre almost told him what she was thinking, that she had feelings for Rhysand she didn’t know what to do with. She didn’t think Lucien would understand that, not when she hardly understood it herself. He’d tell her to get out of there before she was in any deeper and he’d be right but…now that Feyre felt she had permission to quit, there was no way she was leaving early.

Feyre hung up with instructions to tell Elain she said hi. Judging from the shit eating grin on Lucien’s face, she was sure he would offer up that information in the most obnoxious way possible. Elain definitely wasn’t going to answer any of her calls in the next few days.

Energized and unable to sleep, Feyre slipped from her bedroom, intent on a little late night exploring. She would have been lying to say she didn’t also hope to see Rhysand. She wanted to kiss him again, to be close enough to touch his skin, to smell whatever cologne it was that he wore.

Feyre made it down the hall where the stairs would take her down and nearly slammed face first into Keir. She’d never actually spoken to him and with a few rare exceptions, hadn’t seen him much, either. She took him in. Keir was aging well for someone in their fifties. His hair was still blonde though graying slightly at the temples. He had the same soft, puppy brown eyes that his daughter had, though their softness was better suited to Mor. He wasn’t as tall as she’d expected but his face was every bit as cold as she’d remembered, even when his lips twisted upwards into a smile.

“Feyre Archeron, yes?” He asked, chilling her blood despite how casually he’d asked. Had she offered up her last name to anyone? Surely she had…though she couldn’t remember.

“That’s me,” she agreed, crossing her arms over her gray t-shirt clad chest.

“How lovely we were able to get a portraitist under such short notice,” Keir continued, reminding Feyre she actually had no idea what had happened to the person who was supposed to paint Rhysand the first time. “I thought your agency shut down.”

Feyre only shrugged. If he was trying to catch her in a lie, she wasn’t going to help him do it. Keir’s eyes seemed to see right through her and she wondered if he knew.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Keir finally said, letting Feyre relax just a little. “I hear it looks incredible.”

“I hope so,” Feyre murmured, wishing Keir would leave. As though he could read her thoughts, Keir inclined his head in what seemed like an almost bow, stepped around her and vanished down the steps. Seeing him had punched a hole in Feyre’s sails and she plodded back to her room, all her enthusiasm gone.

Fear slithered through her body when she pushed open the old, wood door and found Rhysand standing inside, hands behind his back, staring at the portrait she finished. Feyre hadn’t expected him to see it while it was still drying and certainly not in her bedroom when they were alone.

The door clicked shut behind them and Rhys turned suddenly, a predator that had caught his prey. Feyre pressed her back against the wood, her heart pounding so hard she was sure he could see it thumping through her chest as though they were cartoons.

“You did this?” He asked, his voice hoarse. Feyre blinked rapidly. Did he hate it?

“I can re-do–”

“Don’t touch it,” he murmured, taking a step towards her before halting. “It’s…”

They stared silently at each other, Feyre taking in his broad, muscular form and his perfect face illuminated by just the lamp sitting on her desk. She was so focused on her study of him, she didn’t recognize the shift in the room. Tension practically rippled off Rhysand and with a groan of her name— “Feyre.” — he crossed the remainder of the space, crushed her up against her body, and kissed her like his life depended on it.

It wasn’t like the cabin. There was urgency to his mouth, to his hands. Feyre realized she, too, was practically attacking him. He’d reached for her and she’d jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist while he seemingly held her with one strong arm. There was no hesitancy to this—she’d immediately given him access to her mouth, desperate to taste him. His own desperation fueled the heat flooding her body, causing her to grind hard against him.

“Rhys,” she breathed, his lips trailing down her neck. She didn’t know what she was asking for until he swung her from the door to the bed, tossing her to the springy mattress with little effort. Feyre only had time to push up onto the pillows before his muscular body covered her own. His hands were filled with the same heat his lips seemed to radiate and Feyre couldn’t have stopped him if she’d wanted to. She arched into him, giving him everything he wanted without asking anything in return but the shared breath between them.

Rhys took his time with her, somehow both the kindest man who’d ever touched her while doing things so filthy Feyre’s dreams refused to let her replay them. She woke to the sun peeking through the curtain and Rhys’s arm slung over her back, holding her so tightly against him it was as if he was afraid she might vanish into the air should he let her go. Feyre twisted until she was facing him, unable to resist brushing a piece of his dark hair from his closed eyes.

“Stay with me,” he whispered.

“I’m still here,” she murmured in response to his still sleeping face.

“Everything I love has a tendency to be taken from me,” he told her, breaking her heart into millions of pieces. She opened her mouth to assure him he couldn’t lose her but the door flung open and Mor stepped inside.

“There you are,” she grumbled, flinging the blanket from his naked body. Feyre scrambled backwards, falling off the bed in a bid not to expose herself to Rhys’s cousin. “Keir is looking for you. The ball is tonight.”

“Of fucking course he is,” Rhys grumbled without an ounce of shame. Mor tossed him his pants, eyes fixed firmly on Feyre who was wrapped up in a periwinkle colored sheet. Mor winked with a grin and Feyre flushed, embarrassed. Rhys hesitated once his shirt was back on, clearly aware that anything he might say would be overheard by his cousin.

“I’ll see you tonight?” He asked, his hesitation re-breaking her heart. Feyre nodded and with that, Rhys was gone to deal with his Uncle. Mor turned fully to Feyre, her smile softening.

“Good night?” She teased. Feyre exhaled softly.

“Get it out of your system,” she said, refusing to feel any embarrassment. Mor shook her head of perfect blonde curls.

“I’m not going to make fun of you. If Rhys is happy…I’m happy. Now…show me everything you brought to wear.”

#feysand #feyre x rhysand #writing a fade to black was so weird #some elucien #this is almost finished!#acotar fanfic #feysand fanfic

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thebeebi · 3 years

Text

your little games pt. 11

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings: fluff in later chapters, smut, non-con, mention of r*pe attempt, implied murder and many more! Read only if you are okay with these topics!

genre: historical AU, 18th century?

word count: 3k+ [part 11]

a/n: Hello! I hinted this and I am so excited to say that we are finally going to see what is Jungkook thinking (well to some extent). I hope you will like this chapter and are excited as much as me! ♥ Love you and enjooooy :)

taglist: @njrwifey @danietoww04 @kaithezaftig @she-is-dreaming [If you want to be added, just let me know :)]

You ran away from the man who tried to take an advantage of you. You stabbed him and escaped. Escaped to the arms of the handsome captain who was even worse than the man you just killed.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10

You quickly shook your head and got nervous because his hand on your cheek started burning your skin. You knew that feeling and softly pulled yourself away. He knows that he has this kind of effect on me, yet he does it anyway. You thought about how close he was. He knows how much his touch scares me, yet he... You closed your eyes, trying to calm down. He was everywhere, surrounding you. At first, you almost paid no attention to his thighs but the soft touch on your cheek reminded you how close he actually was. “This one,” Jungkook pointed at one of the sketches. You opened your eyes and looked over to the side, curious what kind of dresses he likes. “It will look good in the golden colour. My wife will look beautiful in it.” Then he looked over other sketches, putting one aside noting that it looked too cheap. He chose another five dress and rejected two of the designs Mrs Dubois strongly recommended.

You were watching him speechless. He picked everything you would have chosen and what he rejected, you would have also rejected. It was like he was reading your mind. Jungkook then stood up and walked around checking out different dresses. He picked a few more and then returned to Mrs Dubois, paying her for all of them. You were surprised by how many dresses he actually got you. It was way more than you expected. You would have never chosen that many, not even if you were rich enough to do that. It felt surreal that he was this generous after what he told you before. “Do you agree with all of the dress I chose for you, my dear?” He asked you smiling but you knew it would not matter if you agreed or not. He bought the dresses for his own satisfaction and entertainment, so he could see you in dresses he liked. But you agreed with all of them anyways, you liked them. How could you disagree when he picked out the most beautiful ones?

You nodded. “You are really generous.” Jungkook looked at you from above, having a clear sight on your showing bust because the dress you were wearing was too revealing. Before he would love to see you in them but now it was different. He wanted to touch you right there and then but he reminded himself of his warning and promise. He looked away, making his way to Mrs Dubois. “I need one more,” he sighed. “ A dress my wife could wear right away.” Mrs Dubois looked around the shop thinking. Out of nowhere she randomly gasped and smiled. “Oui, monsieur, I have the perfect one I finished yesterday!” With that, she disappeared behind the curtain and brought back the dress. “Something like this?” You could hear her voice before she appeared once again. She showed Jungkook the dress that was made of sky blue velvet material. “Yes, pack them up for us. Now we will go look for some accessories to compliment the dresses we bought. Mrs Dubois, we are leaving in a week so I expect you to have everything ready by then.” The dressmaker opened her mouth to protest. “But, sir, that is impossible! At least a month please!” Jungkook shook his head. “I am sorry but we are leaving in a week so I will bring my wife back here in three days for the last measurements. In a week, I want everything on my ship. If you will make it till then and the dresses will be in good quality, I will pay you double, if not, then it is your loss. Do you agree?” Mrs Dubois could not let such an offer go free, so she nodded and shook Jungkook’s hand in agreement. “Very well, Monsieur Jeon. We have an agreement.”

The shops were full of well-dressed ladies and elegantly dressed gentlemen, that were pushing through each other to get to the place they wanted. They reminded you of yourself when you used to go happily to these shops with your father as a little girl. Your mood got suddenly better since the thoughts of childhood were always nice. You talked to the shopkeepers smiling, trying on the different kinds of accessories, laughing at yourself in the mirror, seeing how funny you looked. You were walking from one side of the shop to the other, charming everyone with your personality. Jungkook did not say anything, just nodded at the sellers whenever you wore something he liked. Well, he bought basically everything you tried because he liked how it looked on you.

He did not say anything even when you touched him and pulled him to another shop. He did not protest, he just let you guide him wherever you wanted. You never asked him for anything though, you never expected him to buy you anything. You just felt happy enough to be able to try on different accessories and to look at everything. You were watching all those charming ladies walking in front of you and laughed at their not-so-fit husbands that were trying to follow them. The smile on your face was genuine, you really enjoyed it because you felt like there were no worries in the world at that moment. You turned around, looking at different props of the shop that were decorating the interior and your hair was flying behind you whenever you turned too quickly. The men in the shop, even though they were attending to their wives, could not take their eyes off you.

The sun almost set down, once you stood still in front of the window of the shop. You were silently looking at the wooden crib. You softly touched the glass, as if you wanted to feel the connection with the crib behind it. You bit your lower lip and turned to Jungkook. He walked closer to you and looked at the crib. “I have a better one at home.” He told you. “It was mine but it is still in great condition. Mary always wanted me to have a child and use it as soon as possible.” You opened your mouth nodding then furrowed your eyebrows confused. “Mary?”

Jungkook smiled at the name. “Yeah, a woman who is taking care of my household.” He answered. “She had been working for our family even before I was born,” Jungkook turned to the main road and waved at the carriage. You walked closer to him and he continued. His voice was different than it was a few seconds ago. It was rough and you did not like the change one bit. “Mary was waiting for me to get married and become a father” He looked at you from the corner of his eye, head still looking ahead. “I am sure she will be happy once she sees you. When we come to my hometown, you will be pretty big.” You pulled the cloak that was on your shoulders around your belly. “You were supposed to get married once you came back. I am sure Mary is going to hate me for this.”

“She will not.” The tone of his voice did not allow you to ask any more questions. He looked at the incoming carriage. You weren’t sure why she would not hate you for what they…and you did to Jungkook. Something felt off but you weren’t sure what. When the carriage stopped in front of you, Jungkook told the carter the name of the tavern you were staying at, he put into the carriage all the accessories he bought for you and then he helped you get on. You slowly sat down and it felt like all the exhaustion came crashing down on you. The shopping was tiring and now all you wanted was to get to bed and sleep. You closed your eyes once you saw that Jungkook sat next to you.

Jungkook was looking at your head that started leaning on his broad shoulder. He softly took your head and placed it on his chest. You were softly mumbling in your sleep and your hand was falling into his loin unknowingly. Jungkook held his breath. The colour of his face disappeared and was cursing himself, for letting you have this kind of effect on him. You were driving him crazy. He was feeling as he were a virgin, who is preparing to have his first experience with a woman. One second he was feeling hot and was sweating, then in the other the blood in his veins froze and he could not move. Jungkook was the type of man who could get any woman he wanted without any bigger effort. He used to have sex for his own entertainment so this kind of feeling he is feeling right now is something new for him. You were too inexperienced and he was barely holding himself back from pulling you to his embrace. Where are my sanity and self-control? Where are they? Have they jumped down the dwell when I threatened her that I will never treat her as a husband? Am I acting like this because I realised I cannot touch her and that is why she became so desirable? He asked himself yet he knew it was not the case. He wanted you even when you disappeared and he thought he would never see you again. What are you doing to me, Y/N? You are almost not old enough to carry my child, yet you are here. So close. Jungkook’s inner fight was strong. His thought and reasonings could not deny the fact that he wanted to touch you, that he wanted to make love to you. He wanted you right there and then, he did not want to control himself. How long am I going to last with you by my side? How long am I going to last while watching your naked body without actually touching it? He sighed and clenched his jaw. He could not do anything with you even though he wanted it. He could not simply forget his threats. He swore he would make you pay for everything you did to him. No one is going to blackmail me without punishment. The pride will not let me do that. She is just a woman and they are all the same. I will get my mind off her once I see someone else. I have never met someone I could not get out of my mind. He reasoned within himself. But Y/N is…different. It would be unfair to her to say that is is not. He thought about all kinds of women that he slept with. They were all willing and very passionate when it came to love. They knew what they were doing but you were different. You were innocent, pure and he took your virginity by force. He was well-aware that you knew nothing about the men and love. And now you are his wife and are expecting his child. Only that reason is enough to say you are different. How could I forget the fact you are my wife, little one? That reason alone is enough to say you are different than them. He said looking at your sleeping figure. He was about to caress your cheek but the carriage abruprtly stopped in front of the tavern.

“Y/N?” he whispered softly with his lips almost touching your hair. “Should I carry to the room?” You moved your head that was leaning onto his chest. “What?” You asked while still being half-asleep. “Should I carry you to the room?” You opened your eyes, still in a daze. “No,” You answered but you did not even attempt to stand up. Jungkook smiled and covered your hand with his. “If you want, little one, we can ride around the town for a little bit more.” With a squeak, you sit straight up and pulled your hand from his. When you saw his smirk, you blushed and would love to die right away without feeling so much embarrassment. You jumped up and passed him by to open the door of the carriage. You almost fell out but Jungkook quickly held your waist to save you. He pulled you in the carriage and sat you up on his lap. “Did you want to kill yourself?” He asked coldly. You covered your face screaming “I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU.” Jungkook’s expression changed to even colder one. “Oh, I am sure you do.” He said sarcastically. “After all, if you did not meet me, you would still be living with your wonderful aunt while being treated like a rug and hiding your nakedness underneath the dresses that were ten times bigger than you needed. You would be hiding in the hellhole as an old virgin and you would never get to experience what it feels like to be a mother. Yes, how cruel and hateful of me to take you away from that wonderful place. You were so happy there and I should be struck with a bolt of lightning to actually take you away from such a peaceful place.” He stayed silent for a bit just to continue even more harshly. “You do not even know how many times I regretted that I let you seduce me with your looks and did not find out you were just a kid. Now I will have you around for the rest of my life and just thinking about it makes me mad. Oh only if I castrated myself before meeting you, I would have lived my life in peace!” Your shoulder drooped down and you let the tears you were holding out. You covered your eyes with the back of your arm and cried like a lost child. You never wanted to be a burden. You never wanted to be hated and unwanted.

When Jungkook saw how is your petite body shaking, the itch to hurt you disappeared. He frowned and the smirk from earlier disappeared. His chest felt heavy while looking for a handkerchief in his pockets. “Where did you put the handkerchief?” He sighed. “I cannot find it.” You shook your head while he was still holding you in the embrace. “I don’t know.” You replied in-between the sobs and panting for air. You wiped your tears into the hem of the dress while Jungkook was looking through your pockets. Meanwhile, the carter hopped down from his seat and walked to the open door. He looked inside asking unsurely. “Can I do something for madam?” He opened the door wider. “I heard the cry and it breaks my heart whenever I hear a woman cry.” Jungkook looked at him still frowning and kept looking for the handkerchief. “Thank you for the offer but my wife is upset that I will not let her mother live with us. When she will realise, that tears are not going to change my decision, she will stop.” The carter smirked at the remark. “In that case, I will leave it all up to you, sir. I should have been this straightforward when I got married too. I wouldn’t have been living with a witch now.” With that, he returned to the horses and Jungkook finally found the handkerchief that was hidden near your right breast. He pulled it out and wiped your tears, then let you blow your nose. “Are you feeling better?” He asked. “Can we go to the room, now?” When you nodded, Jungkook put the handkerchief back to the place he found it and let you stand up. Once you did so, he patted your butt and walked down the stairs of the carriage to help you down.

