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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

Bagels and Bites

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Synopsis: Sebastian likes to flirt with you in interviews

Masterlist

It all started when you met him on The Late Late Show.

“How are you all feeling tonight?” James asked you and Sebastian Stan as you sat on the guest couch.

“I’m excited.” You beamed as Sebastian rested his arm on the couch behind you.

“So am I. We should probably talk about this later,” Sebastian smiled directly at you, “but we’ve been wanting to meet each other for a long time.”

“Have you?” James chuckled.

“No.” You laughed and playfully hit Sebastian in the chest. “We had one interaction on Twitter and he thinks there’s something between us.”

“It was a very flirty interaction.” Sebastian clarified. “There were sparks flying all over those tweets.”

“So this is your first time actually meeting?” James asked. “Even though you’re in the marvel movies together?”

“It’s weird. I haven’t met half the cast.” You shrugged. “I’ll meet everyone else once the press tour starts but so far I’ve only met the people I’ve filmed with. Just Chris, and Chris, and um, oh yeah. Chris.”

You looked down and smiled to yourself when you heard Sebastian laughing at your joke. Even though you’d never met him, you’d always liked him. It was a well known secret on the Internet that you were his celebrity crush, since he was so inclined on bringing it up in almost every interview of his. Being face to face for the first time now, you were feeling a little intoxicated from his charm. Well, his charm and the white wine you’d been sipping on.

“I hope they stop putting me with Mackie and start putting me with Y/n once this press tour starts.” Sebastian said after taking a sip of his wine. “I love him but I can’t keep babysitting him at 8 in the morning. I’d like to wake up to someone who looks a little more like this one.”

“I know what you mean.” You agreed. “He would show up to set every morning all ready to go and I’m like dude, give me a few hours for my personality to arrive.”

“I was so mad that he got to film with you and I didn’t.” Sebastian shook his head. “We finally get cast in a movie together and we’re never in the same scene.”

“Well,” you put your hand on his knee and patted it, “we’re meeting now. Lucky you.”

“Yeah.” He smirked at you. “Lucky me.”

“Now, Sebastian.” James reminded you both that he was there. “I heard a rumor that you have a little crush on Y/n.”

“Well, I try not to pay attention to rumors.” Sebastian waved his hand. “But that ones pretty accurate.”

“Oh my God.” You put your hand over your heart, which was about to beat out of your chest, and laughed.

“It’s true. I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, but I feel like I’ve seen you all my life. And here you are in person and you look so great.” Sebastian said through a shy smile. You laughed in shock at his compliment and looked down at your lap.

“You’re fully going for it.” James laughed at how bold Sebastian was being.

“You’re not being a very good wingman.” You teased James as you took a long sip of your drink. The more alcohol you had in you, the easier it would be to flirt with the incredible attractive man next to you.

“I was never known for that.” James agreed. “But I heard your brother is a pretty good one, isn’t he?”

“Oh My God.” You groaned, knowing exactly what James was referring to. “He’s not.”

“What happened?” Sebastian wondered, never taking his eyes off you.

“I took my brother to the Oscars with me last year and we happened to be sitting next to Jake Gyllenhaal.” You explained. “And the whole night, he’s telling Jake about how I used to be in love with him when I was a kid. If there weren’t a bunch of cameras around us, I would’ve rung his neck.”

“So I’m assuming you and Jake aren’t the next celebrity power couple?” James teased.

“We are not.” You shook your head. “I can confidently say that I was still single.”

“I was just gonna and say, there’s still hope for us.” Sebastian gestured between the two of you. You opened your mouth in shock before biting down on your tongue. You playfully hit Sebastian again, signally that you were just as interested as he was.

“You’re really going for it.” James pointed out. “I must say, wow.”

“Why not?” Sebastian grinned. “This is the time.”

“You are pretty cute, I just wanna say.” You flirted back for the hell of it. Sebastian laughed in surprise before covering his face with his hands. You laughed as well as he hunched over to hide his face.

“He’s actually gone red now!” James pointed at him. “He was so sure of himself and now he’s all red.”

“Leave him alone.” You pouted as you rubbed Sebastians back. Sebastian sat back up and rubbed his face with his hands.

“Yeah.” Sebastian said assertively as he wrapped an arm around you. “Leave me alone. I’m trying to flirt here.”

“How would you ask her on a date, then?” James asked. “Since you’re so in love with her.”

“Like this.” Sebastian said as he turned to you “Ce faci?”

“Would you bite me in the neck?” You asked, catching him completely off guard. He took his arm away and laughed in shock at your words.

“Oh my God.” He chuckled as he looked around in embarrassment. Suddenly, he turned back to you and cupped one side of your face, tilting your neck slightly with his hand. He bit down on your exposed neck, making the audience erupt in a series of laughter and gasps. You giggled when you felt his scruff tickling your neck and made no effort to push him off.

“He actually did it.” James looked at the audience to see if they were seeing what he was.

“She asked me to.” Sebastian rolled his eyes playfully. His arm was still around you and neither of you wanted it off.

“It was a hypothetical but I guess I know my answer.” You shrugged as you leaned back on the couch.

“Why would you ask him that?” James wondered.

“Like a vampire.” You explained. “Aren’t vampires from Romania?”

“That’s Transylvania.” Sebastian smiled fondly at you.

“Oh.” You realized. “I still liked it.”

“I’ll do it again later.” Sebastian shrugged, making your hide your face in embarrassment.

“Promise?” You said suddenly as you put your hand back on his knee. It was Sebastians turn to be baffled as he put his free hand on tops of yours.

“Darling.” He choked out, too stunned to form a full sentence.

“This has been an intense experience.” James fans himself with his cards. “What will the two of you do after the show?”

“I’ll probably go home, order a pizza, and pass out while watching all of Sebastian’s episodes of Once Upon a Time.” You joked.

“I was going to do the exact same thing.” Sebastian nodded. “Right after I got a job as a pizza delivery boy so I can go to Y/n’s house.”

“Or you could just come over.” You shrugged, making Sebastian blush.

“I like that idea too.” Sebastian replied.

“I’m trying to imagine what the poor pizza delivery boy is gonna see when he arrives at Y/n’s house later.” James grimaced, making the audience laugh.

“I know, right? They open the door and this is what the get.” Sebastian gestured to you. “It’s you. How lucky they are.”

You leaned into him as you laughed, the alcohol making you feel bolder than usual. You’d never be this flirty with a man you’d just met, but he made it too easy.

The rest of the interview continued in a similar fashion, with you and Sebastian unapologetically flirting with each other every chance you got. By the end of the interview, you were so close that your knees were touching. When it came time to say goodbye, you felt an unexpected pane of sadness.

“Well, thank you both for coming on the show tonight.” James smiled. “I hope I’ll be invited to the wedding.”

“You will. And I wanted to thank you. For this.” Sebastian said as he slipped his fingers through yours and held up your hands. You beamed and squeezed his hand, fully tipsy now the the interview was over.

After thanking James and drinking another glass of wine, you drunkenly pulled Sebastian off the couch.

“Come in the photo booth with me.” You giggled as you tugged him by the hand towards the booth.

“Okay.” He grinned as he climbed inside. He pulled you into his lap and pressed the button before wrapping his arms around your waist. The pictures began to snap away and you posed for all of them. For the first, you just held each other close and smiled. For the second, he leaned up to kiss your cheek. And for the third, he took another bite of your neck.

“That tickles.” You giggled as the camera flashed.

“Good.” He smirked against your skin before pressing a kiss there.

“Stick your tongue out.” You told him, and he obliged. You licked his tongue as the fourth picture was taken, capturing the drunken moment. The fifth flash went off right as Sebastian connected your lips to his. You continued to kiss him, tasting the alcohol on his lips and tongue.

“Oh my God.” You pulled away suddenly. “I have to pee.”

You got off his lap and ran to the restroom, leaving him alone in the photo booth.

The next time you saw Sebastian, neither of you brought the kiss up. Whether you thought the other was too drunk to remember or you were simply too embarrassed to bring it up, it was not mentioned.

The flirting, however, the flirting continued.

“What would you like to see for your characters in the next movies?” The journalist asked you and Sebastian as you sat together in a press junket.

“For our characters specifically, I’d like to see some graphic love making.” Sebastian said seriously. “I think that that’s something the movies have been lacking.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed and shook your head. “Me too, actually. I think it would be really in character and important to the plot.”

“How would that benefit the plot?” The journalist asked.

“It’s simple. I would just change my name to “the plot” and bam.” Sebastian clapped his hands. “I’m benefited.”

“He’s such a flirt.” You said as you rested your elbow on his shoulder. “Can you believe him?”

“I can’t.” The journalist chuckled.

“You know what I’d like to see? Some method acting. Why can’t you be as quiet as Bucky?” You teased Sebastian as you flicked his ear.

“How would I tell you how pretty you are if I wasn’t speaking?” He flirted back.

“This is what I have to put up with.” You shook your head as looked at the camera. “What about you? What do you want to see from our characters?”

“I would like to see Bucky do the knife trick some more.” The journalist answered you.

“What knife trick?” You wondered.

“It’s the thing he does when he flips his knife around and stabs people.” Sebastian explained as he moved his hand in a circle. “It took me forever to learn.”

“Wait, I wanna see it.” You smiled excitedly and turned to him.

“No, no.” He wagged his finger at you. “I’m not doing the knife trick.”

“Please?” You pouted. “For me?”

“All right, all right.” Sebastian broke into a grin. “I’m only doing this because you asked nicely.”

The journalist handed him a pen and he easily flipped it around and caught it before making a stabbing motion. You let out a gasp and stared at him in shock for a long time.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you.

“I wanna to fuck you, that’s what’s wrong.” You replied. “Can you do it again?”

Sebastian laughed at your joke as his face heated up. He knew that was just the way you two liked to tease each other, but it didn’t mean it didn’t make him smile.

“I’ll do it again.” He nodded as picked the pen back up. “Anything for you.”

On a day where the interviews ended early, you spent the night in Sebastians hotel room, getting drunk on his balcony.

“What about you?” Sebastian asked as he took a sip of his beer. “What was your best kissing scene? I know you’ve kissed some pretty great actors. Might be hard to pick.”

“It’s not. I hate kissing actors.” You grimaced. “It’s not even kissing. It’s just like, limp lips on limp lips. There’s no passion when it’s for a scene. I hate it.”

“Maybe you’re just kissing the wrong actors.” Sebastian shrugged playfully as he gazed at you.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head. “I’ve never felt anything when kissing another actor. You can’t tell me you do.”

“I do.” He shrugged again. “Its not much, but I wouldn’t say it’s nothing.”

“What? How?” You wondered. “If you kissed me right now, you wouldn’t feel anything. I guarantee it.”

“I think I would.” Sebastian disagreed.

“All right.” You turned your chair a little to face him. “Prove me wrong.”

Sebastian tweaked an eyebrow up before leaning in to kiss you. You kissed him back for a few seconds before pulling away. You looked past him for a minute as you mulled the moment over in your head.

“What’s the matter?” He asked quietly.

“I was incorrect.” You chuckled a little. “I guess I did feel something.”

“I told you you would.” He said smugly. “I knew you’d feel something.”

“How’d you know?” You whined as he basked in the glory of being right.

“Because I felt something the last time we kissed.” He said simply. “And I knew you did too.”

“I didn’t realize you remembered that.” You smirked before talking a sip from his beer.

“Course I do.” He replied. “I think about that night all the time. It was the start of a beautiful, sexually frustrating friendship.”

“Oh, I’m sexually frustrating?” You laughed. “Try being your friend. It’s hard to look at you, really.”

“That’s not how I feel about you.” He smiled a little. “I really, really like looking at you.”

“I like you too.” You smiled back.

“That’s not what I said.” He teased. You dropped your jaw and stole his beer again, taking a long sip as you held eye contact.

“It’s what you meant.” You stuck your tongue out at him. You sat in comfortable silence for a minute, listening to the chirps of the crickets as a warm breeze wafted through the air.

“The press tour is ending soon.” You said quietly as you adverted your eyes. “Tomorrow’s the premier. Then, it’s all over.”

“I know.” He said softly. You looked at him and gave him a sad smile, to which he returned.

“We won’t get to see each other every day anymore.” You pointed out.

“Then we better make tomorrow count.” He said simply. He knew what you were implying, that there was no point in starting something when you’d both been going home soon, but he didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to enjoy his last few days with you.

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly and looked away again. “We better.”

The following night at the premier, you felt an overwhelming sadness knowing that it was all ending. You loved the weeks you’d spent goofing off with Sebastian, even if it never led to a real relationship. It still meant something to you, and you hoped it meant something to him.

To counteract your sadness, you sat with Chris Evans at the bar and let him distract you. After spending a minute with him, you were feeling drunk and ready to find Sebastian. You spotted him on the red carpet, fixed your dress, and went up to him.

“Hi.” You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his torso. You smiled up at him as he wrapped an arm around you, taking an usually loud whiff of his cologne.

“Hey.” He chuckled as he patted your back. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good.” You said as you swayed a little. “Question, is there alcohol in a Shirley Temple? Because I feel like I’ve had alcohol.”

“There is.” He laughed again and steadied you. “Did you know that?”

“Nope.” You sniffed him again. “You smell good.”

“Oh no.” He smiled as your behavior. “How many did you have?”

“I was having a contest with Evans to see who could drink more. I had like 5.” You bragged as you almost fell over.

“Oh dear.” He quickly caught you. “You’re staying with me tonight. I don’t trust drunk you.”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to babysit me.” You waved your hand and tried to walk away. You instantly stumbled and neatly fell, but Sebastian wrapped his arms around you and caught you.

“I think I do.” He chuckled as you put you on your feet. “Come on. You’re sticking with me.”

The next morning, you woke up with a throbbing headache. Not feeling the strength to sit up, you opened a single eye and looked around. You were definitely not in your own room, but you recognized who’s room you were in.

“Good morning.” Sebastians voice was usually loud, making you wince.

“Oh God.” You groaned as you sat up. You groggily opened your eyes as Sebastian handed you a cup of coffee.

“Here.” He smiled shyly. “How’s the head?”

“The head is in pain.” You groaned. “So is the rest of the body.”

“Here. Drink this.” He held out a glass of water and some Advil. “And take these.”

“Thanks.” You smiled sheepishly as you accepted his offerings.

“Did you at least win the drinking contest?” He asked as he took a seat on the bed. You took a long sip of water and swallowed the pills before answering his questions.

“I did.” You nodded. “But at what cost?”

“You’ll start to feel better once you get some food in you.” Sebastian said as he rubbed your shoulder. You put your hand over his and stared at him, feeling the guilt set in.

“I’m sorry I got drunk.” You mumbled. “I didn’t mean to ruin the last night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Sebastian shook his head. “Trust me, we still had fun. I’m not sure how much you remember though.”

“I remember sitting with you at the premier.” You recalled. “And eating many, many bagels.”

“Yeah, we stopped at a bakery.” He chuckled. “You ate a dozen. I watched it all.”

“Oh God.” You covered your face with your hands. “That’s not how I wanted to spend our last night together.”

“How did you want to spend it together?” He asked quietly.

“Probably in a way that still ended with me waking up in your bed.” You joked like you usually did. “But I could do without the part where you watched me eat 12 bagels.”

