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lives4lovesworld · 2 years ago

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It's always assume that at the very least Sansa will i) out smart Petyr Bealish, ii) regain autonomy and her identity, that iii) in some way or form Petyr's tale will become true such as Sansa securing herself a marriage with Harrold Hardyng and her having such a strong influence on him that he will a) wage war for her 'birthright' or b) aid the North by providing goods, food and manpower. With the Vale enthusiastically doing his every bidding, simply because she is his wife and she asked him nicely/is so courteous and eloquent/he is so inlove with her/its profitable for the Vale.

In this meta I will list (and explain) the problems I have with these speculations that seem to be rooted in wishfullfilment rather than the probability of certain plots being likely to become canon, or if they are even feasible or realistic.

i) How Sansa is suppose to outsmart and overthrow Petyr Bealish, AND remain in power afterwards?

Petyr Bealish is the man that managed to crawl his way up to the ruling elite of Westeros, despite his incredibly (relatively speaking) low birth, lack of power, wealth, family or image (he does NOT fit the feudalistic standards of a man his positions). And yet, he remained in power through several civil wars that brought houses, dynasties and monarchs to fall. Petyr is the man with circa two decades of experiences and had no qualms of sacrificing countless souls, including his self-proclaimed "true love" and lives by this philosophy:

Always keep your foes confused. If they are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are like to do next. Sometimes the best way to baffle them is to make moves that have no purpose, or even seem to work against you. - Sansa V, ASoS

Yet the one to supposedly bring him down is the thirteen year old girl that needed to witness her own father's decapitation for her rosa colored glasses to fall off. And this after she was present to her idol and her "love" ordering her direwolf's murder to mend their wounded pride! This is the same girl that is so quick to build her entire hopes and dreams upon strangers (that shows her a little bit of kindness and fit her conforming prejudices like Margaery and her circle did) and got carried away in her own dreamworld that she could not even follow conversations and plots, even in ASoS:

Sansa wrinkled her brow. "Our true purpose, my lady?" [...] "To see you safely wed, child," the old woman said, as Butterbumps bellowed out the old, old song, "to my grandson." [...] Wed to Ser Loras, oh . . . Sansa's breath caught in her throat. She remembered Ser Loras in his sparkling sapphire armor, tossing her a rose. Ser Loras in white silk, so pure, innocent, beautiful. The dimples at the corner of his mouth when he smiled. The sweetness of his laugh, the warmth of his hand. She could only imagine what it would be like to pull up his tunic and caress the smooth skin underneath, to stand on her toes and kiss him, to run her fingers through those thick brown curls and drown in his deep brown eyes. A flush crept up her neck. [...] "Would you like that, Sansa?" asked Margaery. "I've never had a sister, only brothers. Oh, please say yes, please say that you will consent to marry my brother."

The words came tumbling out of her. "Yes. I will. I would like that more than anything. To wed Ser Loras, to love him . . ."

"Loras?" Lady Olenna sounded annoyed. "Don't be foolish, child. Kingsguard never wed. Didn't they teach you anything in Winterfell? We were speaking of my grandson Willas. He is a bit old for you, to be sure, but a dear boy for all that. Not the least bit oafish, and heir to Highgarden besides."

Sansa felt dizzy; one instant her head was full of dreams of Loras, and the next they had all been snatched away. Willas? Willas? "I," she said stupidly. - Sansa I, ASoS

Some (very in favor for her) could argue there is some desperate small wiggle room here and there for insisting that Sansa has evolved (for the better). (While nonsensically insisting she at the same time is almost stupidly naive and "idealistic", but also these traits are not obstacles to her potentially rise to an autonomous player. No they make her all the better for it.) But even if she had a stellar development; How exactly is she with no true authority suppose to best a man like Petyr Bealish?

After ASoS, Sansa has become a disgraced orphaned female beggar, married to the enemy "Imp Kingslayer", and has become utterly dependent on Petyr Bealish as his natural born daughter, depriving all her limited autonomy and authority from him as Lord Consort.

Petyr Bealish has also managed to gain Sansa's compliance and ensure her loyalty and secrecy to him by filling her head with his wonderful tale of him as her benefactor that is going to gift her all her dreams, while reminding her of her status as wanted by the crown and making her a complice in the murder of her aunt and a participant in his scheme to poison SweetRobin Arryn.

Not to mention that Sansa has yet to express her wish to detach herself from Petyr (in her POV) in the first place, but as of TWoW's releases, Sansa seems pretty content with all the privilege (x, x, x) she has as his daughter. Nor does she not seem to have a problem in being his pawn:

The Merling King's returned to Gulltown, and old Oswell had some tales to tell."

She knew better than to ask what sort of tales. If Petyr had wanted her to know, he would have told her. - Alayne II, AFfC

And as said, even if she would want to due to her involvement in Petyr's schemes as well as her being wanted for kingslaying, she would risked death herself.

But let's assume for the sake of the argument that she does; what sansa would truly need are people to genuinely protect, stand by, believe and defend her in the Vale, and as of now there is no such one, especially after the death of her aunt.

And no, Lord Yohn Royce's question if he had already meet Alyane is NOT the same as actually recognizing Alayne as an older Sansa AND publicly voucing for her on behalf of her identity, despite her stans insisting otherwise. Yohn Royce (like all vale lords) did NOT fought for Robb Stark (Winterfell's heir with an northern army at this back and strong ties to Riverrun), which really does not bode well for the possibility of him fighting for her. And this knows even Sansa:

He will know me. How could he not? She considered throwing herself at his feet to beg for his protection. He never fought for Robb, why should he fight for me? The war is finished and Winterfell is fallen. - Alayne I, AFfC

At best (which would entail the Vale remains oblivious to her involvement in those schemes and have the lords of the Vale not sell her to the crown for the bounty) she would remain a "guest" to her cousin, and likely be married off to the next best suitor that befits her unfortunate status (as Lady Lannister)

ii) A believable explanation (any really) has yet to cross me as to HOW Sansa would (or even could) reclaim her identity without taking for granted that everything will work out in favor for her. 1) which would entail the majority of highborn lords in the Vale unquestionably believing Sansa that she, who was introduced to them as a bastard (which are seen by society as greedy and treacherous) of the Petyr Bealish (known for his schemes) is indeed Sansa Lannister, simply because she makes a teary proclaimation with her pretty Tully blue eyes. And 2) that the lack of a direwolf serving as proof will not be an obstacle 3) nor the lack of a relative voucing for her.

Infact her closest, most influential relative's death Lady Lysa's, which occurred while Sansa was supposedly already under her care as her lord husband's natural daughter will also not in any way, shape or form make them wary of her tale. Nor appear like an identity theft and poor attempt to grasp power for their own gain in the eyes of others.

Secondly, Sansa's very identity (the disowned female orphan to an overthrown House, married to the "Imp Kingslayer") does not allow her to be an autonomous player so many want her to be. Robb Stark and House Lannister saw to that. Nor would an identity reveal, even believed by everbody, give her more opportunities than the (relatively speaking) limited ones she already has as the current bastard daughter of Petyr.

iii) Petyr's tale (and why I believe it is just that and not a plan that will actually become canon);

When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa . . . Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell. - Alayne II, AFfC

So Petyr Bealish has managed to match a marriage pact by buying all of Waynwood's debts, providing Lady Anya with an enormous dowery and because at this point Harrold Hardyng remains nothing but the son of the perished sister to Jon Arryn and a landed knight sworn to the Waynwoods. His relatively low status at the moment would allow such a "low" match with the bastard daughter of the disliked temporarily Lord Consort of the Vale. However, if SweetRobin truly dies and Harrold indeed becomes the Lord, all the reasons why "Alayne Stone" is unfit for Robert Arryn will apply for Harrold as well:

You are the Lord of the Eyrie and Defender of the Vale, and you must wed a highborn lady and father a son to sit in the High Hall of House Arryn after you are gone." Robert wiped his nose. "But I want —" She put a finger to his lips. "I know what you want, but it cannot be. I am no fit wife for you. I am bastard born." [...] Some call my father upjumped and ambitious. If you were to take me to wife, they would say that he made you do it, that it was no will of yours. The Lords Declarant might take arms against him once again, and he and I should both be put to death." [...] "You must have a proper wife, a trueborn maid of noble birth." - Alayne I, TWoW

Now Petyr Bealish's further step is to reveal Sansa's true identity on their supposed wedding, which would not solve the problem of the bride being unfit for a groom of such a caliber and it holds in and of itself many obstacles that prevent the very plan to unfold.

To start with; (as already said) should Harrold indeed become Lord Paramount he will be showed with marriage proposals by the ambitious feudal Houses of the Vale (as they were already courting widowed Lysa in AGoT) and its rather unlikely that they would grant that position to a "foreign" beggar (which Sansa would be either way, whenever she goes by her real name or by "Alayne Stone".) instead of trying to make one of their own daughters the next High Lady.

Secondly, the marriage pact entails "Alayne Stone", not Sansa Lannister. Petyr's plan to reveal Sansa's identity while she is walking down the aisle risks invalidating that very pact. And while the fandom refuse to acknowledge it, "Alayne" being revealed as Sansa would neither lessen the insult of the lie and betrayal by "Sansa Lannister" being more "attractive" as a political match. And no such a scheme would not simply brushed under the rug.

Yes, Sansa would be high born, but Harrold would get nothing politically speaking from their marriage given the position Sansa is in (as Lady Lannister). Neither will her previous marriage, especially to the House that the Vale believes has murdered their previous Paramount Lord make her more attractive. Whenever Tyrion might be believed dead or Sansa assures her virginity ten times, it more than likely that she would be seen as "sullied leavings" in the eyes of others.

Lysa Arryn likely only allowed a marriage between Sansa and her precious son, because she was her sister's daughter, and despite her flaws, their complicated relationship and her unstable mental state saw Sansa as family. And while Lysa mention Sansa's claim, (which will likely cease to exist as soon as Robb's Will becomes public knowledge) she also saw Sansa for what she was and reminded her of her position as well.

Petyr HIMSELF has pointed out how Sansa would bring nothing to any marriage (excluding her body):

"Joffrey is betrothed to Sansa Stark," Cersei objected. "Marriage contracts can be broken. What advantage is there in wedding the king to the daughter of a dead traitor?" Littlefinger spoke up. "You might point out to His Grace that the Tyrells are much wealthier than the Starks, and that Margaery is said to be lovely . . . and beddable besides." [...]

Littlefinger agreed. "The Stark girl brings Joffrey nothing but her body, sweet as that may be. Margaery Tyrell brings fifty thousand swords and all the strength of Highgarden." - Tyrion VIII, ACoK

And while Petyr has also mentioned Sansa's claim, it should mean little to nothing to Harrold considering that i) House Bolton has been installed as Warden of the North, ii) House Stark lays broken and it would have to re-establish itself as sovereign to the North. A bloody, tedious and costly task with little to no profit as the North is even under its best circumstances poor and hard to cultivate. As soon as iii) "Arya" is revealed as Jeyne Poole, it will even further slim the credibility of her identity reveal. iv) Her claim will be even further catapulted down in the line of succession with Rickon, Arya, Bran's impending reappearances. Not to mention that v) Jon will more than likely involve himself in the matter of succession as well and vi) Robb's Will will disinherited Sansa and make Jon his heir. (x)

And while most has yet to unfold on page, it would extremely OOC for Petyr Bealish (and the story!) to believe everything will work out in Sansa's favor and that Harrold will marry her out of his own volition, (which is indeed a condition in the marriage pact).

Much and more is made of his and Sansa's little playful banter at the tournament, yet what we know of Harrold's character, it's likely that he will pose the biggest threat to Petyr's little "plan".

Harrold is known for his high opinion of himself, his classism and that he has no qualms of fathering bastards on girls, he is infatuated for a brief time and then abandoning them as soon as he stops viewing them as sexually attractive. Petyr has also already stated that Harrold thinks Alayne is beneath him:

This betrothal was never [Harrold's] idea, and Bronze Yohn has no doubt warned him against my wiles. You are my daughter. He does not trust you, and he believes that you're beneath him." - Alayne I, TWoW

And it's not entirely unreasonable to think that Harrold would be insulted at the idea of marrying a girl whose virginity is questionable and who doesn't bring him any ties or wealth as Sansa Lannister. And the fact that she plans to use him and his position for her political gain will likely not make Harrold more sympathetic towards her.

The part hardest to dismantled because no matter from what angle you look upon it, it shouldn't be feasible to become canon;

. . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. - Alayne II, AFfC

So Petyr supposedly plans to use Sansa's marriage to Harrold to mobilize the army of the Vale to reclaim Winterfell in the name of House Stark.

As already said (a dozen times) Sansa (as the orphan married beggar of an overthrown House) should NOT be able to secure the Lord of the Vale as her Lord husband in the first place. Realistically speaking, Sansa should only be able to match such a marriage if she and her family would still hold the same position as of the start of the series, but as we all know, this is NOT the case anymore. House Stark is neither the secure, ancient sovereign of the stable peaceful north nor is Sansa the indisputable maiden daughter of said family. Sansa should NOT be an attractive potential bride in the eyes of the Vale without House Stark retaking the North and it becoming politically attractive enough again for other kingdoms to be of interest and them voucing for her identity.

–> Thus Petyr's entire plan falls apart, before it can even truly begin.

But let's push this all aside for the sake of the argument: Even the concept of the entire Vale doing Sansa's bidding simply because she would be their Lord's newlyweded wife is absurd as well. Her aunt had been their Lady for seventeen years and they still did NOT view her as one of them nor as a authority figure;

Young Lord Hunter said, "Lysa Tully was never truly of the Vale, nor had she the right to dispose us." - Alayne I, AFfC

Also; Why would a girl's birth claim to an entire different region that is uttelry in shambles due to the political uproar after her family's fall from grace matter to Harrold or any Valeman?

If Sansa were to marry Harrold under normal circumstances (if House Stark was still in power and Sansa would have never been married off) what would be expected of her is to rule by his side (if Harrold is progressive enough to allow it) give him children and her place would be in the Eyrie or at the Gates of the Moon. As it would befit (and deem more than sufficient for) any high born daughter that has married into another Great House of Westeros.

Never once in the history of ASoIaF was there ever a High Lord that wage war against another kingdom because his wife wanted her father's seat as well. Nor was there a High Lady that held her father's lands AND was simountanastly the High Lady to an entire different kingdom as well. This would not even be feasible.

The question as to HOW a vale army, (a southern army!) would even reach the instabil (due to the already happening civil wars, the mass exodus of the Free Folk, the famine) war torn North given the lack of a fleet or the renewed impregnability of the Neck in the middle of winter also remains a big question mark.

However, let's brush this essential question aside as well; The assumption of the vale army conquering the North is absurd as well. GRRM has already empathized how a southern army is not fit for the North's harsh climate in ADwD with Stannis Baratheon's suicidal march, contrasting it with the marching mountain clans. Nor is Harrold (a "green" boy commander) likely to win against the seasoned ruthless Roose Bolton, which the lords of the Vale would surely know too. Another reason why the vale army would NOT simply do its new young untested Lord's bidding, if he were to call for war. Harrold will likely need a few years to prove and establish himself before the valemen will willingly follow him into battle, especially into a economically nonsensical war whose favors are against them from the beginning.

And while yes, someone could argue the vale army would be better rested and organized (than Stannis's measly beaten ragtag of an army) and therefore have better chances, even in the best case scenario the vale army would likely lose most of their men in the battles against House Bolton and its banners for a gigantic region that brings them nothing; no wealth, no man power, no minerals, no goods, no trade.

All these points listed above, together with GRRM's comment on how Petyr would never give up Sansa, Petyr's wish to marry her himself (when she was Sansa Stark) and the fact that it would be incredibly stupid of him to ever allow Sansa to detach herself from him (as it would put him at risk due to her knowing so many of his crimes) further marks Petyr's tale in Alayne II, AFfC as a tale to ensure Sansa's compliance and nothing more IMO. Not to mention, which author would tell his audience the plot of a character word-for-word in dialog beforehand?

Now, some believe that instead of waging war Sansa will influence Harrold to aid the North by providing goods, food and manpower, which (fair enough) is only an ounce more feasible than the alternative. Yet, it is still something NOT supported by the books;

For this to happen, Sansa would first need to grasp the gravity of the famine that is plaguing Westeros, and care enough about the (common) people's wellfare.

Which she does not given the fact that she cannot fathom why the commoners love Margaery and as of her last chapter has her organizing a feast with 64 dishes in the middle of winter, amongst these dishes even a 6 feet tall lemon cake that required every lemon in the Vale with her being very proud of herself. Nor does she have any reaction whatsoever to Petyr's plan to cutting the food supply and hoarding food as war tactic, which would hit the common folk the hardest. Not to mention that Sansa's POV never showed her really thinking about... really anything happening in the North (especially its people), neither prior nor post House Stark's fall.

So beside all that, it would also requires the Vale to suddenly become altruistic and humanitarian, given that all possible supplies send by them would essentially all be gifts since foreseeable payment is unlikely given the north's state.

Some even have the idea of Sansa somehow achieving it all in another way on her own (because they hate the idea of Sansa marrying Harrold) (which is even less likely than Petyr turning into her Santa Claus) and exaggerated the potential influence her skills have even more. But has @brideoffires already perfectly explained in her post Sansa has NOT evolved in terms of learning new skills (unlike Arya) and more importantly none of the political plot in the Vale is moved forward through her own knowledge or scheming.

It's all propelled forward and catalyzed by her relationship with Petyr Baelish. [...] As in King’s Landing, Sansa is /being/ moved by the machinations of other people and being induced or compelled to act in certain ways because of the politics around her. - excerpt from @brideoffires linked post

Her particular skillset can only be of use and influential if the priori are Sansa already having strong ties to political thriving male relatives or/and a husband. Otherwise her skillset are not of use as GRRM has already shown throughout the whole series; Sansa can be as charming, courteous and polite as she wants to be, it does not give her agency, protection, support or power.