The tavern was loud, full of shouts of drunk sailors. Jungkook was pulling you through the tavern up the stairs to your room, hiding your red puffy face from the sight of the others. Jimin was sitting near the fireplace when he saw you and his captain, he jumped up and quickly followed you. When Jungkook opened the door to let you in, Jimin stood still in front of him listening to all of his commands. Jimin nodded and left to carry them out. With that Jungkook entered the room and closed to door behind himself, looking at you standing in front of the small sink, washing your face.

“Jimin went to grab food. I will not eat here today and I would like you to not go out of the room. I don’t think it would be safe without me. If you need anything, Jimin is going to be in front of the room. Ask him to do anything you want,” You looked at him over your shoulder whispering a soft: “Thank you.” Without any other words, Jungkook turned and left the room. You kept on looking at the closed door sadly.

The soft movement was like a swing of butterfly’s wings and it was so gentle, that is almost felt unreal. You were laying still underneath the blanket in the bed. You were worried that if you moved, the movement inside your belly would stop. You smiled once you felt it again but this time it was stronger. Your hand slid down to cup your belly and suddenly all your thoughts cleared up a little. Even though Jungkook was right, it was not easy. You would not get out of your aunt’s house to enjoy yourself. She would have watched you for the rest of your life if Jungkook did not take you away. You felt the movement again.

I will be a mother now and he will hate me for making me become that. But does it really have to be like that? It is hard to show him gratitude and affection when I know that he hates the ground I am walking on and the air that I breathe. He said he regretted meeting me. He would rather not be a man than to have me by his side. He was nice so far even though he hates me. I have to show him how grateful I am, I have to show him I am not a kid anymore but is not going to be easy. You were scared. Scared of him, his touch and things he is making you feel. But you wanted to try.

Chapter 12

a/n: The important question is: Did Y/N overreacted or nah? I am just curious about your opinion. Also, we are slowly but surely getting to the middle of the story! It is a long series I know! HAHHAA I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Love you all ♥

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liquid-luck-00 · 4 years

Text

Siblings

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 3: Siblings

@biodad-bruce-month

First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Mari had agreed to go to Gotham after Gina, Tom, and Sabine's funeral. And now I am sweating bullets, not for how she will react, oh no I am far more worried about how the boys will. Maybe having a civilian in the manor will curb some of their unsavory habits.

When I asked Mari and she agreed I could tell this was going to be eventful. She asked if she had any siblings.

"Biologically, legally, or emotionally?" I responded completely serious, "There is a difference."

She thought for a moment before saying "Legally because I already know I have a biological brother" she stated with a smile.

"How did you know that?" he asked her.

"DNA testing project for an ethnicity and ancestor report." Marinette said casually, "So how many siblings legally?" she pushed.

He sighed "Seven but it might as well be eleven with how often Barbara, Stephanie, Jon, and Roy are at the mansion."

"Can you tell me a bit about them. Maybe even the measurements!"

After he had given enough information to spur her creativity, Mari could only be described as a tempest of creative energy.

By the time we were to board the jet to Gotham there was a suitcase filled with only gifts, he had lost count after the sixth gift, but she still added some more. By the time they landed she had a rough idea of what she was getting herself into.

To his shock the boys hadn't tried to figure out where he was and that in itself was a blessing. The boys knew that she existed but were never interested in finding her and to quote Jason 'Save her from the insanity that surrounds this family.' Yet he was about to change that.

He had told Alfred that someone would be staying in the manor but to only leave a car at the airport and he would drive them in. Thank god at least one person listens to him.

The ride to the manor was silent conversation wise. But the constant scratching of a pencil as Mari designed inspired by Gotham's architecture filled the quiet.

---

Before leaving Paris, Mari found out she has seven siblings, 1 biological and 6 adoptive and 4 practically siblings, she will have to figure that part out. Bruce told her all about them and got her their measurements and that includes the one of Bruce's butler/father figure and his fiancée Selina. So in one suitcase there were 13 individually wrapped gifts that even Bruce didn't know what they were. The Miracle box, disguised as a sewing caddy, was among her things, but the horse miraculous and Kaalki were in her purse along with Tikki.

Oh kwamii how am I going to keep this secret if I’m going to be in another country along with being in a house with more than a dozen other people.

Once touching down in Gotham she began sketching, one because she was nervous and two Gotham's architecture was gorgeous. She didn't even realize that they had arrived at the manor until the engine cut.

"Let's introduce you to everyone" Bruce stated with a sigh and a small smile. They left the bags in the car and walked up the steps. As they neared the door they heard it.

"Get back here Todd" one extremely angry voice sounded.

"Dick HELP ME" another voice yelled.

They opened the door and there was quite the scene. Who she believes is Damian is chasing, who she is mostly sure is Jason, with a... is that a katana? And who she is certain must be Dick is trying and failing to stop Damian. In fact he is now also being chased. She looks over and Bruce is sighing looking completely done and with someone next to him.

"Hello and welcome to Wayne Manor." the man states, Alfred if she had to guess.

"Hello Alfred I presume” Mari greets him.

“That would be correct Miss…” Alfred responds.

“Marinette. Um this normal?" Mari asks.

"Unfortunately” Bruce states in a resigned tone.

"Huh" is all she says as she formulates a plan. The boys haven't noticed them yet so that is a plus, but what to do. Then she got an idea so she sprang into action. She watched for any pattern in the chase and when she found one she hid. She was next to the stairs in the perfect position to pounce. By this time Bruce and Alfred were watching her curious to what she was planning. She never left her hiding spot, but when Damian paused to look for Dick and Jason near her she moved. She took the katana and replaced it with a bouquet of flowers and went back to standing between Bruce and Alfred still holding the blade.

"How did you?" Bruce questioned her but she just gave him a smirk and spoke loud enough to get not only Damian’s attention but Dick and Jason’s who were hiding behind the couch.

"I thought you didn't tell them I was coming and here is Damian with flowers. Or wait who is the lucky person?" This got everyone's attention in the manor, if it wasn’t already.

“What the?" Damian stared at the flowers in his hand, while Dick and Jason came out of hiding.

The three boys were looking between her, holding the katana Damian was previously chasing them with, and the flowers in Damians hand. Then they began to stare between her and Bruce before finally someone spoke, "Seriously Bruce another one" Jason, yup definitely Jason, was the first to respond.

"Nice to meet you too" Mari replied. When she looked at Bruce he was still in shock but was now sporting a smirk. "Jason right"

She was holding the katana in her left hand while pointing at Jason with her right hand, he was tall and his build was most like Bruce he had blue eyes and black hair but had a white streak in the front, he nodded acknowledging she was right.

She then continued "I'm going with Dick, right?" she moved on and the oldest, who again only nodded his head, he looked the most like Bruce with his black hair and blue eyes but he was leaner.

"And your Damian" she finished with those in the room, he had tanned skin and green eyes that were complemented by his black hair.

"Is that my katana?" Damian asked, his voice seemed to be a mixture of disbelief, anger, and dare she even say awe, and all eyes seemed to focus on the blade in her hand.

"Yes" She responds with a smile.

"Honestly Mari how did you do that?" Bruce asked her once again.

"You learn to take objects off of an Akuma if you get caught up in too many attacks." she shrugged. She moved towards Damian and handed back his sword. "I'm Marinette by the way."

"Seriously B your missing for two weeks with no notice and come back with your Daughter. Who I might add was able to take Demon spawns sword without him noticing. Why wouldn't you warn us you were coming back with her! Or I don’t know going to find her at all!” Another person walked out into the hallway. Honestly he seemed ready to fall asleep and was holding a huge cup of coffee, he then turned towards me. He also had blue eyes and black hair but it was the longest of the boys. "I'm Tim, nice to finally meet you" he stated with a smile before turning back to Bruce with a slight frown.

At Tim's appearance and statement Jason and Dick burst into confused screams and wild gestures in Dick’s case, while Damian stood there analyzing her before giving a nod of his head. Bruce looked done but it was Alfred who spoke. "Perhaps it would be best to discuss this over lunch along with everyone else?"

"That would be best. Thank you Alfred." Bruce responded. "In the meantime why don't we you get settled."

With that Bruce and her walked back to the car to get her bags. Jason and Dick followed them out, and helped to get her things. Alfred led the five to a room where she began to put things away, only Jason stayed to help her finish her task.

---

The day had started as normally as any other in Wayne Manor, but no one, and I mean no one was ready for this tiny little french teen with the biggest blue eyes to get the drop on any of them. Let alone be able to take Demon Spawns sword without him noticing.

To say Jason was intrigued was an understatement. Seriously how did she do that, because he sure as hell isn't believing that excuse, like what the hell is an akuma attack. Bruce, Dick, and I helped her bring her bags into the room Alfred prepared. He was the only one who stayed to help her. One because if she could get the drop on the Demon then he had to win her over as a pranking ally. Two she was his sister now and he isn't as bad as everyone makes him out to be.

While helping her set up her room he found it, it was a suitcase filled with wrapped boxes. Now if she is my sister then let the blackmail material begin, but not without some teasing thrown into the mix.

"What's with the presents in the case Bluebell," Jason asked, throwing in a nickname to see if Marinette would have any type of a reaction. Because who packs presents unless it was a distraction or trying to hide something.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said with a smirk and heat tilt. Well not the reaction he had hoped for.

"So what was that thing you said archery attack was it?" this got a reaction, but not one he was expecting.

"You don't know about the akuma attacks?" she was a mix of fear and surprise and he was unsure how he was supposed to react to that. Lucky for him as he was about to speak Tim and Dick came in and told them lunch was ready.

---

Jason not knowing about akuma attacks was odd and she didn't know how to react to his question. He was about to respond but Dick and Tim came in, and told them lunch was ready. They walked into the dinning room and inside were too many faces. She recognized Bruce and Damian. Tim, Dick, and Jason walked in with her.

"We're here" Dick dramatically announced, and all of a sudden all eyes were on her.

"OMG she is so cute!" a blonde yelled "Are we sure she is yours Bruce."

"Yes Stephanie. I am sure" Bruce answered almost amused. "Why don't you introduce yourself before you suffocate her."

"Ya, Ya," she waved him off "I'm Stephanie Brown" she stated as she continued to hug her.

The introductions included Stephanie, Cassandra or she said Cass, Duke, Roy, Barbara, Selina, and Jon. During lunch they asked her about herself she stayed in the realm of civilian, but Jason again brought up the akuma attacks so she explained a bit about the Paris situation and referred to them to Aurore's blog 'BugOut'.

She figured out the meaning of her practically siblings

Jon was Damian's best friend as Roy was Jason's because of this they spent large amounts of time with the family . The blonde who tackled her, Stephanie, was dating Tim and Barbara was a close family friend to everyone.

Afterwards she ended up giving everyone their gifts and Damian challenged her to a spar. The fact that no one, except Bruce having a partial reason, had any idea why she could hold her own was priceless. Seriously everyone's jaw was on the floor and Bruce looked like he was plotting something but it seemed to quickly leave his thoughts. All in all it was a good first day with her new family.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list:

@mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky

#bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #bio!dad bruce wayne #b ! dbwm2020 #bruce wayne #maribat #marinette dupen chang #miraculus ladybug #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #miraculous x dc #mlb x dc #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne

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blancamz · 3 years

Text

“It’s Over Isn’t It” Reanimation progress

Honestly one of my favourite parts about animating is posting the WIPs online. Here’s the step-by-step of how I went about doing my reanimation for the end section of “It’s Over Isn’t It” from the Steven Universe episode Mr. Greg.

1) Idea and Prep

I was flicking through Steven Universe: Art & Origins. I think at the time I must’ve been between jobs or bored or something, because it came into my head to do a bit of animation based on the pilot style SU. I’ve always been quite fond of the pilot style, especially Pearl’s David Bowie / LaRoux look. The little tux design by Hellen Jo was quite snazzy as well, so I decided to have a go at doing a segment of “It’s Over Isn’t It”, using these designs.

I traced the turnaround from the book in Clip Studio Paint and approximated Jo’s design to it. At first I had the colour turnaround, but did the low-colour turnaround with the heads to give me a better idea of where the lines are and proportions of the body. I also get a clip of “It’s Over Isn’t It” and trim it down to the section I want to do.

This is a long one so strap in.

2) Sketch Pass

I’ll be using gifs that show the first 100-130 frames of the animation, because the full segment is 22 seconds long.

Very very loose animation of what I’m going to be doing with this segment, done in Adobe Animate. I have a video of the real segment in the corner of the stage and audio in the timeline, and closely reference them for layout and acting.

I’ve decided I want to go really nuts with the animation. Lots of angles on her face, smooth movement, secondary animation / follow-through on her various clothing elements. Technically her earring’s supposed to be on the other side but I want to animate that flailing around dangit, so I change it so it faces the camera.

3) Rough Pass

I tidy up the rough I did somewhat. It’s still very rough, but Pearl is better proportioned and the motion is more complete. I get a better idea of how she moves by focusing on drawing keys (the most important drawings) and breakdowns (drawings that help you figure out the motion a little bit, without full animation). I have Pearl, her suit, ruffles and earring on separate layers so I can turn things on and off or lower their opacity as needed.

4) Tiedowns

At some point between the rough and tie-down phase I realized that I’d been animating at 30fps instead of 25fps like I’d meant to, so I had to end up shifting all the roughs I’d been doing. Bad news: having to wrestle with getting the timings I’d so carefully planned out in the rough to still look good. Good news: I have to animate and clean up 5 fewer frames per second, so that’s 110 fewer drawings to worry about. Yussssss. For reference, the above clip has now gone from 132 frames to 107.

During the tiedown phase, I go over the roughs and more carefully try to match the proportions in the turnaround. I keep a flattened version of the first frame of animation to use as reference thoughout to prevent morphing. Sometimes when you’re animating, things will get bigger or small as you re-draw them, so it’s good to have a base drawing to refer back to and make the sizes stay consistent.

At this point I’m way more aware of reasons behind the big design change for Pearl between the pilot and the show. She’s so dang skinny and tall with that extra poof of hair up top that she’s really annoying to frame up. If you want to keep all of her in the frame, there’s going to be tons of empty space.

I also find that my turnaround isn’t enough reference for Pearl’s awkwardly-shaped head. I snap me a bunch of screenshots of pearl’s head from different angles and collate them into a big sheet.

5) Inbetweening

Inbetweening, aka filling out all the gaps in the timeline between the keys and breakdowns. If you’ve done your keys and BD’s well, inbetweening can be a pretty straight-forward.

But I’ve got like a million bits of secondary animation to content with, which means this still takes a significant amount of time. The hair and ruffles have to move a little later than the rest of the body, and some parts of the ruffles have to move at a different rate from the rest. I’m trying to animate like there’s wind since Pearl’s on top of a tall building. I keep animating until it feels good enough.

This is what my timeline and stage look like in Animate by this point. The animation is mostly on 2s, with some 1s, 3s and 4s thrown in when needed.

6) Cleanup and Colour

I did the cleanup in Toon Boom Harmony. As a program, I like it was more than Animate, even though it isn’t without it’s flaws. But it’s also really dang expensive. Fortunately, by this point I’d been working on the upcoming Deadendia series for Netflix. What with the pandemic, we were working from home and the studio gave me a license for Toon Boom. So I exported my frames from Animate, put ‘em in TB and started cleaning up.

I’ve found that cleanup is something that’s often offloaded to new or less experienced artists at studios because blah it’s just tracing the rough animation. But you’ve got good cleanup and bad cleanup, and a good cleanup artist will compensate for flaws in volume and have a good, clear and natural line.

I’m not terribly fond of doing cleanup myself. I feel I tend to end up rushing, which leads to sloppy work. I tried really hard to keep up a standard here.

7) Comping

a.k.a. Compositing, the final layering of the various elements before exporting a film. Another stage I don’t quite care for because of its nuances. Also drawing backgrounds.

I admit that I’m not very good at drawing backgrounds or environments. I tried to do the one for the second shot of this animation, since it was acutally really important. In shots 1 and 3, you don’t really see the ground or even the railing that Pearl is leaning on, but 2 is a wide shot. My first attempts at it were unfortunate. Fortunately my husband @joe-sparrow is both good at backgrounds and good at imitating the style and colour palette of the show. He volunteered to do the BGs and I accepted. See mine vs. his:

So yeah, get me some nice backgrounds, put the animation on top, then fiddle with a couple of elements in the comp to give things a little bit more depth. During this stage, errors that had happened during the animation progress that I hoped would just go away became annoyingly obvious, so there was a fair bit of going back to fix them.

So that’s how I done made this animation. I started April 2018 and posted in on January 1st 2021, so that’s over 1.5 years it took me to do these 22 seconds of animation. However, I wasn’t working on it continuously through that time. Sometimes I’d be working on it every day, other times I’d not touch it for weeks or months at a time. It really depended on how busy or whatever I was at the time. I think if I’d been working on it non-stop, it still would’ve taken me at least like 2-3 months to finish it.

If you made it to the end of this post, I hope you found all this information interesting.

Happy drawing.

It’s over, isn’t it.