“What do you mean?” He grinned. “That was the best part.”

“How’d I end up in your bed anyway?” You asked before taking another sip of coffee.

“You threw your key card at a seagull who was eyeing your bagel.” He explained. “You couldn’t get into your room so I let your crash in mine.”

You looked around the room and saw his pull out couch was topped with pillows and sheets, evidence of him sleeping there.

“Did you sleep on the pull out?” You pointed to it in disbelief.

“Of course I did.” He shrugged.

“Such a gentleman.” You scrunched your nose at him before finishing the coffee.

“Basic human decency is not exactly being a gentleman.” He pointed out.

“Maybe not.” You agreed. “But you still are one. You prove that to me everyday.”

“That must be why you like me so much.” He teased.

“Must be.” You dished it right back. Sebastians smile fell suddenly as he got a serious look on his face.

“I think you and I need to have a talk.” He said softly.

“Oh God.” You feared. “Did I puke on you last night?”

“No.” He chuckled. “It’s not about last night.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“As much as I love flirting with you, and I do, I think you should know it’s not just a joke to me.” He began. “And I wanted to know if it was just a joke to you or if-“

“It’s not.” You said a little too quickly, which made him smile. “I...I like you. A lot, actually. One might even call it love.”

Upon hearing this, Sebastian leaned forward to kiss you. You held a hand to stop him and gave him an apologetic look.

“I wouldn’t.” You grimaced. “My morning breath is-“

“-something I could get used to.” He cut you off before going in for the kiss. You immediately kissed him back, pulling him by his shirt to have him closer. He climbed over you as you tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t care if its our last day.” He mumbled against your lips. “I want to do this for real. I wanna be with you.”

You kissed him back to tell him you felt the same way, not trusting yourself to say something smooth in the heat of the moment.

“Wait.” You pushed him back suddenly and held him away from you.

“Whats wrong?” He asked as he hovered over you.

“Can we get bagels after this?” You asked seriously before breaking into a smile.

“I seriously can’t stand you.” He said before leaning down to kiss you again. “You’re lucky I love you because I don’t like you at all.”

“12 wasn’t enough.” You giggled between kisses. “I need more. I crave them. I crave the yeast.”

Sebastian stopped kissing you for a moment and looked at you with a fond expression. You stared back at him as a content smile tugged at your lips. The flirting had finally lead to something more and neither of you could be happier.

“You know, you might actually be more annoying than Mackie.” He teased you before leaning down to kiss your neck.

“Shut up.” You laughed. “Shut up and bite me in the neck.”

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#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x yn #sebastian stan x actress!reader #sebastian stan fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes

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husbandohunter · 4 years ago

Note

A Furry Predicament, but reversed (Reader turns into a cat)? Pretty please with a sweet lil cherry on top? (I recently stumbled across your blog and may I just say that I absolutely adore your works??) Thank youu and take care~~

A Furrier Predicatment [Genshin x Cat!Reader]

♤♡◇♧☆

Synopsis: It's your turn to be a cat after this incident.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Albedo, Zhongli, Childe, Venti

(A/n): Ah you did OwO that's very sweet of you. It's alot of fun to write, especially when your imagination is stunted and you just gotta spit out something silly.

=======================

[Diluc]

Any beloved pet owned by Master Diluc would be under the most high quality and meticulous treatement. Mostly for cats since they tend to be calm while elegant...to some extent. If they were dogs then he'll ensure that they also serve as a partner for sniffing out trouble such as a certain bard who'd might've sneaked into the wine cellars. But you weren't either, so to say, you were both a beloved AND a cat.

As he picks you up gently into his arms, Diluc would be a little baffled on what to do next. He has no idea how to care for delicate creatures as he never had one (other than a pet tortoise but that's different) in which he needed to look for help. But who? The staff? Certainly not, no one can find out that his partner turned into a pet (imagine all the scandals he'll be in). Jean? Anything but the knights of Favonius. And most certainly not his brother.

So Diluc ends up figuring everything out by himself (old habits die hard). All the sweets and regular meals you craved were no long in your menu, you were forced to have a proper cat diet because he believed it was healthier. Half of the time he has no idea what he's doing, since you were a cat and all you could do was "meow" (which Diluc forgets. He tries to have a mundane conversation until you stare at him with feline eyes. That was when he remembered).

"What would you like for tonight's dinner, my love?"

"Meow." He has alot to learn.

Though Master Diluc often gets very tired and he attempts to take a quick nap before killing himself over the next set of duties. That is, until you could help it. Being a cat has it's furry and comfy advantages. So you leapt up to the bed as quietly as possible and onto the side of your lover, circling a few times to see if he was really asleep. When he was you snuggled close to keep him warm, hoping it would lull him into a rest even deeper. He slept like a baby.

~xx~

[Kaeya]

If the Cavalry Capatain were to own a pet, they would either be charmed by him or snaring their teeth because of his unreadable and suspicious aura. Animal instincts are quite powerful. But your case wasn't the latter, thankfully and he could feel himself growing fond of this new found relationship. Almost. What should he do with you now that you're a cat, Kaeya wonders.

Belly rubs and a lot of them. He absolutely adores the way your cute little nose scrunches up while he runs his fingers on the center of your tummy (though he knows when to stop, Kaeya is rather gentle with you nowadays). You found that he absolutely adores the shape of your nose, would pick you up and boop yours with his own somehow knows how to be his flirty self despite your unusual form.

There was this one incident where you saw something shiny flashing over the wall. Slowly you followed it as the bright dot moved futher and further away, evetually gaining speed. Little did you know it was Kaeya who was watching you swipe your little paws up and down against the wall while he was just cleaning his sword. How could he help it? You were often so headstrong and independent, now you were just an adorable little kitten that loves to play with yarn and shiny things. It backfired him though, now there were a bunch of scratchmarks marring the surfaces (which he had to pay for repairs).

Takes you out to Windrise so that you could get some fresh air (also for you to find somewhere else to shed your fur other than his humble abode). Kaeya sits back under a tree while you either chase a butterfly or start slapping against the dandelions (only sneeze when they fly into your face). He wasn't sure if you were aware of what you were doing right now, if you were then he'll have lots of things to talk about once you turn back into human. If not, then at least he had the opportunity to witness such a soft side coming from you.

~xx~

[Xiao]

If any animal were to go close towards the adeptus, they would run away. Xiao isn't very good at interacting with others, pets included, usually they would run into the alleyway or hide around the legs of their owners while he glaringly, blankly stares at them (Even though he wouldn't admit it, Xiao thinks to himself, how soft is cat fur?) Now he gets to touch your cat form and turns out that fur is very ticklish yet pleasant against his skin.

Would be the most awkward conversationalist, the poor yaksha was already terrible with his words (often coming out harsh so he prefers to either keep away or say nothing at all) and even with you sometimes, now it was almost impossible to communicate. Xiao is not very good at reading a cat's body language. When you want him to hold you again, you'd walk in circles. He assumes you were hungry and leaps out the window to go fetch some fish...for the nth time there was a pile of raw salmon stacking upon the floor. Xiao thinks that maybe salmon species weren't to your liking, hence he does out to find another one.

As he plays his flute, you'd magically doze off on his lap. (There was one thing that you both can communicate with at last). Slowly but surely, he comes to learn the different gestures you make for certain situations. You often rub yourself upon his leg which he had heard to be a cat's way of claiming their territory. That was when Xiao picks you up, FINALLY. Though the real reason why it took him this long was because he was hesitant to hold you. He never really held a pet so naturally he has no idea how to hold a cat. Ends up cradling you in his arms because it seemed to be a safer option <3

"I never thought I'd be able to hold you like this," Xiao softly says to your lazy form, observing the way your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, "But I...forget it. We can stay like this for the time being, if you'd like. If not, that's fine too."

You stay.

~xx~

[Albedo]

The only pets Albedo had were for his alchemic experiments (plus they were put in cages too). Fact be told, he would make a terrible pet owner with the lifestyle he has now. The alchemist would be so absorbent into his work that he'll most likely forget that he has someone to feed and by the time he realized it, they would have already starved to death. After hearing glass bottles crashing to the floor, Albedo bursts into the rooms as the smoke fills it completely, finding a cat lost between it. The cat was you. He knows because he made the potions.

Sometimes he'd a little too scientific for his own good. Albedo assumed that when you turned into a cat, you've gone into cat mode and ends up treating you as such. "No, don't go near any bodies of water. You wouldn't like it." He almost forgets that you were once human which is very much like him if you had to be honest. Though when he does find out that you still carried human traits, Albedo must find ways to adapt things to your liking.

He makes your food himself. He's not a cook but he sure is good at everything he does, even if it's something he never did before. This goes for other areas too such as the size of your bed, if you need a little couch to stay on or maybe some tools to play around. (The only time when he is a good pet owner). In his sketchbook he'd have a bunch of blueprints and contraptions of what to make next. There's something enjoyable when spoiling you, those little reactions when you're pleased, like the twitch of your whiskers or the lift of your tail. Albedo finds is very cute.

On top of all that, he could also make you a potion to turn you back into normal. It seemed that it was the last thing he thought of on the list. Albedo was too occupied with treating you like a cat that it all flew over his head until now. Time flies when you're having fun.

~xx~

[Zhongli]

Unlike Albedo, anyone who has Zhongli as a pet owner would be considered to be a very lucky animal. He radiates a calm and serene aura that gives the perfect environment to have infinite nap times. People look at this man and wonder why his pet never gives him any trouble, especially when cats were considered to be both fiesty and needy. But they just didn't know that the cat was you (not like it would make a difference, any animal would know that Zhongli was no ordinary man).

How on earth does he know what you're saying? Maybe it's because he was once an archon. You could meow and he knows exactly what you would like to snack on. You could tilt your head, he takes it that you were curious on what he was currently doing (which was exactly what you were wondering), you can say nothing at all yet as if he could read your mind, Zhongli comes over to pet you with his gloved hands.

"How can I tell? Indeed it is because you're my lover, of course. Throughout this time we spent together, I've come to learn the way you speak through your eyes. They seem to hold true no matter what form you take. It's rather comforting."

Though there were many moments where you sneak up behind Zhongli. His hair, his ponytail- so long. Must play with. As you jump up and down with his thin strand swings side to side, it'll take a few seconds for him to decipher what your were doing. The minute he turns around he catches you with his hands midair and laughs heartfully. Cats were very endearing creatures.

~xx~

[Childe]

Back home in Snezhnaya, Childe would probably have owned a dog or two. They were mostly meant for hunting purposes, big and large furry creatures with thick skin suitable to endure the harsh cold. He has dogs because cats hate him for some strange reason. They either hiss or snootly turn their backs on him, one time he picked one up as a kid but his face bleeding after the cat scratched him with their paws. But of course you wouldn't do that to him. You would never~ he was your cutie pie anyways.

He was an obnoxious hugger, not gentle at all. Childe forgets his strength as a human man and when he squeezes you tightly against his chest, you'd spike out on all ends because by the archons, you're suffocating. But it was your fault for feeling so comfy and warm! Similar to Kaeya, they're both obnoxious but Childe deemed himself to be even worse. He'd rub his face against yours, commenting on how sensitive it sways. Tonia once told him that she wanted a pet cat instead, maybe he should also bring you back to his homeland now.

Yes he would love to play with you. Bring in the cat toys...or not. This was the eleventh Fatui Harbinger, what were you thinking? Normal cat activities? Not here. He's gonna teach you how to hunt like how he taught his dogs to hunt in Snezhnaya. You gave him the most deadpanned and dissapointed look with your large feline glare. Not only was he disliked by cats but he certainly was not good with them.

Though he can take it down a notch sometimes and just indulge in relaxing activities. When there was nothing else for him to do or when he was just tired after a productive day, he'd sit by the kitchen and you on top of the table. While you yawned and leaned down for a nap, Childe plays with the small of your paws to the soft edge of your nails. If he taps your nose, your whiskers twitch. Your ears are nice, maybe he should get you a headband version once you turned back to human.

You immediately wake up when he touches your tail.

~xx~

[Venti]

Achoo!

You sometimes wonder how is it that the anemo archon was able to live through 2000 years without getting beaten up by a cat. If andrius was a large cougar than a wolf, maybe he wouldn't be an archon now. Which is why you are to stay miles far far away from him unless you want the whole of Mondstadt to be blown away by the wind.

Wears a mask (as if this were the covid19 pandemic), although it doesn't take away all his problems, at least it'll minimize it. Venti always has a box of tissues ready but you can tell by the puffiness of his eyes that he's been sneezing alot. He really tries his hardest to pitch in every once in a while when Albedo was working on a cure for you to go back to normal. Though acts as if he was quarantined by staying all the way at the other side of the room.

"Ahahaha don't mind me. It's your local bard of Mondstadt dropping by to see how things are going. I wanna make sure how long it will take for you to make the potion? Just curious!"

No hugs, cuddles or anything involving close proximity. This makes Venti very pouty and impatient. Albedo finds it very hard to concentrate with all the sniffling and sneezing that he had no choice but to kick him out. It didn't help that the location was Dragonspine, now he was sneezing even more.

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7teenkarat · 3 years ago

Text

M is for Murder

Synopsis: A study in which you find out that the young man you occasionally solve mysteries with is actually wanted for murder.

Genre: non-idol au, mystery, crumbs of an unrequited love

Warnings: graphic imagery (murder crime scene), language

WC: ~3K

A/N: Okay but imagine THE trickster aka. seventeen’s swindler aka. satan’s hyung aka. yoon jeonghan as the main lead in a murder mystery? Sherlock Holmes’ successor? Color me hornKNEE-

Study 1: Yoon Jeonghan. An eccentric young man with a penchant for mysteries and a reputation of murder.

“Wanted for what?”

“Murder,” he supplies, taking a bit of his apple. The sharp crunch punctuates his confession.

His nonchalant tone and demeanor is at odds with the levity of his admission, further adding evidence to the theory that this is all some fucked up dream your sleep-deprived brain came up with tonight. You really gotta stop watching Dateline before bed.

As if sensing your speculation, Jeonghan picks out a seed from the apple core and flicks it at you.

The offending object lands perfectly above your nose bridge giving you a faux unibrow, the sticky juice keeping it adhered to your skin. Jeonghan grins, mouthing score, before taking another bite of his apple. The complete apathy he shows towards his supposed crime is baffling.

“Murder?” you repeat, as if you had misheard him the previous 4 times.

He just grunts in acknowledgement, flipping through your Netflix account and occasionally frowning at your poor taste in cinematic choice.

You continue to gape at him, mouth open comically wide, as your brain attempts to match your stereotypical impression of a vicious stone-cold killer with the current image of this Jeonghan slouched across your sofa, halfheartedly watching Family Guy.

Your brain fails to compute.

“Jeonghan, listen, if this is some weird roleplaying shit for one of our cases now is not the time-”

“Roleplaying? Really, Y/N, is that what you truly think of me? That I’d joke about this matter? When I come begging at your door, seeking refuge at my darkest hour…well, I’d never! Is this the way you treat all of your friends, my dear Freida Khalo?” he interrupts with a dramatic gasp, jumping to his feet with a flourish.