There is so much unrealistic, unreasonable, OOC nonsense, no one would even dare to suggest if it would be any other character, already taken for granted because it's Sansa. Sansa is always the expection. As always, everything will work out in Sansa's favor.

So why is it that even the ones critical of Sansa believe it all becomes canon anyway, one way or another? The most popular arguments I have seen are the proclaimnation that Petyr Bealish is Sansa's personal antagonist and therefore their "arc" simply MUST conclude with her triumphant. There is no other way.

The other is that SOMEONE has to get the Vale involved in the affairs of the realm, SOMEONE has to mobilize the resourceful Vale for the War of the Dawn and to aid the North's etc... And Sansa is the POV character located in the Vale so logic says GRRM MUST plan for her to be this SOMEONE to accomplish these tasks.

An entirely different reason is the fandom's climate; Basically Arya, Bran and Jon fans seem to concede Sansa these gigantic convoluted unrealistic plots (= a triumphant vale arc) in hopes that her fanbase will do the bare minimum of NOT butchering the story's integrity and the ones of their favs by not stealing their individual importance, relationships, ties, skills and arcs in the North to give Sansa a place in the northern plots (which her fans insist on having).

In conclusion; these reasonings are infuriating and incredibly offensive to the story's integrity and Sansa as a character. And more importantly, this fandom should stop offering to concede and tolerate it all simply because her fanbase is just that incredibly wild.

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thunderon · 4 years ago

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I noticed something in my reread of GtN and i have not yet seen any posts about this so i would like to ask if you know more about this. (You have many smart insights I thinn)

(Chapter 10)

So Cytherea sent protesilaus to check on something. And he comedy back to verbally report it to her. This confuses the shit out of me because

1) if protesilaus is an empty vessel he should not be able to tasks on his own, let alone talk. So maybe he is not empty but possessed?

2)this could be a set up by her moving protesilaus around and using his vocal cords somehow??? (Wich would mean she would also need to move certain muscle for him to get air moving inside his trachea) wich seems a bit much tbh

3) ??????

ooooh i love this ask. not gonna lie, my knee jerk reaction to your ask was 'no way he was possessed', but then i actually sat and thought about it and went 'well, wait a second'. so let's look at this.

She hadn’t executed it very well—her parents were fine from the shoulders up, but from the shoulders down they were bad

so if harrow improperly executed the diaphragm/lungs she would be unable to control them to speak, especially considering her specialty is bone magic and not beguiling corpses. but does this mean cytherea wouldn't be able to accomplish it?

so we know the bitch is a lyctor and has powers far beyond what harrow could have accomplished pre-lyctorhood, and that appears to extend to puppeting pro. here’s another snippet of him speaking:

Every so often she would say something terse to Protesilaus, who would take sixty seconds to think about it before making replies so uninflected and curt that they made Harrow sparkle by comparison.

so his speaking wasnt super chatty and animated, but was that cytherea controlling him or not? was she really carrying on two conversations at dinner at one time? i mean, maybe. in addition to being a lyctor, cytherea is of the seventh house. beguiling corpses is their specialty as said here:

The Seventh House have been perfecting the way of the beguiling corpse for years and years and years. It’s just—not entirely allowed... And it’s not unholy—it’s entirely useful and blameless; just not when you do it like this, which is the very old way. The Seventh aren’t just soul-stoppers and mummifiers. ”

now this tracks nicely but harrow, who has an unexpected knowledge of beguiling corpses, still insists that it still shouldn’t be possible three times.

That doesn’t add up.” Harrow was stiff as concrete.

“It’s not possible,” insisted Harrow, words hard and clipped in her mouth.

Harrow said to him, slowly: “Undoing the cavalier’s bodywork should have killed her. It would have been an incredible shock to her system.”

i can imagine harrow sitting there like:

cuz like,,, what the fuck? harrow, a necromantic powerhouse, has puppeted her parents around for years and doesn’t understand how ‘dulcinea’ managed to control protesilaus for that period of time and survive the shock (which has interesting implications for what would have happened if someone would have been able to necromantically probe at harrow’s parents, but i digress).

obviously we find out cytherea is a lyctor and we all chalk it up nicely to “it was all in her lyctor abilities and House necromantic specialty”. but is this a closed case? here’s this little excerpt in harrow the ninth. if anyone hasn’t read it, stop here (although it shouldn’t contain any major spoilers just to be safe):

Harrowhark was bemused all over again by Protesilaus Ebdoma, whom she had never seen alive; if anyone had seen him alive, they never would have mistaken that shuffling zombie for his real self. Cytherea was a Lyctor and could have easily done better; she simply hadn’t bothered.

that's what actually made me think 'hmmm you may be onto something with your possession theory'. so as choppy and uncoordinated as cytherea puppets him, voice and all, HARROW SAYS SHE COULD HAVE DONE BETTER. and she just... didn’t? and was the scene you attached pro seemingly having autonomy (via possession), or was that cytherea giving the appearance of pro having autonomy? that also has interesting implications.

if we choose to look past the neatly wrapped up storyline, if we want to start asking questions like ‘did she really just not give a fuck?’ and ‘was protesilaus actually possessed?'. i think we can. i mean, the descriptions would match up very well with how cytherea’s body was possessed by wake (as opposed to how colum was possessed). as to who or what would be possessing pro? i have no idea. but it’s definitely a fun little theory, if more on the conspiracy side.

tl;dr: pro's body probably talked because cytherea was both a lyctor and an expert in beguiling corpses, but i think there's enough wiggle room to speculate pro's body could have been possessed.

#asks #this probably came out very rambling and incoherent #which is just my narrative style tbh #also i seem to have fooled all of you into thinking that i have actual intelligent commentary to offer #which i do not #but this was very interesting to think about #the locked tomb #also tumblr for some reason cut out half my response and isn’t letting me edit this

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mystic-oneshots · 4 years ago

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Video Games ( Jumin x MC) (Juminweek - Day 3)

I know at the time of this post Jumin week is officially over but I haven’t been able to post in time as I haven’t been very well. I also had ides for what to write and changed them half way through! However, Here’s day 3! I got heavily inspired by Animal Crossing as that's what I've been playing when I’m not playing Jumin’s route on repeat! I can imagine Something like this happening so I had to write it. I hope you enjoy!

(Video games vs soap operas)

My head rests against the soft feather pillow as I adjust the linen bed sheets around my body. I snuggle in wiggling my toes and ankles around the covers to get warm. It doesn't take long to get comfortable.

A warm glow faintly lights the room from the lamps positioned on either side of the bed. The door to the on-suite bathroom is left open ajar, letting the light from that room sneak out into the dimly lit bedroom where I lay. My husband's phone occasionally brightens up as either a message or an email gives him an alert, although he isn't able to see them right now. The last spot of light comes from what is sat in my hands.

Each night since receiving the gift from my husband, I have been spending some time playing on my 'Nintendo Switch'. Specifically to play 'Animal Crossing: New Horizons'. I am often off before my husband comes and joins me in bed, so we can spend some time in each others arms before drifting off to sleep. Tonight however, I have been informed that I would be having a meteor shower in the game, and I don't want to miss it!

Jumin emerges from the bathroom. He tugs gently at the collar of his pyjamas as he walks towards his side of the bed. His eyes don't leave me despite mine being glued to the small screen of the console. The sheets are lifted and his body soon comes to join me under the duvet. His eyes still don't leave my presence.

"Can I ask a question?" Jumin says, bringing his body in closer to mine and placing his arm underneath my head. The heat of his body gives me a sense of stimulation, however, it's not quite enough to bring me out of my trace the game has caught me in.

"Uh-huh" I respond, not taking my eyes off the screen as I move my thumbs around the control buttons. I can feel him frowning in response to me not looking at him.

"Can you explain what makes this game so special to you?" He curiously asks. His eyes drift away from me and onto my screen as I move my character round the environment. Seeing him take an interest in something that is way beyond his expertise is an entertaining yet welcome thought. It was at this point I divert my attention to him instead. I crack a smile at him and I place the console down on my lap. I wonder why he'd ask that?

"Are you interested in it?" I tease. Jumin's eyes lift to meet mine. His ash black locks fall effortlessly in front of his eyes. His expression is warm and gentle but I can see curiosity sparking in his smile with a faint smirk.

"One could say so. I just want to know why you're so invested in it! It seems like it's all you're doing in you're spare time now." His free hand tucks a loose wisp of hair behind my ear and his thumb delicately rubs across my cheek. Through his touch he I could feel that he's somewhat disappointed. It breaks me a little. I didn't realise I was that invested and it was secretly affecting him.

"Have I been spending too much time on it? I'm sorry! Ugh, why didn't I realise that-"

"Don't be ridiculous, princess!" He laughs. "I must admit, I wish to have some more attention, but then again, I can see how happy it makes you so that is enough to satisfy me. I want you to show me what you're playing so I can understand why you love it so much!"

Hearing him say that makes my heart flutter. He's genuinely curious. That's adorable!

My head turns to fully face him. A joyful sigh escapes my lips before I pull my body in closer to his. I rest my head on his shoulder and his head falls to lay on top on mine. His free arm wraps around my waist as I bring the Switch up to my face again. I tilt the console enough so Jumin has a clear view of the screen in between my hands. It's so nice to be able to share this with him!

"Will I need to explain everything to you?" I question him.

"No, I've seen advertisements for this game before so I get the base idea of the concept. If I have any questions I'll ask." he responds. I hum back in content.

I show my husband my island that I have spent hours on to make perfect. The first place I decide to take him to is the airport to show of the creativity of my island entrance. Cliffs littered with flowers, small knickknacks, and the odd waterfall stand before my character.

He remains quiet as I tour him around the cliffs and pathways, pointing out my villagers homes and the areas I've decorated to resemble different community places. I know his silence is a good thing. He's not bored nor not paying attention. When he's like this, I can tell he's invested. It was something I had to learn to get used to, however, that's how he's always been apparently.

"Was that a cat?" He quickly exclaims. He sounds excited! I let out a light-hearted laugh as I make my character retrace her steps. Indeed it was a cat. Someone who I spent a lot of time and dedication to find. A cat named Raymond.

"It took me weeks to finally find him! He's one of, if not, the most popular villagers in the game but that's not why I wanted him..." I tell Jumin. My voice trails off and I feel his grip around me tighten.

"Why did you want him?" He softly asks. My cheeks flush red. I'm thankful that he can't see my face properly right now for I'd be rather embarrassed if he did. I hesitate to answer at first, trying to laugh it off and hoping he wouldn't notice my awkwardness.

Truth is, I wanted him because he reminded me so much of Jumin. For a start, he's a cat! He wears a little suit and talks in a sophisticated way which is very typical of Jumin too. I doesn't help that his house is designed to look like an office either! It was like Jumin was in mind when they made him!

"It's a silly reason really..." I mumble under my laughter. It's not really silly but it's just a bit cringe worthy.

"It's because he reminds you of me isn't it?" He speculated. My cheeks only flush more. How on earth is he so good at figuring me out? It's like he can read my mind!

I move my head from his shoulder and turn my body to face him. His eyes are drawn to the peachy hue of my cheeks which trigger a chain reaction in his own. Seeing him become flustered makes me feel less embarrassed. It also makes my reasoning feel less child-like and more meaningful.

"I think that might be enough for tonight." Jumin's arm reaches for the console in my hands and carefully plucks it from my hands. He places it on the bedside table before bringing his hand back around my body. He pulls me in closer for a tender cuddle, holding my head against the warmth of his chest.

"What do you think of my island?" I gingerly ask. His fingers run through my scalp relaxing me as my eyes start to slowly become heavy.

"It's very creative, darling. You certainly have an eye for detail, although I already knew that and wouldn't expect anything less from you." A tone of flattery runs through his voice. "Seeing what you've done has now made me consider about getting one myself! I'm sure there's a way we can connect on it to play together right?"

"What really?" I jolt my head up to look at his face. A huge smile bares his lips as he nods and hums in reassurance. I giggle as I settle down again against his chest.

This happy feeling is exactly what we need to sleep well tonight.

#jumin x mc #juminxmc #juminweek #juminweek2020 #jumin #jumin han #mystic messenger jumin #mystic messenger #mysme #cheritz

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jockrightsnow · 4 years ago

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petey x wine: do we know anything on this v important topic? does he love it? does he hate it? does he sometimes spend his weekly allowance for sneakers in a fancy bottle of wine? does he pretend to like it but really, $6 rosé is just as decent? does he start COLLECTING bottles? we have “proof” he enjoys discovering likes and dislikes you discover when you become an adult (big proof being his house furnished and decorated to his actual taste and comfort)!👱🏻‍♂️🍷

thank u so much anonymous friend for this important question which i will speculate on at length based on no real evidence except here’s petey on his birthday enjoying a nice red wine at a place with an entire wall based on the concept of Wines being stored as decor.

my thesis here is structured around three major points:

1. good wine does not actually taste that much better. i may be a fan of absolutely horrifying white wines in a little tervis tumbler due to my flaws as a person, but i think this is true.

2. this is also true about things like graphic tees, etc., and it doesn’t stop petey from spending incredible amounts of money on those things. this is the crux of it--it’s about legibility in terms of luxury and style, it is about aesthetics. he does like some things which are not incredibly expensive--see: weird little vintage tees. so there’s wiggle room, but not so much.

3. he does know his own specific taste very well. he likes what he likes. but i think it would be a lie to say he is a Taste Maker--he has simply chosen a path others have paved for him in terms of style. he is susceptible to influence and convincing within the channels he’s chosen. he has a “media manager.” you know how it is.

so my takeaway is this: he is a person who enjoys wine like a regular person, and is absolutely faking different and unique enjoyment of fancy wine--whether he knows he is faking it or whether he is striving hard to detect the head of some $864 bottle, there is not complete confidence about it. like. i could drink a nice wine and say, “mmm, this has a pop of cherry” or whatever, and i could go home and make that shit up about my aldi brand winking owl $2.97 chardonnay too.

however, unlike us (if you follow me and you are a multimillionaire you have to tell me :/), he has access to nice wine and the ability to drink enough of it that one day, he will not be faking it--he will be able to tell. (“it’s a learning process”--brock finishing petey’s sentence.)

i doubt he is taking money from the sneaker budget (nightlife and entertainment budget here we go), but i bet he starts getting numerous nicer wines For Company and a respectable wine rack. i don’t think it will become his primary rich people activity, and it shouldn’t. he just has to do it well enough on a basic level.

here are some rich people wine behaviors i’ve observed:

1. getting a little bit of the wine to taste and then rejecting it--i think this is evil behavior. at best, tasting the wine is a formality. petey would not do this. he would just drink his wine and pretend it is good, as we all should

2. buying several bottles of expensive wine. who wouldn’t do this if they’re rich? this is good.

BUT. doing this and then demanding different glassware for the different wines including like, a specific shape of glass. i couldn’t bear it. if you care about wine, don’t @ me on this. i understand the underlying reasons about taste and aeration and muddying the flavors. YOU brought that on YOURSELF by ordering multiple bottles. i do think there’s a risk here. i think there’s a risk he would do this for various pretentious reasons and concern with style and aesthetics and luxury, but i also think he doesn’t really know all of the glass styles so his ability to be annoying is limited. tbh, most hockey players are rich and still drink shitty beer, so it’s not like so much of his social group is about fine dining. (that said, i have gone to Hockey Player Steakhouse Haunts and. well. you’d get your different glassware, easy.)

3. swirling the wine. okay, this one is fun. i would expect him to do it. we all should. it makes you feel fancy and superior and it does not affect anyone else.

4. asking for wine pairings with TOO MANY followup questions. you are allowed two questions, which are “what would you recommend with [ONE DISH ONLY]?” and then one followup. this is one that i would have to ding petey on. unfortunately, i feel like he has built exactly the kind of confidence which allows you to quiz servers at very nice restaurants about wine pairings.

oh, and he would never drink cheap champagne. if i were rich, i wouldn’t either.

#tbh i did not put my entire pussy into answering this but i am having a very bad time in general right now and it was very good as a #distraction so genuinely ty #i can't promise solid answers to anyone but i can promise i will likely be rambling online always

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untilmynextstory · 4 years ago

Photo

Chapter 2: THE SLEEP OF BABIES

WORD Count: 7.9k

Enjoy!

Jax and Alma are laying in bed in his dorm room. They are still in lockdown. It’s midafternoon and the kids are out with his mom. It left him and Alma some valued alone time. With the door locked and Alma’s shirt raked up to under her breasts, Jax takes the time to admire her flat stomach as his hand lays atop of it. He can really soak in that they will be having another baby in the house. He barely thinks about the fact he is about to be promoted to Vice President. It pales in comparison to this news.

Though, as he tries to spot the small changes that pregnancy brings to Alma, he does disclose everything that has happened the past few days within the club. He brings up the general unease the guys feel about agreeing to sell to the Mayans despite their current deal with the Niners.

“You don’t seem happy about it.” Alma points out. Her small hands grab his and she contorts his fingers as she pleases. A small smile forms as both of his kids do the same thing.

“It’s less blood, but now the Niners won’t be happy.” It’s like exchanging one enemy to make a new one.

Alma’s teeth tug at her lips. “They have to understand that it’s just business.”

“We promised to never sell to the Mayans.” He informs her. It was the one thing that gave them such an easy alliance. Now they will be selling guns to their enemies that will aid them in their ongoing turf war.

Jax doesn’t want to talk of club business anymore. He shifts so that he is laying in between his wife’s legs. His breath tickles her stomach. “When can we announce the news?”

“I’m 10 weeks.” She informs him. “But I want to wait a little bit longer…”

“You’re worried?”

“Cautious. After Kaylee…I’m just cautious.” She informs him as she plays with his blonde hair.

Jax places a kiss to her flat stomach. He doesn’t know how to ease her valid concerns, but it doesn’t take away the joy he feels for the upcoming expansion of his family.

“I’m your old man,” he whispers to his unborn child.

Jaxs’ smile threatens to break his cheeks as he embraces Opie. He clutches his friend tight and thanks god that he sees it fit to keep his friend safe and alive in prison. He is even thankful Darby has not broken his deal.