#animation #wip #art #Flash #toon boom #fanart #steven universe #pearl

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hornsandthings · 4 years

Note

Umm hi I don’t know if you still take ACOTAR requests anymore but if you do can I request an azriel x reader where he’s in love with her and is afraid of rejection but he doesn’t know that she loves him too? 👉🏻👈🏻

hi nonnie, i’ll always accept an acotar request, hehe! did this in headcanon form, hope you don’t mind <3 it’s quite long and a little rough around the edges, but i hope you like it! ps. tumblr mucked up the formatting, some dot points don’t want to be indented. i hope it still makes sense x

when your and azriel’s paths crossed, it was the mother at work again. after mor, azriel didn’t think he’d ever have the strength for love again. the aching and the pining had taken their toll, and the appeal of the mating bond had faded. to feel it all again, to risk his heart like that again - he couldn’t. and yet, the mother saw fit that he would.

+++

he first met you in the palace of hoof and leaf, and it didn’t mean anything at the time; a stranger’s kindness, or if he indulged his cynicism, a hawker’s ploy. you were a commoner, a milkmaid who came to sell your products in the markets. he’d been at the neighbouring stall, waiting for the clerk to put together the only tea brew in prythian that could placate his migraines.

“sir, mr. shadowsinger, sir,” you called, “could i offer you a sample of my goat’s milk? maggie-may is very special, her milk can be just as good as a healer’s work, i swear it. try it, try it, sir.”

azriel looked you over, glad that cassian wasn’t here to make that particular moniker stick. one brow raised in dubiety, he nodded and held out his hand - might as well, he thought, tired and getting ever more desperate for his tea. this didn’t show outwardly, of course; azriel’s face was as neutral as ever, his shadows coiling about his talons. your gaze was expectant as he tried the sample, and while it was a little too earthy for his taste, he nodded all the same. perhaps it had encouraged you too much, because then you asked: “could i perhaps persuade you to buy a pint?”

azriel had no interest at all, yet he couldn’t help but notice the detail: your fraying sleeves, the imperfect glass bottles, the beginnings of dark circles under your eyes. and yet you were smiling, you were sweet, being very generous for someone who had to presumably make a living selling fresh products. not for the first time, azriel made a purchase that only someone of the inner circle could afford, and one that didn’t really benefit him. “i’ll take several,” he said, looking at the handful of wooden caddies, mostly still filled with milk bottles. “i’ll take it all.”

the clerk then handed azriel his brew while you stood there, wide-eyed and speechless, working through a range of emotions. at first you thought he was mocking you, but when he turned around again, fiddling with his coin pouch, you realised he was serious. “but, sir— maggie-may’s milk sure is delicious, but only in moderation— i couldn’t expect someone to buy it all—”

“as much as you’d let me, then,” he amended, being mindful not to impose or patronise. you bit your lip, trying to tally up the ultimate price, trying to gauge whether this man could even afford it. two gold, you said, trying your luck. azriel merely fingered his coins, placing the expected two and an additional three on the counter. he must’ve noticed your shock; you had frozen, after all, perhaps even stopped breathing. “since maggie-may is so special,” he drawled, earning a disbelieving laugh from you.

that night, cerridwen, nuala, and elain were very confused at the sight of bottles and bottles of milk laying in wait on the kitchen counter in the house of wind. the note - clearly by azriel’s neat hand - read: use within five days.

+++

from then on, you always engaged azriel when you spotted him in the market. you could never forget his generous first purchase, and so while he waited for the tea master to finalise his special brew, you would entertain him with an endless supply of free samples of new products. over the years, azriel saw your business extend from milk to also include cheese and soap. he learned unnecessary things about your cattle, such as the supposed social dynamics and - mother forbid - adultery that mr. sweet pea the goat seemed prone to. over time, azriel grew comfortable enough to share some of his stories and observations, the things he’s seen in other courts. it took a while to realise you had become more than his mere acquaintance, and perhaps it was because you were outside his usual spheres of the inner circle and his spy network. to have someone outside was new, and a little jarring at times. the different experiences, the contrasting perspectives - it was refreshing, and reminded azriel how far he’d come since his miserable youth. when he was with you, the stakes weren’t so high, the conditions not so dire. you were a spot of calm, a reminder that life could be something other than the court’s defense.

+++

one time when he visited - his tea no longer a requisite for him to make an effort to come in - you were noticeably subdued. “mr. sweet pea passed away,” you revealed, eyes wet and voice thick. something about that seized his heart, his shadows growing restless. “he was so special.” you actually said that about each of your cattle, something that azriel had started to find endearing, because he knew you really believed it.

social tact was not a strength of his - azriel knew he tended to be rigid and too formal - so he stumbled over some stilted condolences. it felt awkward and impersonal; azriel couldn’t empathise with the death of a pet, but he wanted to make it hurt less. he still remembered what the late goat had looked like the last time you had brought him in - an old thing, with a long beard and a mix of brown and black fur. strong, impressive horns, one which had a sizeable chip missing.

so that night, he did what he could and sketched that image he had in his mind, of mr. sweet pea looking very wise and ponderous, if a little tired. azriel’s time as spymaster had bestowed him a keen eye and dexterous fingers, allowing him to make the necessary sketches to give his colleagues a clearer picture when necessary - of maps, of creatures, of profiles. they tended to be a little rough and raw, nothing particularly artistic. he thought the same of his current piece, and hesitated over whether it was good enough.

when he finally gave you the sketch the next day, you went very still. he started stumbling over some excuses, but you soon interrupted him with a shaky breath. “this is so thoughtful, azriel. thank you so much.”

+++

azriel grew bolder, and interactions started to occur outside the markets. he’d invite you for tea, indirectly revealing one of his interests. he was a hard man to read, his expressions subtle when not stoic, but you learned. outside of professional matters, he was rarely straightforward, and tended to express his emotions in delicate, layered ways. his care for you was in the way he listened, how his attention never wavered when you were speaking with him. it was how he kept you close when you two navigated busy streets, how he lifted a wing over your head for cover when it rained, how he was content to spend time with you at your stall - sometimes for hours - despite his preference for quietude.

+++

when work took him away, you two would exchange letters. azriel didn’t realise how dangerous a thing it was, because you quickly became a very intimate and constant part of his life. the act of writing tricked him, making it easier to truly express his thoughts - there was no pressure of navigating the immediate reaction, no incentive to keep his words short. you managed to draw so much out of him. he was mindful of each letter of yours he received, keeping them safe and tied together with an old ribbon of yours he’d saved before you could throw it away. he would never admit it, but work abroad tended to be overwhelming: while secure in his network’s quality of intelligence, being in another’s territory always meant having to deal with various variables and vulnerabilities, usually unknown. maybe your letters would have made it all a little more manageable if they didn’t elicit such longing within him. your words made him smile, yes, but they also made his heart ache. he missed you.

+++

after a lengthy assignment in the dawn court, azriel was relieved to be back in velaris. his shadows swirled and whispered around his shoulders, eager to feel your presence too. he knew they fascinated you, how playful they could be sometimes. yet, azriel couldn’t find you at your empty market stall. it was odd - you hadn’t mentioned moving in your recent letters, and he couldn’t find you in any of the other market squares either. soon his shadows grew restless, embodying the concern that was rising.

he employed his spy network to find your farm, hoping it wouldn’t be too intrusive to just show up unannounced. you had mentioned some details in passing before - it was a modest place, with a small house and a meagre hill of grass to feed a handful of goats and sheep. the door was answered by two worried faces, who took one look at azriel and grew even more distressed. “our son— it’s not our son, is it? it can’t be— he just—”

“i’m here to see your daughter,” azriel interrupted, too preoccupied to remember polite niceties. they were confused, guarded, but let him through. the hallways were narrow, his wings often knocking against the wall sconces. he listened as they explained your condition - an illness had befallen you, leaving you bedridden for days. apparently a healer had told them it’ll pass with rest and water, and with that reassurance, azriel forced himself to remember his place. right in front of your closed door, he willed his shadows away from his face, called upon his familiar impassiveness. turning around to face your parents, he amended, “may i see your daughter?”

your room was dark, the curtains drawn. his heart raced as he heard your laboured breaths, and something pulled at him when he saw the small desk in the corner, an unfinished letter atop it. “azriel?” you whispered, voice sounding so small. “is it really you?”

he neared, taking a cautious seat on the side of the bed. you were shivering, but the thin sheet covering you stuck to your skin with sweat. “yes, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said, the endearment slipping out before he could stop it. his throat closed up immediately after, but your vague movements suggested you didn’t even realise, and that you weren’t all there. he could see the feverish blush high on your cheeks, even in the dim light.

“you’re too big for this room,” you mused softly, making azriel smile despite his worry. indeed, he had to bend down to avoid hitting his head, and keep his wings tucked in uncomfortably tight. he took your hand in his, and even in your feverish haze, you could register the roughness of his scarred hands, but they always handled you gently. “why didn’t you tell me in your letters?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. your discomfort was clear in your frown, in your downturned lips. noticing the basin on the bedside table, he took the damp rag on your forehead and dipped it into the cool water, wringing away the excess before gently placing it atop your head again.

“i… didn’t want to trouble you with… with something trivial. a few more days and… and i’ll be back to work.” a weak smile pulled at your mouth, and azriel gathered both of your hands in his again. he shook his head at your line of thinking.

“your health isn’t a trivial matter to me,” he said, leaning close and cupping your cheek. in hindsight, it was so obvious that he had been in love with you far longer than he thought. it was all so rueful, the fact that he had let it happen again. despite it all, he pressed a kiss to your hand, trying to ignore how it trembled. your smile strengthened then, tracing a finger over his brow and down the bridge of his nose. azriel took a deep breath to savour the touch, and soon you two were merely watching each other, azriel wondering what thoughts were running through your slightly added mind. your lids eventually started to droop, however, but still he stayed even when you fell asleep, taking care to change the cool rag when necessary. his shoulders slumped when his head fell into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut tight. with such a revelation, what was he to do from now on?

+++

azriel didn’t think he could be a good lover to you - even if he so very much wanted to be. his job took up so much of time, and it required him to be secretive. azriel wouldn’t ever be able to share everything with you, for the sake of keeping you safe. even if he could, there was just something in his nature that kept him reserved and pushed others away. there were so many things he’d rather leave in the past, and so many more that he wished he hadn’t been part of. there was that, but also his loathsome scarred hands - a reminder of those darker days. no matter how gentle, his touch would always scratch and scrape. once you took notice of how neglected they were, left to dry out and sometimes even scab, you took to work to concoct a nourishing lotion. “you have to be gentle with yourself, azriel,” you had once told him, gently applying the salve to his hands. they were rough but warm against your skin. “you do so much.”

+++

and so, everything he did with you was tinged with a hint of sorrow. he couldn’t bring himself to confront you with the severity of his feelings, but he also couldn’t quite remove you from his life - you had become a friend. you eventually noticed that he started to let his touches linger: when he hugged you, he’d curl arms and wings around you, enveloping you wholly; when you were near, his shadows would stretch toward you, as if revealing a hidden desire. when you reached for his hand, he would always grip it firmly, and when you came very close for some unimportant reason, his gaze would always linger on your face, flicking so often to your lips.

+++

one night you had invited him over to the farm, wanting to introduce him to the latest addition of your household: a baby goat, just over a week old. she was as white as snow, and kept nibbling at your hair as you held her in your arms. “what should we name her, azriel?” you had asked, too preoccupied to notice how tense he was, hands in his pockets. “i was thinking of marjorie, or maybe miss marjorie… hey, what’s wrong?” his face was unusually expressive, his shadows roiling about his talons as if in distress. putting down the goat, her legs still clumsy and gangly, you stepped closer to azriel, reaching out. he shook his head, trying to school his face but you knew him by now. your shoulders slumped, recalling his strange behaviour over the years - he was present in most ways, but avoidant in others. “i wish you’d talk to me, azriel,” you murmured, taking his hand and hoping he wouldn’t mind the dirt. “you mean so much to me.”

it all bubbled up then in that small barn, the light dim and the smell of earth pungent. you let out a rueful laugh, rubbing your eye. “i’m in love with you,” you said, very quietly at first. immediately you felt so naive to be doing this. the fact was that azriel came from a different life, one that saw him as a leader of the court, who worked with powerful and beautiful people, fae who were richer and stronger and vastly more interesting. azriel’s mere presence in your life was extraordinary enough. and yet, you had found yourself falling in love despite the impracticability of it, found yourself admiring his kindness, his quiet generosity, his strength and resilience and dry humour. you shifted, looking right into his eyes. even if your love was unrequited, he deserved to be told - if only to let him know that he indeed was loved by one more. “i’m in love with you. i don’t— i don’t expect you to say it in return, but i can no longer keep it to myself. i love you.”

that threw azriel. he had fantasised of course, indulged in the scenario. but now, as you waited for his response, his thoughts stuttered. what? he wanted to say, unable to believe what he actually so very desperately wanted to believe. you grew nervous as the silence lengthened, azriel’s face as stoic as ever. you shook your head, covering your mouth in regret. “i’m sorry, i— i shouldn’t have said anything—”

he gripped your shoulders tight, gaze intense and voice low. “i also love you.”

“why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?” the solemnity which had tinged your relationship for some time was subtle, but you had felt it, and it had bothered you.

azriel’s hands came up to cup your face, and he quickly shook his head. “it’s not,” he said, he urged. “it’s not, it’s not.” and then his lips met yours, chapped and rough, kissing you slowly, thoroughly, firmly. the conviction made your heart melt, and you gripped his wrists, feeling his racing pulse and caressing it, kissing him back, standing on your toes, letting him steal your breath. “i love you so much, sweetheart,” he sighed against your lips, nose brushing against yours. you went to reply but then azriel had claimed your mouth again, one hand snaking around to your back and the other to the nape of your neck. the light shifted behind your closed eyes as his wings came down to envelope the both of you, and your fingers reached to tangle in his hair, to trace the shells of his ears.

when you two parted again, his grin was lopsided and a little wry. “i just couldn’t believe it,” he murmured, his eyes shining with emotion. why not? you wanted to ask, wondering what it was that had held him back for so long, but decided to delay it for another day. all you could do was hug him tighter, just glad for the sight of his smile and the feeling of his relief. glad for his happiness.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fanfic #ugh this isn't my best but otherwise i'll never post D:#also a big f.u. to tumblr formatting

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 17 - With Him

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, how will it go in the end?, 4.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

One finger tapped on the strap of his fanny pack as Alex listened for the right bus stop to be called. If all those months since he’d seen Willie had been long, this past week had been longer. Especially since the news about Caleb had hit hard and every minute in the studio now felt like the band was precariously teetering on the edge of a cliff. He was going to try not to let any of that get in his way today, though. He’d made it to Saturday and Willie was only a few streets away, and he didn’t care what happened for the rest of the day - it was going to be good.

Finally he heard the next stop announced for where he needed to get off and he pulled the cord that told the driver to make a stop. Stepping onto the sidewalk, his heart bounced around in its chamber like the Tazmanian devil from Looney Tunes. He was glad that Willie lived in the basement of the apartment building he occupied because it would’ve been the worst if Alex forgot which room he was in and spent hours frantically knocking doors.

It was hard to tell if he was moving quickly or if his mind was just racing, but in either case, he eventually found himself at the door. For a second, he simply took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, trying to get a visual of Willie immediately pouncing on him the moment the door opened out of his head. It wouldn’t exactly be unwelcome, but Alex was realizing how desperate he was to be with him and was amazed at how it affected his imagination.

Lifting a hand, he made sure he knocked loudly. Soon after, the door opened, and Alex was greeted with shining brown eyes, silky, gorgeous brown hair styled into two braids, and a smile he could make home in. Willie.

“Hey, come on in!” Willie was saying, standing to the side and gesturing for him to enter. Crossing the threshold, Alex gazed at the humble space, taking in the details with heightened interest. “This is mi casa!” He began showing Alex around. “We’ve got the main living space, very cozy. The kitchen to your left, but no dining room so it’s all criss-cross applesauce on the floor - makes it extra chill. Bathroom through the back. The sink and shower handles will sometimes shock you, so don’t mind all the electrical tape.”

It was surprisingly accommodating for a dingy basement, and Willie had already made little additions that spoke volumes about him without words. A king size mattress sat in the corner of the ‘main living space’ on the floor with a small bookshelf beside it. The bookshelf only had a handful of cassette tapes and a Walkman lying on top, with a few sketchbooks on the middle shelf. Next to that, the dresser had a small collection of vintage soda bottles and a camera sitting on its surface. Glow-in-the-dark star stickers covered the ceiling above the bed. Even a couple cat toys could be spotted on the floor. Immediately, Alex approached the area where Willie’s desk sat surrounded by sketches hung on the wall.

“So these are your drawings?” he asked, although the answer was obvious. They were so good. Willie followed him over, the squinty smile still in his eyes.

“Yeah. Some are new. Most of them are attempts to recover what Caleb tore up.”

Alex looked at Willie apologetically, even though the loss of Willie’s previous work wasn’t his fault. Without warning, a pressure on his leg and the sound of loud purring announced Sheldon’s presence. The cat looked up at him and blinked slowly, already begging for attention. Heart melting, Alex bent down to pet him.