You just watch him, deadpan. Throughout the past year of knowing Yoon Jeonghan, you’ve learned that it’s quickest and less painful to let his theatrics run its full course before attempting to rationalize with him.

“The last time you invited me over for dinner, I found you splayed out across your living room floor face first in a puddle of your own ketchup-blood.”

“Not ketchup, that would be entirely unconvincing. It was a mixture of ketchup, corn syrup, and cocoa mix. It’s hard to replicate the exact viscosity of blood, you know.”

You roll your eyes as he fully proves your point, heading into the kitchen to grab a well-deserved drink. Jeonghan trails after you, grabbing two shot glasses from your cupboard. For as often as the two of you hang out, as far as you’re aware he’s never been over to your place before - the two of you instead opting to meet at your makeshift “office” downtown which was rented out under a fake alias (Jeonghan’s idea).

You don’t know how he knows exactly which cupboard is the glass cupboard, nor do you want to know. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had done a full recon of your apartment. Hell, how did he even get your address?

That was the kind of weird shit that this little gremlin did. That and murder, apparently.

Reminded again of exactly why you were sitting in your kitchen taking shots with the man in question at 2:41 a.m. on a Tuesday morning, you let out a groan before one-shotting your whiskey.

The glass makes a dull thud as you set it down on your table with a wince and a cough. Jeonghan takes a sip of his glass (as how most humans consume their hard liquor) and merely raises a delicate eyebrow at you, looking between your contorted face and the now empty glass but wisely decides to withhold comment.

This somehow manages to irk you more. You wish he didn’t have to still look so damn good sipping Walmart whiskey from a shot glass with a slutty Elmo in a skimpy green bikini branded across its front.

With liquid courage now coursing through your veins, you pin him down with a stare as you choose your next few words carefully. Jeonghan waits for you patiently with a solemn look on his face, looking purely angelic.

Again, you’re reminded of Dateline warning just how charming serial killers could be.

Fuck you, you want to say. Stop pulling me into your crazy shenanigans. Handle it yourself. I’m not interested. But those words die in your chest as you look at the man across the table, heartbreakingly handsome even in ragged clothing and running on only 4 hours of sleep.

You’d do anything for Jeonghan, but you’ve always thought you’d meant that in the least literal sense of the phrase. The same way you’d do anything for your cat, or for your weird aunt who smells like stale cookies but never fails to give you pocket money every holiday.

But you’ve just come to realize how literal your feelings truly were.

When he moved back to your town, his childhood town, last year and you met him for the first time, you couldn’t have been more appalled by the audacious flamboyance of this man.

You two were utterly polarizing - him, a connoisseur of the eclectic and fantastical, and you, a stark realist whose goal was to make capitalism your bitch.

He had left your small community at a young age and grew up educated at all the top foreign institutions since primary school, yet balked at the idea of inheriting the family’s diamond mining business (much to his father’s chagrin). You were a product of your town’s local public school system - a hustler who ate, slept, and breathed ambition. He was a self proclaimed angel and might actually very well be considering how he managed to charm everyone into doing his (slightly nefarious) bidding. You needed at least 6 cups of coffee and 12 hours of sleep before you could even attempt to be 20% as charming as him. He liked dogs, you liked cats.

For all intents and purposes, you two were oil and water.

But one thing bound the two of you together, tighter than any life philosophy or law of chemistry: you both had a penchant for mystery. Agatha Christie, Sherlock Holmes, Scooby-Doo, you name it. You were both obsessed with making sense of nonsense - to make the impossible possible. You found in each other a kindred spirit - someone who enjoyed the game as much as you.

For all intents and purposes, you should have hated each other.

But…you didn’t. In fact, at least on your end and you suspected perhaps a little bit on his end as well, you very strongly felt the opposite. So eventually, all those minor differences came to naught and you both found yourselves seeking each other’s company once, twice, a few times, then daily. You were the Watson to his Sherlock, as he would often fondly proclaim after the pair of you would successfully solve a mystery. You two reveled in bringing each other small mysteries to solve.

But to you, the greatest mystery of all was this enigma of a man sitting in front of you. If there was one thing you learned about Jeonghan over the course of this year, it’s that trouble seems to seek him out just as eagerly as he does it. Usually his storytelling methods were always a bit more…interactive than yours (hence the ketchup blood incident), but they were harmless. Always harmless.

So imagine your surprise when he showed up breathless, in some strangers’ clothes he’d swiped from the street, knocking frantically at your door with the proposition of adventure.

A proclamation of murder.

Yet the most appalling part was not that you’d willingly let in a potential criminal at the mere sight of his smile, nor was it his unnerving indifference considering how much shit he was in for running from the cops - regardless of his possible innocence. No, the most appalling part was when your initial shock eventually dwindled to a sickening realization that you, in fact, didn’t really care if he was guilty or not. He was your person and you’d do anything for him, including cover up a murder.

The thought of how tightly Yoon Jeonghan has you wrapped around his finger sends your eyes into a rhythmic spasm as you contemplate what charges you might incur for potentially murdering a murder suspect.

Instead you sigh, mentally preparing yourself for whatever crazy adventure this man was hellbent on dragging you into this time.

“Okay, so murder. Want to walk me through how, exactly, you came to be the prime suspect of a murder case?”

“Well it all starts with a corgi, one croissant, and a missing flower pot,” Jeonghan, in full storyteller mode, leans in and steeples his fingers with the devious grin he gets when he finds something particularly galvanizing.

“Saturday proved to be a horrible day, what with my mother tricking me into joining her hot yoga class. Not that I don’t like yoga, but there was nothing and no-one “hot” about it. Talk about serious clickbait.”

Jeonghan clears his throat nervously as he takes note of your unamused expression and the way your hand without the whiskey glass twitches as if to smack the hot hell out of him. He rushes to continue.

“Back to the point. Saturday sucked so on Sunday I decided to go to the dog park for some much needed R&R. As I was on my way back home, I was walking past the alley that leads to the old churchyard when I heard the most awful keening sound. As the Second Coming of Sherlock, it was of course my duty to go and investigate. So I walked deeper into the alley, and there I’m met with the glorious sight of the biggest, juiciest, phattest butt.”

This time you do smack the hot hell out of Jeonghan’s arm, causing him to yelp and scoot a safe distance away from any other swinging limbs.

He shoots you a pout which transforms into a somber look as he recounts what happened next. “The butt belonged to an egregiously fat corgi, which also turned out to be the source of the keening noise. It was nosing and pawing at a lump of something just behind the trash bin. I tried to get closer but it kept growling and making that awful crying sound. So I then tried to lure it away with some leftover croissant I had in my pocket, but I guess corgi’s don’t like french patisseries because that only made him stress out more. As a last resort I crumbled it into a ball and threw it far away towards the churchyard, to which the chub finally left the thing by the bin to go chase after the croissant. Only the closer I came, the sooner I came to realize. It wasn’t a something, but rather a someone.”

The hairs on your arm start to raise, as you listen half appalled and half enthralled. Jeonghan barely sends you a second glance as he’s swept back into the gruesome memory.

“She was…mangled. There were dirt stains on her clothes and heavy bruising on both her wrists and throat, suggesting struggle antemortem. Cause of death: cut to the throat and blood loss.”

His face is carefully blank as he describes the body, adopting an almost clinical tone as if you two were still playing your usual mystery game.

You feel a lump form in your throat. “Jeonghan-” you croak, but he continues to speak over you.

“I had my phone out and was about to call the authorities when I saw something white and pink. She was gripping something in her right hand. I was leaning closer to inspect it when that damn corgi came back, and this time with a witness in tow.”

He let out a heavy sigh, running his palm across his forehead like he usually does when he gets frustrated.

“I lost my chance to examine the body up-close, but decided to stick around and wait for the cops in case I could help give them some crucial clues to the perpetrator by looking at the bruising patterns and the item in her hand. At first I was waiting in the tent, but then they asked to move me to the vehicle to go back to the station. No one would tell me why, but you know I can read lips. The officers were talking about how I was the main murderer suspect, and that I should be treated with extreme caution.”

You can’t help it as your nerves get the best of you and a laugh bubbles out of your mouth.

“Just because you found the body doesn’t mean you did it. Where’s the hard evidence? That’s such an elementary conjecture.”

You glance at him, hoping for him to confirm your statements, to laugh along with you. Don’t be silly, Y/N! Obviously I didn’t do it!

But all he does is stare back at you with those solemn, doe eyes.

“I don’t have an alibi, Y/N.”

Jeonghan says softly, and you feel your world tilt on its axis.

“I had snuck out early from my house to avoid my mom, which means neither she nor the household attendants can verify that I was home from 5-8 a.m. I was last seen at the park, but for all they know I could have murdered her, circled around through the shortcut that runs from the churchyard to the dog park, and no-one would be the wiser.”

“But surely it’s just conjecture at this point. So what if you were first on scene, or that you recognized the weapon? Sure it’s suspicious, but that doesn’t automatically pin you for murder.”

He hums, conceding to your point. ��But this young lady was choked and assaulted, throat slit from ear to ear, using a shard from my neighbor’s broken flower pot.”

You flinch at his blunt words. He glances at you but soldiers on.

“A flower pot that I helped plant when Mrs. Zarrelli threw out her back. One that has all my prints over it, that had gone missing two weeks ago only for a shard of it to be found, as the murder weapon, at the scene of a most grisly crime.”

Jeonghan leans back, arms crossed, watching you. Testing you. Waiting to see if you’d arrive at the same conclusion that he has.

“...So you’re saying you were framed,” you finish for him. He just keeps staring at you, so you take that as your cue to continue. “The preliminary hypothesis would be that there is someone out there who wants you arrested. Or detained. At the very least, occupied.”

Your brows knit together, ring finger circling the rim of your whiskey glass as your brain puzzles out just exactly what the motive could have been.

“Then again, their choice of scapegoat could have been coincidental. But it’s unlikely given the peculiar choice of a murder weapon. It was chosen to make you the culprit, not just anybody who stumbled across the crime scene. It was made to seem as if you had murdered her in a fit of emotional rage rather than out of premeditated intent.”

“Yes,” Jeonghan murmurs, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes. You pause, head tilting as you continue to puzzle out the pieces he’s laid in front of you.

“Originally, this would suggest one of two things. One, the murderer had wanted to commit the crime and needed a set-up, and had chosen you, for whatever reason, to incriminate. Or two, the murderer had wanted to incriminate you, for whatever reason, and needed to commit a crime for the set-up. Given the careful, almost painstakingly-detailed lengths the culprit has gone through to make sure you would be found at the scene of the crime, with no alibi, and indisputable evidence, I’m inclined to believe the latter is true. And if the latter is the true motive, then the heart of the crime lies not with the murderer, nor the victim. It lies with-”

“-me.” Jeonghan finishes for you, satisfied with your analysis.

“They knew where you would be, and that you would have to investigate. That means either it’s someone who knows you well enough to predict your next steps, or they’ve been watching you for long enough to ascertain it.”

“Which means either I’m trusting someone I shouldn’t be, or I’ve got myself a stalker.” Jeonghan contemplates, shooting you a bemused look.

“I must say, I’m slightly flattered. I didn’t really think I was handsome enough to warrant such a grand confession. Maybe my hair stylist was right - red really is my color.”

“This isn’t funny, Jeonghan.” You wish you could reach across the table and shake that stupid bravado right out of him. “Someone wants you locked behind bars, and is willing to kill for it. You’re already a prime suspect and running away doesn’t really help you look innocent.”

“Exactly.” he simply replies, his expression morphing into that of more devil than angel. “My secret admirer has gone through the trouble of setting up the chess board and making the first move. It would be poor manners on my part not to respond.”

The answer is so purely Jeonghan that, despite the macabre story he’d just told and the peril he’s certain to bring, it tugs at your heartstrings a little.

He shoots you that Cheshire grin that promises danger and thrill, and you’re certain he already knows your answer. Perhaps he’d known the moment you opened your door, or even before then when he’d first discovered the body and his immediate reaction was to call not the police but you. Perhaps he’d known from the moment he’d first laid eyes on you - stubbornly seated in a corner nook, reading Murder on the Orient Express at the community Christmas party.

You, who could never refuse a good mystery. You, who could never refuse Jeonghan.

You swear slutty Elmo winks at you.

“So, whaddya say? Care to join me, Watson?”

Hi everyone! Thanks so much for reading. This is my first seventeen fanfic so I’d appreciate any feedback (both good or bad!)

And as always please feel free to send in requests ~Nini

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xxxavo · 4 years ago

Note

Sin getting upset bc he see’s Kouen flirting with his s/o (I mean they both already don’t like each other).So sins getting all alpha dog and is trying to get him to bck off

Requested by: anonymous

Warnings: A hint of verbal NSFW towards the end? (better known as...LIMEy) Not swear words but a few rude words? Idk

Suddenly getting back into Magi so might be a few imagines being thrown around here and there, depends on how long this lasts!! Feeling a NSFW scenario manifesting itself into my drafts after writing this, I won't lie, but no actual NSFW content today my little imuchakk's! Hope you enjoy!

Sinbad had always liked banquets, weather they be ones held in the kingdom of Sindria, or at his biggest rivals, the Kou empire. There was something exciting about the prospect of consuming alcohol in foreign lands after an important political meeting that made Sinbad feel on top of the world. It was rare for things in Sinbad’s life not to go his way, or to not end up leading towards something better then what he had lost. For this reason, King Sinbad was to an extent, a go-with-the-flow kind of man. Especially with loyal followers such as his generals and his beloved wife!

His beloved was of course very loyal, incredibly so...but, there were people who did not care for that loyalty of hers. This included a certain Kou empire red head who went by the name of Kouen.

“No need to look so sour, Sin.” Ja’far commented beside him, though he was enjoying the fact his King was abandoning his poor drinking habits to instead stay sober and focused, even if he was focusing on his wife and Kouen Ren flirting. “You told her to be pleasant and friendly towards Kouen to gain his favour. I don’t understand why you’re so jealous.” That was enough to make Sinbads eyes flicker from the generous laughter of his wife to the smug face of his right hand man.

“Me!? Jealous!?”

“Hmm.” Masrur agreed from the other side of Sinbad. The King’s neck practically snapped to the fanalis.

“Why would I, of all people, be jealous?”

“Because you’re wife is a smart, sophisticated lady who could do a lot better than a man who drinks sake and shamelessly prances around woman as if he was a young teen in his glory years.” Golden eyes met red ones in a baffled expression of offense.

“That’s a low blow, Ja’far.”

“Hmm.” Again, Masrur voiced his opinion rather humbly. Unlike the other two, Masrur had not taken his eyes away from the Queen, curious to see how her little game would play out; He loved how cunning she was.

The Queen, unlike Sinbad, was sensible. When he was busy hiding from Ja’far she was busy doing the work for him and cleaning up all his messes. Masrur liked how through thick and thin she stayed by Sinbad’s side whilst being the role model his country needed. She may as well have been a general. However, that didn’t mean she didn’t find herself sick of him sometimes.

Unfortunately old habits died hard. Sinbad was an infamous lady killer, flirting and charming any woman he deemed beautiful. No longer did he take it any further but Masrur could always see it in the Queen’s eyes whenever she got upset or jealous with his ministrations. As much as she tried to hide it, Masrur was a man who saw much, yet said very little.