He hates that his friend is stuck in prison for 5 years. But his friend is alive and that is all that matters.

“Oh hell, don’t tell me you managed to knock Alma up again?” Opie guesses correctly.

Jax smiles brightly.

“Congratulations, bro.”

“Thanks. Having the two is crazy enough, but three,” Jax mutters.

“You got yourself a good family.”

“The kids miss their Uncle Opie. Kaylee was upset she didn’t have the picture she wanted me to give you done in time.”

“I miss them. I miss all of them.” Opie tells him tightly. “But what else is going on?”

Jax lets the conversation change. “Well, you are looking at your new Vice President.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“We’re getting closer.” Jax tells him. They are getting closer to achieving their childhood dreams of being head of the club.

“So new baby, promotion, what is the third thing we should be looking out for.”

Jax chuckles. “I don’t think the 3rd thing will be a good one.”

Opie tugs at his beard. “That sounds ominous.”

“I painted a wall.” Jax informs him.

Opie’s eyebrows skyrocket. “What color?”

“Blue for the green. Had to be done. It looks better with the black.” Killed an official for the Irish. For the money. They had to kill Brenan Hefner and they basically got a free shipment of guns.

“Someone helped.”

“Yeah, but green isn’t turning out to be my favorite. Doesn’t look right. I covered the carpet and windows, but I’m not sure…”

“Well painting isn’t our business.”

“I know.” They weren’t hit men. But maybe the thought of new life has him having doubts about taking one.

“It’s just the impending fatherhood.” Opie cautions.

“Maybe.”

It’s funny that it isn't until Alma realizes she is pregnant that her house is incredibly small. It’s then she notices how it’s not just having two kids leave her tripping over toys, but the fact there is barely any room for them. Even after going through and having the kids decide what they wanted to keep or donate, she realizes a third baby would be a tight fit.

Alma loves her small home. It was hers and Jaxs’. They managed to make it their home. It is where she raised her babies. She doesn’t want to give it up. She thinks maybe they could add to the house.

She knows Jax would contemplate it although ultimately deciding it would be better off just to buy a new one. She thinks she could manage him to at least add a room. She imagines it would be cheaper.

She just doesn’t want to give this up. She is attached to this house after all the work and love she has put into it.

She smiles as with her being pregnant she knows she can convince Jax of nearly anything. They would be keeping the house. She stands in front of her bedroom mirror and lifts up her shirt. Before Jax had left to head to Chino to see Opie, the doctor had confirmed she was two months and a couple weeks into the 3rd month. She turns to the side and she doesn’t really expect to see anything. She just looks bloated. But it’s all the evidence she needs to be extremely giddy about the pregnancy.

She’s worried, of course, but it doesn’t stop the happiness at the thought of her and Jax bringing another child into the world. She doesn’t care if it’s a boy or girl. She just wants a healthy baby.

A knock at the door startles. She drops her shirt and thinks it’s Gemma. She has the kids. She doesn’t know why she would knock, but she doesn’t think too hard on it. She walks to the door and expects the whirlwind of her children, but her body freezes at the sight of Agent Stahl standing at her doorstep.

“Mrs. Teller –“

“Agent Stahl, how can I help you?” Alma interrupts.

The tall blonde smiles at her. “I was just wondering where I could find your husband.”

Alma folds her arms across her chest. “I bet if you looked hard enough you could find him.”

“True, but actually I’m more interested in you and your family history.”

“Don’t know why? I’m not that much fun.”

Stahl chuckles at her. “I think dad would’ve had a problem with the Prince knocking up his daughter at 16.”

“This is old history, Stahl. The only person you could piss off with that knowledge is my mother. So tell me why you are here?”

Stahl quickly drops her charade and digs a photo out of her bag. “You recognize this man?”

Alma looks at a picture of an older gentleman. He looks like an average white man who could be anyone. “No, should I?”

“His name is Cameron Hayes. IRA. He is a known terrorist who we managed to track down in the Northern California area.”

“What does this have to do with me and my family?”

Stahl smirks. “A port commissioner was murdered a couple weeks ago. Rumored to piss off the IRA. Wondered if some friends helped with that.”

“Speculations don’t add to a warrant. If you appear on my doorstep one more time without one, I will call your superiors for harassment.”

“Gemma trains them well.” Stahl muses.

Alma keeps a blank face as Stahl walks back to her unmarked vehicle. It’s only her luck that Gemma pulls up into her driveway and Stahl even has the nerve to wave at the biker matriarch. Alma assumes the two women have already encountered each other.

Alma steps down from the steps and goes to Gemma’s Escalade to help unbuckle the kids.

“Mama!” Kaylee exclaims from her carseat. Alma unbuckles her and holds her close as she presses a kiss to her head. “Did you have fun with Grandma?”

“Lots!” Kaylee exclaims as she wiggles to be let down. “Is Daddy home?”

“Not yet,” She tells her daughter. Nathan doesn’t need help out of the car as he grabs his bag and rushes back in the house. Kaylee rushes in after him.

She shakes her head and Gemma stands next to her. “What did Stahl want?”

“Just playing mind games.” Alma says brushing off the encounter. She’s been through this before.

“It’s bullshit. They don’t have anything.” Gemma adds.

“It’s all smoke going after the women, huh?” Alma knows the boys did something. She just doesn’t want to dwell on it. She wants nothing to distract her from the pregnancy. She doesn’t need the stress.

It’s then that she gets a strong whiff of Gemmas’ perfume that her stomach turns. It has her running to the closest garbage can, which is in the kitchen.

Fuck, her morning sickness couldn’t have come at a better time. She heaves and heaves until her throat burns something fierce. She groans and grimaces as she can smell her sour breath. She walks over to the sink to rinse her mouth out with some water. She needs a shower at this point.

“So?” Gemma questions. “The last time I saw you throw up was when you decided to decorate my rose garden when you were pregnant with Kaylee.”

Alma takes another swish of the water. It seems the cat is out of the bag. She faces Gemma and wraps her arms around herself. “I’m two months along.” She admits.

She watches as an ecstatic look overtakes Gemma’s features. The biker matriarch embraces her in a tight hug. “Another grandbaby. Who would’ve thought. Why the hush hush?”

“I’m just worried.”

“Sweetie –“

“I know.” Alma says with a sigh. She knows worrying will make her pregnancy more stressful, but she can’t help it.

“Everything will be fine.” Gemma assures her.

It was quite easy to see that the wife of Opie Winston was the weakest link out of the few SAMCRO old ladies. Agent Stahl knows the recent single mother will crumble easily under the weight. Her intel had informed her how the small brunette had begun isolating herself from the inbred bikers. It was a rookie mistake and would leave the woman vulnerable.

Stahl seats at the wooden table with the angry brunette. A baby is sleeping in a bassinet in the living room with the oldest boy coloring. Stahl tries to at least feel pity for these kids.

“How are things going for you, Donna?”

“I’m pretty sure your notes already tell you how I am doing.”

Stahl gives her a stiff smile. “You’re smart, Donna. You can only see how SAMCRO is going to rip your family apart. It already has.”

“My family is fine.”

“And in five years…a lot can happen.” Stahl tells her as she leans up. “Are you aware of the enemies that your husbands’ motorcycle club has? Mayans, Nords…just to name a few are surrounding your husband right now.”

“Are you threatening his safety?”

“I’m giving you the facts. Two kids, a single income…it is going to be hard to manage. You might fall behind on the mortgage or get in credit card debt.”

“And what can you help me with?”

“I can help your husband.” Stahl tells her bluntly. “I can get him out this year and as a sign of good faith move him closer to home. Six hours is a long drive.”

Donna snorts. “You really need to work on your sales pitch.”

“We both know when Opie gets out he is going to go back to the club…back to arson…or back to prison if he even makes it out of this sentence.” Stahl tells her without any care. “If anything, think about the two kids who will be without a father. They are more important than that club.”

Donna stands up from the table. “I don’t know shit about Opie’s club business. And even if I did, I'd never rat on him. Get out of my house, bitch.”

Stahl gives her a grim smile and doesn’t need to be told twice. Her partner, Estevez follows her out the house.

“Well that went well.” Estevez mutters.

Stahl chuckles. “No, it went perfectly well. She is going to run to Alma Teller. Means we got her rattled or doubting. We just need a crack.”

To see Donna on her doorstep after weeks of silence and broken playdates with the kids has thrown Alma for a loop. Clearly the recent prison widow is struggling and Alma is glad to help. However, she can’t help but feel this isn’t just out of Donna’s own doing. Something pushed her to try to mend the broken bridges she had been trying to burn.

Alma knows she won’t be vindictive and turn her away. Ellie is sleeping peacefully and Kenny is glad to be back to playing with Nathan and Kaylee. It leaves the two women some privacy in the kitchen.

Alma has her own cup of green tea in front of her while Donna has a glass of water. Alma stares intently at the brunette and wonders when they start to become strangers.

“What happened?” Alma asks softly.

Donna chews on her bottom lip as she picks at her fingernails. “A fed came by my house. Was trying to see if I knew anything about Opie’s business.”

Alma blows on her tea and nods her head. “Agent Stahl, I presume.”

“She said she could get Opie closer to home and out in a year.”

“They will say anything to get you to make a slip up Donna. That would only hurt Opie and your family.” Alma replies.

Donna’s brows furrow. “Opie is in jail that is hurting my family. This club hurts my family.”

“You married into this, Donna. You knew going into this what could happen.”

Donna releases a bitter laugh. “So that excuses everything? I’m just supposed to accept that the father of my children is a convicted felon.”

The grip on her mug tightens. Alma knows she is treading on dangerous territory. She knows what she can say can push Donna in 20 different directions that can only hurt Opie. “If you talk to Stahl…you can get him killed, Donna.”

Alma watches as the blood leaves Donna’s face. Maybe, Alma shouldn’t have said that, but she also believes Opie should’ve had this talk with her. It would make a lot of things easier.

“From who? The Mayans? Nords?” Donna hisses.

Alma’s brows furrow and she assumes Stahl gave her those names. Alma thinks it is better for Donna to have that conclusion considering that Alma was talking about the club. Alma knew Jax would never let anything happen to Opie, but he was only one person. If Donna talked…

“From you. You coming here talking about giving a Fed information is gonna have him spun. He is going to be too focused about what is going to come out of your mouth than his safety in prison.” Alma tells her honestly.

Donna releases a bitter laugh. “This can’t be happening. I came here for a friend and I feel like I am talking to Gemma.”

Alma takes a sip of her tea. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not going to encourage you to rat.”

“Because your family is perfectly safe and fine right? Jax is still here. Who cares about Donna?”

“It isn’t even like that.” Alma snaps. “And the fact of the matter is one day I will probably be in your position or worse burying my fucking husband in an early grave. Don’t forget I grew up in this shit, Donna. I lost my father to this life.”

“And look where you are! Married to the fucking Vice President of the outlaw motorcycle club!” Donna roars. “What does that say about you, huh?”

“What’s going on here?”

Both Donna and Alma jump at the sound of Jax’s voice. His eyes are going back and forth between Donna and Alma. Alma can see his concern and agitation because the last thing she needs is stress during this pregnancy.

“Nothing,” Donna spats. “I was just leaving.”

Jax raises his eyebrow at the venom in her tone. He doesn’t stop her from leaving as she picks up Ellie’s carrier and interrupts Kenny playing with the kids to leave. She doesn’t bother with a goodbye and even slams their door.

Alma moves from the table with her tea and places it in the sink. She hears Jax moving behind her and his arms wrap around her.

“Does the club need to be concerned?” He asks her softly.

“Stahl rattled her.” Alma admits. “And I don’t know what is going on in her head.”

“Going after the women is a smart tactic especially ones that have the most to lose.” Jax mutters to her.

She turns in his hold to peer into his blue eyes. “What is going on Jax? Don’t tell me it’s smoke because they wouldn’t wait until after Opie’s case and sentence to start digging into club business.”

Jax pulls back some as he looks over her and sighs. His hands come up and caress her face. “I don’t want you worrying about this shit.”

“Don’t use this pregnancy to keep me at length. Not telling me shit keeps me worried.”

“A port commissioner was killed. He was the enemy of the Irish.” He tells her and nothing else.

“Jax…” Alma knows there is more to the story. He isn’t telling her everything and it burns.

“Babe, if it becomes something trust me I will let you know before shit hits the fan. Just focus on the little one, yeah.” He tells her as he pulls her close and back into a tight hug.

Alma only nods her head against his chest.

It was a close one Jax can admit. Luckily, with Unser on the payroll, it had been easy to sneak into the police to relay word to Luann about the Feds plan. Unfortunately, it meant Otto getting more infractions against him as he gave Stahl a busted nose and black eye. He hasn’t yet told the club about Donna’s visit to Alma or even Opie about his wife’s doubts. He hopes now that he won’t need to.

The club is in a good mood. It still hasn’t settled in that he is now Vice President of his father’s club. He has just gotten through his first, but many waves of heat the club will always get. He didn’t fuck it up and that is a plus. He smiles as he spots Alma at the bar. The new Prospect, Half Sack, is keeping her company.

God, his wife is beautiful and he knows he is a lucky bastard. He glances over to the portrait of her father. Sometimes, he wonders how he would’ve handled knowing he had gotten her pregnant and married her. Jax knows for sure he would’ve gotten his ass handed to him. Though he hopes the man is at least comforted in the fact he is taking care of her. He knows he treats Alma thousand times better than her father ever treated Ana.

Jax makes his way to his wife and wraps his arms around her. She laughs at the affection, but she melts into the hold.

“Miss me, baby?” She questions.

“All the damn time,” he admits as Half Sack slides a beer to him.

Alma smiles as she sips her cranberry juice. He moves to her side and is practically hovering over her. She doesn’t seem to mind. “I think we should tell people.”

“Now?”

He nods his head. “You’re closer to four months now. If you weren’t wearing loose sweaters people would know by now anyways.”

Jax can see her hesitation. He watches as the gears turn in her head. He doesn’t like it. His fingers pinch her chin bringing her back to him as he places soft delicate kisses on her lips. “It’ll be okay.”

Alma relaxes in his hold and she nods her head. A small smile pulls at her full lips. He slams his beer back before he pulls his beer close.

With his right hand he brings his fingers up to his mouth a whistle gathering everyone’s attention.

“Listen up, I got something to tell y'all.” He shouts. All eyes are on him. Curious as they look between him and Alma. He smiles wide. “I got another kid on the way.”

The club roars and he gives Alma a deep kiss before his brothers tackle him with hard slaps on his back in form of congratulation.

It was hard saying goodbye to their old house. Due to Alma’s heightened emotions, they didn’t sell the house, but decided to tackle being landlords. Alma just could not give up their former home.

The new home was a massive upgrade that Jax didn’t really care about and showed off the perks from his lifestyle. The European inspired home was 6 bedrooms with a 4 car garage. An in-ground pool in the backyard.

To welcome them into the home there were massive columns and arched windows over the front door. From the foyer it featured two circular staircases leading to the balcony that overlooked the Formal living room.

The kitchen included a prep island, a walk-in pantry, and a 6-person eat-at peninsula bar. Leaving the kitchen it opened into the breakfast room and family room, which featured a curved wall of windows. It also included a fireplace and directly across from there they had a covered porch.

Like the family, the master suite also had a curved wall of windows and Jax and Alma were treated to their own private covered porch. Their master bathroom had a corner glass shower, a whirlpool tub, and walk-in closets for him and her.

The hallway from the foyer leads to the spacious game room, large home theater and guest room with private bath.

The second floor of the house, which basically belonged to the kids, included 4 additional bedroom suites each with a private bath.

It was a beautiful home.

Jax smiles as he brings his arms around his wife and caresses her bump. Alma pregnant is his favorite site in the world. He presses a kiss to her cheek as she giggles.

“It is so big, Jax.” She whispers as they watch the Prospect being ordered by Kaylee where boxes are going.

“Nothing but the best for my family.”

Alma turns in his arms. Her bump pressed against his stomach. Her brown eyes are glowing. “I love you.”

“I hope so. Being married to you ain't cheap.”

Alma scoffs as she slaps him in the stomach. “It’s cheaper to keep me. You remember that.”

Jax smirks and he gives his wife an Eskimo kiss. “So no Kobe rings could ever help me out in the future.”

“Are you purposely trying to irritate your pregnant wife?”

“Maybe.” Jax quips as he presses a kiss to her lips.

“You’re a jerk.”

“I’ll give her a full body massage later, yeah.”

“You promise?”

“Of course, darlin’.” He promises as the doorbell rings. “I’ll get that. You should be sitting somewhere. Direct from the couch.”

“I’m perfectly capable of standing,” he hears Alma mutter to his back.

Jax doesn’t bother checking the windows to see who is at the door. He thinks it is probably his brothers wanting to see where their new place to freeload is.

He swings the door open and his good mood is instantly soured by the presence of Agent Stahl. “Can I help you?”

Stahl opens her mouth, but she is interrupted by the sound of his kids laughing behind him and Kaylee saddles up to his leg.

“Daddy! You missed it. Half Sack –“ She stops as she looks at the group of suits at their door.

“What’s going on, Dad?” Nathan asks as he too looks at the people on his steps.

Jax manages to keep a straight face as he picks up Kaylee and presses a kiss to her head before setting her back down next to Nathan. “Go to your mom.”

Nathan’s eyes widen at his words. “Dad –“

“Go now,” Jax orders.

No one is prepared for Kaylee to scream for her mother making all of them jump. They are all frozen when Kaylee attempts to close the door on the agents. “You’re not taking my Daddy!” She screams before latching onto her father tightly.

“Jax – “Stahl begins.

“Don’t do this now,” he says between clenched teeth.

“Is your wife home?” Stahl asks instead.

Her question is answered as Alma appears confused. “What is going on?” Half Sack is behind her.

“Mrs. Teller, you need to take your daughter.” Stahl says.

“What are you doing here?”

“I really wouldn’t like to do this in front of your kids.”

“Sack, take her,” Jax orders.