“Hey, Sheldon,” he said. “I forgot how cute you were!” He smiled as Sheldon rubbed his head against his hand with more affection that he’d likely seen from any other creature on the planet. Well...maybe there was one other that matched it. Alex had heard about how pets could take on the temperament of their owners, and suspected this was a clear example. “He’s gotten so big since I last saw him.”

“Yeah, he’s supposed to be almost two years old, if Escobar guessed his age right.”

Standing again as Sheldon pattered off, Alex returned his attention to the wall of art, looking at the pieces more closely.

“So which one is your dad?” he mused.

Willie untacked one of them and held it out for Alex to examine. “This one.”

Holding the edges carefully, Alex gazed in amazement at the detail Willie had caught. The edges were certainly less defined, but the scene inside the truck was so easy to visualize that Alex could almost feel the leather of the seats and the windchill from the window. He wasn’t sure what began burning in his chest as he peered down at the image, but it was profound and complex.

“I’ve thought about seeing if I could find him, but I think with my memory it’s kind of impossible,” Willie told him.

“He looks so happy here. I don’t get why you would end up as a foster kid.”

“Yeah, I wondered that too. Maybe he didn’t have a choice?”

Alex looked at Willie’s face, and he could tell half of him was lost in a world of what-ifs and other questions. He was always trying to seem so easy-going, and to an extent he truly was, but he couldn’t hide the constant sense of upheaval that rested on his shoulders. At least, Alex was picking up on it more, now that he knew the things he did. He may have been biased, but he couldn’t imagine anyone not fighting their hardest to keep Willie.

Suddenly his gaze was drawn to the unfinished work on the desk, and recognized it as a portrait of himself.

“Wow.” The word fell out of his mouth.

“Oh,” Willie started with a hint of shyness. “Obviously that one isn’t done, so…” He reached to put it away.

“You got that far off of memory, though,” Alex said. “I’m impressed. And you make me look good.” He offered an encouraging smile. “Maybe some time today I could be a model for you?”

Willie cocked his eyebrow, surprise and playfulness making an adorable combination on his face. It made Alex’s smile grow wider.

“Well, we’ve got a whole day ahead,” Willie said. “Your wish is my command.”

“Okay,” Alex said, leaning onto his back foot casually, one side of his lip curling with intrigue. “Well, I wanna see where you go around here. You seem to have a knack for finding the best spots. We can play it by ear.”

“What’s that one song with the one phrase?” Willie asked. “‘Any way the wind blows?’” He sang shyly, clearly playing down what Alex could tell was a nice voice.

“Bohemian Rhapsody,” Alex smiled. Willie’s job at the record store was at least giving him a good taste in music. “Don’t worry, you’ll know everything about the classics once you hang out with me enough.”

An emotion flashed in Willie’s eyes and after a moment Alex realized what those words were actually saying. He held his gaze, hoping he could communicate his intentions clearly, unlike the last time they’d seen each other. Willie swallowed, and his expression remained excited as he loaded his backpack and led them out the door, board in hand. Alex followed him, deciding not to question which direction they were going.

First, they made a stop to buy a bunch of apples. In classic Willie fashion, he went to a bodega, and this time he communicated with the cashier in rough Spanish. Alex knew he was showing off, and smirked at the notion that Willie enjoyed impressing him.

“So what do we need these for?” Alex wondered as they left the bodega. “Besides a ton of apples for lunch.”

Willie’s secretive smile made Alex raise an eyebrow.

“It’s a surprise.”

A little while later, they stood before the most unlikely place in all of Los Angeles: a horse barn. Staring at the building as if it loomed fifty feet above him, hands in his pockets, Alex gulped and a lump of dread landed in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh no,” he muttered apprehensively.

“Oh yeah,” Willie said, turning to him with a thrilled grin on his face.

Alex wasn’t exactly afraid of horses...he just had no idea what to do around them and therefore was not sure what to expect from them. Also, he would’ve worn different pants if he’d known this was on the agenda.

“I promise, they’ve got some really chill horses,” Willie tried to ease his nerves. “I’ve gone on this trail enough times. Don’t worry, you’ll know everything about riding once you hang out with me enough.” He winked as he threw back Alex’s line with a sly smile.

Unable to argue, Alex shook his head and used the hand in his pocket to gesture forward, signaling to Willie he was up to the challenge. He watched him practically skip inside and he had to jog to keep up after him. They signed in and then were led to two stalls.

Willie immediately gravitated toward a tall golden-colored mustang stallion with a dark mane, apparently both already familiar and happy to see each other. Alex watched him gently greet and essentially coo at it while comfortably stroking its nose and then feeding it an apple. He longed to have that sort of talent with other creatures, and simultaneously realized that he yearned to receive that same tenderness.

Once the horses were tacked up and one of the instructors had given Alex some brief pointers on how to ride, he found himself following Willie on a trail while mounted on a painted mare. The only philosophy he could adopt out here was to be gentle and not get lost.

“Not so bad, your majesty,” Willie called over to him.

An extremely nervous laugh elicited from Alex’s throat involuntarily, only making Willie laugh in return. Alex rode a little closer so they were nearly side by side on the trail.

“I’ve been here once,” he said. “I think I was about twelve? My mom thought that it would make me change my mind about taking ballet classes. We rode for maybe fifteen minutes before I got so nervous we had to turn back around and go home. Never made it through the full trail.”

“Man, that sucks,” Willie commented. “I didn’t know you did ballet.”

“Yeah, that and a few other types of dance. I was forced to quit a little couple years ago. That’s about when we got serious as a band, so I just found something else to bother my parents with.”

He could see the gears click into place as Willie came to a few conclusions about his parents and gave an emphatic nod.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance. That was the one thing Caleb had promised to teach me. He’s the worst, but he definitely knows how to dance.”

Suddenly, Alex remembered watching Caleb’s movements when he’d served him and the boys at the diner. Of course he could dance; everything had been fluid and smooth. All he could say to that thought was “huh,” at first. Then after a few moments: “I’ll have to teach you one of these days then.”

Willie’s eyes crinkled at the corners, happy at the prospect.

“Yeah, okay! Add that to our to-do list.”

Alex chuckled. They had a to-do list now. He bit his lip as he continued following Willie along the trail. It was a gorgeous day and in this area the sky was so clear compared to further inside the city. Greatly contrasting his experience from years ago, Alex felt himself become much more at ease and felt confident enough to take greater control of his horse. Willie pulled out his camera and snapped a few scenic photos every once in a while.

Eventually, they stopped at an outlook and Alex had to take in an awed breath. The view was clear for miles all around them. Green hills spanned the landscape in every direction with patches of city speckled in between. Even the ocean line was visible from there. How did Willie know how to find these?

“Hey, Alex!” Willie called, lifting his camera. “Say cheese!”

Turning to face him, Alex flashed a genuine smile as Willie captured him atop his horse against the scenery. He was usually pretty camera shy, but this time he really didn’t mind. Keeping memories like this actually felt important to him, unlike the many times he’d been forced to pose with his family at functions he’d also been made to attend. Those occasions had always felt so insincere - less about enjoying the memory and more about trying to prove their status as the polished, functional family everyone aspired to.

He saw Willie dismount for a moment and stretch his legs. Gripping the reins and looking around in uncertainty, Alex realized he’d gotten on before ensuring he could properly get off. Thankfully, Willie noticed and came up to him, hands raised.

“Okay, so just...carefully lift your foot out of the stirrup and swing your leg over toward me,” he instructed. Sucking in a breath hesitantly, Alex did as he said. “Alright, then...here.” Willie offered a hand for Alex to grab so he could slide off with ease. Landing on the ground, he leaned into Willie to gain his balance, and felt a congratulatory pat on his back. It took more restraint than Alex anticipated to not simply wrap his arms around him and sit like that for an indefinite amount of time. They had all day ahead of them; he didn’t need the sudden fear of losing him to derail things out of nowhere.

“Sorry if I look like a wimp about all this,” he said, letting go of his hand.

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Willie assured him, shaking his head. “This is...this is new.”

His eyes seemed to take Alex in from head to toe and Alex could’ve sworn the charge in the air between them would buzz if they got closer, spark if they made contact. It was almost like that moment in front of Willie’s door the week before. For a few seconds they remained locked in that trance before Willie took hold of the horse’s reins and handed them to Alex.

“Technically this trail could take hours, but I’m guessing this isn’t all you’re interested in today,” he said. “What do you say we stretch our legs a bit and then ride back?”

Looking from the reins in his hand back to Willie, Alex nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Opening his backpack, Willie handed him an apple and then bit down into one of his own. Taking a bite, it was one of the most refreshing apples Alex ever eaten. They walked the horses a little ways and tried to get good pictures of the different views around them. Alex asked to try his hand with the camera and get a few good shots of Willie. He didn’t consider himself a photographer, but he doubted when the photos got developed that they would turn out badly. The way Willie smiled made him seem like he was made of sunlight from the inside out.

As they rode back to the barn, Alex kept replaying those moments where he’d refrained from making a move over in his head. This had been strike two. If he continued on like this, he was going to hate himself for the rest of eternity, he was pretty sure. Was it some weird kind of side effect of the whole ‘Willie come back to life’ thing? Watching him affectionately say goodbye to his horse once they were ready to leave, Alex looked at his own horse and raised a tentative hand up to her nose.

The mare gazed back, patience gleaming in her eyes. He finally set his hand down on her nose and gently rubbed it up and down, smiling a little to himself. This wasn’t so bad. He could do this - it was just a matter of getting through all the barriers he made for himself in his head. Moving his hands from the horse’s nose, he stroked along her neck, and caught Willie smiling at him from the corner of his eye.

“You wanna try feeding her an apple?” he asked.

Thinking for a few seconds, Alex nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Pulling one out of his backpack, Willie placed it in Alex’s palm.

“Alright, so hold it out in front of you like this…” He positioned Alex to offer the apple. “And keep your palm flat.”

Alex uncurled his fingers and after sniffing at it a little the mare ate it out of his hand. He could ignore the sensation of her mouth touching him because Willie still had his arm around his shoulder to hold him steady. They looked at each other, and Alex wished he could get a proper shot at Willie’s face at that angle with the camera.

“Looks like you’re gonna get the hang of this,” Willie commended.

Alex looked back up at the horse, a little bit of pride swelling in his chest. “Yeah, I think I will.”

Later, they went to the beach at Alex’s suggestion. He was perched on the surface of a picnic table, posed as if he were looking off into the distance. Willie sketched with great concentration, having taken his hair out of his braids so he could run his hand through it. The late afternoon sun brought out all the best color contrasts in their surroundings - one of the things Alex loved about coming to the beach at this time of day.

“So I have a question,” Alex started, trying not to move too much. His tendency to talk with his hands kept getting him in trouble.

“Shoot,” Willie prompted him, not looking up.

“Did Caleb let you go to school or anything? Or did he provide any sort of education at all?”

Squinting, Willie looked thoughtful for a moment.

“So, after the accident, he told me that I’d had to be taken out of school,” he began, continuing to sketch. “Which makes sense, I guess, if I forgot everything. I remember some basic things, like math wasn’t hard to pick up again. Once I was recovered enough to go places, he just let me go to the public library and find whatever I wanted to read. But he always insisted on not having reminders of who I was before and said it was supposed to be helping me ‘become my own person’. He got rid of things like my school yearbooks and old journals and things. I didn’t think anything of it at first because he’d just called it useless clutter and I believed him. As soon as he decided I was fit enough to work in the diner and help out at the hotel, he told me to forget about school. Anything else I picked up was from watching TV, or listening to the radio, or something. Sometimes I’ll just remember I know something after hearing about it and it’s like it was just always there.”

Listening intently, Alex marveled at the whole thing. The fact that Caleb was not only negligent, but actively discouraging Willie from knowing anything, made him wish he could take down the man’s whole career. However, he figured Willie probably had a lot of his intelligence still untapped. If he’d been able to get away from Caleb and somehow create a life for himself in the span of a few months, Alex wondered what else he was capable of.

“What’s something you remember?” he wondered.

“I guess I used to be really obsessed with space. Just planets and stars and all that. I can spout off facts about Jupiter’s moons and stuff like that. Did you know that the moon Europa has a saltwater ocean under a layer of ice?”

Alex shook his head. “No, I didn’t. That sounds really cool though.” He thought of the stickers on Willie’s ceiling and smirked a little before reassuming his pose.

“I sort of wish I could remember being in school,” Willie was saying. “Everyone else seems to just share all of those memories and understand each other that way.”

Alex saw his brow furrow, and could tell he felt left out. He pondered on his own experience growing up in public school. There was almost no other way he would’ve met Luke, Bobby and Reggie if they hadn’t all attended the same schools. While he could easily critique and complain about it to no end, he knew it was a privilege.

“School is definitely hard,” he told Willie. “But I did get my friends out of it, and I guess that makes up for it. If it’s any consolation, you could just complain about Caleb like he was your horrible English teacher who thought he knew more about the subject of your essay, but you cited all of your sources and they proved him completely wrong.”

Willie laughed. “Why? Did that happen to you?”

Alex bobbed his head from side to side and feigned looking thoughtful . “Maybe.”

“I kind of like reducing him to a loser English teacher. He just sounds petty and sad.”

“That’s high school,” Alex confirmed.

Leaning back from his work for a minute to take it all in, Willie brushed a hand through his hair.

“Here, you wanna take a look at it?” he said. Alex hopped off the table and went to stand over Willie’s shoulder at the drawing and was immediately rendered speechless. The detail was impeccable, but Alex was more impressed by the feeling he got looking at it. Willie had managed to make him appear...handsome, and pensive, and fascinating, like anyone else could look at him and create a million unique ideas of who he was. However, it wasn’t anyone else looking at him, it was Willie, and what he’d captured felt like the truth. Alex couldn’t really explain what that meant, only that it was an honest representation.

“Okay, I know I said the one back at your place made me look good, but this is...this is unreal.”

He could see Willie trying to be modest, but the corners of his lips couldn’t stay down. Funny enough, he appeared even more unable to find words, and simply beamed as he looked back and forth between his sketch and Alex’s face.

A sudden impulse came over Alex, and he kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on top of Willie’s skateboard and backpack. Willie sat looking flustered for a moment.

“Wanna swim?” Alex nodded toward the waves, bidding Willie to follow. He didn’t wait for him to catch up as he immediately began running into the waves up to his knees. Alex knew his pants would be even more ruined the second he hit the salty water, but he didn’t care. Now the sun was beginning to set and the chill of the waves was refreshing, and he couldn’t express what he felt just then in any other way.

Willie tackled him from behind, climbing onto his back and nearly knocking him over into the shallow tide. Clambering back to his feet, Alex splashed water at him. They began a playful water fight back and forth, until they were both drenched. Eventually, Alex tried to catch hold of both Willie’s hands in an attempt to prevent being splashed anymore. He had the advantage of longer arms, but before he could get a tight hold of the second arm Willie’s leg swept under his and they both fell just as a large wave washed over them.

As the water pulled back, they sat in the sand in a tangle, laughing. All Alex could think of was how pretty Willie was in this light, hair swept back off his face with tendrils resting over his shoulders, sun gleaming in his eyes and constantly shining from the inside out. The laughter died between them and he caught a look in Willie’s eye that made him wonder if he appeared to him to be just as perfect in that moment.

This time his mind and body worked in sync as he lifted a hand and gently pulled Willie into a short, tender kiss. All the self-flagellation from earlier was washed away in one pure moment, and exhilaration moved into its place. It felt soft and sweet, just the way he expected it should. Just as quickly as he’d let go, Willie went in for another one, a little longer and a little deeper. One hand remained caressing his cheek while the other wrapped around his upper back. Alex couldn’t help smiling into another kiss; he was too happy to care about anything else. Hardly a week ago, this had been impossible.

As they let go, their hands came together and they looked into each other's eyes, both releasing a relieved chuckle. Willie looked at the rest of the beach behind them and Alex’s eyes followed, but at this hour there were too few people around and no one paying attention to them. Turning back to Alex, Willie sighed and shook his head with a smile.

“Wow,” was all he said, biting his lip.

“Yeah, I’d definitely do that again,” Alex smirked, until the joy in his chest converted it into a full grin.

A wave washed over them again and they both stood, shaking out their hair and trying to wipe off whatever sand they could. Heading back up the beach, Willie grabbed Alex’s hand so they could make their way up together. The sun was nearly set but Alex was sure it had just gone into his chest, bursting with excitement. Once they reached the picnic table, they gathered their things and Willie offered to carry Alex’s shirt inside his backpack on the way home. Thank goodness there were a few patches of grass so Alex could try to get a little more sand off his feet before putting his shoes back on.

“So how long have you been sitting on that?” Willie teased as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and they left the beach.

“Shut up,” Alex laughed, knowing he was being called out.

“No, really!” Willie bumped his side jokingly. “I want to know!”

Tilting his head back to try to remember, it didn’t take Alex long to give him the answer.

“Since day one,” he told him.

Surprise swept over Willie’s face as he looked at Alex.

“Seriously?” he asked.

Alex nodded.