The fanalis saw the way the cogs in her head turned the moment Sinbad had told her to “Gain Kouen’s favour in any way you can! I’m sure he’ll be much more linient with me if he enjoys the company of my other half” and the way she made sure her corset was on tighter and her breasts were pushed up higher only confirmed his supicions. Sinbad was about to get a very bitter taste of his own flirtatious medicine.

The Queen was, despite being middle aged, very beautiful. If she wasn’t married to King Sinbad, Masrur was certain many men would be throwing themselves at her feet. Kouen would possibly be one of those.

The next thing Masrur knew a grumpy Sinbad was pulling on his cheek, his gaze in the same direction as his. “What is it Masrur? What are they saying!? Surely you will stick by your King! Unlike this traitor—“

“Tsk.”

“Please Masrur. My wife could be in danger.” Sinbad dramatized. Masrur practically had to stop himself from commenting on how pathetic the King looked. “I need those fanalis ears of yours...”

“Fine.”

“Did you know, you’re my favourite?”

“I swear to Solomon Sinbad if you—“

Drowning out the advisor and the King, Masrur honed his attention on the Queen and Kouen who sat sharing a bottle of red wine.

“Oh no. No more for me please.” Just as Kouen was about to tip some more of the red liquor in her glass, the Queen politely bowed her head, fluttering her lashes. “My tolerance for alcohol isn’t the greatest thing in the world.”

“Oh?.” Kouen hummed, nodding in response before filling up his own. “I expected you to perhaps be a little more like you’re husband.”

“An old drunkard?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?”

“I—“ Kouen seemed at a loss for words for a second, perhaps embarrassed, but saved himself rather quickly without a hint of emotion on his face. “What I meant was, a lover of a banquet. Sinbad has attended many, I assumed you would have been more on par with him when it came to drinking and party games.”

The Queen watched Kouen take a sip of his wine, her lips pulling up into a soft smirk. “Something tells me Kouen if I was anything like my husband you wouldn’t want to be sat here with me.” Kouen was slow to place down his drink, his sharp eyes meeting Sinbad’s wife’s.

“Would you rather me sit elsewhere?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?” Now, it was his turn to smirk.

“I—“ With a soft laugh, the regal woman before Kouen grew flustered, picking up her glass and swirling the remaining wine contents around to allow her to look elsewhere. “You really are as they say Kouen. Quite an interesting man. I enjoy getting to know you.” Lifting up her head, the Queen rose an eyebrow, a smile now residing on her face. “Every word I say sinks in doesn’t it?”

“Your highness. If any man does not listen to you, does he really deserve to be in your presence? If my sisters were simply cast aside, I wouldn’t be so forgiving to the suitor who was to do that.” It was a lie, the Queen had heard of Kouen and his family sending off the young princess to he married to a King who wanted nothing more then a pretty face. Was there more to the story? Most likely. But was that the gist of it? Yes. However, to indulge both Kouen and continue to gain the nervous attention of her husband shuffling in his seat, the Queen sighed out gently.

“You’re close to your family...?” It was hard to hear the rest, Sinbad practically chewing off his own hand right beside Masrurs ear.

“What are they saying!?” Simply, Masrur shrugged. “Something about family.” It was no fun telling Sinbad everything. Groaning, Sinbad flopped back into his seat, picking up his wine with a pout.

“It doesn’t taste the same knowing at the end of the night she’s not going to be dragging me back to our room...”

“Who? Her highness?” The three men all turned abruptly to face Kogyoku, who smiled sheepishly. “I’m awfully sorry...” she stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to pry, I just came to say hello and over heard you talking."

Knowing that any ill intentions towards Kougyoku’s older brother would harm his reputation with the Kou empire, Sinbad put on his best charming smile, acting as though he wasn’t emotionally conflicted on the inside. “Ah Princess. What a pleasure to be seeing you again. Are you enjoying the banquet?” With a smile, the pinkette nodded her head.

“I am very much your highness. I hope you’re also enjoying yourself.” With that, her eyes flickered upwards to the Queen of Sindrian and the most influential man in the whole of the Kou empire. “It seems her highness is enjoying herself to. I’ve never seen Kouen so invested in somebody. It’s a real testimony to your wife.” Kougyoku was of course NOT JEALOUS. Not once had she imagined herself sat on Sinbad's lap as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear! Nether the less, she continued her façade, knowing that after all it was her duty.

”They’re so deep in conversation, I wonder what they’re talking about.” Her words aren’t helping the purple male.

“As do I...”

“Kouen seems so relaxed around her highness. They really do get along don’t they?” Was she trying to give him a heart attack?

With a delightful laugh Sinbad nodded before finally rising to his feet. "They do indeed. In fact I feel a little bit left out. Perhaps I should pau the two a visit. Excuse me Princess, I do hope of seeing you again soon." Lifting her hand to his lips, Sinbad placed a soft kiss to the back of her hand before walking towards his wife and that thing trying to take her away. The King of Sindria looked at peace with all around him as he strode over, all intentions of causing havoc and disrupting the calm atmosphere completely gone for his being. At least it looked that way. If it didn't, he wouldn't have been a good King.

The two at the table saw him coming before he arrived and where as Kouen greeted him with a cut nod, seemingly displeased he was interrupting his time with his wife, who simply sent him a passive smile.

"Ah Your highness." Not Sin, not Sinbad, not my King, not my love. Just your highness. "Me and Kouen here--" Yet they were on first name basis? "Were just discussing-- Hmmph!"

As done many times before by the womanizer, Sinbad encased the back of his wife's head, bringing her face towards his own and then slamming their lips together in a rather mighty display right in front of the red princes eyes. He made sure it lasted. And his Queen? Who was she to deny Sinbads advances? As usual she practically melted into his affectionate assault, fragile hands moving to clasp at Sinbad's robes in an attempt to lull him closer...but two could play at that game. Pulling back from his beloved, Sinbad made sure to smirk, staring into her eyes for a brief moment. It was his way of saying "I'll get you back for this".

The sexual tension was undeniable and Sinbad had hoped Kouen could sense her thighs rubbing together like he could, because that was the closest Kouen would get.

"Hm? Talking about what? I didn't quite catch that my Queen."

Meanwhile, back at Sinbad's table, Ja'far sighed in aggravation as he watched the scene Sinbad caused in absolute horror. "Honestly, this man really does test my patience! Can he not just let his wife butter up Kouen! If anything it benefits us!"

"Hmm."

"Just for one second, can he think about anything else other then his-"

"Dick?"

"I was going to say pride but that works too."

519 notes · View notes

bookishofalder · 4 years ago

Text

Catfish & Sunshine

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Mini Series

Summary: Frankie is secretly in love with his best friend. Thanks in part to Benny’s shitty horror movie recommendation and stray ice cream, feelings come out unexpectedly during movie night.

Warnings: Language, SMUT, little angst, lots of fluff, poor writer understanding of US military benefits/retirement. WC 8,215.

A/N: I dreamed this up after rewatching Triple Frontier about a month ago (for the plot, of course) and let it sit for a while. Became inspired to finish it off this week and share it with you all-so please let me know your thoughts!

For over a decade, Saturday nights were, for Frankie Morales, usually spent with his best friends over drinks at their favourite bar. When deployed, the bar was instead smuggled whiskey that they shared under the stars, an attempt to imagine they were anywhere other than the current hellhole. As Special Ops soldiers, Frankie and his buddies had been through the worst of the worst together, until one by one they retired or were forced to retire, and then they were back to regular appearances at the local bar, for a while the five of them, then four.

Until Frankie met you.

Had someone come up to him during one of those nights years before and told Frankie that one day he’d be bringing you along to the bar to join him and the guys, he’d have laughed in their faces. But for a while, that was exactly what occurred, until you and Frankie grew so close that you usually ended up making different plans, like going mini-golfing, or lounging at his apartment and watching movies. Not that you didn’t love the guys, all whom you’d met except for Santi as he had been off the grid for just over a year when you and Frankie had met.

It was thanks to the elder Miller brother, Will, that he had even met you at all. Working at the VA office, Will had learned of one of the few retirement perks they had for putting their asses on the line for their country-physical therapy. And you came highly recommended, a star PT who had worked magic over his friends' ailments. Knowing Frankie suffered from shoulder and neck pains, Will handed him your card and encouraged him to book an appointment.

He hadn’t called straight away. He’d popped your card onto his fridge and every day he’d pass by it, consider calling, and then talk himself out of it. Until the pain became too much to bear, his latest menial job just a little too physical for him, causing him to consider using again just to dull the ache. But he’d walked by your card moments later and instead of making a terrible decision he had promised himself he’d never make again, he called your office. Made an appointment with your friendly receptionist, who thankfully had his name already because Will had put in a good word for Frankie and asked that they try and get him in straight away, whenever he finally did call.

Two days later Frankie was standing nervously in the treatment room, looking at a wall decorated with your various degrees and certificates. He was anxious not only because he worried he’d get his hopes up that this would help the pain only to be disappointed, but also because he had no idea what to expect. Years of service as a pilot had made Frankie into a man who planned, meticulously, leaving little in the way of surprises. But he’d reasoned that calling the office back and demanding they give him a minute-by-minute account of what the appointment would be like was probably going too far.

And then you had walked in and immediately his worries morphed into concern over the fact that he required a beard trim, that he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and popped his usual cap on, probably appearing a little gruff. And fuck, he almost couldn’t breathe when you gave him the most dazzling, genuine smile like you were greeting an old friend. You were bright, a rare energy radiating off of you as though you absorbed it straight from the fucking sun, and you were beautiful. No wonder Will had winked at Frankie when he’d handed you the business card.

You were observant, introducing yourself and seemingly sensing his overall discomfort. Instead of launching straight to business, you gestured for him to sit and spent a good twenty minutes casually chatting, pulling information you needed from him while putting him at ease entirely. He learned then that Will had already sung Frankie’s praises, given you the heads up that he was a worrier and even told a few stories that showcased his talents as a pilot.

If Frankie didn’t know any better, he’d think his friend was trying to play matchmaker.

All thoughts of Will Miller, and pretty much every other thing on the planet, vanished the moment you laid your expert hands on to Frankie. You zeroed in on the worst source of pain and slowly worked away, and he could only agree with Will that you had magic hands. He could have died happily right then, as you chatted away and brought him the most relief he’d felt in years. You would pause occasionally to check in with his pain levels and make sure he was doing alright, always asking him to look at you to answer and searching his face as he spoke to ensure he was telling the truth.

The care you gave Frankie in just one appointment was enough to start him falling. And he kept going back, multiple appointments a week that not only had him walking taller, feeling lighter on his feet and reducing his migraines to seldom, but also allowing him to get to know you better. You were the kind of sweet-natured person that cried when you saw a sad commercial, laughed freely to the lamest of jokes, and seemed to wake up on the right side of the bed every day. You were sunshine, literal, tangible sunshine, and Frankie thought you might not even realize it.

Though Frankie had convinced himself early on that a woman as beautiful and kind as you could never be interested in a grouch like him, with his crows' feet and a closet full of demons. The longer he knew you little seeds of hope would sprout whenever he made you laugh so hard you had to stop the treatment just to hold your stomach as you giggled. Or when you’d share something with him innocent enough but, upon reflection, he would think it wasn’t something a normal patient-provider relationship would find exchanged.

But there was the age difference, a decade between you both that, if nothing else worked, would successfully extinguish his hope. He had wondered if perhaps you were just a decent people person, that the friendship he felt was there was entirely one-sided.

Until one day, a few months into coming to you for treatment, Frankie sat waiting for you to come in the room only for you to appear looking entirely unlike yourself. He booked his appointments always for the end of the day, a routine that promised he would get plenty of uninterrupted time with you and the conversation could flow without a time constraint. He had been so surprised that you weren’t grinning as you stepped into the room that he stood abruptly, filling with concern.

When he asked, softly, if you were alright, you didn’t brush him off like he might have expected. You instead looked up at Frankie, your lower lip trembling as your eyes filled with tears, and sobbed unexpectedly. That sound had torn a hole right into his chest and he had pulled you straight into his arms and hugged you close before asking you to tell him what he could do to help.

You ended up explaining that you had come in that morning to the news that a regular patient of yours, an elderly man you’d known the entire time you’d been working for the VA office, had passed away in his sleep. And you’d apologized to Frankie while sniffling and wiping at the tears, telling him you’d held it in all day but couldn’t do that when your friend asked you, and he had been baffled to realize you were referring to him. As your friend.

He had cut off your apology to hug you close again, smoothing your hair gently as he whispered calming words and sentiments to you in Spanish. And though you didn’t speak the language, you had since told Frankie it had done exactly what he’d hoped and made you feel all the better.

After his treatment that day, Frankie asked if he could take you for a drink to toast your friend's life. He waited for you to close up the office, and then you’d followed him in your car to drive over to his usual bar. And you both drank to the veteran who passed, then ended up ordering dinner and remaining at the bar until late, talking even more freely outside of the office. If Frankie didn’t already have it bad for you, that night sure sealed it for him.

After that, you and Frankie began texting regularly, sometimes even calling one another to share a funny story or talk about something in the news. He had joined you for your former clients funeral, his hand rubbing comforting circles into your back before he took you out for lunch, then you’d ended up at his place to watch a cheesy movie, ordering pizza when you both realized there was a sequel that, if it was as bad as the first, you absolutely needed to watch.

And just like that, Frankie saw his life altered completely when you became his best friend.

Currently, Frankie was seated comfortably on his couch, where he frowned at the TV playing a horror movie that you had insisted was supposed to be good, because Benny had recommended it. Considering the younger Miller brother could barely sit still half the time, that was supposedly good enough for you.

You were tucked into Frankie’s side, eyes fixed on the screen until a jump scare had you jerk, then twist your face to press into his chest, because you hated the gory bits.

“Fuck! How does this not scare you even a little, Frankie?” You whined, unknowingly causing Frankie to swell with pride when he heard the note of admiration in your voice. He had started to suspect that the reason movie nights were becoming exclusively scary movies was that you were determined to find one that actually frightened him.

So far, you’d had no luck. But Frankie didn’t mind, because though you were already a touchy person in general, you were especially clingy when you queued up the next horror flick as if you trusted him to keep you safe.

Frankie didn’t reply, his chest rumbling with silent laughter that made you teasingly poke his side. He jumped, because you knew exactly where to aim, then cleared his throat. The scene ended, and he began to extract himself from your grip. “My sweet tooth is calling, cariño. I’m going to get some ice cream.”

You let him go, your head popping up, a big grin on your face, “Can I have some too, please?” And he nodded, smiling at you before walking across the open concept apartment and into his kitchen.

He stretched his back before opening the freezer where he had some bars next to an off-limits pint of Ben and Jerry’s. You had put it there months ago, telling Frankie it was for days when you got together and one of you needed to cry over a bad date. You called it ‘emergency’ ice cream. Frankie considered it to be ‘fuck you’ ice cream, because every time he opened his damn freezer he saw that pint and ended up thinking about how neither of you had been on a date with anyone since becoming friends over a year before, then falling into the same circular argument with himself-that the friendship was too important for him to feel the way he did, that he was jumping to conclusions and maybe you had gone on a few good dates that you just didn’t tell him about, and he was out of his mind if he thought you would ever feel the same way.