The Prospect comes over and with a tight grip pries Kaylee away from him. Jax forces himself not to watch as his daughter’s screams and cries echo throughout the house.

He presses a kiss to Alma, who is standing in shock as realization dawns on her. “I love you. Call my mom.”

He hugs his son real quick. “You take care of your mom and your sister and the little one.” Nathan nods and holds him tightly before letting go.

Jax walks away from his family.

He stands in front of Stahl as an agent with cuffs walks behind him.

“Jackson Teller, you're under arrest for the murder of Brenan Hefner. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” Stahl says as she begins leading him to the unmarked car.

He is silent as he walks to the car. He doesn’t resist as they push him in the backseat.

He doesn’t want to look at his family as he is whisked away. But as the car pulls out of his driveway, he looks back as Nathan begins screaming for him.

Alma stands behind their son who has turned in her arms. His tears staining her swollen belly.

Sometimes, Alma hates the club. She hates the hierarchy it upholds. She hates that her husband is in jail. Right now, she thinks she may even hate Clay Morrow. It wasn’t as if she was a fragile newlywed. She had grown up in this shit. He was beating around the bush and not giving her a straight fucking answer on as to why her kids had to witness their father being arrested.

“I know you’re upset –“

“I’m fucking pissed!” Alma snaps at her father in law.

Clay purses his lips in displeasure as Gemma even keeps her lips shut as she massages his hands at their dining room table.

Clay knows he is in a tricky spot. For one, he isn’t in the chapel and his status as President doesn’t matter right now. Right now he has his son’s wife demanding an answer because now club business is bleeding into family business.

He isn’t about to open his mouth because he doesn’t know what Jax wants Alma to even know. At the same time, he doesn’t want to get taken out by some pregnant broad. He has dodged bullets from soldiers and rivals; his life isn’t coming to an end due to an angry pregnant woman.

“Alma, jail time is always a risk for what we do.” He says slowly. He can see the steam rushing out of her ears.

“Don’t be fucking patronizing. I want to know what the fuck he did.” Alma seethes. “I have that right.” She knows it is a murder charge, but she wants the details.

“Alma, you need to calm down,” Gemma says, finally speaking up as she watched Alma cradle her stomach. “This isn’t good for the baby.”

Alma snorts. “That bitch arrested him in front of the kids.”

Alma doesn’t know why, but the tears just pour out of her eyes. She knows she couldn’t shelter her kids forever. She knew this day would come where her and Jax would need to explain their world. She just never wanted her kids to witness their father being taken away in handcuffs.

Alma collapses in a chair as the tears don’t stop. Gemma moves up from the table to comfort her. They all think it is better for Alma to break down now than later. She can do it now and leave the house strong for her family.

“We’ll figure this out,” Clay promises over the tears.

Clay is annoyed and pissed. That ATF bitch is blocking all attempts of making contact with Jax. The only thing they know is that he is being charged for the hit they did for the Irish. He is more concerned how in the hell there was a witness. He looks at Tig and Bobby, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

“How’s Alma?” Bobby asks.

Clay leans back into his chair and sighs. “Pissed once she was able to read over the charges fully and the penalties. I thought you guys said it was clear?” He asks with more bite than he intends.

“It was, Clay,” Tig assures. “Easiest hit ever. Besides, Bobby and I were there. Wouldn’t they arrest us too?”

Clay sighs. He doesn’t know what game that ATF gash is playing.

“I don’t think it needs to be said, Jax ain’t gonna rat…so how in the hell are we gonna get him protection?” Bobby says speaking up.

Clay runs a hand through his hair. The last thing he wants is to ask the Nords for more help. “What we need to do is find the rat.” Clay tells them.

“Serious allegation, Clay,” Bobby cautions.

“No shit, but how in the hell do you explain someone identifying Jax as the shooter?”

Both men turn silent.

“Something ain’t right about this.” Clay mutters.

“You need to calm down,” Gemma orders as she watches Alma pace in the kitchen of the unpacked home. Boxes are still closed and Gemma guesses Jax’s recent arrest has made her neglect certain things.

Most importantly, Gemma is just worried about the health of her unborn grandchild.

“I fucking can’t.” Alma tells her. “We just bought this house. I don’t work. How in the fuck am I going to support three kids on no salary?”

Gemma frowns. “You know that you don’t need to worry about that.”

“That is not the point.” Alma stresses. Alma wants to scream in frustration at being in this situation. She knows after this baby comes she is going to make some major changes in her life.

Gemma purses her lips together. She wants to snap and tell Alma that she needs to get her shit together. It is just a stark contrast to how Alma is usually calm and reserved. It makes Gemma wonder how much Alma buries or this is literally pregnancy emotions that can’t let her even allow to comprehend one emotion to latch onto.

“How about we take things week by week, or better yet focus on that baby in your belly. Let the club worry about Jax.” Gemma advises.

Alma takes a calming breath as she places a hand on her prominent belly. It’s a tense and uncomfortable silence that Gemma isn’t used to being on the receiving end of. Gemma almost jumps when fat tears escape Alma’s eyes. She watches as the tears splash against the woman’s cheeks and stain against her shirt.

Gemma doesn’t exactly know what is stopping her from consoling her daughter in law. She is almost embarrassed when Nathan comes in and sees the state of his mother.

Nathan rushes over to his mother. “Mom, what’s wrong?” He asks as his arms wrap around her as much as they can. “It’s going to be okay, Mom.” Nathan whispers.

Alma opens her arms and embraces her oldest child.

Alma’s eyes meet Gemma’s. The tears stop coming.

The only good part about being locked up in Federal custody is that he isn’t in the general population. He is isolated and the food isn’t’ that shitty. He doesn’t need to try and make friends, which could mess up his standing and getting a deal. So he is not complaining or making a fuss too much and the last thing he wants is to give Alma added stress.

And after two days of nothing, the agents were finally dragging him to the visitation room. He sits quietly before Stahl comes through the door with her manila envelope.

She doesn’t bother with a greeting as she takes a sit opposite him. “You killed a state official, Jax. The U.S. Attorney will seek the death penalty.”

“I didn't kill anybody.” Jax tells her. “And if you have anything else to say, why don't you talk to my lawyer?”

Stahl smirks. “Well, if my witness statement is a lie... then maybe you should hear all of it, hmm?”

Jax smiles. “Yeah, I like a good story.”

Stahl leans back in her chair as she opens her folder. “Hefner got spooked by seeing Bobby. He turned back to you. You jammed your gun in his sternum and fired four shots. Hefner fell. You and Bobby fled the balcony... and met up downstairs with Alexander Trager.”

“Great fiction.” Jax replies. Although in his mind, the wheels are turning. He knows Bobby and Tig would never rat, so someone had to be tailing them to know that.

“Eyewitness fiction.” Stahl counters. “If you confess now, the attorney might go lenient. Maybe get you a better deal to maybe see your unborn child get married at least. Do you know what you’re having?”

Jax clenches his jaw. “Are we done here?”

“Is there anything you would like me to tell your family? I know that she is due soon.”

Jax doesn’t bother with a reply.

“I would think about your family Jax. You’re going to be doing years. I can’t imagine a child only knowing their father in prison clothes.”

Clay can feel the other parents glaring at him, but he doesn’t fucking care. With Jax being in jail, Gemma handling the garage and family business, and Alma running errands to deal with Jax's future sentence, Clay is on babysitting duty.

He is not really complaining. He loves being around his grandchildren. He loves every minute being with them. Though now, the reason parents are glaring at him, outside of him smoking his Cuban cigars, were the visitors he was getting at the playground.

Usually Clay does his best to separate his business from family life. He knows Alma will have his ass on a sling if he finds out he was handling business at a wooden picnic table. However, with Jax locked up, business needed to be handled and he needed to figure out how to make sure his son can come home on a reasonable time frame.

Clay looks over his shoulder to find his grandchildren causing havoc on the slides. He smiles before he almost drops his cigar at the site of Rosen. Usually, Lowen, Rosen’s associate, would get her fancy pumps dirty to deliver messages.

He knows it must be serious and for a minute he is scared shitless he is about to deliver the worst.

“Clay,” Rosen greets as he reaches the table.

“Is it Jax?” Clay asks.

“Surprisingly, no,” Rosen says as he sits opposite of him. “I got a message from Opie.”

Clay’s eyebrows skyrocket.

“I should say Lenny’s lawyer reached out to me with a message from Opie.” Rosen clarifies.

Clay doesn’t even want to know how in the hell Opie managed to get a message to Lenny, who is in Stockton, from Chino.

“And how much are you charging me to deliver this message?” Clay quips.

Rosen doesn’t banter as he looks at Clay in the eyes. “Opie says the Feds have gone to see him. A few times and even with the added threat to tack on more to his sentence.”

“Why?”

“Apparently someone is talking to the Feds. Gave a detailed list to the Feds of a bunch of alleged crimes Opie and Jax partook in. I mean it’s a lot of shit that goes back to their prospect years.”

What the fuck.

“Is it just Opie and Jax?” Clay asks.

“He said there is some other shit that is more broad, but specifics are mostly him and Jax.” Rosen tells him. “Now before you say anything damning, I’m gonna go. We never had this conversation.”

Clay seethes as he watches Rosen walk away. Of all the things he expected to hear. There is a goddamn rat at the table. And he knows who the fuck it is. The goddamn fucking rat.

“Fucking Kyle…” Tig mutters.

“You put a goddamn tail on him.” Clay seethes quietly. “Call Happy down here. Download him. Figure what Kyle��s been up to.”

“On it boss.” Tig says as he pulls out his phone and walks away.

Clay regrets that he didn’t see this coming. He failed as the President by not realizing the potential fallout of patching out Kyle.

“Grandpa! Push me on the swings, please!” Kaylee yells out.

Clay looks at his granddaughter. Her smile is a carbon copy of Jax’s.

Kyle won’t be shown any type of mercy.

Alma finds it hard to sleep at night. It’s not that she isn’t tired. She is and the baby is sucking the life out of her. It is just that her mind won’t stop. Her thoughts won’t let her rest. It’s not like she can exactly go to a therapist to talk about the shit she lives through.

But she knows she can’t go on for long like this. She does need to think about her children. She believes if she wasn’t pregnant her emotions wouldn’t be as severe. She would be able to pull back and let things simmer. She would be able to wade through the water before finding a crystal clear path.

Besides, the last thing she needs is for Jax to be worrying about her. She needs to get it together. Nathan shouldn’t have seen her crying like that. She feels awful that he had to comfort her. She should have shed her tears alone in her bedroom where the cold is prominent on Jax’s side of the bed.

“Mommy?”

Alma turns from where she is sitting at her vanity. She finds Kaylee standing behind the door in her purple pajamas.

Alma smiles. “And what are you doing out of bed?”

Kaylee smiles sheepishly as she walks further into the room. Alma’s heart breaks a little to think that her baby is about to be five years old. It seems only yesterday she gave birth to her little girl. She was still changing her diapers. Now, she will be starting school.

“I couldn’t sleep, Mommy,” Kaylee replies. Kaylee stands in front of her mother. Her attention focused solely on the cosmetics and beauty items laid out.

“Couldn’t sleep? And why is that?” Alma questions.

Kaylee gives her a mischievous smile. A smile that she knows that she inherited from Jax, Alma has seen that smile many times.

“You’re very pretty, Mommy.” Kaylee says with a blush. “I want to be pretty like you.”

“You’ll be prettier than me when you’re older.” Alma says as Kaylee plays with the brushes on the counter.

“Daddy says you are the most beautiful girl alive.” Kaylee tells her.

“Did he?” Alma asks. She is at least grateful Jax’s absence hasn’t affected Kaylee’s love and fond reminiscents of Jax.

Kaylee smiles. “Can I brush your hair, Mommy?”

“Of course. Let’s move to the bed so you can reach me alright.”

Kaylee beams and hastily gets on the bed. Alma moves to the edge and her little girl is eager to start brushing.

“Your hair is getting so long.” Kaylee says as she runs the brush through her long dark locks.

“Do you think I should cut it?”

“We both can get haircuts!” Kaylee decides.

Alma laughs. “We’ll see after the baby is born.”

Kaylee brushes for a few more moments and then stops as she settles next to her mother. Her small hand is timid as she reaches out and places her palm against her protruding stomach.

“I’m sad.” Kaylee announces.

Alma frowns as she wraps her arms around her daughter. “Why are you sad, Baby?”

“Because you’re sad that Daddy isn’t here.”

“Kaylee,” Alma says shakenly. Alma isn’t even sure how to respond to that.

“Do you think the baby will be sad?”

This Alma can answer. “No, the baby will be happy. They will have you and Nathan as a big brother and sister. They’ll be happy. And…Daddy will come home one day.”

“You promise?” Kaylee asks her with wide brown eyes. Alma’s heart almost breaks as she is reminded of a similar conversation she had with her own mother when her father went to prison. Her father never came home.

“How bout you sleep with Mommy tonight. I’ll feel better when I wake up in the morning.”

It’s been a weird few days. Clay has been quiet on what’s going on with Jax. Alma doesn’t focus on it. Her main focus needs to be on her kids and she is just lucky her mom hasn’t gone on a soapbox about her situation.

Besides, she promised the kids a camping trip in the backyard. She is sort of looking forward to it herself as she fills her cart up with marshmallows and chocolate. She wonders if she can borrow the Prospect to help. If anything it might be a vacation for him.

She is leaving the aisle when her cart almost hits someone.

“Sorry.” Alma says apologizing.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Teller.”

Alma freezes at the sight of Stahl. “Agent Stahl, I would say it’s been nice to see you.”

Stahl presses her lips in a flat line. “Considering I am feeling generous, I would pick up tomorrow’s paper.”

“I think I would rather not.”

Stahl licks her lips. “I mean you had to see this coming? This life you lead and if your husband would talk he might get to see his youngest graduate from high school.”

“Screw you.”

“Any bit of cooperation can help your husband.”

Alma laughs bitterly. “If anything the very least you can let me talk to my husband.”

Alma walks away from Stahl and goes to check out, but the skinny agent follows her. “You know I get it.”

“Get what?”

“The struggle you must feel. Wanting to give your kids a good life and raise your kids with their father. But it’s a fine line though right. You’re about to be on the verge of repeating the cycle. After all, your father never came home from prison.”

Alma whips around to look at Stahl. She almost can’t believe the words that escaped the agent's mouth.

Alma opens her mouth, but a pained gasp escapes her lips.

“Mrs. Teller, you okay?”

Alma feels her lower body tighten. She looks down between her legs and finds blood spreading.

Jax had been doing his daily workout routine when the guards had come to his cell. Usually they make some smart aleck remark and there would be some light hearted banter. Today, there was none of that. The men were quiet as they escorted him to the small visitation room. As he sat and waited for Stahl, he wondered what bullshit she was going to sprout on him.

He thought she would be up his ass the whole time during his stay, but she surprisingly left him alone.

He is waiting for a couple minutes before Stahl presents herself and he doesn’t miss that the camera is turned off. She doesn’t greet him. She walks stiffly to her seat. She has no papers. Nothing. She just sits and stares blankly at him.

“You got something you wanna say?” He asks, breaking the silence.

Stahl looks at him blankly. Jax feels he isn’t going to like what is going to come out of her mouth. That is the usual feeling with her, but this time something is extremely off. Something is wrong.

She clears her throat. “I wanted to give you this news in person.”

Jax leans back in his chair. “Well, that doesn't sound good.”

Stahl chews on her bottom lip before she sits up straighter and looks him in the eyes. She folds her hands across the table top. “Your wife, Alma, she’s in the hospital.”

Jax’s spine stiffens. “What are you talkin' about?”

“She had a miscarriage. I can’t tell you what exactly went wrong, but it was a close call for her. She lost a lot of blood.”

Jax doesn’t say anything as he looks up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You make it sound like you were there.”

“I was the one to call the ambulance. She was at the store when it happened.” Stahl reveals to him. “There was a witness who fingered you. We also got some corroborating statements from Kyle Hobart about past crimes.”

“Why are you tellin' me this?”

“We'll be charging you with Hefner's murder. U.S. Attorney will seek the death penalty. I guess I'm feeling guilty about the pain your wife and children will go through.”

Jax shakes his head. “I’m surprised you feel anything.”

Stahl stands up. “He was a boy, by the way. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Stahl leaves the visiting room. Jax doesn’t even wait to be taken back to his room as he breaks down in tears.

#the unknown #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction #jax teller #jax teller x oc

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ghstandpucks · 4 years ago

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Misguided Ghost Ch.5

A.N.: Thanks for the support everyone! Let me know if you are enjoying the story :)

Doin’ Time

The whole table was laughing at a story Billy was telling. We had been at the bar for about 4 hours now, just sharing stories and hanging out. It was nice to feel like I had made some friends. I was nursing my third beer, trying not to show how much I was actually feeling it. “So Y/N, how are you feeling about being apart of the crew?” Billy asked.

“Good!” I said a little too quickly, causing the table to snicker. Zak reached over and grabbed my beer. I looked at him shocked and took it back. “Excuse you, I am fine!” Zak chuckled as I turned back to Billy and the group. “I mean, I’ve only been around for like two days, but beside this one,” I motioned to Zak with my thumb, “the guys have been nice and welcoming and I’m loving looking at all the history of the places you guys are considering investigating,” I finished with a smile. They were all either nodding or laughing at what I said, even Zak.

“We are happy to have you Y/N. And with that being said, I think it’s time to head home,” Nick said while Veronique grabbed her purse. Everyone decided it was time to head out and home, considering it was almost midnight. I walked with Aaron and Zak toward the front.

“You didn’t drive, did you Y/N?” Aaron asked. I shook my head no.

“I can take you home. I’m already driving Aaron,” Zak offered.

“It’s ok. I can call an uber. I don’t want to make you go out of your way,” I replied, taking my phone out of my purse and opening the uber app.

“No, seriously it’s fine. I don’t mind,” Zak insisted. I looked up at him and he gave me a soft smile. I nodded my head and smiled back, thanking him.