“Me too.”

It was Alex’s turn to look surprised. Without saying another word, he took Willie’s hand in his and then kissed it before continuing back toward his place. The whole way they talked about all the different things they needed to do together in the future. Riding on more horse trails, dancing lessons, skating lessons, art modeling sessions, going to band practices and gigs, visiting the record store while Willie wasn’t working, etc. They both agreed that the entire day technically counted as a date, and all further plans would as well. Alex was reminded once again that he didn’t have a notebook to write things down in, and vowed to have one for the next time he saw Willie. Once they reached Willie’s door, they had already put their shirts back on and it was completely dark outside.

“Are you free any time next week?” Willie asked, still holding onto Alex’s hand.

“I wish I could say yes, but probably not. And as much as I’d love to give you my number, it’s really not the best idea.”

“Well, I could give you mine,” Willie said.

Alex shot him a confused look. Holding up a finger, Willie dug into his backpack until he found his sketchbook and tore off the corner of a page, quickly scribbling one down and handing it to Alex.

“It’s actually the one for work,” he said. “But if it’s what we can do for now, I’ll do it. Kyle won’t care.”

Looking at it for a minute and then stashing it in his now-dry pocket, Alex took hold of Willie’s chin and went to kiss him again. It was really hard to stop, but they soon broke apart.

“I gotta go,” Alex murmured.

Willie only nodded, squeezing his hand before letting go and slipping his own into his pocket.

“I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

Once again heading up the short set of stairs to the sidewalk, Alex rubbed his lips together, relishing in the taste of what he and Willie had just done. He couldn’t imagine anything sweeter.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #sunset curve #alive au #willex #willie #alex mercer #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #caleb covington #viva las vegas #with him #fiddlepickdouglas

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hamilsquadwritings · 4 years

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The Worst Kind of Event (Washington x platonic fem!soldier reader)

The Worst Kind Of Event

(Washington x platonic fem!soldier reader)

Request:- @t0xcat

“” hey! could i possibly get a washington x platonic fem solider reader where he basically sees her as his daughter and has been fighting by his side for a long time and then she’s sent away to south carolina for the battle of yorktown and he receives news from one of the soldiers that she died and washington and the rest of the hamilsquad has a funeral for her n stuff,, sry if it’s confusing!! have fun writing!! 💖💖 “”

~ Warnings: angst, a couple swears, soldiers and war, death, lots of tears ~

{{I'm so sorry if it sucks I've never done angst before, hope it's okay!!☺️💗}}

Words: 3.1 k (so I may have got a little bit carried away?!)

You had worked with George for 3 years now. You'd come along way from the scrappy blood thirsty recruit he's met all that time ago. You'd joined the revolution after your parents had been killed in an attack from the British soldiers. You'd had enough of standing by and letting others fight for you.

When you first approached him he didn't take you seriously, something he would quickly learn to regret, you attacked his name and ended up in a duel on your second day on camp. It didn't go anywhere because George had stepped in, he had sent you to his tent while he dealt with your opponent, a one Alexander Hamilton. He wouldn't hear slander against his mentors name, no matter who it came from.

Three years later Alex was the closest thing you had to a brother, you loved him dearly. He was always by your side, you'd saved eachother lives many times over. Be it from enemy fire or from eating food John Laurens had prepared, he said he could cook but Washington had warned you never to accept food off him unless you wanted to spend a few days with the nurses throwing your guts up. He was also one of your best friends, the three of you were practically inseparable, you'd fight, eat and sleep together. The three of you were Washington's aids so you'd all room together. You didn't mind, you'd much rather have them with you and know where they were rather than worry about their whereabouts; as you often did when you couldn't find them about camp.

You'd also made friends with a tailor who'd frequent the campsite, you recognised him as the boy who worked with the tailor your father had gone to. When he'd first seen you he did a double take. Where was the sweet young girl he'd often played with when their fathers had been busy. You quickly grew inseparable, he'd seen first hand what this war had done to you. He adopted an older brother role, watching out for you on the campsite.

There had been a group of soldiers who'd decided you'd be an easy target and grabbed you on your second week, they had planned to rough you up a bit and steal your rations, making its a regular occurrence. Unfortunately for them Lafayette had been watching and followed you out. He'd had trouble with those particular men before and had a horrible gut feeling that they were going to do something bad. They didn't get the chance because he'd followed, grabbing the leader and shoved him against the wall, his friends looked on mouths agape as Lafayette was explicitly clear about what he would do to them if they ever bothered you again. You'd been thankful for him ever since. The five of you grew to be a close knit group of friends.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Alex grins as you sit down next to him with your tray "they're giving out assignments at 7, they said some of us will be going as far as South Carolina.." he says nervously, John was from South Carolina which meant it was likely he'd get selected, he knew the terrain which would prove useful to the troops. The last they'd heard south Carolina had been secured but a LOT of blood had been shed to get there. It was likely that just as much would be to keep it that way.

"He better make it back' you say, trying to sound strong, your voice betraying you with a slight wobble.

"Who better what?' John asks and he slides info the seat across from you

"Nothing" Alex says quickly, too quickly. John just gives him a strange look before he starts to eat his own dinner. Hes barely half way when Washington comes up to the table

"Laurens, Y/L/N, with me," he says gruffly. You have just enough time to shoot a look to Alex, who looks worried, before you're following George to his office. You and John half speed walking, half running to keep up with the general. He wasn't happy, not one bit, you could feel it in the air. "sit down, both of you" he says shutting the door to his office. You share a worried look with John and take a seat.

"Sir?" John asks after a few seconds of silence, there was something wrong, George was stalling.

"You're both shipping out to South Carolina tomorrow" he says finally "first thing in the morning, I'm not sure how long for but you'll both be back before you know it" he says confidently, well, like he was trying to be. If only he could have guaranteed that..

You and John left the next morning, Alex and George had both gotten up hours earlier than they should've to see you off. Hercules and Lafayette had said their good byes the might before, the five of you shared dinner together. You'd be lying if you'd said there wasn't a tearful goodbye. Alex took it really hard. As soon as he'd heard south Carolina he knew John would be going. You, however, were a complete shock and it shook him to his very core. You both were excellent soldiers, he knew you could handle yourselves but he couldn't help but worry.

George hugged you both and saluted which you gladly returned, he wasn't big on goodbyes so he said "until we see eachother again" and smiled, you could feel the love through those few words and you wiped away tears and hug him again, Alex and John quickly joining, he was the closest all three of you had to a father which made you your own little family.

"We got this' John says squeezing your shoulder as you join the other troops in the carriage.

As it turns out, you in fact, did not have this, far from it. Upon arrival it seemed as all was okay, you'd been thinking the worse but once you got there it didn't seem so bad. You had a part of your family with you and that was all you needed. The conditions were rougher than you were used to but it wasn't so bad, you shared a tent with John so you attest had someone familiar to talk to.

One the second day you were sent out into the field, there was enemy fire and you were sent as back up. John was by your side laying against a rock when it happened. A loud crack and a searing pain erupted across your side.

You'd been shot.

The medics did everything they could, they allowed John to travel back to base with you but there was nothing more to be done. He sat by your side while you lay in the bed. He did his best to cheer you up, even with tears in his eyes he told you it was going to be okay and you'd be fine. You knew better.

"John" you said quietly and he stopped mid sentence, he could see the light behind your eyes was dimming

"Yes?' he whispers back, knowing his voice would betray him if he raised it any higher

"I want you to write this down, f-for when you go back" you choke out as he scrambled to get a pad and pencil. He scribed down your final words, a letter for each of your family. You used the last of your energy to sign each one.

Alex had been looking forward to your return for weeks. He'd received a letter from you and John the first week, you'd sent it the first day. He'd received letters from John since but he didn't think much of it, field work was tiring and he knew you put 100% into your work and probably fell into bed as soon as you'd had the chance. John's letters were short, but that was to be expected, hed never been half the writer you or alex were.

"You're going to wear out the deck" Lafayette chuckles from beside him

"I can't wait to see them" Alex says happily as Hercules grins up at his friend. He's sat on the desk with a notebook as he sketches some new designs for a dress, he'd already made you one since you left, he was so excited to see you and show you the three others he'd designed.

Alex stood on his tippy toes as the ship came into view. He could see soldiers peering over the edge of the ship, there were less than those who'd left three weeks earlier but that was to be expected. He couldn't see you or John. He looks to Washington who'd joined them as the ship docked. Soldiers flooded off the ship, happy to be home on dry land after the travel at sea.

They waited patiently as soldier after soldier disembarked, as the crowd on the ship dwindled they began to grow worried. Finally John emerged, he looked ill.. no not ill, heartbroken, he looked heartbroken. Hercules felt his stomach drop as they ran to the deck, the crowd of soldiers clearing as Washington marched up to the ship

"John?" He asks as Lafayette helps the grief stricken man off the boat and back onto dry land. "What's happened?" He asks carefully, not daring to utter your name. John just shakes his head as tears filled his eyes for what felt like the 100th time since it happened. Alex felt his knees give out as he collapsed, laf catches him just in time, practically having to hold him up. No.. no this couldn't be happening. Everyone had told him you'd both be coming back, where were you?!

George's face had hardened a thousand years, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. He turned away as they threatened to spill over. He gently lay a hand on John's shoulder and squeezed it, it was all he could do before he marched away to his office. This wasn't supposed to happen, you and John were supposed to come home okay, he'd warned the general to keep an eye on the both of you, to keep you safe. He needed you to be safe. You were the closest thing he'd ever come to having a daughter. You'd saved his life more times than he could remember, you'd also kept Alexander out of trouble more than enough times which he was, of course, grateful for. When he'd heard your story about your parents he'd been moved, most people would've crumpled at that hardship but you only took it in your stride to power yourself. That's what he loved about you, that you took everything like gave you and used it to your advantage. You were also incredibly kind and would do anything for your family.

He thought back to his last birthday, he hadn't wanted anyone to know it was his birthday but you'd decorated his room with balloons and a handpainted banner and had your whole little family there to celebrate, you'd even found a cake for him to make a wish on. He'd promised you he'd return the favour for your next birthday- god your birthday was in less than a week.. he had so many plans but now none of them could happen.. you couldnt be gone, you just couldn't.. he knew better but it was easier to kid himself at least for a few short moments.

The boys were a mess, they'd help John off the boat and to the room he'd shared with you and Alex. They were silent on the trip, Alex and John settled on his mattress while Hercules and Lafayette took Alex's. Your bed was left empty, no one could bear to look at it, they all snuck glances and felt an intense pang of pain at the sight of your made bed, complete empty.

"H-how?" Hercules asks quietly, he didn't want to know the answer but he had too

"Shot" John replies, equally as quiet, he hadn't spoken more than a few words to anyone since it had happened "second day.."

"You- you didn't mention it in your letters" Alex mentions as John turns to look at him "it wasn't something you could mention in your letters" he corrects quickly

"Three weeks ago?" Laf asks quietly as tears fill his eyes. John not only had to go through it alone but he had to keep it to himself for three weeks? My god "Mon ami' he sighs softly as he goes over to hug his friend, Hercules following quickly. They stayed there, all crammed into John's bed for what seemed like hours, just existing, they didn't say much except to comfort eachother, there was nothing else they could do.

Your funeral was held 3 days later, on your birthday of all days. Instead of George distracting you for most of the day while the others ran around preparing your surprise party they were preparing another event, the worst kind of event. George had sent Alex to the meadow with John to pick wild flowers to decorate your coffin with. He didn't want either boys around when you body arrived, he knew it would be too much for alex and John had already gone through so much. Hercules had travelled into town to purchase some food and drink for them, your favourites of course. Lafayette stayed with George, they'd both needed to be on duty so they worked through out the day, dreading as the evening drew closer.

There was a memorial scheduled to start at 8 but Washington had arranged to have a small private ceremony just before so at 7 he gathered the boys up and they went to say their goodbyes. Alex and John had done a beautiful job, there was flowers tucked into every crevice possible, a beautiful array of flowers taped to the top, George smiled, they'd practically emptied half the meadow for you.

"I'm going to keep this short" George starts after clearing his throat

"Like Alex" Alexander says with a teary smile, as you'd always responded when George said that

"Of course" George says as the other boys smile "(Y/N) was an incredible person, I'd always thought of her as a daughter and I'm going to miss her, a lot" he sighs softly as he places a hand on the coffin "I wish I'd told her in person.." he trails off gesturing for someone else to speak.

"I've known (y/n) since before I even started tailoring, we'd play together while her father was fitted for his suits. Her dad was a kind man who always brought extras of whatever lunch her mum had packed, for her to share with me. it's easy to see where she got her kindness from, and she was so kind, she didn't care what kind of person someone was, if she could help them she was going too" hercules smiles softly "she'd helped me on too many occasions to count, whether it be needing a model for a dress or shooting someone who'd come up behind me.. see told you she'd help in anyway" he chuckled as his eyes laid sight on the coffin "I'm going to miss your pretty face (y/n).. although I'm sure I'll see you in my dreams soon enough" he smiles

Laf was next, he approached the coffin and placed a hand on it tentatively, as I'd he was scared it would open suddenly "I am thankful everyday that I was brave the day we met ma Cherie.." he says quietly "since that day I've been thankful for you, your laugh your energy and your love. You've been an absolute light in our lives" he says softly as the other smile and nod "j'adore tu' he whispers quietly as he steps back so that Alex could step up

"W-we fought the first day we met.. Nearly ended up shooting eachother, I'm so glad we didn't because the last three years have been the best, a-all you guys have made me so happy, I truly feel like there's somewhere I belong" alex says wiping away tears furiously, he WOULDNT cry, not again "(Y/N) came to share the room John and I had and from the very first night I could tell we'd be the best of friends, she didn't mind John and I staying up talking for hours, she was the one who started card games that ended in a pillow fight" he giggles as Washington sighs

"You know how much trouble I got into because you woke up the general across the hall?" He chuckles

"Yeah enough that we were on washing up duty for a week" John laughs "still worth it though"

"Definitely" Alex smiles softly as he looks between the coffin and his friends "love you (y/n)" he whispers quietly as he steps back

John sighs softly "Is it wrong that I wish I'd been here?" He asks no one in particular "don't get me wrong, I'm glad I was there for her but I see it every time I close my eyes.."

"Were here for you son" George says gently as he pats John's shoulder reassuringly

"Like everyone's already said, she's incredible and it fucking sucks she's gone" John continues, he wasn't the best at public speaking, especially when he was upset "at first I was happy I wasn't going alone but now I wish it was me instead.." he says as the tears start to fall "it's so fucking unfair! Why do-"

"Hey" Alex says gently and hugs him tightly, the other three joining quickly, there was nothing they could do about you but they could be there for John and eachother and they'd get through it, they had to, for you. John pulls away after a few seconds and pulls something out of his coat

"B-before she.. I wrote these letters for h-her, there's one for each of us, she signed then end of them" he explains and he hands out the letters for the others to read. They stood in silence as they read their letters. John had already heard them and knew his own inside out, he'd read it many times but that didn't stop the sting of tears in his eyes. He looked at the others, Alex and laf had both sat down to read theirs, knowing they wouldn't be able to stand. Hercules stood frozen as he got to the end of his letter, his fingers hovered over where your name was signed, he sighs softly, a small smile spread across his face as he read the stupid joke you'd made John add as a ps.

Washington read his letter slowly, he was already trying to keep in together, he couldn't break down in front of them. The others had never seem him cry before. Unfortunately his eyes had other plans, the tears freely flowing from his eyes as he finished.

He was going to miss you terribly.

#hamilton imagine #hamilton x reader #hamilsquad x reader #washington x reader #hamilton #hamilton musical

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jiminwreckedme · 4 years

Text

Unfamiliar. (m)

Yoongi doesn’t feel so unfamiliar anymore, now that you feel things you haven’t before.

Genre - Smut, little angst if you peek, fuckbuddy Au (not so pwp, the characters have a bit of a backstory?) Word Count - 12K Pairing - (Bartender!) Yoongi x (Doctor!) Reader Warnings - bit of PDA (touching, making out), dirty talk of sorts, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (Remember folks, No glove, no love), rough sex (maybe slight choking? and restriction too) Music - High for this, Pillowtalk

You don’t know, what’s in store, but you know what you’re here for.

“What can I get you?”

You blink at him with absolute disbelief etched across your face.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m serious.”

What a killjoy.

“Fine.” You give in and lean, resting your elbows on the cold granite stone of the counter. “Surprise me.”

Close your eyes, lay yourself beside me

He stares at you intently for a moment, a very brief moment before he replies.

“Do you have any preferences? What kind of alcohol do you usually get?”

He knows the answer to that.

“Hard liquor.”

Hold tight for this ride. We don’t need no protection

“How do you feel about gin?” He points at a bottle on the shelf behind him. “We have a fine bottle of Copper & Kings, the History of lovers.”

You look at it and cross your arms, eyebrows arched up. Really?

“Or scotch maybe? Lagavulin, 16 years old, has a bit of a savory taste if that’s what you like?”

He knows the answer to that as well.

You don’t reply, looking at him pointedly but he waits, ever so ignorantly for you to use your words.