“Here you go, Sunshine,” He plopped back down next to you and passed you your bar, watching as you beamed at him widely, the inevitable result of his use of the nickname he’d dubbed you with a long time ago.

He desperately hoped you never realized the amount of affection truly behind that nickname.

Because how could he even begin to explain that you were literally sunshine in his dark life?

“Thank you,” You pulled the wrapper off, glancing at the movie and frowning. “Uhg. Benny promised the one was good! I’m starting to think he only recommends movies if they have at least one pair of tits.” You took the first bite of your ice cream bar while Frankie nearly choked on his own.

Amused as he was whenever you joked about your shared friends, Frankie also loved it when you swore. You were a goofy, happy little thing most of the time and curse words just seemed so out of character for you, pulling laughter from Frankie any time you caught him by surprise. You spent your days around gruff veterans and never seemed to lose any light, no matter how many real horror stories you heard. So whenever you managed to sound so uncharacteristically blunt, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Benny has always been a tits man,” Frankie agreed, and you giggled. He tried to refocus on the movie then, but it hadn’t captured his interest in the least. After a moment, you spoke again and he had to work on not choking.

“What are you, Francisco?”

Your tone was playful, light; Frankie’s head jerked in surprise to gaze down at you and you wiggled your brows, going for laughs. You seemed completely unaware of the roaring in his ears, the visceral reaction your words brought forth within him. You and Frankie had shared intimate tidbits like that before with one another, often during nights at the bar with the Miller brothers. After a few drinks and usually, because his friends knew exactly how he felt about you and tried to steer the conversations into dangerous waters and watch Frankie try to save himself.

Only, Frankie’s friendship with you during the last few months had become...deeper. After the operation Santiago had brought Will, Benny, Tom and him in on, your relationship had evolved. Because that nightmare had reminded Frankie just how dark shit could get in the blink of an eye, and he’d had to do things he thought he was done with when he retired from service. Worse, because they were just civilians using Santi’s connections and intel to rob a drug lord.

And you had no idea what he’d gone through, how hard he’d fought just to get home to you because he couldn’t-wouldn’t-tell you. Yet you still patched him up, physically and emotionally, when he’d come home three weeks later than he’d promised. You held him as he cried and never became angry with him, never questioned him for answers as to why he’d come home with one less friend and a whole lot of mysterious trauma.

After that, Frankie realized he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you.

So a simple, flirtatious little question? Yeah, it really managed to fuck Frankie up.

His friends had sensed the change as well, noticed how you held Frankie up when he felt like he couldn’t stand, how you comforted them all when they got home and cried along with them over Tom, over Santi not coming home even though you’d only met him once, briefly. You held strong for him at Tom’s funeral, which prompted the Miller brothers to tell Frankie in no uncertain terms that he simply could not let you slip through his fingers. If that fucking mission had taught them anything, it was that life was too short and you might as well live it to the fullest.

But the thing was, Frankie depended on you. Your friendship was the one real, good, pure thing in his life. And you gave it so willingly and unquestionably even after what he put you through that there was no fucking way he was risking it by telling you how he felt.

Christ, you even had a spot in his bathroom for your own toiletries, a favourite pillow on his bed for the nights you stayed, a fucking hook for your coat that he installed just a little lower than the other because you were so much smaller than Frankie.

And still, he wouldn’t look at what that might mean because he was afraid, and as much as you seemed to think nothing scared him, the truth was that a gory horror movie, or losing his friend, or even fucking live combat could never come close to the fear he felt when he pictured life without you.

You were Frankie’s Sunshine, and he never wanted to be alone in the dark again.

Aware he was still gazing down at you, Frankie found himself entirely at a loss for words. You didn’t seem to mind, simply waiting for him to respond while taking small bites of your treat. His cock twitched at the combination of your words, the innocent way you gazed at him, because Frankie hadn’t touched himself in quite some time and it didn’t take much to drive him up the wall.

His life with you had become remarkably domestic, routine. You often stayed multiple nights in a row at his place, preferring his company over being alone, and the shorter distance to your office. His spacious condo had one large four-piece bathroom, which meant there had been a few times where one of you was in the shower and the other came in, desperate to use the toilet before their bladder could burst. The shower had a thickly frosted glass enclosure, which provided plenty of visual privacy from both sides, the only indication that someone was in the shower was a very faint tint. This was never an issue until it was.

Exactly sixty-two days prior (not that Frankie was necessarily keeping count of passing time since his last orgasm), you had burst into the bathroom one afternoon unexpectedly. Returning early from your jog because you needed to pee, while Frankie stood in the shower. He listened to you tell him about a cute dog you’d seen outside his building. The thing was, Frankie had expected you to be gone longer, and you were in the middle of a three-day visit that had left him needy and horny because he hadn’t had time alone and yet you walked around in his fucking clothes, slept next to him in his bed, and he needed release.

He was grateful the tinted glass prevented you from having any idea what he was doing on the other side. And he had been close already when you came in, one hand fisting over his cock while the other pressed into the tile wall, and guilt sprang up in the back of his mind because he had been thinking of you as he touched himself. And you were just feet away, unaware and fuck if that didn’t lead him to the edge.

But it was when you had sat down to pee and he heard you give a little moan of relief that Frankie lost it, giving in to the most powerful-yet silent-orgasm he had had in fucking years. Rope after rope of cum, his legs violently shaking, and he’d wondered if he would pass out it felt so good. Then you’d flushed and continued speaking, washing your hands before telling him you were going to put on a pot of coffee. And the guilt Frankie felt was so immense that he vowed right there he wasn’t going to touch himself again. He cared for and respected you too much to reduce you to his graphic thoughts without your consent.

Sixty-two days later and you were testing his limits unknowingly.

“I, uh, I’m not sure,” He replied, keeping his eyes locked on yours. You frowned a little, kitten licking the ice cream absentmindedly. Frankie almost groaned, wondering if you were trying to kill him. “I guess, it depends on the person.” He was never, ever going to admit he was a you man, that your ass, your perfect tits, your pretty little mouth were everything he could dream and more.

He tried to shrug casually, as if indifferent.

“I guess it’s a funny question,” You said after a moment, laughing a little, “I mean, no one asks a straight woman if she’s an ass or cock girl!”

Frankie took a too-large bite of his treat, the cold painful and giving him instant brain freeze but it was just the distraction he needed because seeing your plump lips wrap around the word ‘cock’ might just kill him. He coughed attempting to laugh at your joke despite the brain freeze, and you leaned closer in concern.

“Sorry, are you-ah, shit!” A piece of your ice cream bar, which you’d moved to hold higher as you were checking on Frankie, fell off and landed on your chest, instantly staining the pale pink t-shirt. You hopped up with a noise of discontent, catching the fallen glob and hurrying into the kitchen to toss it in the sink. “Damn it!”

Frankie reached out and paused the movie, standing up and intending to follow you. He took two steps, adjusting his cap as he moved, and then looked up to where you stood at the sink, running your shirt under the faucet. Freezing, he took it the sight of you standing in his kitchen, your shirt removed to run under the water, leaving you wearing yoga pants and a simple white bra. For a moment, he just shut down and stared at you dumbfounded, before internal alarms started sounding and Frankie’s eyes were sweeping over your curves, his eyes zeroing in on the lack of support your bra had, your breasts perky and full and fuck, he had to look away.

He looked up at his ceiling at cleared his throat “You uh, want me to grab you a shirt?” His voice came out much deeper than he was expecting. He hoped you didn’t notice, though with only being able to see your profile even if he did dare to look at you, he’d never be able to tell.

“Can I borrow your big sweater, please?” You asked him, and Frankie nodded as he hurried away, down the hall to grab the sweater he knew you meant from his room. He would have laughed at your suggestion it was his sweater when he barely got to wear it himself anymore, but he was trying to remember how to breathe.

Once out of sight in his bedroom, Frankie took a few steadying breaths before grabbing the sweater off the end of his bed. He was going to subject himself to a cold shower after he handed this to you because you were staying the night again and he could not climb into a bed with you this worked up.

One of the reasons that you and Frankie just worked as friends were your opposite ways of navigating life. Where Frankie was a detailed, meticulous planner, you flitted from idea to idea spontaneously until something landed right, and you seemed to enjoy pulling him along with you as you followed those random whims. And he let you pull him because he trusted you so completely. Even if he would still make a new plan in the back of his mind, it still felt like he was taking chances he never would have without you leading the way.

Planning was Frankie’s way of keeping control. Of keeping himself, his squadmates, his loved ones, safe and secure. After Columbia, where every bit of the plan had gone completely to shit, he’d needed to let you lead more often just so he could feel grounded because he didn’t trust himself any longer. And you had been happy to lead, to test his limits by pushing aside any planning he attempted and pull him from his comfort zone. You had taught him how to grapple with his instincts and his desires, giving him real-world methods to cope, including breathing as he was now.

So focused as he was on his breathing, Frankie hadn’t noticed you had joined him in his room, standing just inside the doorway. If he had heard you, he wouldn’t have spun around abruptly and take two long strides before realizing how close you were, nearly knocking you over as he did. He dropped the sweater when he reached out with both hands to grab your upper arms and steady you, and then he met your gaze.

Frankie couldn’t say whether it was the heat of his hands on you so unexpectedly, or the way you each shivered at the electricity that seemed to pulse from him to you. Maybe it was everything combined, years of friendship, longing and pining and then almost dying in the middle of the jungle only to come home and have you climb into his lap and sob in relief that he was home, and a million other moments in between.

But when Frankie met your eyes there in the doorway of his bedroom, he knew his expression was giving him away completely.

You were looking at him with wide eyes, your mouth slightly open in surprise, whatever words you were going to say long since lost. And then he saw it, was looking right at you when your expression shifted, no longer the innocent, playful woman but instead, one who was suffering just as much as he was, longing and love and this hunger on your face he’d never seen before.

Without hesitating, without thinking or planning his next move, Frankie tugged you against him and leaned down to slot his lips over yours, taken aback when he saw you close your eyes and stretch your neck up to meet him. When your soft lips connected to his, Frankie trembled and groaned, loving the feel of your body pressed against him, the way you smelled like something tropical, how even with your perfect curves you were so small compared to him. Kissing you was everything he’d dreamed and more.

He wanted to deepen the kiss, taste you, but even as he thought it his mind jumped ten steps ahead and imagined you on his bed and he had to stop himself from getting carried away. With great effort he pulled back, first breaking the kiss and then taking several steps away, panting heavily.

“Frankie?” You were out of breath, confused, and deliciously flushed. He could see your nipples tightened against the thin fabric of your bra, goosebumps along your skin. Just the knowledge that he’d had that kind of effect on you was enough to make him want to cum in his pants right there.

“Cariño, I can’t, I’m sorry,” It was physically painful now, his hard length straining against his jeans, but he was more concerned about you, and how afraid he was to lose you. “I-I’ve wanted to do that but you gotta know, I love you. I’m in love with you.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to look at his feet and rubbing his hands over his face.

You approached him again, just as quietly, taking him by surprise when you spoke from just inches away. “Frankie, look at me,” It was an order, a tone you rarely used but that always worked on grounding him, and he realized you understood he was struggling right now not to break down, terrified he’d fucked up the best thing in his life in a moment of weakness. He reluctantly met your gaze, swallowing thickly as he did.

“I need you to hear me right now, okay? Tell me.”

“I’m listening,” He confirmed, heart about ready to beat out of his chest, “I can hear you.”

“Good,” And you closed the gap between your body and his, pressing your hands into his shoulders. Frankie caught his breath. “I want you to do that again, and I don’t want you to stop. Please, kiss me again, Frankie, because I love you too and I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life than I want you-“

Frankie cut you off, a growl ripping from his chest before he gathered you roughly into his arms and kissed you again, this time quickly swiping his tongue across your lips for permission to enter, and you gladly parted them for him, moaning when his tongue licked into your hot mouth. He slid one hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving into your hair carefully before he pressed your face to his, needy to taste you more, to get drunk on you. Fuck, you were perfect.

When you whimpered against him, the sound almost lost in his mouth, Frankie moved, walking you back until you hit the wall and crowding you there. He ran his free hand across the bare skin of your side, heat coursing through his veins when you shuddered at his touch, keening for him. He hadn’t realized he was rolling his hips against you, his erection pressed into your stomach until one of your small hands somehow slipped between your bodies and ghosted over the front of his jeans curiously.

“Fuck,” He broke the kiss, this time simply to lower his head and kiss along your jaw, down your neck, “Sunshine, I fucking love you, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, sweet girl.” He licked the column of your throat as he moved to the other side of your face before biting gently. The sound that tore from you was so filthy he groaned again, dropping both hands to grasp your forearms.

“Frankie, fuck, don’t stop,” You were tugging at his shirt, and despite your request, he had to move back slightly to pull it over his head, his bare chest revealed to you and even though you’d seen him shirtless before, the intimacy of this time, of finally being with you after so long, made him self conscious. If you saw anything you didn’t like, you didn’t show it. Instead, you bit your lip as your hands tentatively roamed across his chest, trailing over his stomach lightly enough that he shivered. When you spoke next, you yet again took Frankie completely by surprise, your brows furrowing as your expression became more than just hungry, “Mine.”

You whispered it, but to Frankie, it was like you’d just announced it to the entire world. The possessive edge wasn’t lost on him, no, it shot straight to his core and snapped the final cords of his restraint.

“I should...I need a minute, Sunshine,” Frankie pressed his hands into the wall on either side of you, “I haven’t done anything in a long time, haven’t even cum, I don’t think I can be as sweet to you as I want to be.”

Your lust-blown eyes met his, “Why haven’t you cum?” He could hear trouble in your voice now, the not so careful way you spoke pulling dangerous images in his mind as he stared down at you, his jaw tense. When Frankie made no reply, you pressed your pointer finger to the middle of his chest, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly, lightly, moved it downward, trailing his dark hair. “Is it because you think of me? Are you that amazing that you won’t even let yourself cum because you think it’s wrong to think about me like that?”

A strangled noise was all he could respond with, his hands pressing desperately into the wall. You knew him too well, understood exactly what he’d meant without having to ask. And then you kept talking, and honestly, Frankie was floored at how dirty you suddenly were for him.

“I have to admit, you’re better than me, Frankie,” That finger trailed so slowly, closing in on his belly button now, “I’m not good like you, I think about you all the time. Especially when I touch myself, usually after I’ve spent a ton of time with you and I can’t fucking wait for a second longer. Wanna know what I picture?”

His voice was husky, a warning if ever there was one, “What did you picture, sweet girl?”

You moaned, your finger now closing in on the waist of his jeans, “You, bending me over the couch, that one is a favourite. Or waking you up with a blowjob, swallowing everything you’ve got because I know you taste delicious,” You unbuttoned his jeans now, sliding the zipper down with care, “But I think the winner, the one that always makes me scream your name, is thinking about riding you, Frankie. Climbing in your lap and just-“

Fuck, fuck he couldn’t hold back. He’d told you he couldn’t and yet you wouldn’t shut up and all thoughts of making love to you gently were out the fucking window, Frankie instead growled deeply and grabbed you by the arms, all but throwing you on the bed. You were smirking up at him, your eyes dark with lust and shining with triumph.