“Let’s go little one,” Aaron wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we followed Zak to his Jeep. I giggled and wrapped my arm around his waist. I insisted that I sat in the back since I was smaller, although Aaron offered the front to me. Once we were in and settled, I gave Zak my address and he started to drive. As we were driving, Lana Del Rey’s remake of Doin’ Time came on the radio, and being that I was in a tipsy state of mind, I decided to sing out loud. Now I am in no way a singer, but I didn’t think I sounded that bad, until Zak turned the radio station.

“Hey, turn it back!” I yelled from the back seat as Aaron was getting his phone out and laughing. Zak chuckled and turned the station back on. I realized at this point Aaron was recording and sang louder, looking directly at his phone. “Evil, I've come to tell you that she's evil, most definitely. Evil, ornery, scandalous and evil, most definitely.” I was dancing in my seat. Aaron turned his phone back to himself.

“I’m pretty sure she is the farthest thing from evil,” he chuckled, making Zak laugh too. I was having too much fun with the song that once it was over, I saw a notification from Instagram on my phone. Aaron had tagged me in his story.

“Wait Aaron you didn’t!” I screeched, opening it and watching myself sing off key and wiggle around in the seat.

“Oh I did!” He replied proudly. Zak laughed and I made a mental note to actually watch how much I drank next time. I wasn’t drunk, but definitely had the liquid courage to make an idiot out of myself. I hid my face in my hands, laughing and muttering ‘oh my God, what have I done!’

“Don’t worry Y/N, it was cute,” Zak winked through the mirror at me. I saw Aaron raise an eyebrow at him, and then turn back to me.

“We’ll do an Aaron’s vlog soon and I’ll introduce you as a team member,” he said, as I noticed we turned into my complex.

“Ok, sounds good,” I was still blushing at Zak’s comment. We pulled up to my apartment and I hopped out of the car. “Thank you Zak, I appreciate the ride! Have a good night you guys!” I shut the door as they said good night as well, Zak waiting for me to actually get into my place before taking off. I thought it was sweet that he wanted to make sure I was safe. I jumped in the shower and drank a glass of water, feeling the buzz slowly leave me. I crawled under my covers in bed and fell asleep, looking forward to seeing the guys on Monday and hoping that Zak meant what he said about calling it truce.

~ ~ ~

Monday morning came quicker than expected. I spent the rest of my weekend putting the final touches on my apartment and going grocery shopping. I even went to a yoga class on Sunday, signing up for a membership at the studio. Aaron had sent me a text with screen shots of messages from the insta-story post. A lot of speculation on who I was and if I was dating either of them. That made me laugh.

Today was a little chilly in Vegas, so I opted for wearing a purple dress with grey tights and a cream cardigan. Threw on my brown boots and took off to work. I went to my office and started up my laptop when Aaron burst in. “Aaron’s vlog! To answer all your questions about who that girl was in my insta-story on Friday, it was our new GAC historian, Y/N!” he said then turned his phone toward me. I sat there shocked for a second, then giggled and waved. ‘Say something’ Aaron mouthed.

“Sorry for my terrible singing guys! Hopefully my research makes up for it!” I gave a thumbs up and Aaron stopped recording.

“Your singing wasn’t terrible,” he stated. I rolled my eyes.

“You don’t have to be nice,” I smiled at him.

“Well someone enjoyed it,” he wiggled his eyebrows. I immediately looked at Zak’s office. Thankfully he was on the phone and not paying attention. Looking back at Aaron I blushed at his grin.

“Go away,” I shooed him out of my office as he let out a chuckle. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful for the most part. I was working on a site with a particularly gruesome past when Zak walked into my office, face in his phone. He sat down in the chair in front of my desk as I stared at him expectantly. “Can I help you?” I asked.

“No,” he muttered, still texting. I decided to ignore him and go back to my work. A few seconds later he spoke up. “This office feels calmer than it did before you got here.” I looked up at him to find him staring at me, brows scrunched up.

“Spearmint and eucalyptus air freshener,” I pointed toward the wall outlet where my diffuser was. I love Aromatherapy from Bath and Body Works. Zak nodded and started looking around my space from his chair. “Is everything alight?” I asked him after about five more minutes of us sitting in silence. Zak smiled softly at me.

“Sorry, am I bothering you?”

“No. I just don’t know why you’re in here,” I smiled back.

“I was coming to tell you about our travel arrangements for our investigation this week. I was just getting the last details when I came in,” he said. I nodded, urging him to continue. “Your office just has a calming vibe. Sorry I spaced out.”

“It’s fine. So what’s up with the travel plans?” I asked. Zak let me know that we would be driving to Utah, where we were going was only about 4 hours away. They would pick me up from my house at 9am on Wednesday, Thursday we would have our walk through and conduct interviews, and then the lockdown was set for Friday. We would come back Sunday seeing as they would probably be drained to drive back Saturday.

“Sounds great! I’m excited!” I clapped my hands together, making Zak grin at me.

“Hopefully you’re still saying that when you’re being locked in with us.” I rolled my eyes.

“As I said during my interview, I won’t promise that I won’t scream if something happens, but I should be just fine,” I laughed his comment off. To be honest, I was a bit nervous. Excited because I loved to travel, but nervous about the hauntings.

Zak stayed in my office for a while, working off of his phone. I would tell him something about what I was looking up every so often and he always looked intrigued. By the end of the day he had his laptop sitting on my desk, sending emails. He claimed the smell of my room was keeping him. I told him he could take it to his office if he liked it that much, but he shook his head and made himself comfortable on the other side of my desk. I looked over my laptop at him before I closed it, and noticed his shoulders seemed more relaxed and he didn’t seem as tense. He had also been nice to me all day. I know we made a truce, but I wasn’t really expecting this much progress all at one time. I made a quick order of another air diffuser to put in his office, and packed up my stuff. I walked out with the guys as we left to go home for the evening, noticing that Zak stayed right by me. I shrugged it off, maybe he was just getting used to me. When I said goodbye to Aaron though, he raised his eyebrow, then sent me a wink. I shook my head and shrugged. Maybe Zak and I could be the best of friends after all. I mean, he was just being nice. Right?

#Ghost Adventures #ghost adventures imagine #zak bagans #zak bagans imagine #gac #ghost adventures x reader #zak bagans x reader

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writingformadderton · 5 years ago

Text

The Book of You and I - Part 3

Ship: Madderton

Word Count: 2775

Summary: Richard and Taron get along well, Elton has a talk with Richard about everything that happened and the first interviews for the movies are getting closer. Everything seems to be perfect, but would the interviewers be as careful with Taron as his friends? And would they keep their mouth shut about Richard’s role in his life?

Additional Tags: friends, soft, interview, emotional hurt, argument

Dedicated to @taron-eggmcmuffin 💞

Part 2 Part 4

When Richard comes on set a few days later, he sees Taron talking to Dex, David Furnish and Elton John next to him. Rich feels himself getting nervous as he walks closer. He wasn’t actually ready to talk to those two.

Taron nods at Elton’s words and looks up shortly. He notices the Scot and a small smile covers his face. "Morning, Rich." he says and waves him over to his direction. He pulls him into a tight hug and smirks at him. "How are you, mate?"

"I'm fine, thanks." he turns to Elton and David and offers them his hand. "I'm Richard." he says and David grabs his hand, greeting him.

"So, you're the boyfriend of Taron?" Elton asks and Richard goes pale for a moment, a light blush on Dexter following suit.

"Yea. My John Reid." Taron giggles and wraps his arm around him. Without a care in the world. Because he doesn’t even know.

"Mm." Rich hums with a weak smile and Elton nods slowly. Elton was aware of their relationship before this movie was even a thing. And he was very aware of the accident and Taron’s state. Just seeing it in reality is still surprising.

"Got it." he says and nods towards Richard again. Seems like they haven't discussed this part of their past yet. "So, how do you two get along?"

"Pretty good I would say." Taron says happily and Rich agrees. "Dex, you have to hear him sing! I talked him into it a few days ago." He wiggles his eyebrows and lets out a chuckle. Rich groans in slight embarrassment as a blush rests on his cheeks.

"How was he? Haven't heard a single note from him so far." Dexter laughs and Rich just laughs a bit.

"He's amazing!" T says, smiling up at him.

"Stop it now." Richard says blushing a bit. Not in front of Elton John himself! Ugh why can’t the ground just swallow me up?

A bit later, Taron and Dex disappeared to discuss some things with David and it's only Elton and Richard now. Elton watches him observantly and offers him a seat. "He doesn't know?"

Richard shakes his head. "The last time I told him I got kicked out of the house, so no." he admits, laughing softly. "I think it's easier for him, not knowing what exactly we were back then. I don't wanna force myself onto him and it's difficult enough for me to know it." Extremely difficult.

"I'm really sorry about what happened to you two. But there will a day where he finds out. And it'll be better if it came from you than someone else." Elton warns him and watches him closely. "Taron is really unstable at the moment, never fully knowing what's true and what's a lie. If it hurts him when he finds out, give him time and space to cope with it. I'll do my best to calm him down again." Elton assures with a genuine grin.

"Thank you." Richard says and smiles at Elton.

"How long have you two been actually together? Dex couldn't remember it."

"Seven months. We discussed wanting to make it official that night." The Scottish leans back in his chair and looks down at the floor for a moment. "Sometimes I wish it was me. I hate seeing him that insecure and....seeing him in that car was just too much." he admits.

"Don't you think there's a reason why it's him and not you?" Elton asks and Richard looks at him with questioning eyes. "Taron would be more hysterical and in his head than you are now. I think he would go crazy with the thought that he drove and you not being able to remember anything."

"I don't know. I had help from a friend to get through the first few weeks and she's still doing it. It got a lot harder the moment we were in the same room again." he looks down at his knees before looking up again. "I just want him to be okay again and if he doesn't need me for that, then I'll have to live with it." Rich bites his lip.

"You really think he doesn't need you? You're his only real connection to his past. His mother can only tell him about his childhood and what he told her about his personal life. You’ve known him for five years before you were his boyfriend. You probably knew him better than anyone else. He will need you and if he's mad at you, I can assure you he'll be back soon." Elton states and Richard nods slowly. "Don't worry too much about it and enjoy the time you have with him. I know it's difficult but you two will be okay."

"Thank you. That means a lot."

The two share a smile and Elton pats Rich’s shoulder gently. The door opens and both pairs of eyes turn their attention to it.

"Elton, Rich! We need you inside!" Taron shouts as he comes outside and both get up. "So what do you think?" T asks Elton as the older man wraps his arm around him. Elton already knows what he’s insinuating, how he feels about Richard.

"I think you two will get along well. You'll have the perfect chemistry for the good and bad times John and I had." he says and looks at Richard with a short, compassionate smile.

Taron gets into Richard’s car and buckles up. They drive to Taron’s apartment and T is a bit calmer this evening. Rich and him drove around from time to time and Richard picked him up most of the time when they needed to be on set. Taron feels safer in his car and company now, a relief for both of them. "Are you ready for the interviews tomorrow?"

"Yeah. It'll be the typical questions tomorrow. We haven't shot that much so far, so it'll be dumb questions." Richard laughs.

"What kind of dumb questions?" T asks curiously and Rich remembers again that Taron was practically new in the business now. This was going to be a long day.

"Are there any scandals on set? Do you get along with your costars? Is there someone you don't like? And so on." Rich explains. "Whatever you do, don't get nervous and don't let anybody see when you're feeling uncomfortable with a question. Stay polite and if you don't wanna answer something, just tell them. As soon as you show that you're nervous, they'll dig deeper and bombard you with questions."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind. I'm nervous about it to be honest. I'm scared that they'll ask stuff about my past I maybe don't wanna know or that isn't true." Taron admits.

"You'll have one interview alone, just like me. Then the rest is together. I'll help you through it." he offers.

"Thank you." he says with a soft smile and unbuckles as they arrive at his apartment. "You're the best, Richie." he says as he gets out and smiles at him shortly before closing the door.

Richard starts the car with a smile on his lips and drives away. Some things never change.

The next day, Richard is already done with his interview and sits in the backstage room assigned to the crew. Taron is a nervous mess next to him and can't sit still up until he finally gets called in. "Wish me luck." he jokes and Richard laughs, giving him a thumbs up. Please let them go easy on him and the day go smoothly.

T steps in and sees the man opposite him. "Hi, I'm Taron." he says and offers him his hand. The man takes it greeting him and offering him a chair. Taron sits down and grins a bit. "First interview so far." he says chuckling.

"Since the accident?" he asks and Taron nods. "So how's work on set? Did you have to learn a lot all over again?"

"I actually had to learn a lot. The biggest struggle I had was remembering lines, because I often forget information I get quickly afterwards. But with listening to songs and remembering the lyrics, I learned to control it actually." he answers.

"Who's your favorite costar so far?" he asks and looks at him curiously.

"Oh, we have a really lovely cast. I get along so well with Jamie, Bryce and Charlie. But I got quite a connection with Richard Madden." he states with a smirk on his lips. Rich became the most important and understanding person around him. Almost as if he knew him from before.

"Well that shouldn't be a surprise, right?" The interviewer asks genuinely.

"I beg your pardon?" Taron asks confused. What was he trying to say?

"Before the accident, you two have been in the news whenever you were seen together. There were tons of speculations about a relationship." he explains and sees Taron’s blush and confused, but scared look. Seems like he doesn't know, that would be a good story. "So how long have you two been a couple?" The interviewer was beginning to dig.

“I don’t think-“

"Have you two ever been a couple?"

"I-I don't know." Taron says and frowns a little. What the fuck was he on about? A couple? With Richard? How ridiculous!

"Did you even recognize him after the accident? Or did you forget your own boyfriend?" he asks again, seeing that he doesn't seem to know a single thing about it.

"My what?" Taron asks and raises his eyebrows.

"He was driving when you had the accident. How does he feel now that you forgot about him and what exactly happened?" he asks quickly.

Oh fuck! No no, that’s not good at all.

Taron swallows hard. "He was driving?" he asks shocked and feels tears burning in his eyes. Suddenly, Richard’s talk about the one he lost over night makes sense. His phone that connected immediately with his air pods and that he knew where he had to drive to bring him home. Did they know each other before?

"Yea. In all the news stories, it said he was driving."

Taron’s eyes widened and he gasped softly. His ears had to be deceiving him. "I-I'm sorry, but this interview is over." Taron says and gets up quickly. He closes the door behind him and walks back into their room backstage. Panic rises in his body and he can't breathe properly anymore. He opens the door and steps in.

Richard looks up and sees the tears in his eyes. Oh fuck. "What’s wrong? Are you okay?"

Taron shakes his head and the dizziness forces him to sit down, shaking. "I'm not gonna give another interview today." he presses out.

Richard walks over to him and crouches down in front of him. "What did he say?"

"Stuff about the accident." Taron says and looks Richard deep into the eyes. "You were with me, am I right?" he asks, barely audible, and his voice threatens to crack.

Rich looks down at the floor before answering. "I was driving, T."

Holy. Shit. His worst fears were coming true. "You-.” he shakes his head and the expression in his eyes become stern and angry. “You fucking liar." he barely gets out and tears fall down his cheeks almost instantly.

"T, I'm sorry. I didn't want that to be the only thing you know about me." Rich tries and bites his lower lip. He should've talked to him before the interviews. He should've told him about the accident and that they were a couple. Now it’s blowing up in his face. Fuck.

"You think I would've liked you less then?" Taron gets up quickly, getting away from him. "Rich, that's not fair." he says and takes a shuddery breath. The Scottish remains silent as the door opens and Dex steps in.

"Taron, what's wrong?" he asks worried and sees the guilt in Richard’s eyes.

"Did you know?" he asks firmly and looks at him with hope. Please say you didn't. "Did you know that Richard was driving?" Please.

"Everyone knows that." Dexter says slowly and sees the hurt in Taron’s eyes. “It was in the papers, Taron. The accident was a big story.”

"I fucking trusted both of you and you lied to me." his voice cracks now and he starts crying. "You used my amnesia against me. How pathetic is that?!"

"Never against you. I tried to protect you, Taron." Rich says slowly.

"No you didn't! You tried to protect yourself, you egoistic piece of shit! Damn it, Rich!" Taron grabs his phone from the table and takes his jacket off his seat.

"Taron, calm down, let us -."

"Fuck off, Dex! I won't do shit for either of you!" he spits out and wipes away the tears on his cheeks. He steps out of their room and sees Bryce coming back from an interview. "Bryce, could you drive me home?"

"Sure. Are you alright, hunny?" she asks as she walks towards the room. T mumbles a no. "I'm gonna get my keys, give me a second." When she walks in, she sees Dexter talking to Rich, who looks like he’s about fall out on the floor in panic. Her eyes widen. "Oh shit." she says and grabs her keys.

"Mm." Richard just hums and grabs his own keys. "I'm sorry Dex, but I don't think I'll give any useful interviews today anymore."

"It's okay. We'll quit for today." Dexter states and waves them out.

Taron looks at the floor stubbornly as Richard and Dex pass him. But he would be lying if he said it wasn’t hard to do so. "You knew he was driving as well?" He asks Bryce as he heard the clicking of her heels come to a stop near him.

Bryce nods. "Yes, I knew. But I thought it was important that Dexter or Richard tell you."

"It's okay. I never talked to you about Richard anyways. You didn't have a proper reason to tell me." Taron says with a weak smile.

Bryce wraps her arms around him and hugs him tightly. "Take your time, okay? You don't owe anything to anyone and if you need some time off then take it." Taron nods in her embrace and she rubs his back shortly. "I know it wasn't right what Richard did, but he has good reasons for it, okay? Talk to him about it when you're ready." she suggests and they let go off each other.

Taron gets out of the car and thanks Bryce for driving him. "Can you tell Dex I won't be on set for the next two weeks?" he asks timidly.

"Of course. I'll explain it to him." she assures him.

“Thank you.”

"Not a problem at all. If you need anything just call me, alright hun?" she asks and he nods thankfully.

Inside his apartment, he kicks off his shoes and changes into comfy clothes. He sits down on his bed and calls his mother.

She takes the call very quickly, as always. "Hey darling. How are you doing?" she asks happily.