Come alone, We don’t need attention.

You give up and roll your eyes before answering him. “Remy martin.”

“Sure, how would you like it? Neat, on the rocks, straight up?-”

“Now you’ve got to be kidding me-”

“This isn’t a place to joke around Y/n,” His voice is threateningly low, yet you hear it above all that music. “You are in my workplace.”

Open your hand, take a glass. Don’t be scared, I’m right here.

“If you don’t want me to fix you a drink, I have other customers to handle, excuse me.”

Before you can even answer the question he walks away, grabbing the jigger, artfully spinning it with his fingers.

You stare at him shamelessly, oblivious to everything else, mouth going dry. Of course he was hot, Oh Min Yoongi was hot, but there was something about him standing behind that counter that was unbelievably attractive.

Even though you don’t roll. Trust me girl, you’ll wanna be high for this.

Maybe it was because he was dressed in that spotless see-through white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, all those veins stark against his skin every time he gripped something. Maybe because he had ditched his signature style of those blonde fringes falling into his eyes and had them pushed back, out of his face. Maybe because he was doing his job, hands working fast as though they had a brain of their own, fixing all those drinks with incredible artistic skill. Or maybe because you hadn’t been laid in about three weeks now.

For whatever reason, you were tempted to just pull him by the collar over the counter and kiss the fuck out of him.

But he walks past about 4 times without looking at you even once.

You know because you sit arms crossed, your eyes following his every action. He knows you’re looking at him. You know he knows. Because almost 15 minutes later, he brings two bottles, setting them on the work space right before you, a little less gently than you would have expected, speaking to you in the same tone as earlier, but with a hint of annoyance.

“What do you want?”

“Would it kill you to talk to me normally for a minute Yoongi? Like I’m not a customer but someone who you-”

“Watch your mouth,” He shuts you up knowing very well what you were going to say next. “This is not just any place Y/n, I work here. You can’t just turn up here like this.”

“You come to my workplace all the time.”

“You work at a hospital, it’s not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

Yoongi gives up and he returns his momentary undivided attention towards you back to the drinks in his hands.

“Because people go to your workplace to get treated, like I do.” Your eyes are fixed on the way his hands move. So artistic. “People come to my workplace to drink, and you’ve come here to-”

You look up, meeting his eyes to find him already looking at you.

“-to fuck.”

No I did not.

What, it was okay for him to say that? Although the music was louder now than before, and with no one within an earshot of you, there’s no way anyone but you could have heard him.

“You know, it’s not like I’d say no if you came to the hospital for sex.” You mutter stupidly under your breath. Please tell me you didn’t hear that.

“Not now Y/n,” Ok, he didn’t hear that. “I’m in the middle of work.”

And he walks away again, grabbing a bottle, fixing the pourer onto it.

You watch, as he slowly spills the drink over the back of a spoon into an already half full shot glass before setting it carefully on the counter. Spinning a lighter on his finger, he clicks it and lights the surface on fire, earning the many many squeals of what looked like a bachelorette party. Though he resumes working, wiping a few glasses, he is watching the supposed bride from he corner of his eye as she downs her shot within seconds amidst all the cheering and slams the glass down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, satisfied. The edges of his lips curl into a faint smile, the contentment evident on his face despite his attempts to not to make it obvious. He was proud of his work. When he looks away from them, he sees you again and simply sighs, walking away once more to the other side of the station.

It’s a whole ten minutes before he has work in the area you are sitting, ever so patiently. You take your chance to ask him.

“You didn’t mention when your working hours were going to end?”

“When the bar closes.” He begins to wipe the water near the ice bar and doesn’t even look up when he answers. “Two, two-thirty.”

“Fine, I’ll wait then.”

That’s what gets his attention, making him stop and meet your eye.

“It’s half past 11 Y/n.”

“I know.”

“That’s almost 3 hours.”

“I know.”

He raises an eyebrow. “For sex?”

With you. “For a conversation.”

Bending down, he grabs what looks like a bottle from below the counter and slams the mouth of it on the edge of the surface, knocking the cap off, before handing it to you. “Go home Y/n, It’s not worth it.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” You point at the beer bottle he’s put in front of you. “And this is not what I ordered.”

“You live far from here. Best not to get you too tipsy or drunk so you can go back safe.”

You look at him exasperated. “Yoongi-”

“What are you doing here in the first place?” He frowns at you. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I had the shift off for working overtime last week.”

“And you’re here? Instead of staying at home?”

Valid and rhetoric question. You did love staying at home, he knew you enough to know that. Turning up at a bar on your day off was quite uncharacteristic of you. Days off meant more time curled up in your bed, more documentaries to watch and just get lazy. If you weren’t someone who took every opportunity to stay at home you would never even have met Yoongi.

He was your brother’s tutor.

In a family full of doctors and scientists, your 16 year old brother was the only person insistent on becoming a fashion designer. You had assumed his passion was limited to collecting and maintaining a few catalogues and sketching designs for his blog. It was only when he was almost half way through his high school that he revealed his sincerity towards it. He was so determined, he even managed to contact some designer in Korea to intern under after he was done studying. But that meant he had to learn at least basic Korean and that’s how Yoongi came into picture. Your parents thought finding a Korean tutor in Amsterdam would be nearly impossible and frankly so did you. Until a few days later, when you got the fright of your life.

You had gotten off work early and returned home with your then boyfriend, the both of you giggling and walking in, thinking you were all alone. As the two of you sat on the couch, impatiently making out, it was then that Yoongi walked in on both of you with a simple ��Could you please keep it down?” And walked back into the house.

That was the first time you saw him.

About 6 months from that day, you were in your bed grabbing the sheets as he covered your mouth with one hand and made you come with his other.

It still boggled your mind, how you went from being embarrassed whenever you saw him to sleeping with him every time you had the chance to.

It started maybe 2 days after your asshole of a boyfriend dumped you.

You were moping around the house that day after refusing to attend the baby shower of some acquaintance with the rest of your family. It was just as you were about to crawl into bed and get comfy that the bell rang and you opened the door to find Yoongi standing there. Apparently your brother hadn’t informed him about his new plans and so Yoongi turned up for the lesson as per schedule.

That’s when things started spiraling out of hand.

When he told you he would just wait on the porch for his friend to pick him up, you shouldn’t have invited him into the house you were in all alone. When he came inside and sat on the couch, you shouldn’t have told him to find you if he needed anything (even though you said it for formality’s sake). When you knew he was in the house, just one floor below you, you shouldn’t have tried to get yourself off in your room.

If you hadn’t done any of that you wouldn’t have found yourself with your fingers deep inside you, back arching off the bed when Min Yoongi knocked on your door and opened it before you could even tell him not to.

At that moment time went very strangely. It was as though he was standing at the door frame for unbelievably long, giving you all the time in the world to pull out your fingers, shut your legs close, sit up and then think of a hundred different things to say without even saying one word.

And then time sped up all of a sudden, because you have no idea how, you didn’t remember at all, but somehow Yoongi was by your bed leaning over you, planting his hand into the mattress right beside your head (Weren’t you sitting? When did you even lie down?) and then his fingers slipped into you.

That feeling of his fingers replacing yours? It was so unfamiliar but so good. They were so much longer, shaking much less, the pace so consistent - the sensation was wild. With a few thrusts he had managed to figure out how and where exactly to curl his fingers to draw that long moan out of you. And as you got louder, he got faster, not stopping for anything. Not even when he heard the car pull up in your driveway. Not even when he heard the front door opening. Not even when he clearly heard the voices of your family.

When you tried to warn him, instead of pulling them out, he covered your mouth with his hand and whispered, curling his fingers just the way you needed him to. “Shh, be a good girl and come for me Y/n.”

And you did, almost instantly, giving yourself just enough time to (1), ride the high on his fingers before (2), he pulled them out and calmly hid himself, standing against the wall right by the door while (3), you pulled the sheets over your half bare body - all just in time, before your father opened the door of your room to check up on you.

After you assured him you were fine, he left, closing the door behind him, slowly revealing Yoongi who stood there calmly, simply watching you propped up on your elbows looking at him as he slipped both his fingers into his mouth, sucking your arousal clean off his fingers before he left, a smirk dancing on his face. And as you fell back into your bed staring at the ceiling in absolutely disbelief, you heard him making his way down the stairs, updating your family on everything right up to the part where he stood by your bedroom door.

And that’s how your first orgasm with Yoongi happened.

And though you knew it was not right to let a man you barely knew do that to you again, a part of you knew that was definitely not your last orgasm with him.

The next time you saw him, about two days later, he was absolutely normal, behaving with you like he always did, like all that did not even happen. Even when you found him alone for a minute in the dining room and told him you had to talk to him, all he said was “Not now, I’m in the middle of work.” Almost an hour later, he approached you while you were strolling outside, in the backyard, surfing through your phone. When you saw him out there, your first reaction for some reason was to panic and try to hide him away from the eyes of anyone who might see you together. Yoongi was clearly confused the whole time, especially when you climbed the dog kernel right under your bedroom window, and sneaked into your own room in broad daylight, ( similar to your teenage days when you came back home late at night). But he calmly just followed you.

When you found him in your room alone once again, that was when you finally spoke to him.

“We haven’t spoken about….that incident.”

“What about it?”

“You- I mean I- that was a one time thing Yoongi, you understand?”

“This is what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes.”

“Are you done?”

“Y-Yes?”

“So I can go now?”

You look at him surprised. “Do you have nothing to say?”

“No. If you don’t want this, then there’s nothing left to say.”

“If I wanted more then?”

“Then I’d say, I thought so.”

“W-what?”

“I have never had one time encounters Y/n, I don’t do them and never will.”

“Why is that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Of course, it was. The way you felt when you got off his fingers? Who wouldn’t want to ride that high again? Women probably crawled back to him all the time, and he probably couldn’t have one time encounters even if he wanted to.

“I don’t like to.” He shrugs very simply. “I like to work on the basis of…..you can call it an agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?”

“Just two rules.”

Rules?

“First, while this is going on, I won’t sleep with anyone else and you shouldn’t either.” He gives a pause letting you take in that information before he continues. “Second, If either of us should want to end it, for whatever reason, then we tell the other person and we’re done. No justifications, no explanations needed. When one person says no, it ends, as simple as that.”

You stared at him, not knowing what to say.

“I am only going to proceed if you are okay with that Y/n. All you have to do is ask.” He takes a step closer to you. “Ask me and I’ll give it to you.”

At that moment you really didn’t think it through when you said yes. You just wanted him. And that day after you made sure you locked the door this time, Min Yoongi made you come with his tongue not once but twice.

It had been going on since that day.

Though quite frankly, you didn’t know what to call yourselves. This was exclusive after all and a sort of commitment as well but nowhere even close to a relationship. He wasn’t exactly a booty call either. You couldn’t just text or call him every time you were horny, Yoongi wasn’t a man who entertained those kinds of requests. Sex, hence only happened in certain conditions and that was whenever came to your house.

So Min Yoongi who used to come to your house every weekend to tutor your brother began staying for an extra hour to ‘tutor’ you as well. When you told your parents you wanted to learn Korean, it was a miracle they didn’t question it. Maybe because Yoongi didn’t charge extra for teaching you (“I’m not going to charge to fuck you Y/n, that’s not how this works.”) or maybe because your extremely social parents were barely at home during the weekends and didn’t really care much about what their adult daughter did. Much like your brother who spent most of his time holed up in the basement working on his own thing. That left you and Yoongi all alone in your room for an hour twice a week. Yes, sex with him was technically pre-scheduled. So he was far from a booty call.

Could you call yourselves fuck buddies then? Initially you didn’t know if you could, you both were not even close to what you would consider ‘buddies’ - you barely spoke. Every time you and Yoongi found yourselves together, you only ever had sex. You could barely remember an incident or two when you didn’t actually fuck upon finding yourselves alone. Once when he saw a scar on your body and asked you what it was. You remember telling him, showing him the other scars too, telling the stories behind each of them and he did the same when you asked him. You didn’t remember sleeping with him that day. Or on that day when Yoongi turned up in animated pizza printed underwear and you couldn’t stop laughing. That day you didn’t have sex either. Instead you showed him all your printed underwear as a peace offering.

But that was about it. There were no other instances as far as you could remember. But if you really did have to give the relationship between you two a name, you preferred to call yourselves fuck buddies. You don’t know what Yoongi thought of that, you always just referred to it as ‘the agreement’.

And the agreement was going like it was for the last one year - just fine, till about three weeks ago, when your brother told Yoongi he didn’t need to be tutored anymore.

You were wondering what that meant for you and Yoongi. Because if he wasn’t going to come home for your brother anymore, it made no sense coming home for just you. You had no idea how you were going to continue this arrangement of yours now and only hoped that Yoongi had some alternative in mind. You tried calling him about it but he didn’t pick up. You dropped him a bunch of texts but he didn’t reply to any. Was he busy? Was he ignoring you? You didn’t know.

Your last ray of hope was that weekend. Your parents and brother had planned to go to Korea for a week to attend the new collection launch of the designer your brother was in contact with. You could have gone too, expect you had to go to work. That’s what you told yourself but deep down you knew that meeting Yoongi was also a part of your agenda. For all you knew, that weekend could have been your last time with him. So you sent him a message that you were all alone at home this weekend and just sat with your fingers crossed, hoping he would turn up.

He didn’t show up on Saturday.

And didn’t show up on Sunday either.

Another week passed by like that and then another. With you calling him only to reach voicemail, with you sending him texts only to be replied with silence. It was starting to reach the point where you actually began worrying about whether he was even okay or not because, was it really normal to ignore someone for so long? And you didn’t even know how to meet him at least to make sure he was at least alright. You had no idea where he lived, where else he worked, what other jobs he did, nothing. You knew nothing about him.

Except that he was some sort of expert when it came to alcohol. You were surprised when you came across some of his papers on which he had scribbled, in the messiest handwriting possible, some recipes for cocktails. Back then you didn’t think about why he had such stuff written down, rather you were more fascinated by all those interesting concoctions and so you excitedly asked him about each of them while he calmly answered them. (Oh. That was another day you didn’t have sex with him.)

That night though, you had thought about it, why he might’ve known so much. It was one thing to have an opinion on different kinds of alcohol but to know things such as what kind of ice and what kind of strainer to use? That was definitely not general knowledge, he undoubtedly was a professional of some sort. You had made a mental note to ask him the next time you saw him but you couldn’t. Not when his dick was thrusted deep inside you, his mouth hot on your neck.

A few days ago, when you took a closer look at his profile picture as you sat for the hundredth time wondering why he wasn’t getting back to you, in the background you saw the neon letters spelling out the name of a bar (Truck You) you had only heard about quite often. Putting two and two together, you began wondering if Min Yoongi might actually be a bartender of some sorts and if that was his workplace. There was only one way to find out and that was to personally go there and see for yourself but you were swarmed with night shifts at the hospital and heading to a bar was out of question.

Till today, when you finally got a day off because your friend offered to take your shift to repay a favor last week. And the moment you got free your first thought drifted towards looking out for Yoongi. Even though you knew it could be pointless - he might go there often or he might even have just been there once - and there was no guarantee you’d find him there today, this was your shot in the dark. You had one chance to try and one place you could do so at. So you took it.

And it paid off because the minute you walked in, your eyes fell on Yoongi behind the counter. At that moment there was just a wave of mixed emotions. You were happy he was fine, you were proud of yourself for finding him, you were mad that he was absolutely okay and just ignored you for three weeks, you were so turned on seeing him dressed like that - so many things at once. But you squashed all those feelings in and just sat on the bar stool waiting for him to react when he spots you. It had been so long since you saw him, you had to first make sure this was not a dream. And when he finally did see you a few minutes later, his eyes widened for barely a second (so this was real) before he resumed looking completely indifferent.

And he still looked so unbothered as he worked that cocktail shaker effortlessly. It was as though you didn’t even exist and you couldn’t do anything about it. All that could be done now was wait.

And you do, boredly squirming, tapping your finger on the surface, occasionally sipping on the beer which had gone pretty flat, looking at him whip up all those drinks for what seemed excruciatingly long. You did that till you heard a voice.

“The bar is about to close.”

Your eyes fly open and find a man dressed much like Yoongi, standing right before you with a name tag that read ‘Hoseok.’ When did you even fall asleep and for how long? Your first instinct is to look for Yoongi.

He wasn’t there.

“Where’s Yoongi?”

“It’s my turn to clean up today so I guess he’s done for the day?”

“He left?”

“I didn’t see him leave the bar though. He might still be changing?”

“Where?”

Hoseok scratches the back of his head. “I’m not sure you can go there though, it’s for staff only.”

You sigh, really tired of everything. “Please.”

Hoseok looks at you with what seemed like pity in his eyes. “Are you Y/n?”

“H-How do you know?”

“There.” He points, but you don’t look. “The room next to the back door.”

“But how do you know my-”

“He’s leaving.”

You turn to see Yoongi far across the crowd on the dance floor, stepping out of the room in his usual simple tee and ripped jeans outfit. Hurriedly thanking Hoseok you rushed through the crowd “sorry, sorry.” till you finally reached the blonde man and grab him by the wrist to his absolute surprise and drag him away from the music out of the back door.