“Fuck, sweet girl, you wanna scream my name?” He removed his pants and briefs in one motion, his cock spring up, hard and leaking precum and you licked your lips, giving a little whimper at the sight of him. Frankie grasped himself, pumping his hand a few times as he stood over you, “Like what you see?”

“Jesus, Frankie-you need a new nickname,” You said, eyes glued to his cock, “Catfish makes no sense when you’re walking around with that fucking bat-wait!” He froze in the middle of removing his ball cap, looking at you with concern to see you bite your lip a little shyly, “Keep it on. The hat.”

Warmth spread through him at your request and Frankie replaced the hat on his head, then dropped to his knees next to the bed, his hands running up your thighs as you writhed. At your waist, he grasped the tops of your yoga pants and tugged them down, enjoying the way your body arched when you lifted your hips to help him. The only item of clothing either of you wore now was you in your bra, and fuck were you a sight.

Frankie gazed up at you from the floor in awe, his eyes roving over you hungrily as you watched him, propped up on your elbows. He started kissing up your thighs then, pushing your legs apart and spreading you, his hands kneading your flesh. “Sweet girl, you have such a pretty pussy, better than I imagined.” He moaned, biting into the soft flesh of your inner leg and drawing a whimper from you, “I can fucking smell you already, so wet and ready for me, fuck.”

“Oh god Frankie, please, touch me. I can’t wait anymore, I need you!”

“Told you,” Frankie climbed over top of you, his legs on either side of your body as he reached down and dragged you further onto the bed, his show of strength making you whimper, “It’s been a while. And you walk around here wearing my fucking clothes all the time. You don’t know what you do to me, Sunshine.” He grunted as he repositioned himself between your legs, his hands grasping the backs of them to haul your body against his, his cock pressed painfully against your thigh, “Gonna fuck you, sweet girl.” And with one careful, quick motion he thrust forward and each of you cried out at the pleasure of Frankie filling you.

“Frankie! Oh!” Your legs wrapped around him instantly, urging him as deep as possible as he split you open so deliciously. Once he was fully seated within you, Frankie dropped forward, propping himself on one arm, and cupped your face with his free hand. He looked into your eyes as he started a fast, hard pace, thrusting deep and reeling over how wet you were for him, how perfectly your velvet folds wrapped around him.

“Fuck, cariño, you’re fucking tight,” He grunted, kissing you sloppily as you threw your arms around him, hugging him close, “So tight for me, so perfect making those pretty noises, fuck.” Frankie groaned when you clenched around him as he spoke, “You like it when I tell you how perfect you are?”

“Ye-yeah Frankie, I love it. Oh, fuck!”

You were trembling now, squeezing him each time he whispered in your ear. Frankie kept up a string of praises and filthy words, taking note of the ones that had you gripping him extra hard.

He’d always had a casual enjoyment of dirty talk, nothing over the top, easy enough to shut off if it wasn’t enjoyed by the other person. But something about talking like this to you had his balls tightening that much faster, his thrusts becoming brutal.

Still murmuring in your ear, Frankie lowered his hand to your clit, experimentally rubbing, circling and pinching it to see what you liked. He was going to cum soon, and he’d be damned if you didn’t cum too. Though, as Frankie settled on circling you, both feeling and hearing how this was definitely how you liked it, his worries quickly dissipated when your hips were suddenly bucking up to meet his and you were screaming his name.

“That’s it, let go for me sweet girl,” Frankie’s thrusts were becoming increasingly sloppy as he neared the edge, “Are you-fuck, where should I?” He couldn’t even form a sentence now, he was so close and you were squeezing around him so perfectly as you closed in on your orgasm.

You understood though, your eyes meeting his as you pulled yourself together enough to reply, “Frankie, cum inside me please, please fill me up, pleasepleaseplease-“

“Fuck! H-here you go, perfect little thing!” He roared, dropping his weight over your and growling as he spilled inside you, as you bucked and writhed beneath him and screamed out, toppling over the edge and into oblivion with him. He heard himself cursing in Spanish as he experienced the most intense orgasm of his entire life, his hips slowing to continue to draw it out, still more cum filling you and you were a wreck under him, shivering and moaning.

“Yes, Frankie, yes.” You whimpered, your hands sliding into his hair-knocking his cap off-and tugging at his curls.

It took several minutes to recover, though Frankie had enough awareness to shift his weight so that you could breathe properly. Still hard inside you, he began to kiss you all over, peppering your face and neck before biting a few more marks into your neck, his tongue laving out to soothe. He enjoyed the way you whimpered when overstimulated, twitching when he pinched your nipple over your bra, squeaking his name when he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could one last time before pulling out.

Frankie collapsed on the bed next to you, then quickly tugged you into his arms and kissed the top of your head. His fear began to bubble back up now that the haze of passion was clearing, and he was starting to question every single moment that had occurred since you'd asked him if he was a tits man or an ass man.

What had he done? Was he going to lose you after this? Lose his entire reason for living for one amazing orgasm?

But it was like you could reach his mind, as only a few minutes had passed and then, with a little groan, you pulled yourself up so that you were on your elbow, looking down at Frankie. You took one look at his face and frowned, “That was quicker than I thought.”

Frankie stared at you, “What was?”

“I guessed it would take more than two minutes for you to start regretting this.”

Sighing, he pulled himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. You followed, but crossed your legs and shuffled next to him. “I meant what I said, I love you,” Frankie explained, rubbing a hand over his face, “I love you so much, so fucking much it hurts. But the idea of messing this up is terrifying me, Sunshine. I don’t think I could lose you, I think it would kill me.”

“Frankie,” You crawled over him, straddling his hips and settling into his lap. You cupped his face firmly, looking into his eyes. Your expression was open, warm and vulnerable and a little incredulous, “You aren’t going to lose me, not ever. I want this-I want you, and everything you come with, okay?”

Though his heart was soaring, Frankie still worried, shaking his head, “I come with a lot of dark baggage, sweet girl. Not to mention the age difference.”

“Jesus, Frankie, do you really think I don’t know what I’m saying when I tell you I’m all in?” You asked him, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “I love you. Can I tell you when I knew?”

Frankie peered at you, his hands coming to hold your waist as he nodded.

“The boys trip.” You stated, using the term each of you agreed upon when referencing his three-week disappearance to Columbia. “When you first left, I knew something was off but I trust you, so I didn’t question it. But then after a few days, with no word from you, I started to really worry,” You paused, momentarily lost in thought, eyes dark now with the painful memory of his absence and the little information you’d come to learn about it since. “Did I ever tell you I booked a ticket to Columbia?”

This caught Frankie off guard because you most certainly had not told him that, “What, are you serious?”

“Yep. Booked it for the day after you ended up calling me. I don’t know what I was planning to do, but I knew you were there and, even if you were dead, I needed to be as well.” You stroked your thumbs over his cheeks, “After you called, and I knew you were alive and coming home, I realized that the way you said it meant you almost didn’t make it home, and I knew you weren’t saying something. I hung up and sat in my room for a minute and it occurred to me that you could have died and I would have never seen you again. That was when I knew it wasn’t just a crush.”

Heavy emotion filled his chest, rendering him unable to immediately respond. Frankie gathered you close and stood, clutching you against him and carrying you into the bathroom. He set you on the toilet before turning to his massive soaker tub and switching it on, fully intending on spending the rest of the night in there with you. When he turned around, you were carefully tidying yourself up. With a grunt, he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under warm water before kneeling in front of you and taking over.

“Why didn’t you say anything? After I came home, I mean.” His tone was light, as he didn’t mean to come across as accusing you of anything-it’s not like he had said anything to you. Good-natured as you were, you simply smiled at him, a little sadly.

“Too afraid, right at first,” You admitted, your eyes fluttering shut as he took care of you with the warm washcloth, “But when you came home you were a fucking wreck, Frankie. You lost your friend, Santi didn’t come back with you either, and Will and Benny had the same expression on their faces whenever I saw them. You saw some shit, did some shit, I don’t know and I’ll be real here, I don’t need you to ever feel like you should tell me what exactly happened. But after the first day you were back, I could see how much it changed you and I thought it would be selfish to tell you how I felt and add more emotional bullshit onto your plate.”

Frankie continued to kneel in front of you after tossing the washcloth into his laundry hamper. For a moment, the only sound in the room that of the tub filling. He stared into your eyes, seeing only how truthful you were being, how incredibly kind. He had never realized how completely he could love someone until he met you.

“I thought about you the entire time I was gone.” He admitted before carefully standing and checking the temperature of the water. He added a bath salt mixture that you’d bought a while ago, claiming it was a gift when really you were the one to use them, locking yourself away for hours to soak because you didn’t have a tub at your place. He shut the water off and held his arms out for you, which you eagerly stepped into and allowed him to guide you both into the water.

Once settled, your back against his chest, you replied. “Your face when you came home, I’ll never forget your expression.” His legs were on either side of you, and you began to lazily trace along his right thigh as both of you fell into your painful memories of his ill-fated trip.

Frankie sighed sadly, “I’m sorry I ever left, Sunshine. I never should have left you,” He tightened his grip around your waist under the water, one hand spread flat across your stomach, “It was just...fuck, everything went bad straight from the start. We had a moment of luck and then it was like nothing could go right. And I don’t know, I’m fucking gutted that Tom is gone, but it’s worse that Santiago won’t come home. He’s like my brother, and he blames himself for everything.”

Frankie knew you had no idea what he meant. You knew he and the guys were former special ops that served together, but when Santi had asked him to go to Columbia Frankie had only told you the basics-the country, who he would be with, that he might not have a lot of chances to call, and that it would be about a week. Santi had picked him up and you had been there to see him off that morning, and his friend had casually referenced a ‘boys trip’ while speaking with you as Frankie loaded his shit in the back.

Of course, you weren’t stupid. You worked with the VA, met a lot of former service members who ended up contracting out their skills after retiring or leaving due to injuries or lifestyle changes. And you knew Frankie, understood him like no one ever had before, which is why as he gave you further details you didn’t flinch or freeze up, you simply listened. When Frankie had gone quiet for a while, you eventually turned to gaze up at him over your shoulder, your cheek on his chest.

“From what I could tell,” You began slowly, your words cautious, “Whatever you did, what happened, you all put it aside to get Tom’s body home to his family. And considering the type of work Santi was doing out there for three years before he came here to ask you guys to join him, I figure you all must have almost died a few times each, probably took out some terrible men along the way.”

Frankie had to bite back his sob, turning his face away from you to stare, ashamed and remorseful at the wall. You reacted quickly, pulling yourself up and turning over, your naked body pressing over his as you grabbed Frankie’s head and gently turned him to look at you. “Baby,” You cooed, your eyes shining with concern, “Don’t do that, don’t hide from me.”

That was all it took. Frankie let the sob out and the relief of it was instantaneous, so much so that he let out another, then another, all while you held him and murmured soft, sweet words and pressing chaste kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, along his jaw. It didn’t last long, he’d cried so many times over everything that had gone down, but this was the first time you had revealed you sort of had an idea of what they had been up to, and you were still supporting him and loving him and it was all very overwhelming.

A short time later, Frankie wiped his eyes and shot you a grateful look, hoping you could sense how much he appreciated you. You settled into the water again, knees pulled to your chest as you faced him and trailed your hands comfortingly up and down his chest. “Sunshine,” He whispered, catching one hand and holding it against his heart, “I love you, thank you for being so fucking incredible.”

He tugged you closer, joining you in laughing when a little water sloshed up over the edge of the tub as you landed against him. You snuggled close and kissed him, your fingers carding into his curls and holding him steady. When Frankie took you to bed that night, there were no pillows between your bodies, not a shred of clothing separating you. He held you close, falling asleep faster than he had in years.

And for the first time in Frankie’s life, he felt whole and complete, like nothing could ever bring him into darkness again, not when he had you, literal sunshine, lighting his existence.

PART TWO

Permanent Taglist:

@mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711

#reader insert #fanfic #angst #fluff #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #fem reader #oneshot #best friend #friends to lovers #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #smut #love

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newtonsheffield · 3 years ago

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did we see good girl eddie and goose yet?

‘cause bagwell is already scared of Anthony, but imagine if it’s good girls!anthony

We haven't officially seen Eddie and Goose yet!

But let's take a look! Especially at Goose+ Anthony

Matthew Bagwell seemed to spend 90% of his life being sickeningly nervous these days. Ever since he'd gone the the library one Saturday morning, and seen a girl, around his age, be jostled roughly past sending all of the books she'd been carrying back to her table flying. Matthew had leapt forward to help her after the man had shrugged barely apologetically. He's squatted in front of her, and the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen looked up at him through wire rimmed glasses.

"Oh thank you, You don't need to help." She'd said a little kindly, still smiling despite the fact she'd just had her possessions scattered everywhere.

"No um, it's fine. I like helping." Matt had said, like a complete bloody moron. And she'd smiled as their fingers brushed when he handed her her books.

"I'm Edwina. What's your name?"

"Beautiful." It had leapt out of his mouth before he could stop it. His mouth dropping open in horror at himself. "Fuck, Matt, I'm Matt. I'm not beautiful, you are. I mean, Shit, sorry, I'm not like a sex pest or anything I-"

And she'd burst out laughing, her beautiful face crumpled with joy, "You're cute, come sit with me." And he'd started what he was pretty sure was going to be the rest of his life.

Matt knew Edwina's older sister, Kate, was at Cambridge. Their entire family was, pretty rightfully Matt thought, very proud of that fact, and she and Edwina were close, Edwina was always telling hims stories about Kate, and the antics they'd gotten up to

"I really want you to meet Kate. You'll love her." She sighed and honestly, the thought made him a little unwell. Because Edwina had said so many times that there was no one whose opinion mattered more than Kate's. And what was worse, Edwina's parents, as lovely as they were, practically gushed about her boyfriend. Anthony was so lovely, such a nice boy, they wondered when he was going to propose, though Matt knew they couldn't be more than 21.

"Kate and Anthony are coming to visit!" Edwina said excitedly one morning, almost as soon as she arrived at the library. And as happy as he was for her, anxiety bubbled in his stomach. "You have to come and meet Kate! Please!" And how could he say no.

The minute he'd met Kate Sharma, he was sure, he'd never met a more intimidating young woman in his entire life. She was tall, and her cheekbones were high and proud, and just as strikingly beautiful as her younger sister, if in a slightly more menacing way, and she was impeccably dressed in a smart skirt and blouse, her blazer hanging over her shoulders. But her smile was bright and kind as she greeted her family and then Matt, she took a genuine interest in his plans to go to Oxford when he graduated.

"Katie, it's a shame Anthony couldn't travel with you." Mrs. Sharma had hummed a little sadly, and Kate had sighed.

"Yeah, he had to work, he'll be down Saturday though." And Matt had immediately formed an image of what Anthony must look like, probably wore a sweater vest and suspenders, he figured.

Matt just happened to be at the Sharmas for tea on Saturday, Edwina had insisted he come, though he felt a little like he was intruding. When the roar of a motorcycle sounded down the street. Kate immediately abandoned the book she'd been reading, dropped it on the floor and sprinted from the living room.

"You'll see." Eddie shrugged rolling her eyes affectionately, and seconds later Matt heard an excited squeal in the hallway as the door opened.