"Not really well, mum." he admits and his eyes fill with tears again.

"Oh what's wrong, sweetie?" she asks and sits down. Her son has developed anxiety and slipped into a depressed state more often since the accident.

"Did you know that Rich was the one driving?" he asks timidly. His mother wouldn't lie to him, right?

"I did, did he tell you?"

"No. Had the pleasure of finding out in an interview today." he explains and his voice starts shaking. "Why didn't you tell me, mum?"

She remains silent for a moment before talking again. "I asked Richard not to tell you about it. You would have never been able to trust him if you knew Taron."

"Why does everyone think that?" Taron runs his fingers through his hair. "I trusted him and now that I know he lied to me it's difficult to do so. Not because we got into a car crash and he was driving."

"I'm sorry, we thought it would be better." she admits and rubs her face. Though she didn’t believe her own words, the goal was to keep him calm at the moment.

"It's not fair, mum, and you know that. I think I'm gonna go to bed. Thanks for being honest." he hangs up before she can say anything and pulls up the blanket over his shaking body. "Fucking liars." he presses out and curls up, crying. His world was spinning and his head was splitting with all this new information. What the fuck was going on?

@taron-eggmcmuffin @fuseburner @multicoloredchicken @anxiety-at-the-classroom @primaba11erina @sarahegerton96 @maddertonmyheart @madderton-obsessed

#taron egerton #Richard Madden #taron x richard #madderton #Elton John #the book of you and i #taron egerton fic #richard madden fic #madderton fic #emotional hurt #fluff #soft #friendship #argument #david furnish #dexter fletcher #Rocketman

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nightlovechild · 5 years ago

Text

Table Manners - Deceit’s Week. (Day 5: Moceit)

Warnings: Arguing, male character using feminine terms & feminine nicknames, BDSM Themes, Manhandling, Food (involved in play), Anal fingering, Bondage, CBT, Masturbation, Light knife play, Swinger lifestyle mentioned briefly, Alcohol, Object insertion (could be not safe in real life), anal penetration, ruined orgasm.

Summary: When Dimitri forgets to act like a proper hostess, Patton turns him into a four course punishment instead. (Human AU!)

Notes: This story was written before the release of Deceit’s real name. Deceit's name is Dimitri.

Hearing the door close, Dimitri prepared himself for a H-E- double hockey sticks of an argument. Patton's leather shoes sounded off of the hallway tile as he stepped quickly into the dining room.

"Dimitri Alexander Sanders, I would like to say that was impressive. But that would be an understatement. The absolute extent you will go to… and risking my job like that!" Patton scolded.

"Your Boss is scum. He was pressuring that girl into his charade, just like he pressures you into staying in your tiny cubicle everyday. I was fucking sick of it. Plus you know My motto: If you are going to lie, do it with style and grace. That floundering fool had neither; so he got what he deserved!" Dimitri said with venom. Setting the dirty dishes down and turning with a fiery flare of his long silk skirt. The high split sliding up to show off his bare leg down to his fuck me pumps.

Patton was looming in the doorway, loosening his tie and biting his bottom lip at the lustful sight. He wanted to stay mad at Dee's risky behavior at the dinner party. But the growing tent in his pants was detracting from his intimidating stance. What was a good man to do with such a hot, tempting, dirty...

Dimitri rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Well, could we get the speech about morals and being a good hostess under way? Let me see if I can get you going…Something, something...lying is wrong, but being disrespectful is worse. That in reality nice guys come...in first." Dimitri drew out his words with devious purpose. While letting his polished nails tap against his hips in a striking pose.

"No. I think this lesson will need to be more physical." Patton shook his head in disbelief as Dee made a challenging gesture by waving his hand.

"Bring it on."

Within seconds Patton had Dimitri face down, ass up in the air. Forced into spreading his legs to gain some type of balance at the sharp angle of laying against the tabletop. The struggle was always over quickly in the face of Patton's true strength.

He let Dee enjoy the pinned sensation by letting him struggle and wiggle. Because Dee was never able to get away when Patton’s hand was in the middle of his back. Patton's free hand flipped up his skirt. Making the beauty fight not to whine out loud as his ass cheek was cupped and squeezed. The grip making his panties pull tight against his sensitive cock.

"Come on, Pat. I know you want to spank me. Do it. Smack my ass. Punish me. I outed your boss with one phrase and a Facebook photo. The Mistress almost cried." Dimitri circled his hips, grinding against the tabletop. "I'm getting hard thinking about all the fabrications he is going to have to weave to fix what I picked apart in seconds. You have to punish me, please?"

"Believe me, beauty. You're going to get it again and again. Once here on the table, once in the limo, and once again in my new corner office." Patton smirked as he flipped Dimitri over.

Dee's high pitched squeal and astonished face saying it all.

"We did it? You're a partner now?" Pulling Patton in for a kiss.

"Yeah, Mr. Axer and I had a talk. Finished straightening him out. Told him to get his house in order before it ruined the business. Then he said if I could handle you all these years and remain such a saint being a partner should be easy." Patton said as he ground his throbbing bulge against Dee panties. Sealing their lips together in love and excitement.

Dimitri blindly grabbed behind himself as the kiss grew more heated. His rings clicking against the long glass vial as he gripped the extra virgin olive oil. Thrusting the bottle against Patton’s chest.

"Use it to fuck me, right now, or eat me up like your appetizer. God, just fucking need you. My big business man. My money maker." Dimitri demanded with a moan. Rolling his hips to enjoy the friction of his lace panties against Patton's hard pressed slacks..

"Awe, my dirty girl. So cute when he wants this breadwinner cock, huh?" Patton purred as he stripped his husband bare. The dress going over one shoulder and the panties going over the other.

Dee's cock slapped against his own abs from being so turned on. Patton's words were always his undoing. Losing patience, Dee leaned back pouring the olive oil all over his own cock and thighs. The slippery oil running down his balls then coating the cleft of his ass cheeks. Setting the bottle down, Dee hooked his hands behind his knees to spread himself even wider as Patton watched, entranced.

"Now don’t you look like a feast? But, pretty girl, you know this isn’t the position for taking a punishment. This looks more like you’re begging for a reward.” Patton stepped close, his finger tips running around Dimitri's rim.

"Punish later, fill me up now. I already set the mood to be stuffed. So jump to it." Dee mouthed off with a mischievous smirk.

Patton shook his head and slowly worked his fingers deep into Dee’s body. Getting his dirty girl worked up into a moaning mess in a matter of moments then dead stopped and pulled out.

“You are a slick one. I'll give you that.” Patton said as he wiped his hands clean on a discarded napkin.

Dimitri groaned loudly at the pun. Starting to sit up, only to be held in place.

“You always say the rule in making the deepest longest lasting impact is to set the mood, right? Right. So, how about setting the mood for your punishment? Your four course punishment." Patton growled. Gripping Dimitri's waist and pushing him into the middle of the table.

‘Oh god, yes. Let’s see how creative his self righteous fury gets us this time.’ Dimitri thought to himself as Patton stalked around him.

Patton began gathering things up while removing other items to give Dimitri room to relax back onto his elbows, legs spreading to offer a succulent view.

“What are your conditions for setting the perfect dining mood?” Patton asked as he laid out the items.

“A wonderful hostess knows the power of a glorious centerpiece, fine china serving up delicious food, glasses of high priced drinks and good guests.”

“Well, since you don't make for even a nice hostess, let's see this if this suits you better.” Patton plucked the brightly colored fresh flowers from their vase, “Are you a glorious centerpiece?”

Soft flower petals danced a path down Dee’s body. Water droplets, from the stems, fell across his skin as Patton worked the flowers over his stomach and down between his thighs. Flipping the flowers over Patton picked up the silk ribbon he had in his newly acquired pile of goodies.

Dimitri watched as his rock hard cock was bound to the bouquet. Grunting when the bow tightly cinched around his balls. Patton continued to tease and stroke the silk ribbon making Dimitri add his own dew to the flowers.

“Knees closed. Legs flat.” Patton ordered. Unzipping his pants to easily reach in and stroke his own aching need before moving to Dee’s other side.

Dimitri bit his lower lip as his gaze shifted from his masturbating lover to the flowers that were standing straight up due to the special position. Rolling his hips as Patton continued to survey his handwork. His normally calm face is suddenly full of speculation. Buttoning up his pants again, regaining his composure. The seconds dragging on until Dee couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“Well? Am I glorious, my love?” Dimitri asked as he ran his hands over the length of his body.

“Yes, the best centerpiece I’ve ever seen, My little China doll. But your fine body makes me hunger for more. Let's see if you could make a better plate with delicious food all over you?" Patton said as he began placing tiny bite sized treats on Dimitri’s body.

The placement of the last snack at the base of his neck forced Dee to lean his head back keeping the treat in place. But it also made Dee blind to Patton’s actions since he couldn’t move his head. Dee let out a shocked breath as cold metal points slid over his exposed nipples while an ice cold flat metal followed.

Patton chuckled as he placed a fork, with its tines pointed down, on Dee’s hard nipple and a clean butter knife, flat side down, on his other nipple. Picking up a spoon, Patton smirked as he watched the body underneath him shake with desire.

"Stop trembling, my plate. You're making the flowers shake." Patton smirked.

He fought to lay still as his ravenous husband tucked into the first treat at his naval. Slowly, Dimitri took in the sounds of lip licking and humming about how good each sweet tasted. Dee growled at the familiarity of the sounds. Flashes of Patton sucking him or their swinger friends off made him want to break the punishment and force his husband…

Then his mind blanked out as Pat picked up the fork and knife. Slowly dragging the utensils over his skin, tracing hearts and stars all around the last two delicate sweets. Pushing the silverware in, making pink marks show as Dee moaned and panted.

"Hubby, don't play with your food. It's not good manners." Dimitri scolded with a breathless voice.

“Of course my darling.” Patton answered sweetly. Tossing the silverware over his shoulder, leaning down, and eating the treats off of Dimitri’s bare flesh. Patton's hot lips and sharp teeth gently nipping his skin. Dimitri was gasping, leaking onto the flowers as he could feel the hickeys blooming under his skin as Patton pulled back.

"Your sounds are making me thirsty, dirty girl. Are you thirsty? Do you want champagne or a tall clean glass of water?" Patton paused, brushing the stray locks from Dee’s face.

Dimitri smiled at the check in, “water” being their code word for being done. Snaking his hand out to Pat’s, Dee gave him reassuring squeeze.

"Champagne sounds lovely. What g-glasss.." Dimitri stuttered then hissed as the ice cold liquid hit his stomach.

Patton took the champagne like a body shot. Once, twice, by the third time Dmitri was shaking so bad it was making the bubbly liquid spill.

"Be a good cup now. Let me drink you down." Patton scolded as he poured the alcohol down the flowers so it would flow over Dmitri's cock. Sucking, slurping, and licking as his dirty girl got closer to the edge. Patton pulled back when the champagne’s taste became salty.

“F-Fuck don’t.. N-no don’t stop.” Dee begged and squirmed. The flowers flicking the alcohol this way and that with his desperation.

“Are you my good girl?” Patton whispered.

In Dee’s current state he didn’t hear. So, Patton bent down next to his ear. “Are you my good girl? My beautiful Medusa? My awful wonderful hostess?”

“Yes! God, Patton, need you. Feel so empty. Please!” Dimitri whimpered, spreading his legs even more.

“How about I give you a small goody to curb your gnawing hunger?” Patton reached into his pile of items gripping a clean soup ladle with a very phallic shaped handle.

“Yes! Give it to me. Want it! F-fffuck.” Dimitri whined as Patton kissed his forehead while sliding a thick long cold shaft into his oil slicked hole.

“This is how you make our guests feel when you question and charm them to your wiles. So invaded and so deliciously full…,” Patton fucked the smooth ladle handle faster into Dimitri’s body, “of your devious motives.”

Dee couldn’t answer but take everything Patton was giving. Patton climbed up on the table, unzipped his pants, freeing his hard cock from it’s clothed prison.

“Bet you want me to reward you? Take this long cold metal shaft out of you and put my warm loving thick cock in your ass don’t you?” Patton started fucking the ladle into his whimpering lover even faster.

Dimitri nodded as his cock jerked and leaked on the flowers and ribbon. When he was right at the edge, his whimpers turning into groans, Patton undid the ribbon around Dee’s cock, all pressure was gone. Then the ladle pressed against his prostate on the out stroke. Dee keened as his orgasm tore through him with nothing touching him. No sexual gratification, just a ruined orgasm. Opening his eyes, blinking up with a teary look Patton was stroking himself, fast and firm.

“Oh god baby. Took your punishment so well. Came all over yourself just for me..” Patton’s words were lost to moans as he came. Marking Dee’s stomach and chest as he stroked himself through his orgasm. Fully enjoying himself as his husband watched from below.

"Water, Pat, water, please." Dee held up his shaky arms.

Patton switched completely, tucking himself away. He easily picked up his love, cuddling Dee close as he sat down in the head chair of the table. Pouring real water, the ice clinking into the glass then held it up to Dimitri's lips. Taking a deep drink then hiding his face in Patton's neck.

"What's your color sweetness?" Patton tried to keep his voice level to combat the fear they had gone too far this time.

"I'm green. Just feel tiny and.. and…"

"Vulnerable?"

"Yeah. No guards, no lies. Want this with you."

"But you're okay?" Patton gently guided Dee to look at him.

"Yes, Patty." Dimitri smiled demurely then he hid his face again.

"I think a dip in the hot tub then a massage sounds like a good start to our aftercare what do you think?" Patton asked as he stood up, letting Dee wrap his arms and legs around Patton as he walked them out onto the patio.

The setting sun and hot water always grounded Dimitri while the bird's fading songs and bubbles grounded Patton.

"I can't wait for the next dinner party." Patton sighed happily.

"I can't wait for the next after party romp about my horrible table manners." Dimitri giggled as Patton growled.

#sanderssides/sm/ut/challenge #Dimitri's week #Deceit's Week #Day 5 #notsafeforsanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders

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vinylhazza · 5 years ago

Note

What would make up sex with Ethan be like ? xx💘

it’s passionate and hard and downright desperate.

it’s been about a week since you two got into a petty argument over a snide remark that was blown out of proportion. it was (again) caused by ethan stuffing down his feelings into a tight little bubble and waiting for just the right moment to where it couldn’t hold any air - popping right in your face.

he never yells at you. ever. but for some reason everything was getting on his nerves that day. everything was too much and too little all at once and he just blew up.

it was one of those days where the fans were suspecting ethan was in a relationship, tweets, instagram posts, articles, everything was flying around and it made his head dizzy. you had mentioned once that maybe it was a good idea for you two to just come clean to the fans. they knew you were friends and they loved you, why wouldn’t they love you if you were dating too?

“no. end of discussion.” he wouldn’t even listen to a word you had to say. “we aren’t “coming clean”.”

he’s slamming cabinets and stomping through the house like a four year old. you had just suggested that maybe it would make him less stressed if there weren’t so many speculations and just hard facts.

“e there’s no reason to be upset all i’m saying is that maybe there wouldn’t be so many tweets and posts and articles about what “might” be happening if people just knew the truth? are you ashamed of me or something?” you were just confused now. you really never questions why he would always act different when the camera was on. you never questioned why he wouldn’t answer questions about you two. but standing here, you were starting to become self conscious.

“do you want to date me or millions? because they will NEVER stay out of our business if we tell me don’t you get that? or does it just go through one ear and out the other?” his tone is harsh and annoyed, he won’t even look at you. he’s too afraid of the expression he might see.

“they don’t stay out of our business anyway...so what the fuck is the difference?” you deadpan. you’re pissed.

he whips around at your language, knowing you never curse and he’s probably overstepped a line. but you don’t even give him a chance to talk before you’re speaking once more.

“yeknow what, if you’re just going to be an ass about a simple comment, then forget i said anything. i didn’t realize it was that bad to be in a relationship with me that you can’t even tell your fans about the woman you say you love.” you didn’t want to sound like a brat, but he was really hurting your feelings.

“y/n it’s not even like that-“ he’s trying to redeem himself.

“it’s exactly like that ethan. talk to me when you’re done being a dick.”

that was a week ago, and you’ve ignored every phone call and text ethan has sent to you. you didn’t want to let him think you were fine, and you can’t ever stay mad when he calls you because his voice instantly calms your nerves.

it’s been a week of the silent treatment and he’s just about lost all sense of reality. every night he lies awake and thinks about the fucked up words he said, about the way he completely disregarded your feelings, about how dismissive he was. he was a prick. you’re surprised he hasn’t come by your apartment yet, he’s just building up the courage.

grayson has been the only one you’ve kept in contact with the whole week, texting him every now and then to see if he was okay and if he’d talked to ethan. he had. and he told her everything. but what he didn’t tell her was that ethan would be showing up at her door with a box of sour patch kids, teary eyes, and your favorite hoodie of his that you always sleep in. you share it and it means a lot to you. he thought maybe it would make you feel better and put a smile on your face.

when he knocks on your door, it’s silent.

“y/n...open up it’s me,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“yeah and?” your sassy tone makes him smile, even if you are mad at him, the sound of your voice pulls at his heart strings.

“baby please c’mon you know i didn’t-“

the door swings open before he finishes to reveal his rough looking girlfriend. it had been a long week and you were still pissed. but you missed him. although you wouldn’t let him know that yet. you might have overreacted a bit, but you wouldn’t admit to it.

“you’re a real fuckface yeknow that?” is the only thing you say, shooting him sad eyes. he hurt your feelings bad and looking through twitter and having fans question why you haven’t been in their snaps recently had you overthinking even more.

“i-i know bubs i’m sorry...i really didn’t mean it that way. i was just frustrated. it’s just...they can really twist things and you are one thing i don’t want them to mess with,” he explains with pleading hazel eyes. please forgive me please forgive me please forgive me.

you seem to soften at that, slacking your shoulders and dropping your hand from the doorframe, making room for him to come in and set your presents on the island in the middle of your kitchen. you notice the hoodie and grin - the beautiful smile he missed so much gracing your lips. he looked so shy standing there with mushy eyes.