When you step out, the first thing that hits you is the smell of the trash from all the trash cans nearby, but you don’t care.

You let go of Yoongi and cross your arms but he beats you to the conversation.

“I was going to come talk to you.”

You cut it, straight to the point. “Why did not talk to me all these days?”

“Y/n,” He sighs, “I’ve just been busy.”

“How busy do you have to be to not find the time to type two words?” You unlock the phone in your hand and hold up your chat over the days, forcing him to see it.

You : Yoongi, are you okay? You : Please say something, I’m getting scared. You : Just say you’re okay and I can be at peace. You : Where are you Yoongi? You : Why are you doing this? You : Please, please just tell me once that you’re fine.

“I’m fine.” You put your phone down sighing. “That’s all you had to say to all this, that you’re fine. Do you know how worried I was?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? It’s been 3 weeks and I haven’t heard a word from you, I was scared something happened-”

“To our agreement?”

What? That’s what he thought you were worried about? Sex? Yeah of course, for a day, maybe two but after that you had been worried for his life. Wasn’t it basic humanity to? To worry and care for people you were associated with? Would he have not felt the same if he was in your place? Or were you the one thinking about this more than you needed to?

“Yes.” You lie. “You said our agreement would end only if we tell each other we wanted it to end. Ghosting me for three weeks was not mentioned-”

“I don’t want it to end.” He says it instantly and so earnestly. “That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

He didn’t want to end things?

Deep down, this was your biggest fear, something you didn’t even admit to yourself. Being worried for Yoongi’s general well-being helped suppress every other reason for panic but with him standing in front of you and knowing that he was okay, there was only one thing left to be scared of. That he wanted to end things. That if Yoongi said he didn’t want this agreement anymore you’d have to stop seeing each other. You didn’t want to stop.

“So you…..you don’t want to end things.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“You don’t want to end things, you won’t reply to me, you won’t sleep with me and I can’t sleep with anyone else either, do you know how frustr-”

“Do you want to sleep with anyone else?”

His question throws you off. Out of all the things you had listed that’s what he catches? If he wasn’t ignoring you because he was planning on ending the agreement then….Is it because that’s what’s bothering him?

“Wait Yoongi, this isn’t one of those ‘I’m catching feelings for you’ kind of situations right?”

He blinks for a bit and then lets out a short laugh. “Are you mad?”

“Then….then what’s the problem?”

“I told you, I was busy.”

“With what Yoongi? What were you so busy with that you send me a message-”

“I lost my scholarship.” He confesses, taking you aback. “I have one term left to finish my degree in English Language. They cut my grants off because of some new rules and now I have to pay full tuition payment for a term and……I don’t think I can afford it.”

“Oh.” You stutter, completely thrown off by the information. “I-I’m so sorry Yoongi, I didn’t know that.”

“You don’t know anything.”

That was unfair.

“How would I?” You whisper softly. “It’s not like you told me-”

“I don’t need to Y/n.” He smiles sadly. “We don’t mean enough to each other to share so much.”

As much as those words were true they still made you feel strangely disappointed.

“Can….can I ask you what you’re going to do about it now?” You immediately add. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I’m not eligible to get a decent loan with the earnings of a bartender. The only way to do this is…..to earn the money myself.” He reveals. “I’ve been trying to get a job over the last few weeks. I applied to couple of places and last week I got an offer, to teach Korean in this tuition center, over the weekends.”

“That’s great!” You smile, deeply relieved on the inside. “I’m so happy for you…How has it been working there?”

“I haven’t accepted their offer yet though.”

“What?” You’re washed over by a wave of shock. “Why not?”

“I’ve been considering dropping out instead,” He slips his hands into his pocket. “I want to follow my dream over what I think my dream should be.”

You know exactly what he means. It hits home. You always thought your dream was should be being a doctor, you grew up with the idea, you were brought up with the idea, you convinced yourself that it was your dream. But all those posters in your house stuck inside your cupboards, those stages, those costumes, those routines. That should have been your dream. Being a dancer should have been your dream.

“What is your dream?”

“To be my own boss.” He smiles. “Open my own bar one day. Maybe a chain. Serve the best kind of alcohol in the whole city. Have crazy Friday nights with packed tables and happy people. That’s my dream.”

“Then why….”

“It’s not a small investment, something like that. Even if I work 7 days of the week, save almost every cent of what I earn, it will be years before I can make enough money to do something like that. I thought the more practical approach to life then was to just change the dream”

He sighs, chest rising then falling.

“But whenever I look at the tuition fee I have to pay to finish this degree? It doesn’t make any sense to me. If I really had to churn up so much money, I figured I might as well put it where it makes me happy instead.”

“So you mean you want to drop out and…then what?”

“Kick start my dream by writing a book.” A book? “More of guide to be honest, for bartenders, it’ll have tips and techniques, how to actually use equipment, recipes, things of that sort. You’d be surprised how many people out there call themselves professional without knowing basic things like what ice to use-”

“Ice that’s not cloudy.” You state confidently, catching Yoongi off guard and shrug. “You told me this once. Ice is to a bartender what fire is to a chef.”

So that’s what all those notes had been about.

“Yeah.” He looks impressed. “But that means I have to experiment a lot, invest too much time and money, I don’t think I can do that with two jobs and continuing a degree. I have to decide what to hold on to and what to let go.”

Did you choose to let go us?

“Is that….is this why you’ve been so- I mean, is this why you couldn’t reply to me?”

“I need to sort things in my life first Y/n, and our agreement…… I didn’t think I should prioritize it at this point.”

“Of course not.” You shake your head. “I’m the stupid one, I should’ve understood you had your own problems, I’m so sorry, I just….I was being an idiot, I guess I was just so used to you being a constant the last one year, it was strange cutting off everything all of a sudden. I probably” You let out a short stupid laugh, “Probably even missed you-”

“Probably?” He chuckles. “I for one, definitely missed you.”

“Yeah sure.” You mock him, trying to lighten the mood even more, now that he was smiling again. “You wouldn’t have been able to stand so far away if you really did-”

He takes two quick strides and the rest of you words are lost against his mouth as he kisses you, trapping you between his hands against the wall. There’s a mix of urgency and gentleness in the way he moves, as though he badly wanted this but also wanted to take his time. You didn’t take his word for it, but it almost seems like he really did miss you. You take his face in your hands, gaining control, easing your lips against his, savoring the moment, not wanting to rush it through. Yoongi groans softly, low in his throat pulling your hands down with his, pinning them above you, against the wall kissing your neck as he whispered. “It was so hard to resist the urge to do this the moment I saw you.”

Your breathing becomes more audible as you arch off the wall, baring more of your throat to him, spiraling, getting lost in the sensation, before you finally manage to find the voice to ask him to stop.

“I’m….I’m not going to have sex with you near the trash cans Yoongi.”

He pulls back, face so close to yours as he grinned. “It’s been three weeks, I thought you might be desperate enough to.” There he was.

“You give yourself too much credit.” You wriggle your hands making him loosen his grip. You wanted him so badly, it had really had been way too long but the smell of the trash? You couldn’t bear it. “I just can’t here, the smell kinda ruins the mood.”

“Yeah we should get out of here.” Yoongi let’s your hand go, taking a step back. Where to though? “Let me grab my things.”

You nod and walk into the bar as Yoongi holds the door open for you.

Maybe because it’s much later at night but the lights were dimmer and the crowd was much lesser and the music was a lot slower and a lot sexier than you remembered it. You can feel your body automatically swaying to the music, forgetting the world around you. You didn’t even notice when Yoongi stepped in behind you and walked into the changing rooms.

Climb on board, We’ll go slow and high tempo

Letting the music lead you, you walk in, to the edge of the dance floor and let your body move the way it feels its right. It felt so good to dance again. You’re so lost in your own private bubble, it takes a while before you notice Yoongi standing in his leather jacket, backpack slung over one shoulder, just staring at you.

You beckon him towards you with a smile and he complies but he doesn’t take your hand when you hold it out, shaking his head instead.

“I don’t dance.”

You laugh and reach for his wrists instead, pulling him closer, wrapping them around your waist.

Light and dark. Hold me hard and mellow

“What a pity, women find a man who can dance attractive.”

“That’s a personal preference.”

“It’s a scientific fact.”

Yoongi chuckles. “As far as I remember, when you entered the club, you walked past all those ‘dancing men’ and sat right there for 3 hours” He points at the stool on the other side of the floor with a tilt of his head, that cocky look on his face. “What does that tell you?”

You shrug, continuing to play with the metal of the chain resting on his chest, as though you didn’t know the answer to that.

I’m seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure. Nobody but you, ‘body but me. ‘Body but us, bodies together.

“Those men may move their bodies however they like, but a woman likes a man who knows her body.” His voice is so fucking deep. “Like I know yours.”

“Do you now?” You run your finger along the line of his jaw. “It’s been so long since you’ve even touched me-”

“Doesn’t matter.” He presses himself onto you and you can feel it. How incredibly hard he’s gotten. “No one knows you like I do, I can promise you that.”

Your lips curl into a smile as you run your hand from his chest to all the way down there, rubbing him ever so slightly over the material of his jeans. “I could say the same”

I love to hold you close, tonight and always. I love to wake up next to you.

You want to see a warning flash in his eyes or some sort of reaction to your actions, but all he does is let out a breath. “It’s been three weeks, I didn’t think you would be in the state to tease.”

“I figured if you could leave me like that for so long, a few minutes shouldn’t hurt you-”

“3 hours.” Yoongi stares at you with an intensity you’ve never seen in his eyes before. “Ever since you walked into the bar and sat there.”

I love to hold you close, tonight and always. I love to wake up next to you.

“Nonsense.” You put your arms around his neck, laughing. He was being ridiculous after all. “You barely looked at me the whole time.”

“I didn’t need to. Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.”

So we’ll piss off the neighbors.

You almost gasp, eyes widening, feeling that throbbing sensation in your core. Yoongi never speaks like this outside your bedroom.

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“About w-what?”

He turns you around, your back against his erection pressing into you, his lips on the skin of your shoulder making their way up. He’s holding you in place with just one arm across your waist, his other hand is drawing circles on the skin your extremely short dress was exposing.

In the place that feels the tears. The place to lose your fears.

“Your moans” He’s not even whispering, he’s making sure he’s heard. “The way you sound when I’m fucking you, when you say my name.”

“The way your hands run down my back and how it feels to be inside you, so tight,” Its like he knows you clenched your walls at that exact moment. “fuck so tight all time, its like I’ve not been there a hundred times already.”

Reckless behavior.

“Yoongi-”

“And how you smell, that scent of you drives me crazy,” His voice suddenly goes so low, you unwillingly feel yourself swallow nothing. “and I can smell it right now. Is that how wet you are already?” You still can’t move. “I’m sure I can easily slide in two fingers. Maybe even three? You’re a good girl, I know you can take it.”

A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw.

It’s so hard for words to leave you. “I-I know something better you can put inside me Min Yoongi.”

He chuckles, “I offered to earlier today, you said I give myself too much credit.”

“Did you really take my word for it?” You turn to him, pressing your hips into his.

He lets out a small laugh. “Have you always been this easy to please?” There was so much pride in his voice. But he deserved to feel that. You were practically a puddle in his hands. “I can’t remember”

“Fuck me and you will.” You can’t hear or think of anything else, your hands finding that tiny cold metal of his pants and they start to unzip it already, forcing Yoongi to hold your wrist and stop you.

“I’m not sure this is the right place for it-”

“I take it back, I don’t mind doing it near the backdoor, trash cans or not.”

Yoongi smirks at your desperation. “We’ve been waiting for 3 hours, I think we both deserve more than that.”

“Yoongi…..” You whine, desperate. “Where do you want to go then? My parents will be home now.”

“I know….” He trails off for a bit. “I know a place nearby we can go to, about 10 minutes away. Would that be okay with you?”

After all these months was Yoongi finally taking you to his house?

“10 minutes is all you get.”

“Perfect.” He steps back flashing his gummy smile, holding his hand out. “Let’s go.”

The moment he leads you into the darkness of his house and shuts the door behind you, you don’t waste time and press him up against it, hooking you fingers in his belt loops, slamming your lips onto his. And he responds by letting his backpack slip from his shoulder onto the floor before he takes your face in his hand, slipping his tongue into your mouth, eliciting that soft whimper from you. His hands don’t wait there, wandering down, caressing your neck before he pushes his jacket that you had borrowed during the bike ride here off your shoulders, making you quickly reach behind and drag the sleeves down your arms before crumpling it unbothered and throwing it, however far your arm could extend.

“Careful!” Yoongi abruptly pulls back, making you almost bite your own lip as he cautions you, pointing at the silhouette of a vase you nearly knocked down with the jacket. “I have no idea how expensive anything is here. We don’t want to fall into any kind of trouble.”

You freeze.

All that excitement, the awe, the thrill, everything in you extinguishes in a second, the moment you hear that statement.

“Yoongi. This-this isn’t your house?”

“I wish.” He chuckles, hand searching the wall for the switches and flipping them on upon finding them. “My house isn’t even a quarter the size of this.”

When your eyes adjust to the brightness and you are finally able to see something other than shadows, you’re awestruck because the place is, well, absolutely beautiful. The white and blue tones of the walls, the slightly antique looking furniture, all those books racked up in bookshelves and those paintings on the walls - none of it looked even close to what you would imagine his place to look like.

“Oh my god, this isn’t your house.”

Yoongi shakes his head as if it’s that simple.

“A friend’s house?”

He shakes his head again.

“Do you even know who lives here?”

“For someone who was eager enough to do it by the trashcans you are having an awful lot of questions now.”

“Yoongi, just answer.”

He picks up his jacket and backpack from the floor and walks in casually to dump it on the couch.

“No, I don’t really know who lives here.”

You freeze. “Oh my god, what are we doing here?!”

He shrugs. “You said you couldn’t wait.”

“What?!” Your voice leaves you as angry whispers. “Yoongi, that doesn’t mean we trespass into someone’s private-”

“Relax Y/n. I have the keys.” He fishes them out from his back pocket, jiggling them at you before he throws them onto the couch as well. “ I have permission, this is far from illegal. My housing agent suggested this space.”

You slowly walk into the house, the fear subsiding with each step.

“The owner lives in Sydney, so I was free to come over and check it out whenever I wanted to. Though the agent did ask him to let him know when I do….” He grins. “Guess I just forgot. “

“I can’t believe you Yoongi.” You shake your head in disbelief, fighting back a smile. “So technically, we are breaking in?”

“Not technically-”

“Yoongi, you just brought me to some random persons house to have sex.”

“Should I be scared that you don’t sound disappointed saying that?”

“Hmm, I like it.” You smile slowly, walking up to him, a glint of mischief in your eyes “I’m so tired of us always having to do it in my bedroom, keeping it down, trying not to get caught. That had its own thrill but here,” Pressing your body against his you tiptoe, weaving your fingers into the back of his head, whispering in his ear. “Here you can make me scream.”

Yoongi lets out a short laugh, his hands finding the curves of your hips, walking you back till you feel the edge of the breakfast bar behind, and kissing you in a way that dragged out those desperate moans. When he pulls back letting you breath and whispering, “Trust me, I’m dying to.”, you look at him chest heaving, biting your lip that was already missing his mouth. His eyes are darken with a mix of desire and something you couldn’t quite tell as he began littering kisses along your collarbone and you attempt to pull your hair into a ponytail, the way he likes it, thank god for the hair tie on your wrist. His hands grip your thighs as he stands between them and his mouth feels so good but you want so much more.

“Are you just going to kiss me all night?” Your voice shakes as he makes a trail up your neck.“I can think of better places you can put your mouth.”

“Such impatience.” He chuckles, sliding the straps of your dress off your shoulders and down your arms, his long fingers brushing them excruciatingly slowly. Of course, Min Yoongi’s recipe for mind blowing sex - foreplay, teasing, edging. But you were not in the mood for any of that today.

“You ditched me for 3 weeks,” You work faster than him, almost swatting his hands aside and pulling the dress down to bunch up at your waist, “I think I’ve been patient enough.” You unhook the clasp of your bra, and slide it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor, unbothered. Yoongi’s expression darkens as your fingers find the zip of his jeans, and unzip it without hesitation.

“Come on Yoongi, how much more do you want me to ask?”

He smirks but complies nevertheless, dragging his hands under your dress and up your thigh, pushing the material of your panties aside, running his finger between your folds.

“You’re so wet, fuck.” There is something about the way his voice goes so low and deep when he’s aroused that makes you clench your walls harder. “I could slip in there so easily, fill you up so good. Would you like that?”

Fuck yes Min Yoongi. That’s what you want to say. But you can’t. Not when he doesn’t even wait before he slides two fingers inside you, and all you can do is let out a soft moan, your body instantly reacting to the familiar feeling of his long digits thrusted inside you. But before you can fully savor that sensation, he pulls them out completely, much to your disappointment.

“Lift your hips for me.”