Matt couldn't help peer curiously into the room and what he saw was the most confusing sight he'd ever seen. Kate Sharma, had her legs wrapped around the waist of an absolutely behemoth man. Matt was sure he'd be taller even than his own six foot frame. His hair was braided back, tattoos running up his thick arms, a leather jacket clearly abandoned on the floor as he'd caught her leaping towards him. And yet the expression on his face was nothing short of lovestruck.

"We missed you, Princess." He grinned down at her, accompanied by a yip which, matt was startled to realise , had come from a corgi, strapped into a backpack wearing jesus christ were those motorcycle goggles?!

Matt was roughly shoved past by Mr Sharma as this man set Kate gently on the ground, followed by the dog.

"Anthony, son, how was your ride?" This was Anthony?! This terrifying man was the boyfriend the Sharmas loved so much?! Matt was baffled as Mrs. Sharma bustled past him.

"It was great, thanks Tom." Anthony was saying. Tom?! Matt had hardly been able to get Eddie's Dad to say three words together to him. "Newton had a great time."

"Anthony sweetheart, you look skinny!" Mrs. Sharma was saying, practically dragging Anthony past Matt. Skinny?! His arm was thicker than Matt's neck. "Doesn't Katie feed you up there?"

"He does the cooking, Mary!" Kate was saying, rolling her eyes as Anthony grinned.

"Not at all, Mary, I'm wasting away."

"Oh you poor thing, I'll make you something." Mrs. Sharma said completely ignoring her daughter.

"hey Kiddo." Anthony grinned at Eddie as he passed.

Matt watched, his mind desperately trying to catch up, as Mrs. Sharma placed an entire banquet platter of samosas in front of Anthony not too long after.

"Mary, these are some of your best. Beautiful!" Anthony said happily kissing Mrs. Sharma on the cheek as she past, Kate humming happily in his lap.

'Oh you're sweet."

And finally, Matt was terrified to say, Anthony's attention fell on him. "Who's this then Eddie?"

"Eddie's boyfriend, Mark." Mr Sharma said a little dryly.

"Matt, Dad." Edwina said rolling her eyes.

"Oh right, Matt." Mr Sharma said, still paying him no mind.

And honestly, as if the day wasn't odd enough, Matt had to scoot, his bicycle past Anthony's enormous motorbike, and he was positive, the dog had come out of that sidecar.

#good girls au #kathony #anthony x kate #edwina x goose #edwina sheffield #edwina sharma #matthew goose bagwell #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #sheffield family feels #molly's asks and answers

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andraaste · 4 years ago

Text

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 15

No, you’re not dreaming, here is indeed chapter 15 ! I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy it 💕 (and please, forgive me for the quality of the translation 😭)

Chapter 15 : We’re going to make a deal, you and me

- Good evening, my little dragon.

I closed my eyes for a moment to savor the sound of his voice in my ear, feeling like an eternity had passed since the last time we were alone. At this probably late hour, the corridor was quiet, there was hardly anyone to surprise us which helped me to let myself go and take advantage of his proximity.

- Good evening, I answered, amused to hear him call me like that a second time, the first being when his ice had mingled with my breath.

I felt his lips in turn sketch a big smile close to my head. Running one of his hands to the doorknob of his bedroom door, he opened it before placing his two palms on my hips to push me into the room, leaving me no possibility of stealing away. Once inside, he closed the door behind us with a snap. I took the opportunity to finally turn to him and remained speechless for a moment.

Lance was visibly coming out of the shower as his loose hair was dripping onto his black t-shirt and the rolled up towel he had laid casually on the back of his neck. His locks, an almost bluish white, fell wildly on his face, making him look younger than I had ever seen him before.

I literally thought I was fainting when he looked at me with his eyes both icy and burning under the barrier of his frivolous locks.

My God, he was so beautiful.

- How are you feeling ? I went to see you in the infirmary but you were snoring pretty loud, I didn't want to wake you up, he said seriously before bursting into a frank laugh at my bewildered look.

I really hoped I hadn't done this.

- I'm much better, thank you, I replied, giving him a grimace in passing. And at least I hope you liked it, otherwise I don't know how to go about looking attractive.

Approaching with a bemused air, a thin amused smile stuck on his face, he slipped his hands under my neck until his fingers came to mingle fiercely at the base of my scalp, thus tilting my head in his direction and giving birth to light currents of energy on the smallest bit of skin he touched.

- I'm really reassured, he confessed intensely, before resuming in a much lighter tone. Your snores are the sexiest I've heard, don't doubt it. Besides, if you hadn't been bleeding, I would most likely have had a hard time resisting your charm.

I couldn’t help but laugh in my turn at his nonsense. I wasn't sure if I'd ever seen him so relaxed before, but I liked it more than I dared admit.

- In that case, I'll try to be careful not to look too attractive, you shouldn't give up.

As if to prove my words right, his intense gaze drifted shamelessly to my lips, giving rise to a new sensation in my lower stomach. His expression, meanwhile become indecipherable, literally hung on me at the slightest of his movements, my heart pounding so hard I was sure it could almost become audible.

But it was with disappointment that I felt him slowly let go of me, brushing my neck with a tiny involuntary caress.

- You’re right. I unfortunately have the impression of not being far from it, at times.

Suddenly absent, he lost himself for a few seconds in contemplating the void behind me, which allowed me to observe him more openly. I was about to answer him when his voice echoed between us again.

- You look much healthier than yesterday, anyway. Besides, were you able to eat something ?

Oh. How could I tell him that the only thought I had in my head when I woke up in the infirmary had been to see him, before even thinking of anything else ?

Realizing he was right, I rubbed a hand on my stomach as a low gurgling sound was heard.

- Uh... not yet, I said, caught in the act. In fact, I didn't have time to take a shower either.

A new smile surreptitiously dawned on his lips.

- Was the little human in too much of a hurry to find me ?

- No matter what, I defended myself, looking away, the blush rising in my cheeks. I just walked past your room before arriving at mine. And then, you didn't give me the choice to enter, I'll call you back.

- It's true that you seemed completely against it, he said ironically.

This idiot was having too much fun with the situation for my liking, so I decided to fake my departure.

- Well now that I'm gone, I'll be able to go take care of all that. I'll probably see you tomorrow, Lance.

My light tone didn't seem to baffle him for a second. I walked around him to make my way to the exit while watching him out of the corner of my eye casually remove the wet towel from his neck. But, when my fingers were about to engage the handle, a dark-skinned hand suddenly entered my field of vision, coming to rest with authority on the wooden frame, keeping the door firmly closed. His breath tickled my cheek.

- Alright, we're going to make a deal, you and me, he began. You can go take a shower, but then you meet me here. I take care of the rest.

- When you say "the rest", do you mean that I take my meal in your room ?

- It's almost midnight, the refectory is closed but Karuto is still in the kitchen. I know very well that he will make an effort for you, on the other hand he will never let you eat on the spot when he has just cleaned the room.

I did indeed imagine Karuto reacting that way, which made me laugh.

- What if I don't accept ?

- Who said you have the choice ? he wondered, breaking into a broad, confident smile.

I crossed my arms, an eyebrow raised and an amused pout.

- Isn't a deal just supposed to be accepted by both parties ?

He withdrew his hand before shrugging, feigning innocence.

- Call it what you want as long as your butt comes back quickly here, and know that I will not hesitate to come and get you myself if necessary, he concluded with an air that didn’t leave the leisure refuse.

This man was just incorrigible, but for once I must say I was ready to listen to him very wisely.

Once my shower was finished, I quickly went to my room to put on some clean clothes. Was I stressed about joining Lance ?

Totally.

With a lump in my stomach, I knocked on his door and then entered without waiting for an answer. Leaning over a book with an ancient cover, the dragon seemed to be searching for something in these pages yellowed by time. Crouching on the ground, his long top hair fell over his eyes, hiding part of his concentrated face.

I walked into the room as he carefully closed the book, straightening up in the process.

- Hey, I said softly, stopping near him. What are you looking for ?

Seeming relieved to see me come back, he grabbed me delicately by the waist to plant a kiss on the top of my head, making my poor heart resume its frantic run.

- Hey, he replied calmly while releasing me, as if nothing had happened. I go through all of the HQ books relating to the three great races of Eldarya, including dragons and aengels, but I can't find anything similar to what's happening between our powers. I almost wonder if this phenomenon isn’t totally apart, even if it’s quite insane.

Tilting my head to the side, I observed the old cover he still held between his fingers before noticing that the title was written in Greek. Turning my head in the direction of the bookcase that adorned the wall beside me, I was amazed to discover that it was filled with a multitude of alphabets that I was unable to read.

I returned my attention to him.

- Maybe this is information that has been intentionally suppressed ?

He seemed to think about my guess, his gaze in turn lost on the covers.

- At the point where we are, I think anything is possible.

He tried to push the wicks that blocked his view with a passage of his hand, but they immediately returned to their place, which made him look incredibly... wild.

And sexy.

When he returned his attention to me again, I had the unpleasant feeling that my thoughts were on my face, which probably made me turn crimson. Fortunately, the dragon seemed in a calm mood and did’nt get up.

- Are you hungry ?

His question caught me off guard, I had totally forgotten that point of our "deal", if I could really call it that. Lance went to get a tray on his desk, on which sat a real full meal. So he wasn't laughing when he said that Karuto would agree to do this for me, I clearly hadn't expected that much.

He put the tray down on his bed and invited me to sit down.

- I don't really have a suitable place to eat here... I hope it will be okay anyway.

My heart warmed even more at his attention. I felt... good, to be completely honest.

- It’ll be very good, don’t worry. Thank you so much.

I sat down and began to eat timidly at first, then with more and more appetite as my hunger aroused. By the time I swallowed my meal, the dragon had returned to his activities, leaving me plenty of time to observe him.

Entirely dressed in black, only the color of his hair contrasted, highlighting the trace of his scar on the back of his neck. It was the first time that I had seen it almost entirely, it ending its way under his top.

Leiftan's words came back to me then. This scar, it was probably the wound with which he had been made dead, becoming as a result of this incident the character of Ashkore. What had happened to him, exactly ? The aengel had described it as his only weak point, which was why he never went out without covering the back of his neck. But another question was bothering me.

Did he ever show it openly to others, as he was doing with me now ?

My gaze fell on his back, which was both wide and slender. Our relationship was progressing step by step, it was a fact, but had it evolved so much without me realizing it ?

It was true that we had kissed, but this incident had only happened once. I had reacted with my deepest fears, seeking some comfort in the arms of the only person who had actually seen me. And, in truth, Lance had ultimately only responded to my urges.

But, calmly, what was it then ?

I ended up swallowing my entire meal, and it was with a full stomach that I got up to put the tray back in its original place. Probably remembering my presence, the young man decided to stop his research and put back the books he had taken out. I decided to join him, placing myself at his side in order to help him.

- Did you manage to find something ? I questioned him, cascading my long black hair down behind my shoulder.

- Not at all.

Leaning forward slightly, he came to rub his face with both hands, looking visibly overwhelmed at not finding any information that could be of use to him.

- I didn't find anything about your connection with Leiftan either, to believe that these phenomena are totally unique to you, he said while giving me a sideways glance. You really have something special, no matter what you think of it.

I pretended to be focused on my task to hide the cloudy feeling his assertion gave me.

- Something special, that's for sure. I'm sure there hasn't been any aengel before me that's been on the verge of death because she couldn't pull out her poor wings.

Lance laughed frankly at my reflection, visibly amused by my jaded expression.

- On the verge of death, exactly ?

- Obviously ! And don't laugh, it's a lot more complicated than you think, I continued on the same length.

His gaze much sharper than a moment earlier, made butterflies born in my stomach. I liked to see him come alive when one of our discussions amused him.

- Indeed, I had forgotten that I did’nt know what it was like to have wings, he quipped before nimbly intercepting my vain attack on his shoulder, making resonate again his hoarse laughter as his hand decided not to let go of mine.

- You will end up hurting yourself, I will prevent you for your good.

Personally, I used to call it an oversized ego. I assumed, however, that it was too late to make up for this point on him.

- Besides, you could see your back when you went to take your shower ?

- Yes, I said, remembering the image of my skin, it strangely almost healed. We hardly distinguish anything, there are only a few traces of bruising. I don't understand, yesterday I passed out because of this, and today... it's like there never was anything.

The dragon was silent for a moment, probably analyzing my words.

- It's already a good thing that it has improved, even if I understand your frustration at not reacting in a "normal" way, let's say.

I stopped, my free hand resting on a book and my gaze fixed in front of me. That was it, he was right. Although in this particular case it was a good thing, my body was once again reacting in an abnormal, inexplicable way, and it was this point that bothered me the most.

Without ever showing anything, Lance always listened attentively to the slightest of my silences.

Sometimes I felt like he understood me better than I did.

I turned my attention back to him and was surprised to fall directly on his gaze of such cold blue and such deep intensity, that I lost myself in it without any escape. His hand finally let go of mine to move up my arm, stopping its course when his long, thin fingers reached my cheek. When these slid down the back of my neck, I instinctively turned my face in his direction.

Just before his lips caught mine bluntly.

I in turn buried my fingers in his hair while responding eagerly to his kiss. Without warning, his other arm wrapped around my waist to lift me up against him, pinning my legs on either side of his hips. In two long strides, Lance turned off the overhead light to turn on a new, much more intimate one, then laid me confidently on the mattress. His body positioned just above me, I pushed him to stand up with my hands against his chest, following him in his race. When he found himself only leaning on his knees, I lifted his dark t-shirt to pull it over his head. The dragon helped me without flinching, rolling his muscles under his tanned skin as he sent the garment to graze.

Without giving me time to do anything, he made me tilt back again so as to come over me completely. Catching my hips with his large hands, he slid me so that I was pushed up higher in the bed.

I grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and pulled on it, quickly baring my stomach and then my chest. Lance didn't have the patience to wait for me to finish removing it to take it to the next level. With dexterity, he was already unbuttoning my pants with one hand while kissing each part of my body which was revealed little by little, then, with a sharp and precise movement, he pulled on them in order to slide first my buttocks then my legs, until I remove it completely.

Only wearing my panties, I dug my fingers into the quilt above my head under his feverish gaze. He continued to kiss my body, varying sometimes between a nibble or a lick on my burning skin, his eyes disappearing in the wake of his messy hair as he started the slope of my curves.

When I felt my underwear slide over my thighs, his kisses became softer, deeper. He parted my legs with his suddenly patient hands, stroking my thin skin in a slow trajectory as he positioned himself lower.

My breath quickened in a split second when his tongue met me.

First applied, the young man wasn’t long in settling on the crescendo of my moans to deepen each of his licks, bringing me to the climax when his fingers joined the dance, sinking deep into me. My legs began to shake, forcing me to sink my teeth into the flesh of my arm so as not to wake up the whole HQ. When my jolts finally subsided, the dragon didn't give me a second's respite. Kissing my mouth passionately, he stood up to remove the only clothes he had left. I couldn't help but bite my lip as I admired the beauty of the man standing in front of me.

A slight smile spread across his full lips as he towered over me again, making his way effortlessly between my thighs. He leaned on one arm and grabbed one of my legs with his free hand, pulling it over his hip. I took the opportunity to wrap it around him and at the same time raised my pelvis, so as to make it easier for him.