“are you trying to bribe me e?” you giggle, crossing your arms and facing him. he’s much closer now, slowly inching toward you. he’s missed those lips so much, missed your touch, missed you.

“maybe...” his sly remark gets an eye roll. he’s staring you down.

“well it’s not gonna be that-“ he seals his lips to yours in a feather of a kiss, his lips just resting on yours, moving slowly, “easy.”

“mhmm,” he hums, smirking and kissing you again - this time much harder. your hands come up to clutch his shirt, twisting it in your hand and pulling him closer to your front.

“i’m still mad,” you gasp against his plump reddened lips, back hitting the edge of the counter before he hoists you up by your waist, his hands coming to toy with your nipples through the oversized t-shirt you wore.

“i know...i deserve it,” he’s absentmindedly kissing down your neck now, hands traveling under your shirt and now resting on your bare breasts.

“you really do- fucking hell,” you’re wiggling on the counter at this point, forgetting why you’re mad when ethan starts to speed up his movements. clothes are being tossed off one article at a time, shedding the clothing and just taking each other in.

one thing leads to another and soon he is pounding into you on the counter, whining and whimpering out how much he loves you and how beautiful you are, drinking in the sight of your body and trying to make it up to you with every thrust of his hips.

you’re looking in his eyes that gleam back at you, whispering that you love him too and he’s forgiven if he just keeps hitting that spot in you that has you writhing and squirming against the marble. his dark hair is bouncing and a light sheen of sweat covers his now bare body, gloriously shimmering in the light of the kitchen.

“fuck ethan keep going,” you’re helping him along by fucking yourself against him, skin slapping loudly throughout the house, the air almost too thick to breathe.

you both are falling over the edge in no time, your walls are quivering around his cock while he cradles your face in his hands - forehead pressed to yours, eyes closed, mouth open, he finally shoots his load deep inside your pussy, humming and grunting as he finishes and comes down from the overwhelming high.

he hadn’t even had the urge to jerk off when he wasn’t with you, so it feels like it’s been forever since he’s cum, even if it’s only been a week. he was ethan of course, mister lotion and Kleenex by his bed at all times. he just didn’t feel right about it when the last time he saw your face you looked shattered.

“i didn’t mean it baby,” he whispers, eyes still closed, forhead still pressed to yours, cum dripping out of your pussy and around his cock.

“it’s okay,” you’re too tired and too gone to be mad, you just missed him so much. you know he’s in a difficult spot. you know he can’t be as free as he wants and you know it bothers him. you just wish that when it came to your relationship you didn’t have to be restricted.

“give me some time and i’ll...tell them in the right way okay? i promise i’m not ashamed of you i fucking love you so much and i’m sorry,” his voice his thick with tears? is he gonna cry?

“shhh bubba you do what you think is right...i should have been more understanding,” your hand runs lightly up and down his front, rubbing his cheek, his lips, his abs, his arms, everywhere you can touch so he feels the most comfort and believes your words fully. because you really mean it.

you two go at it many more times during the night, losing count and coming to a mutual understanding that you love each other and it wasn’t going to be a secret forever. he would never keep you a secret forever. he was going to tell the fans when and how he wanted, to show you off in the right way. and you appreciated that more than anything.

#asks #ethan!concepts #e!concepts #its long again #sorry this took so long #i have 2 others coming too

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bubmyg · 6 years ago

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Hi 👋 Can you maybe write a fic where Jungkook introduces his girlfriend on his YouTube channel since they haven’t seen her before? (I know you’ve already written a few YouTube fics with Jungkook already, but I thought it could be cute) and then later, after the video has gone up, they both look at the comments together, but the reader is kind of nervous about the result, but of course she doesn’t need to since their all positive 🤗 If you do, then thank you ❤️🧡💛

genre/warnings: youtuber!jeongguk, again.....the most tooth rotting fluff with the tinniest bit of angst but you may need glasses to see it

word count: 1,631

a/n: i think i’ve said this but all my youtuber!guk drabbles are non chronological but all exist in the same timeline so obviously this occurs before anything already on my masterlist atm :’-)

“We don’t have to do this, you know.”

You ignored the press of Jeongguk’s lips to your cheek, staring down the bulk balanced on top of his tripod carefully centered at the end of his bed. It was the outlet to his fan base, the tiny glass lens that opened up his budding creativity to love and criticism all the same, that allowed him to monetize carefully placed vulnerabilities of his life on a dangerously slippery slope, some pieces chosen on his own accord, others pried out, speculated on, fussed over.

It was something he’d chosen to expose this time, unlike his phone number on Jimin’s livestream or his address when he’d filmed a little too far out on the street of his building.

“Everyone already knows,” He tried, “This is just like...confirmation.”

“I know,” Your eyes wandered from his camera equipment to his apprehensive gaze, “I’m just a little nervous, is all.”

“I can turn the camera off right this second,” Jeongguk offered explicitly this time, curling warm palms against your cheeks, “We can go back to pretending like you, my friend, just so happen to be here every morning. And every night. I can keep editing out you forgetting your role and kissing me—” You whined and he kissed you on reflex, “—until you’re ready. There’s no rush.”

You cupped his hand holding your face, lightly brushing your thumb against his knuckles. Softly, you inquired, “Do you want to do this?”

“I have seven unlisted videos ready to post that are giant love professions hidden behind fancy editing and royalty free music,” He chased the embarrassed drop of your chin with his lips, “but I can make how many ever more in the time it takes to wait on you. I don’t love you any less because I haven’t got to tell the Internet yet.”

You were silent for a handful of heartbeats before mumbling, “Well I’m not helping you set these lights up ever again, so get over there.”

Jeongguk’s eyes lit up when he pressed his forehead to yours, “You’re sure?”

You suppressed the urge to knee his thigh in response. “Go.”

He kissed the tip of your nose for good measure, taking careful strides to his camera, questioning eyes wavering to your appending glare only for a moment before he was pressing record and bounding to the end of the carefully made bed.

You mocked his intro out of habit but also to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach, grin shaky at the tiny giggle that escaped Jeongguk’s lips when he cast a glance at you. He stretched backward, tiny smile turning full featured as he placed his hands behind him, back arching, and in that moment did you finally see the tiniest hints of nerves seep into his aura, in the awkward lean of his stature, the sideways cast of his eyes away from the lens, the dimple in his cheek when he bit the inside of his mouth, the prolonged hums in between his words that you hadn’t heard him do since watching his years old vlogs.

“...so, yeah, as you can tell, today’s a little bit of a different video. An update? Yeah, I guess it’s an update—” He was staring at you now, arms outstretched and fingers wiggling, voice a drastic contrast to the childlike innocence of his gestures, tender and low in his request, “—come here, baby.”

Your hesitation was brief, a part of your lips and a panic in your eyes but Jeongguk mouthed it’s okay with the tiniest of smiles and tilts of his chin and suddenly the lens prepped to project your relationship to the world felt minuscule in comparison to the glittering astral bodies adored only to you in the gentle light of his sparkling irises.

“The update is...” He was speaking while you fit yourself into his arms, letting him pull you down against his side with his nose nuzzling into your hair. “...that this one refuses to leave my house. So if you all have any suggestions to get her out—”

“Can’t leave when you won’t let me,” You countered, nerves falling out in the slight stutter of your tongue but you managed to elbow his stomach none the less. His actions seemed to affirm your words, arms twisted around your waist so you were half sprawled across his thighs, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

"No, uhm...” Jeongguk pulled away to look at you, the softest of smiles meeting the seam of his lips the longer the fondness of his eyes streaked up and down your features, “...meet my girlfriend, everyone.”

Soft touches trailing down your spine woke you, the loving affections carrying to the lips that were pressed against your forehead. He hummed, the vibrations renewing the jump of your heart, “Are you awake?”

Something like a noise of negation groaned past your sealed lips and you hiked your stature higher on Jeongguk’s chest to press your nose into his neck. “No. Still asleep. Leave a voicemail. Call back later.”

He’d ordered a nap after posting the video, dragging you out of his office and into his embrace on the couch while your social medias stayed as dark as the screens of your sleeping phones. He combated your itch to mindlessly scroll Twitter in search of that one negative comment by promising you could read the feedback on the video, together, after a nap.

It was enough for you until you suddenly wanted the nap to last forever so you never had to know.

Jeongguk squeezed your waist, rolling until you were underneath him with digging fingers tickling at your sides. He swallowed your loudest squeals, ones of I’m awake, I’m awake! — lips sweet into the part of your mouth.

The exchange between your steady gazes was silent until he nodded, “Are you ready?”

You trailed him by attachment to his hand wrapped securely around your digits, following him with furrowed eyebrows back into the depths of his office. “Why can’t we just look on our phones?” You pouted while he fiddled with the lighting settings, dropping the room into a gentle purple. You continued to glower when he let go of your hand, dropping into his chair with outstretched arms. “I’m not ready for Y/N reads hate comments about herself but in size seven hundred font on Jeongguk’s seventeen different monitors—”

“Baby girl.”

Your teeth sank so deeply into the your bottom lip you tasted the hint of metal. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got you. I’ve always got you,” His chin tilted, hands flexing once more in your direction, “Come here.”

You tried to make yourself as tiny as possible in Jeongguk’s lap, immune to the periodic stumble of his mumbling mouth against your skin as he clicked around on the screen, shades of whites and blues contouring the concentration in his features as he sought out the touch of your skin against his lips. There was a stutter in his chest when he inhaled, properly nudging your temple with his lips, hand leaving his mouse to wrap around your hip.

“Well, the top comment is a petition for you to make your own channel,” You felt his lips curl against you, “It has a thousand thumbs up. And counting.”

You shifted to press your cheek to his chest instead of your nose, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Jeongguk’s mouse clicked as he scrolled, “this one just says ‘I knew it!’ with, uh...eighteen hearts after it.”

You dared to squint at the screen, not catching much in his absent scrolling but stretching your arm out with the tiniest of gleeful smiles.

“That one—” He paused vaguely after following the line of your finger, “—I used to think I wanted someone to look at me the way he looks at Jimin but now I want someone to look at me the way he looks at her :-(.”

“Why not both?” Jeongguk teased against your hair and it took you a moment of feigned shock to realize he’d stretched out to type it in reply to the comment.

“Are we going to be one of those couples that has those cheesy the way he looks at her edits now?”

“We have been,” He continued scrolling, “Sprinkled in with Jeongguk annoying Y/N for four minutes straight.”

“They could only find four minutes of footage? Must be a new subscriber...”

His monitor dimmed as he pulled away from it, hugging you tighter underneath his chin as the chair spun in a slow circle away from his desk.

“Are you okay?” When you nodded underneath him, he teased, “Well, then I don’t want to say I told you so but...”

“Shut up—”

“No. Look at me.”

You complied, fitting your chin into Jeongguk’s awaiting palm, one that curled around your features.

“I wouldn’t have put you, us, in that situation if I didn’t know,” His thumb strayed from pressing into the corner of your lips to stroke your cheekbone, “I’ll always protect you to the best of my ability.”

“Good, does that mean we can skip the obligatory couples yoga challenge? You’ll crush me.”

Jeongguk whined, high pitched and dramatic as his head hit the back of his chair and your surroundings whirled as his foot turned you in another looping circle. “Announce our relationship to the whole Internet and you can’t even let me be sentimental for five seconds—”

You kissed him, chaste and everything you weren’t good at articulating.

“I love you.”

He smiled against your lips and you missed his arm that outstretched to drag your figures closer to his desk again.

“I love you...” Jeongguk trailed off and you squinted when his monitor lit again in your peripheral, “...so how many of these videos of you will you allow me to post tonight—”

#bts #jeon jungkook #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook imagine #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #hello iiiiii love youtuber!guk #Anonymous

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shadowsnlace · 6 years ago

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Let's request something fun! Since you love medieval AU, how about HCs or a scenario for a Lady!Reader finding out that to secure certain borders and trade rights, she has been unconventionally betrothed to Lords Ukitake and Kyoraku to bind all three Houses together. How do you think that would go? (Personally, I'd ask how soon the wedding could be!)

Brilliant idea! I LOVE this and loved writing it! I can’t tell you how happy I was when I saw you in my ask box! ;) Grab a cuppa, get comfy, and get ready for nice jaunt back in time! Love you!

Note: This is set in a fantasy medieval land much like 13th century Britain. I did my best to try to capture the experience of a virgin bride. Almost all of the modern/conventional words we use to describe things are pretty much gone. (I had to break down and use some modern genital words. Hey, I gotta call them something!) I did that to keep the feel of the time period and try to give the experience of a lady of that time.

Glossary: wanton - (used as a noun) - a sexually unrestrained woman.

This got really long, so settle in. I couldn’t help it. I hope you all enjoy it!

“Alliance” - Shunsui Kyoraku and Jushiro Ukitake

A collective gasp filled the hall followed by the murmur of numerous nobles, courtiers, and servants.

“Scandalous!”

“Unheard of!”

“That poor woman!”

“How can her father do that to her?!”

All of the whispers washed over you as you stood alone in the center of the hall, facing your father. The announcement had been made that you were to wed not one, but two powerful men of the realm. Your ears were still ringing. Your vision swam with unshed tears. How could he humiliate you like this?

You felt the need to flee the hall, but found yourself rooted to the spot, your face hot with shame and anger. The wild thought of grabbing a knife from one of the tables and stabbing it into your father’s black heart was so tempting.

Suddenly, you felt warmth at your back. One presence then another joined you in the middle of the swirling storm of voices. Sir Shunsui Kyoraku and Sir Jushiro Ukitake, your betrothed, stepped around you. Both men placed themselves between you and your father – and they both looked angry.

You couldn’t believe how big they were. Dressed in varying shades of grey, both men were so handsome it nearly seemed impossible. Shoulders so broad, chests so deep, thighs so powerful…both were physically intimidating and yet, you didn’t feel afraid of them at all. In fact, you felt a bit a warm and a strange flutter in your stomach.

“We asked you to allow us to approach the lady in private, my lord.” Shunsui’s posture was defensive.

Your father waved a hand dismissively, “I do as I please, Lord Kyoraku.”

A muscle tightened in Shunsui’s jaw, “Then Sir Ukitake and I shall do as we please – we are taking the lady to Ugendo. We will wed her there in a fortnight.” He started to turn his back on your father, but stopped and looked back, “We will expect her dowry to be paid before then.”

Jushiro grinned, a flash of straight, white teeth giving him a menacing edge, “Fail to do so and we will be back here with our armies.”

You watched your father’s face turn beet-red. He had been crowing so loudly about his cleverness in getting two powerful alliances for the price of one virgin. Now, it seemed that your future husbands were not very fond of your father at all. He sputtered, “If you take her, you take only her. Everything she owns stays here!” Another gasp ran through the room.

All the things you’d saved for years in your hope chest….your clothes….your books….your needlework…. your mementos gathered over the years, all of them memories of your late mother and the few friends you’d had in your youth.

You’d had enough. “Fine!” Your voice cracked in the hall like a whip. You grabbed the cloth of your dress and started ripping it off. Shunsui and Jushiro’s eyes went wide. Both men closed in to shield you as you stripped yourself bare. Jushiro pulled off his cloak, wrapped it around you, wrapped you right into his side. He started to lead you out of the hall, but you wiggled away. You kicked off your shoes, picked them up, and threw them one at a time at your father as a frustrated yell bubbled up your throat.

Before you could start cursing your father, Shunsui swept you up against his thick chest. “Allow me, my lady.” You looked up to find grey eyes echoing the smile on his lips. “I cannot allow such lovely feet to touch the ground.” His warmth seemed to flow into you and you fought back the urge to cuddle deeper into his embrace. You looked over to see Jushiro level one last cold look at your father before he turned and walked out of the hall next to Shunsui.

—- 2 Weeks Later —-

Ugendo: Perhaps the most beautiful castle in all the realm. You had heard of the seaside castle that seemed to sparkle in the sun. You’d thought it was all just the fanciful embellishments of bards. The reality was so much more than words could describe. Much like it’s lord, the Ukitake lands and castle were magnificent. Overlooking the sea, Ugendo shimmered like tiny jewels had been set into the stones. It was breathtaking, also like it’s lord.

It had taken a week of travel to reach Ugendo. Upon leaving your father’s castle, Shunsui and Jushiro took you to the marketplace. They had bought you clothes, shoes, jewelry (they both insisted), a horse, and most dear to you – two new books that you hadn’t read before.

The trip had been very pleasant. During the day, both men would ride next to you and keep you engaged in conversation. You quickly deduced that they knew much more about you than you knew about them. Their reputations were well known. They were quite the favorites when it came to court gossip. Sir Kyoraku’s amorous exploits were nearly as legendary as his skill on the battlefield. Sir Ukitake was more of a mystery. Beyond his prowess as warrior and his manner as a noble, the whispers at court were mostly mixed speculation as to his love life.

Both men were more than happy to dispel rumors and give you an honest look into exactly who they were. By the time you reached Ugendo you were well on your way to being in love with them both.

The next week at Ugendo was a whirlwind of activity. Between wedding plans, guests arriving, and Shunsui and Jushiro spiriting you away to private meals or walks in the garden or along the shore, you were beginning to get a taste of what life with these men would be like. You’d also gotten a taste of what physical delights awaited you. Shunsui had given you a passionate kiss in the moonlight while he walked the gardens with you. Jushiro had also kissed you that night while you’d cuddled with him in a private solar near your room. Both experiences had left you feeling hot, shaky, and aching in places you didn’t know could ache like that. If they effected you like that from just kissing, what was your wedding night going to be like?

——-

The gathering for your wedding was staggering. The sea of faces that watched you walk the aisle toward the priest and your waiting husbands-to-be all faded into a blur. Your eyes were trained on Shunsui and Jushiro, both looked so handsome in their wedding finery you hardly knew which one to stare at. Once you reached the end of the aisle, they flanked you. Jushiro held up his left hand, you placed your left hand on top of it, and Shunsui placed his left hand on top of yours. As the priest spoke, all you could think of was your tiny hand, warm and safe between theirs. You knew in that moment that you loved them, truly and completely.