And you obey pulling away from the edge of the counter letting him tug that tight dress down your legs, throwing it somewhere. He pulls out the bar stool from behind you, guiding you to sit on it.

“Turn.”

You frown, not understanding as he swiftly spins the apparently rotatable stool half a round, pressing himself against your back. As you open your mouth to complain about not being about to see him, his hand slides from behind, over your waist, down there and this time, when he plunges his fingers into your heat again, “Oh fuck yes.” the feeling is wild.

His hand finds your breast as you feel yourself arch off against him, whimpers spilling from you mouth. He doesn’t let you grind against his hand, and picks up the pace instead knowing that’s what you want, as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, months of experience telling him just how deep you liked it and just how fast. His hand switches between your breasts, mouth hot on your neck as you tip your head back, quickening the pleasure building up inside, your breaths getting louder, shorter. It’s been so long since you’ve even been touched, with him pumping his digits into you like that, it doesn’t take long for you to edge.

“Fuck, I’m going to come, Yoongi, stop.” You weakly attempt to hold his wrist but of course you are not successful, not when you feel him run his tongue up your neck. “Fuck, I want you inside me when I come, please, just stop-”

“Cute.” He lightly sinks his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder, whispering against it. “What makes you think you’re only going to come once tonight?”

You bite back a moan, stuttering “Fuck, yes, yes, yes, right there”, incoherently and it takes just the slight pressure of his thumb on your clit and you fall apart instantly, breathing heavily.

When he feels you finish riding your high and relax around his fingers, he slowly pulls them out, and you turn to face him, finally gaining the ability to address his cockiness. “Make me come more than once today? Don’t you have a lot of confidence Min Yoongi?”

“I think I’m allowed to have it.” He sucks on his fingers, smirking proudly around them. “Delicious.”

Fuck.

The effect he had on you. Every time. Every time he managed to make such a panting mess of you all while remaining so calm, so composed and today, fully clothed moreover, with just his zip down. You look at the bulge in his pants, and you can tell he is not at his most comfortable, yet he waited for you to make the move.

You grab the edge of his shirt and pull it up, over his head, dropping it the moment he’s free of it, and run your hands against the pale skin of his torso as he watches you patiently. Oh but today you had the upper hand. You were satisfied by his fingers already while here he was, an erection still in his boxers. If you wanted you could give him a taste of his lesson, tease the life out of him, but there was something you were holding onto all these days, something you wanted to tell him for quite a few weeks now.

“Do you have a condom?”

He nods, reaching for his back pocket to take out his tattered wallet as you palm him over the material of his boxers before sliding your hand in to and griping his erection, drawing a very soft but audible groan from his throat.

“You’re going to have to take my cock out if you want to use this sweetheart,” He holds the foil pointedly.

“Or not.” You mutter unsure as you take the foil from him and put it on the surface next to you. “We don’t really have to use it you know.”

What did that expression mean?

When Yoongi doesn’t reply to that, you don’t know what to do but continue.

“I’ve uh,” Why you are so hesitant? “I’ve started taking the pill.” You bite your lower lip, muttering. “So if you are okay with it…..we can do this without protection.”

It’s a while before Yoongi stops just blinking at you and replies. “You’re saying,” He looks away momentarily, letting out a struggled breath. “You’re saying it’s ok if I fuck you raw-”

“I’m saying I want you to.” You look him straight in the eye, dead serious. “Fuck me raw.” Then quickly add, “If you want to, that is.”

Yoongi actually takes a few steps back instead. “The first time we slept together, you said without a condom, it felt too intimate.”

“Oh,” You scoff. “That was my nice way of saying ‘god knows what nasties you are carrying’.”

You roll your eyes when he looks at you confused. “STDs Yoongi.”

“I was clean then, clean now. You knew that.”

“Only because you said so.” You point out. “But I have medical proof now because I might have looked up your test results on our hospital records…?” You trail off, voice softening a bit in embarrassment. You weren’t prepared to answer all these details, it was a simple yes or no question.

“Really?”

“Yeah well,” You shrug. “I’m a resident, I have access to all kinds of records-”

“No, about this.” He straightens out, standing upright. “You really want to? You-you’re serious about….this.”

“Oh.” You nod. “Yeah, I mean, I am clean but I don’t have any evidence right now-”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

You swallow on nothing, surprised by his trust in you.

“Uh and unless you’ve slept with someone the last few weeks-”

He scoffs, “You think?”

With just two strides, he’s right before you once more, kissing you with a ferocity that was new to you but you kissed him back just as intensely, biting, running your tongue over his lips, over where they meet, just inside of them, tracing their outline with the tip of your tongue. You slide your hand into his boxer, gripping his erection, attempting to free it, and he helps you, pulling both his boxers and his pants halfway down his thighs.

“Take them off.” You whisper and he obeys taking a step back and swiftly pulling off the last of his clothes as you push aside your drenched panties and stick your fingers inside you, feeling all that wetness, gathering it. Yoongi’s eyes follow your digits as you pull them out, your arousal slick between your fingers and he looks up to your mouth, as though he expected you to slip them in there. Instead, you gesture him to come closer with them and when he does you wrap your hand around his erection, the wetness of your fingers letting you stroke it with a little ease as you feel his breath get heavier.

“Can’t wait to put this in my mouth.” You coo into his ear, attempting to slide off the stool but he pins you by your thighs, not letting you move.

“Not tonight.” Yoongi refusing a blow job? He groans as you run your thumb over his tip. “I want to fuck you right now-”

“Then fuck me.”

Holding you in place with his hands under your knees, he wastes no time - no teasing your slit with his tip, not even pushing himself in you slowly to allow you to adjust his thickness, not even bothering to fully remove your panties, he just pushes them aside and he thrusts himself in with one swift move and fuck, the feeling of his bare cock in you is so foreign but unbelievably gratifying. You can feel it inside you, down to the last detail, your walls clenching, aching for some movement. But Yoongi just wraps your legs around his waist and buries his face in the crook of your neck, hands digging into your thighs, surely bruising them.

“Yoongi, move.” You moan into his ear, entwining your arms around his neck. “Please.”

And he does, picking up the pace, giving it to you so hard, your nails find themselves raking his back. He kisses you along your shoulder, not letting you hear the soft grunts he couldn’t help but let out. You though, wince every time he thrusts into you, body sore from your fixed position.

“It hurts.” When he doesn’t stop, you slide your fingers into his hair, and tug his head back, letting him see you and realize you were hurting. You sense how it takes every bit of his energy to halt and mutter. “I’ve been sitting for far too long.”

“Bedroom?” He asks, almost short of breath. When you shake your head he swiftly pulls you down from the bar stool, giving you immediate relief.

“Are you okay?” You nod but he doesn’t seem convinced. “We can find a bedroom-”

He goes speechless the moment you turn around, gripping the edges of the counter and slightly bend over. You just wanted a change in position, you weren’t really thinking about the effect it might have on him.

Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.

“Is this what you imagined?” You try to peer over your shoulder. “In the bar earlier today?”

He’s still silent. You can’t really see him well but you know he’s watching as you touch yourself, eager for him to shove himself back in there.

“No.” He murmurs.

You feel his hands on the elastic of your underwear, pulling it down to where he said he pictured it, before he makes his way back up, kissing and biting softly along the inside of your thigh, dropping one last kiss on the skin of your lower waist before he confesses in your ear in a low voice,

“This is so much better, you have no idea.”

Your proud smile falters the moment he digs his fingers into your hips definitely making bruises, and rams himself inside you, making your head dip down in pleasure as you bite back a moan.

“Don’t hold back.” He speedens his movements in and out, the new angle letting him snap his hips against yours faster and deeper. “I want to hear you.”

So you let him. Parting your lips you let him hear what he does to you, moaning his name and it drives him crazy because you feel him getting more aggressive, not hesitating at all. His hand wanders up, pressing into your skin wherever it could, grabbing your breast almost painfully before reaching your wrist, tapping it.

“Let go.” He growls, and the moment you obey he harshly pushes you forward, right up against the counter, till every bit of the skin of your upper body is against the cold surface, giving him the ability to pound into you harder almost as though he had no intentions of holding back.

“Shit,” You try to raise yourself but he leans over and pins you with his hand on the nape of your neck, restricting you against the surface, your cheek still against the coldness. “Fuck,” You moan shamelessly. “I forgot how good you fucked me Yoongi.”

No cocky response to that? It’s like he doesn’t care anymore, nothing but an occasional grunt or two leaving him unwittingly, his breath the most audible thing from him. You wish you could see him fucking you like this. Sex with Yoongi never was gentle love making but it also wasn’t this sort of rough fucking. You hated to admit how much you liked it. Even more so when he takes both your hands and holds them firmly against your lower back with his single hand, and starts to lose his rhythm, thrusts getting sloppy.

“Fuck, I’m going to come.” You feel his lips on your shoulder, trying not to sink his teeth into your skin. “Where do you want me to?”

Like you could respond to that with your mouth so dry and you were approaching your high too.

“Fucking hell Y/n, you need to tell me, shit I’m so close-”

“Inside, inside.” You whimper, breathlessly. “Come inside me Yoongi.”

And before you even finish your sentence he groans, shooting his load with a few thrusts, the warmth filling you up as you clench around him, desperate to hold on to the sensation of him inside you to tip over the edge once more.

“Stop. I’m going to get hard again if you do that.”

You sense him move back, slowly sliding out of you as you feel his cum leaking down, threatening to dribble down your thighs. Turning around you look at him, eyes savoring the sight of completely fucked out Yoongi before you as you get down on your knees slowly, taking his cum covered cock in your mouth, sucking him clean, that alluring taste of him making you want more and more. Yoongi lifts your chin with a finger under it, pulling you back as he looks down at you.

“If I get hard again, I can’t promise I won’t break you. So don’t try, Y/n.”

Fuck.

Normally you wouldn’t have laughed at that, but being deprived of your orgasm makes you gutsy.

You chuckle, standing up, licking your lips. “Speaking of promises, someone said I’ll be coming more than once tonight.”

His eyebrows furrow as the realization hits him and honestly, it surprised you just as much as it surprised him. Min Yoongi just fucked you with the most minimal foreplay, absolutely no teasing, and the man who had always made it his mission to make you orgasm first was standing here with his cum all up inside you before you had the chance to. It clearly hurts his ego because you can see the determination in his eyes to change things.

Pushing you back onto the stool, he gets on his knees instead and you gasp, seeing his head between your legs like that. Yoongi, who is so repelled by the idea of tasting himself that he wouldn’t even kiss you after you blow him was here, latching his mouth around your cum filled cunt, delving his tongue inside you. You are already so sensitive from his cock inside you earlier and it doesn’t help that he looks so hot buried between your legs like that, meeting your eyes, you can feel that tightening sensation rise in you again. Desperate, you catch yourself almost grinding against his tongue till he finds the need to stop you, taking one of your legs over his shoulder making you reach for support from the counter behind.

“Fuck y-yes.” You whimper, his mouth sucking on your cunt so hard and he brings his hand up to your clit, rubbing on it hard and fast and it takes less than a minute for you reach your orgasm, vision fading to black as you rake your fingers through his hair softly. He runs his tongue along the folds on last time and your look down at as he drops a kiss on the inside of your thigh.

As he stands up you slowly adjust yourself, rolling your neck to relieve yourself, pulling the hair tie, freeing your hair. Yeah furniture sex is great, but your body was surely going to hurt like a bitch in a few hours.

Yoongi holds you gently by the elbow, planting a brief kiss on your lips. “Are you okay?”

“You should ask me this question tomorrow because that is when I’ll know.” You laugh.

“I will.” He nods, picking your clothes from the floor handing it to you. You take it, trying to avoid his concerned gaze.

“Uh, I should go pee.” You hold your clothes against your chest, suddenly embarrassed about how much you were exposing to him.

“The washroom is probably down the hall.”

He moves to the side giving you way and you leave with a small thankful smile, hurrying with small steps, eyes searching around the house. When you push the bathroom door upon finding it, you are greeted by a full size mirror making you jump reflexively. “Ah fuck….”

You’re a mess.

You knew you were probably looking like one, but you didn’t know to what extent. You bite your lip looking at the purple marks stark against your shoulders and the inside of your thigh. Yoongi doesn’t usually mark you. Simply because you didn’t allow him to, at least not the neck. You told him that was off limits because you worked at a hospital and you obviously couldn’t go to work looking like that, it wasn’t appropriate. You did say though, that you didn’t mind anywhere else but he never seemed interested in that proposition because he never even tried to. But today looking at those marks, the pride in your chest does a happy backflip. Yoongi really lost control today.

When you clean yourself up and come out, you don’t know why you are surprised to see him still there. Maybe because every time after the both of you slept together, either he had to rush or you had to, there was never an opportunity to so much as even look at each other, forget saying something.

But here he was, with just his pants back on, shirt still lying discarded on the floor as he makes himself busy cleaning the surface of the table with a wet tissue, much like how he was clearing his station a few hours ago.

You sink into the couch nearby and watch him take his time, running here and there, scrubbing the surface clean, once with a wet tissue, then with a dry tissue, scrounging around febreze, spraying it around the place, sniffing it carefully in the air. You smile at his antics, shaking your head.

“Alright, clean here.” He grabs his shirt from the floor and pulls it over his head. “Oh yeah, sanitizer.” Your habits really did grow onto him. You did not know why and what kind of role you played in Yoongi’s life but the last 3 weeks taught you something. For some reason, you don’t know what exactly but Yoongi was important to you.

As he approaches the couch, hand reaching out for his backpack next to you, you hold him by the wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t do that to me again.” You stare at how beautiful his hand looks in yours, like its meant to be. “The last three weeks were……difficult.”

“You think 21 days of not fucking you were easy for me?” He scoffs. “The regular 5 days itself are ridiculously hard.”

“Difficult because I was worried, not because I was horny.” You laugh as Yoongi sinks into the couch next to you, rolling his head over, giving you his gummy smile.

This was the reason.

That’s when you finally, finally realize.

You realize that you laughed after almost 3 weeks now. After days of being upset and angry and irritable, just one night with Min Yoongi and you were normal again.

You were laughing ever since things cleared between the both of you.

You were laughing ever since you realized he was okay.

You were laughing because he was laughing.

You were laughing because of Min Yoongi.

Oh.

Oh no.

“I’m sorry though, I really am.” He looks away because he’s ashamed and you are relieved he can’t see the conflict you are going through. “I thought I’ll figure it all out and then talk to you about it but….I should have said something.”

You gulp air in the silence, not paying attention to his sincere apology, your realization evoking hundreds of thoughts in you head, the most important one being-

“What happens to us now?” You whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“My brother doesn’t need tutoring anymore, we can’t exactly…” This was the part of the night you were dreading, the part that decides it all. “How will we keep this going?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Yoongi nods slowly. His words, calm down your racing heart. “If you don’t want it to end then…..”

“Of course I don’t.” You answer certainly.

“Then we’ll find a way, I’m sure we can.” He then slowly smiles smugly, as though he realized something. “Maybe I can get my agent to find us a new house like this every week.”

You raise your eyebrow, letting out a laugh once again but slowly nod your head. “So we are going to continue breaking into houses like this?”

“It could be our thing.” He grins.

Our.

“Or would you rather the hospital instead? Like you suggested?”

It takes you a moment but when you remember it, you laugh. “Oh god, you heard that.”

“Mhmm.” Yoongi nods, “It made me think about doing it in my workplace.”

Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.

“Someday, when I have a place of my own, maybe after closing hours.” He smirks and you immediately find yourself picturing it already.

“Speaking of the bar,” You remember that man as you turn toward Yoongi, sitting sideways. “There was a bartender there who knew my name.”

“Who knew your name?” Yoongi frowns before realizing, “Hoseok?”

“I think that’s what his name tag read?”

“Probably him, I can’t think of anyone else who knows.”

“You told him about us?” Your eyes widen.

“What? No,” He adds slowly. “He saw your name flashing on my phone screen a couple of times.”

“Oh.” The panic ebbs a little. “Oh so you saved my contact as Y/n?”

“Yeah.” He nods like it was obvious before squinting at you. “Why? What did you save mine as?”

The Agreement.

“MYG” You lie confidently.

Why did you lie? Because you thought is might hurt his feelings? Why did that matter? You know why.

“Though…..” He speaks, still thinking. “Would that be such a bad idea? Telling people about us?”

You nervously laugh. "W-Why did you think of that all of a sudden?”

Why Yoongi?

“You were quite terrified when you thought I told Hoseok about us.”

“No I mean…..” You swallow not knowing what to say. “You said so yourself, we don’t mean enough to each other to share so much.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“What will we even tell people? What are we Yoongi?” You smile sadly. “We are just an agreement. Something that started with two rules and that will end with one sentence.”

Say I’m wrong Yoongi. Say we could be more.

“You’re right, We are just an agreement. ” He nods. “What would we even tell people?”

You : That I am falling for this man. Yoongi : That I’ve long fallen for this woman.

But both things were left unsaid, only a strange silence in the space between you two, sad smiles exchanged in the place of those feelings.

#yoongi smut #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #btsguild #yoongi angst #bts smut #bts angst #unfamiliar #jiminwreckedme

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