Sliding my hand on his cheek, I anchored myself in his gaze so intense that I was deeply moved.

Unfortunately, I couldn't keep my fingernails from digging into his flesh when he pushed hard inside me. A single drop of blood immediately escaped the scratch and came to his lips as he began to perform several massive back and forth movements.

He leaned close to my ear.

- My angel, I have just started and you already bleed me, he laughs weakly.

But he didn't give me a chance to answer, at least not as I would have liked. Accentuating his jerks, my cries began to fill the room more and more loudly.

It didn't take long for our mouths to meet again, as if magnetized now that they had finally found each other, in turn making the red pearl flow to the hollow of my lips.

(Chapter 16)

#eldarya #eldarya new era #i am not your enemy #eldarya lance #lance eldarya #lance #eldarya the origins #ashkore #beemoov #eldarya fanfiction #fanfiction #eldarya fanfic

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leam1983 · 2 years ago

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More Vampire Thoughts

Imagine an anti-Interview of sorts. Let's go back to my Not-Schreck from earlier, the genteel, well-heeled and adjusted one, and imagine how that went.

The interviewer's a little baffled. No soliloquies, no lamentations on centuries of loneliness, no self-pitying. "I found that tricorn hats and stovepipes worked wonders for my ears' pinnae," the vampire admits. As long as I kept it on or doffed it back on fast enough, nobody really noticed much of anything. I came and went, sampled people on occasion, made some friends, annoyed some people..."

He shrugs. "Like you do, basically."

The interviewer frowns. But he looks so old! Didn't people notice anything?

The vampire laughs, the sound of it frank. "You forget, my friend, that it wasn't that long ago that someone in their fifties looked and felt venerable to most of everyone else. As far as most of everyone was concerned, I was anywhere between fifty to seventy-two years old. I've only had to act the part of a distinguished old man of later years for about the past five decades or so. Even with that in mind, people don't ask that many questions. The body starts to warp out of shape, past a certain age, so who's to say pointed ears and visible buck teeth wouldn't just be poor results of my own genetics?"

He gestures casually. "I keep my nails clean, I shower every night, socialize just as frequently... Grief is a constant companion, that much is correct; but everyone grieves at least someone or something else in their lives, my good sir. You learn to cope, over time, and realize that the spirited child you protected became your fractious ward, then your apparent daughter, your pupil, your wife..."

He sighs, even if the sound isn't exactly saddened. "You realize the value of mortal choices, and find dignity in watching one of your beloveds go to their grave in peace and total self-consciousness. You soon realize you'll see this often. The tragedy returns, each time - but love is a vine that isn't easily uprooted. I still have my great-great-great grandchildren close to heart, and they love their oddball grandpa in complete sincerity."

The old vampire smiles. "The old stories you tell yourselves are twaddle, honestly. With the right support system, undeath isn't so bad."

#vampires #stories #ye olde rice backlash

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amphibious-entity · 3 years ago

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TMBS Book 1 Brain Dump

~An Embarrassingly Long Post~

I don’t know why I’m writing this or why I’m so determined to do it. Maybe to finally assume my true form and become a mega dork on main, or maybe just for fun!

This is basically a compilation of all the main points running through my head after reading The Mysterious Benedict Society (2007) for the first time. Rather than posting a ton and spamming the tag, everything’s here in one neat package! (hopefully this gets it all out of my system rip)

Contents:

The Book Itself

The Book Itself, for real this time

The Characters

A Funny Parallel

The S.Q. Section

Lines & Scenes I Liked

Spoilers abound!

The Book Itself

Upon acquiring the first three books (don’t judge me pls), I was surprised at just how long they are. Like, they’re still pretty light being paperbacks and all, but these books are hefty lads.

The first book has this Disney+ Original Series circle thing printed on it, which is kind of unfortunate. Regardless, I love the cover illustration and yellow is actually my favorite color :D It made me weirdly quite happy whenever I saw the book lying around in my room

Also, it’s really cute how there’s a letter from Mr. Benedict at the end! (It only reveals that you can find out his first name if you “know the code”, meaning the bit of Morse printed below the summary on the back.) Shock and horror, though, as I realized I’m starting to recognize some of the letters

The Book Itself, for real this time

It’s wonderful how the tone of the book really shone through to the show adaptation. Something about the deliberateness of the aesthetic, from the set designs to the fashion to scene compositions, that really sells that particular style— like it’s very clear that this story is being told to us, rather than one we’re seeing unfold, if that makes sense.

Where that narration style stood out to me the most was the first chapter. We are told (rather than shown) how Reynie gets himself to the point of the second test, and there’s this whole twisty time maneuver for that whole sequence of events that’s really interesting

A super secret fun fact about me is that I wanted to be a writer when I was younger! So this particular balance of show vs. tell is really neat, since it runs counter to my own tendencies. The sheer amount of commas in every sentence is also kind of comforting, since Ahah, I Do That in those few serious-ish attempts at writing lol

Overall this book’s style reminds me a lot of Roald Dahl’s books, which are very nostalgic for me :D The whole “kids are more competent than adults” angle helps a lot too haha

The Characters

Oh boy here’s where I get a little bit critical! Overall I did really like this book!! it’s just that that expresses itself in all this weird “”analysis”” lol

Reynie - much better in the books than in the show

It’s sort of a lukewarm take but I feel like show!Reynie is kind of boring? He doesn’t have a lot going on flaw-wise, and obviously since he’s the protagonist he can’t have too many weird traits or else the kids watching can’t project themselves onto him as easily

(I call it the difference between an aspirational protagonist and a vessel protagonist. Going off of the Roald Dahl vibes, think Matilda vs Charlie. show!Reynie is more of a Charlie)

Thus when we get to see him really struggle with the Whisperer and doubt himself it gives him a lot more dimension, at least in my opinion

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

Sticky - my son

I’ve long held to no one besides myself and my long suffering sister that Sticky is The Best Member of the Society

He happened to hit a lot of the Bingo squares of Stuff I Like In Characters: glasses, anxious, nice :), kind of a coward but ultimately is there for his friends, etc

For some reason I don’t talk about him nearly as much as you-know-who, but I love him just as dearly

Kate & Constance - I don’t have much to say

Kate is really interesting in this book! I like how we get to see more of her depths, in particular that one passage about her belief that she is invincible being the only thing that keeps her from falling apart? :c

Also her constant fidgeting is relatable lol

Constance is somehow a lot more tolerable in the book. I think I’m just one of those people with no patience for small children, unfortunately lol

(Some of) The Adults

It’s interesting that they had such an offscreen presence for most of the book. Giving them more time was probably one of the stronger changes of the show

However if that decision was made at the expense of the white knight scenes I think the choice should have been clear

I like the way Rhonda and Number Two are written

Milligan always on sad boy hours 😔✊

The “mill again” passage is touching but kind of messes up the pacing of the getaway, at least for me. Maybe I should read it again to make sure I didn’t miss something

Miss Perumal is much better in the show. We see so little of her in the book she doesn’t function well as an emotional anchor for Reynie, imo

The Institute Gang

Jackson and Jillson serve their purpose well, and Martina was surprising to say the least. I like the direction they took her in the show! I can’t imagine how funny it must have been to watch the tetherball subplot come out of nowhere lolol

These sections were written out of sequence, so random tidbit I couldn’t fit in The S.Q. Section: I like how he stumbles over his words. relatable

Mr. Curtain

While I think I know why they decided to not give Curtain the wheelchair in the show, we were totally robbed of Actor Tony Hale’s performance for the reveal during the final confrontation

Speaking of the wheelchair, it’s such a powerful symbol of his need for control or rather, his fear of losing it

The Contrast between him and Mr. Benedict. This point is expanded on in A Funny Parallel

Mr. Benedict

Oh boy, Mr. Benedict… How do I say this

I find it hard to trust Mr. Benedict, unfortunately

I mean to say, I do in the sense that I know he would never hurt the kids, thanks to knowing that a) this is a children’s book series and b) the meta (tumblr) states that he is really nice and lovable and stuff, but seriously. Why do the kids trust him at first?? I probably missed something somewhere

I like to think I’m an optimistic person, but unfortunately I’m also super paranoid. The premise of “a bunch of vulnerable orphans team up with a strange old man” is just so odd to me I don’t know how to explain it

I don’t know!!! I really want to trust Mr. Benedict

One of the strengths of the show is that we get to see him more often, and thus he gets to acknowledge more often that the plan is weird and that he feels really badly for putting the kids in danger and that he’s trustworthy and genuine

But his lack of presence for most of the book just makes him into something of a specter, invisible and unknowable, speaking only in riddles from across the bay

Which is why the white knight scene is so important!! I loved that scene ;-;

Because here’s an actual emotional connection! We can actually see it happening, rather than only being told that it exists

Reynie asking for advice and receiving encouragement, in words that demonstrate that Mr. Benedict actually cares about him and worries about him and agghh

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

But overall this whole issue didn’t ruin my enjoyment of the book at all! It’s just ->

A Funny Parallel

Okay, ready for my biggest brain, hottest take ever??

Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain…. are… the same

I mean obviously not entirely, given that one is benevolent and kind and the other is… Mr. Curtain

But seriously. Genius old man seeks out children (mainly orphans) to enact a plan. Said children often end up incredibly devoted to his cause and deeply admire him this is a little flimsy

Undoubtedly that’s intentional and is supposed to show the difference between them, like some kind of cautionary tale? “Let yourself be vulnerable and let others help you, lest you turn eeeeviiillll”

I guess that’s where the aforementioned epic contrast comes in. You get Mr. Curtain, strapped into his wheelchair and hiding behind those mirrored sunglasses, terrified (but unwilling to admit it) of ever showing the tiniest hint of vulnerability, vs. Mr. Benedict, who can let himself fall knowing that someone will catch him :’)

Anyhow I have nothing against the parallels, I just think it’s funny

The S.Q. Section

The S.Q. Quarantine Thread so it doesn’t leak out everywhere else <3

I’d like to meet the emo angstlord genius who read this book and decided to make SQ into Dr. Curtain’s son. What in the world

Okay I should probably preface this by saying that I absolutely adore both book!S.Q. and show!SQ with all my heart. Somehow, despite being a completely different character in both mediums, he has managed to be one of the best characters in either and certainly one of my favorites (besides Sticky of course) in the entire franchise, despite the fact that I’ve only read the first book/watched the show so far. I am confident in this statement.

But seriously! How?? Why?? I could probably write a whole other essay about why show!SQ is such an interesting character, and the change works so incredibly well. I’m just. Baffled

Okay, focus. book!S.Q. is such a sweetheart, oh my goodness. Like, 100% one of the most endearing characters in the book. Poor guy. I don’t even know where to start!!

He just seems to be a genuinely good guy at heart, despite being technically one of the bad guys. He’s genuinely happy for Reynie and Sticky when they became Messengers and helped Kate when she “fell” and was concerned about Constance when she looked sick and how he was in that meeting with Mr. Curtain and Martina?!!? aaahhhhghgh ;-; he just wants people to be happy TT-TT

Comparing him against literally every character at the Institute is probably what makes him so endearing tbh. When everyone else is so awful to the kids, it really makes him stand out. Like a cheerful little nightlight in the worst, most humid and rank bathroom you’ve ever been in

It’s kind of pointless to theorize about a book series that’s already concluded (I think?) but. Is the implication of S.Q.’s forgetfulness supposed to be that Mr. Curtain used him in brainsweeping experiments somehow? The timeline probably definitely absolutely doesn’t line up but like. How did he get to being a Messenger being the way he is now, given how cutthroat the process is? And then of course Mr. Curtain keeps him around as an Executive because he’s fun to mess with and presumably his loyalty. I’m very curious as to how their relationship develops in the other books, if at all. Those are probably where the seeds of the “let’s make them family” logic were planted

But wouldn’t it be hilarious if the reason we don’t know what “S.Q.” stands for in the books is that he just. Forgot

Another thing that occurred to me. Given that he and the other Executives were Messengers at some point, what were their worst fears? What is S.Q.’s worst fear?? Inquiring minds need to know

One last horrible little anecdote: I was thinking about book!S.Q. while eating breakfast, as one does, and suddenly it hit me.

I want to believe The Author Trenton Lee Stewart had the name for a character, S.Q. Pedalian, and was like, “Hm! What sort of quirky trait should this young fellow have?” Because, of course, in this style of fiction every character has to have at least one cartoonish or otherwise distinguishing trait to stand out in the minds of children. (For instance, Kate has her bucket, Sticky has his glasses, Constance is angry, and Reynie is Emmett from the Lego Movie)

Anyhow, he looks around the room, searching for inspiration. Suddenly he comes across a jumbo box of plastic wrap. Completely innocuous in design, save for one line of text. 300 SQ FT.

“…large… S.Q. …feet? THAT’S IT!” i’m sorry

Lines & Scenes I Liked

In no particular order!

Sticky quotes Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Evil combination aerobics/square dancing in the gym with the Executives

Everyone being happy at the end :’)

Everyone partying after Sticky reunites with his parents, and later finding Mr. Benedict asleep at his desk from the moment they shook hands :’’)

Literally any scene with Sticky in it

Any time Kate says “you boys” or “gosh”

[“Um, sir?” S.Q. said timidly, raising his hand. “A thought just occurred to me.” / Mr. Curtain raised his eyebrows. “That’s remarkable, S.Q. What is it?”] clown prince of my heart </3

S.Q.’s determined monologue about searching for clues after he bungled up the first time

Literally any scene with S.Q. in it (please refer to The S.Q. Section)

Reynie trying to resist the Whisperer.

[Let us begin. / First let me polish my spectacles, Reynie thought. / Let us begin. / Not without my bucket, Reynie insisted. He heard Mr. Curtain muttering behind him. / Let us begin, let us begin, let us begin. / Rules and schools are tools for fools, Reynie thought.]

NO MORE HURTIN’ WITH CURTAIN

Milligan showing up on the island!!

Remember the white knight hhhhhh

“controle”

A Super Secret Bonus Section

I would be extremely surprised if anyone read through all the way down here lol. Regardless, here’s a little acknowledgements section :D not tagging anyone since I don’t want to bother all of these people

Special shoutout to tumblr blog stonetowns for unknowingly yet singlehandedly demolishing my reluctance to read the books by posting a ton of cute quotes. Thank you for your service o7

Thanks to the two OGs that liked the post I made right before this one, for being my unwitting enablers and for sticking around despite being a) technically an internet stranger (hello!) and b) someone I haven’t spoken to irl in literal years (hey!!)

Last but not least thankz 2 my sister for putting up with me ranting about the book when I first got it and for asking about “CQ” sometimes lol. (i desperately hope you’re not reading this orz)

#the mysterious benedict society #this took me like three days to finish rip #it’s worked though! i feel less of a Mighty Need to think about this stuff constantly now #however!!! today through some conniving i have gotten the Second Book #now I’m at 3 out of 4 infinity stones. muahahaha #was going to include my villain origin story about why i like show!SQ so much but cut it for being too long and irrelevant. however #if the words jeff naomi and Sweet Dreams are Made of These mean anything to you please hit me up. it’s kind of a funny story

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