Jushiro nudged you. You looked up with a start. The priest looked expectant. You swore you heard Jushiro chuckle.

Shunsui’s whisper was soft and full of mirth, “This is the part where you say, ‘I do.’”

Your voice rang out without any hesitation or quaver, “Yes! I do! I most certainly do!”

Laughter rippled around you but you only heard Shunsui and Jushiro’s chuckles.

The priest placed a length of white silk around your combined wrists and tied it in a loose knot. He said a prayer over your hands then blessed your union. Gold rings, engraved with the crests of your three houses, were placed on the ring-finger of all three left hands. And then, two sets of lips were kissing you, each pressing to a corner of your lips. You wanted to toss your arms around them in turn and kiss them passionately like they’d taught you, but for propriety you kept yourself in check.

Seated between your husbands – Wow, your husbands! You ate very little at the celebration feast. Your stomach was a jumble of nerves and your feet were shifting under your chair.

Jushiro leaned in, dropped a light kiss on your right shoulder, “You should eat, my love.” His green eyes were twinkling with something you couldn’t put a name to but knew it wasn’t simply amusement, “You’ll need the energy later.”

You could feel a blush warm your cheeks and neck. Shunsui’s hand was reassuring on your back, “He’s right, petal, once you’ve eaten we can move on to more pleasant pursuits.” You thought he meant dancing – his eyes said different, as did the low rumble in his chest that you could only compare to a purr. Jushiro’s huff of breath and chuckle confirmed that they were clearly speaking of something you couldn’t quite understand – yet.

One dance. All you got was one dance with your husbands. They took turns moving through the steps with you. When the music stopped to allow the dancers to re-position for the next song, Jushiro took your hand and headed for the exit. Shunsui swept a bow to the wedding guests, “We thank you all for joining us for this joyous event. But, now it is time for us to take our leave.” He didn’t wait around to respond to the ribald jests that followed him out of the hall and up the stairs to the master apartment.

When Shunsui caught up to you and Jushiro, you were pushed against the wall a few feet from the door to the master apartment. Jushiro’s mouth was slanting over yours in a heated exchange, his body pressed against yours, his hands in your hair. Shunsui’s laugh was playful, “Getting started without me, eh?”

Jushiro sealed the kiss but didn’t take his eyes from yours, “How can I resist such beauty?” His thumb passed lightly over your bottom lip, “Truly, these lips were made for kissing.”

The next moments were a flurry of movement. Shunsui swept you up into his arms and carried you into the master apartment. Jushiro was close behind to close the door and lock it. He wanted no interruptions.

Shunsui carried you all the way into the bedroom, setting you by the fireplace so you’d be warm. His hands framed your face as his mouth captured yours in a kiss that made you feel hotter than any fireplace ever could. Your head began to swim a bit. Then, Jushiro was behind you, his fingers working to free you from the lacing that was holding your dress together at the back. You felt the fabric loosen. Shunsui pulled back from you as Jushiro lifted the dress and your shift over your head.

The second you were clear from your clothes, Shunsui was back. His hands roamed your bare skin, a low growl escaping as he watched where he touched you. “Perfect.” One hand skimmed over your shoulder, down your arm, to your hand. He lifted it to his lips, kissed your palm, ran his tongue over it then he grinned when you gasped. He pulled you close, gray eyes shining in the firelight with something raw and animalistic. Your whole body shuddered. His look instantly became concerned, “Are you afraid, wife?”

You swallowed hard…ye gods, your throat was so dry! “N – No. I’m not afraid.” You reached for his face, let the bristle of his beard tickle your hand, “I will never be afraid of you or Jushiro.”

He smiled down at you, dropped a soft kiss on your lips. He gently turned you around to face Jushiro.

The sight made your knees wobble. Jushiro stood completely naked in the firelight. And, he had let his hair down. All that glorious white, silky hair was cascading around him like a heavenly aura. Your eyes followed the lines and shadows of his muscles…down….down….By all that’s holy!

“That’s not going to fit.” You had spoken your stray thought out loud. Shunsui’s laughter made you realize it.

Jushiro was snickering. He reached for you, pulled you close until his skin met yours, “Trust me, sweetheart, we will fit together perfectly.”

He was so warm. Every place he touched you left a prickly sensation on your skin. His hand moved up your ribcage to cup a breast as his head dipped to allow him to lick your nipple. “Oh!” Your body swayed in his grasp, your back arched to give him better access. A soft hum of approval, then his mouth covered your nipple and he sucked. Your whole body bucked as a squeal of surprise escaped. It feels so good….His chuckle against your sensitive peak made your legs shake. Your fingers sank into his hair, holding him to you, needing to touch him. He lifted his lips to yours, tongue delving deep to sweep you even further into a state of mounting heat.

He stepped back and sat down in the big chair by the fireplace. You were guided into his lap, but turned away, back to face Shunsui.

Shunsui stood in all his bared glory, looking like a god. He was a bit larger than Jushiro, but not by much. The hard planes of muscle covered his body like a suit of armor under his flesh. The dark hair on his chest fascinated you. You wondered how it would feel when he pressed his body against yours. Would it be soft or coarse? Would it feel much different from Jushiro’s skin?

Then your eyes were drawn to the erection that stood proud. Your eyes went round as your mouth fell open. Seeing your expression, Shunsui smiled, “Don’t worry, we’ll fit, you’ll see.” His eyes met Jushiro’s over your shoulder.

Jushiro moved you to lean back against his chest. You were very aware of his hard, hot erection nestled against your lower back. You had barely registered the thought when his hands reached under your thighs and lifted them open. Your sex was completely open and exposed. A protest was mounting on your lips until you saw the hunger in Shunsui’s gaze as it settled there.

One step. Then he was on his knees, his lips and hands grazing the back of your thighs. You tried to squirm but couldn’t in Jushiro’s grip. You watched with unbridled curiosity as Shunsui dragged his tongue over your swollen lips all the way up to a place that ripped the moan right from your throat.

Jushiro let go of your legs, allowing them to settle on Shunsui’s wide shoulders. His hands moved up to cup your breasts, thumbs lightly stroking over your nipples in careful movements to match what Shunsui’s mouth was doing. You moaned again. Your head fell back onto his shoulder. Jushiro’s lips skimmed over your ear, his breath sending a tickling wave down your back. Combined with Shunsui’s lips moving between your legs, the sensations were making your body feel tight and restless.

You squirmed. Shunsui growled. His hands held your hips, making you be still while keeping you right where he wanted you. His tongue was lapping at that wonderfully sensitive place, his lips closing over it to suck. His eyes lifted to yours and he winked at you. You couldn’t do more than just stare and pant, yet you managed a quick smile. Your hands were on the arms of the chair, fingers clawing at the fabric.

You were burning from the inside out. Jushiro’s lips on your neck, his hands on your breasts. Shunsui’s mouth devouring you like a starving man, his hands moving on your hips and lower stomach. Something was growing in you, threatening to take over.

Then, it happened…a wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your head flung back against Jushiro’s shoulder as screams of ecstasy erupted from your throat. Colors of every hue danced behind your eyelids. You had no concept of anything except the feeling of being swept away.

Shunsui and Jushiro were drinking in your cries of pleasure, their touches carrying you through peak after peak until you slumped – spent, euphoric, tremors running from your shoulders to you your knees.

The feeling of soft blankets. The weight of a male body, honed from decades of training and combat, was a welcome sensation. You opened your eyes to find Jushiro settling over you. His hair spilled around you, curtaining you in a private world where his kiss stirred the embers in your belly back to life. You felt something nudge the apex of your thighs. It was time. This was the moment you had feared and secretly longed for. The mystery would be solved.

One hand guided his engorged member while the other held him propped over you. “Open for me, sweet wife.” You gave him a loving smile and spread your legs, pulling your knees up like he’d done for Shunsui. His eyes never left yours as he pushed forward slowly.

Your body was more than ready for Jushiro, but he met with a slight resistance. An easy, gentle roll of his hips and it felt like unused muscles stretching for the first time. Was this supposed to be the pain you’d been warned about? It was such a small ache, but one that only seemed to fill you with longing. Slow, inch by inch, he just kept sinking into you. Finally, he stopped, seated deep. An audible groan escaped his lips and you wondered if perhaps you’d hurt him. His forehead pressed to yours as a shiver ran through him. “Mmm, see,” his voice was thick, “we fit together perfectly.” He kissed you, tongue dipping in, catching the edge of your upper lip. “Are you all right?”

Your hands slid up his back, pulling his body toward yours in an effort to communicate your need without words. “Yes, love, I’m better than all right.” Hips shifting impatiently, your voice came out a bit breathy, “I – I need –” Then he moved and your words were stolen away on the gasp that left your lips. The slide of him inside you felt unlike anything you could imagine. The pleasure, the sweet ache…oh, please, don’t stop.

Jushiro’s smile was playful, “Oh, I know precisely what you need.” Slow and steady, his hips were moving, rolling, his hard length sending tendrils of pleasure racing through you. Each movement was better than the last until you didn’t think you could take anymore.

On and on he kept going, speeding up then slowing down. Kisses that stole your wits gave you a feeling of being completely connected to him. He shifted to trail kisses down your neck until he reached your breasts. His mouth was hungry on them, licking, sucking, groaning against your flesh. The added sensations drove you higher into a frenzy that burned white hot at the base of your spine.

That restless feeling was building again, coiling inside you, beating at your brain. You knew what was coming and began to rock back against Jushiro’s thrusts in an effort to reach it. His lips were a mere inch from yours, both of you locked together so close, your pants fanning each other’s faces.

Then you were crying out, the sounds uncontrollable and primal. Jushiro’s thrusts were deep and hard, pushing you beyond your breaking point. You could feel your body fluttering, clenching, and heard his guttural cry against your neck. His body went completely stiff beneath your hands and you felt a shudder run through him.

You were floating, not quite aware of anything until you felt something cool and wet between your legs. You cracked open your eyes to find Jushiro cleaning you with a damp cloth. He looked happy, but a bit concerned, “Are you sore?”

You shook your head, “No, not at all.” You sat up to catch his lips in a sweet kiss.

You looked over to find Shunsui watching you. He was relaxed against a pile of pillows, a goblet in his hand, and looking like the most sinful temptation in all the realm. He quirked a brow, “Are you sure you’re all right?” When you nodded and smiled, he held his hand out to you. The moment you put your hand in his, he pulled you into his lap, moving you so that you straddled his thighs. His hard length was trapped between your bellies. He gave you a drink from his goblet. The spiced wine was soothing to your dry mouth. Once you’d emptied the goblet, you set it aside on the small bedside table and returned your focus to him.

You wrapped your arms around Shunsui, eager for his kiss, but more eager to press your body against his. His chest hair was soft and just a bit coarse, giving you a wonderful prickle against your skin, especially your nipples. You couldn’t hold back a mewl of need as you rubbed yourself against him, your tongue tangling with his. He nipped at your jaw, teeth grazing on his way to your neck. His lips, tongue, and teeth stirred your desire making you want more.

Shunsui’s chuckle was a rumble at your throat as one hand pressed your chest to his while the other moved down to cup and squeeze your butt. His fingers crept between your legs, rubbing your swollen lips and spreading the dampness that was gathering there. You moaned, your hands curling into the long locks of his hair that had tumbled over his shoulders.. He shifted a bit, “Push up just a bit, petal.”

You pushed up onto your knees, unsure of his request, but trusting him. You looked down and watched as he guided his erection between your legs. He rubbed it back and forth between your nether lips, making you shiver in anticipation. Then, he stopped, one hand pressing on your hip. You took the hint and sank down. Your head fell back on a loud groan as your body welcomed him inside. Shunsui let out a strangled moan, “By the gods, you feel so good!”

A thrill shot through you – you were giving him pleasure! Suddenly, you felt powerful. Two legendary knights of the realm were your husbands. And, the most notorious lover in all the land was currently underneath you, completely at your mercy, and if the look on his face were any indication, he was really enjoying it.

You squirmed, unsure of how to move. Shunsui hissed, grabbed your hips, and rocked you slowly. You quickly fell into the rhythm, unable to hold back the gasps and moans as he stretched you. So deep, so hard, so wonderful…

His hands wandered. He gently kneaded your breasts, the rough pads of his thumbs sending bolts of heat through you every time he dragged them over your sensitive peaks.

Your hands looked so small compared to the wide planes of his chest. A thought skittered through your mind – if it felt good for him to touch your nipples, would he like that too? You leaned over and swept your tongue over his nipple. The reward was instant. He gasped in shock, hands clenching your thighs. A chuckle followed, “Little minx, you learn fast.”

You looked up at him and gave him a wink. Shunsui laughed, rich and deep, but it choked off when you settled your lips on the little bead of flesh under your tongue and sucked. His hands moved to your butt – squeezing, grinding you onto him as he thrust up. You groaned. The vibration pulled a matching groan from him.

Your thoughts of power were quickly chased away as Shunsui showed you just how powerful he was. You may have been on top, but he was the one driving you the edge of madness. Muscles were bunching under you, lifting you, pulling you back down. Every stroke of him inside you was pure magic.

Then he tilted you just a bit and new nerves sprang to life. You cried out. One hand moved to that little bud, that place you now knew would send you straight into bliss-filled oblivion. His thumb circled. “Oooooh!” You bucked in his grasp. He grinned up at you and kept stroking. Your eyes cinched shut as the world seemed to fall away on a tide of ecstasy.

You were rocking hard, wails of rapture filling the room. Shunsui grunted, sat up, wrapped his arms around you tight as if he was holding on to keep you from flying away. You could feel yourself clenching around him. His face was pressed to your chest, panting hard, thrusting hard. Then, he moaned loud and long, his body riding the last pulses of his release.

Awareness was fleeting. You felt Shunsui lay you down. The cool wetness returned. You couldn’t open your eyes to find out who was cleaning you, it seemed to be too much effort. The world seemed softer, lighter, somehow much more wonderful than it had been before.

Warmth surrounded you. Shunsui had curled up to your back, one arm tucked under the pillow you shared, the other draped lazily over your waist. Jushiro’s legs tangled with yours, as he settled himself comfortably against you. He kissed your lips, lingering, enjoying the feel of that simple contact. Shunsui nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck.

Jushiro looked into your eyes as one finger traced your face, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear, “Are you happy, my love?”

You smiled, “Deliriously happy.” You let your fingers trail over the contours of his chest to his abs, drifting lower. “I do believe you two have unleashed quite the wanton.” He sucked in a breath when your hand stroked his half-hard manhood as your teeth grazed his neck. You were feeling bold. You wanted them again, wanted them both with a hunger that seemed to know no bounds. Will I ever get enough of them? The answer was an immediate echo: Never.

Shunsui was snickering, “Well, Jushiro, I don’t think we’re going to be getting any sleep tonight.”

#Bleach #Bleach scenario #Shunsui Kyoraku #Jushiro Ukitake #Poly relationship with female s/o #Medieval AU #Bleach imagines

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coeurdastronaute · 6 years ago

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Monarchy 5

Preciously on Monarchy

The morning mist rose quietly over the rolling expanse of the garden. Stately rows of trimmed hedges outlined a path, ordered and neat, not a twig out of place. The mist didn’t care about any of it, disrupting the perfection by obscuring it, making it hazy and unclear. In the cold, even the snow was symmetrical and even, perfectly coiffed and parallel, with level surfaces everywhere. It was a peaceful sight to behold as the sun snuck between the low clouds and the tips of the trees, allowing a bit of red, golden light to welcome the new day.

From her spot by the window, Clarke sighed and watched it all happen from the window in the large dining room that made her feel like an ant in comparison. Ceilings had no right to be so high; walls had no right to be so ornate. But there she stood, in Lexa’s old prep school button up and day-old jeans, looking out onto the property of the most famous house in the nation, a sight so few ever got to cherish.

With a small smile, Clarke clung tighter to her coffee cup and stood so close to the glass that she could feel the chill emanating from it. She wiggled her toes in old wool socks and felt the stately carpet beneath them and very gradually became aware of how absolutely insane her situation had become.

But that was quickly struck down with the knowledge that Lexa was about to go through something even worse, perhaps.

When they were just anonymous idiots in a place that they almost didn’t expect to survive, tucked behind a shelf that once held packaging supplies, Clarke knew how important Lexa’s duty was to her name, to her family. In the dark, the princess told her about it, about her compulsion to hide away, to run from it.

A little guilt snuck in, because Clarke knew that she was the reason Lexa bypassed all of that duty and honor. The only comfort was in the idea that Lexa was secretly eager to finally breathe again, to unburden herself of a secret-- to be herself.

The sun hummed into the day, while the clouds wiggled and moved, rushing along to another world. Twenty-four hours ago, she didn’t exist. She was just a doctor who was trying to find how to come back after feeling like she’d failed to complete her mission. For the first time, she thought about her job and her life and how it was never going ot be the same. Even if she denied everything, even if Lexa claimed fakes and got rid of all evidence, it was out there. Her name would follow. There was no more Clarke Griffin as she knew it.

But feet thudded against the carpet, making their way across the space behind her, and Clarke saw again that the day was settling in, all blue and grey and void of the burst of the sun. Anyone else might not believe her, but she saw it.

Clarke sipped her coffee and looked over her shoulder to catch a brooding Lexa, hair wet from the shower. She hadn’t slept, and Clarke knew that meant she was working out until she couldn’t stand. Clarke woke up alone and wasn’t sure what kind of Lexa she would run into. Now she was seeing it, the entire pacing, distracted mess. The nerves were evident.

Lexa made her way down the hall and disappeared for a moment before returning, unaware that anything had changed in the time she’d huffed and clenched her firsts. Only when she met Clarke’s eyes did she stop and freeze, as if struck by the idea that someone else was awake and had witnessed her frantic pacing and nerves. She relaxed when she realized she was allowed; that it was just Clarke, and therefore safe.

“Did you know that you have a fountain in your backyard that pre-dates America?”

“You should see what we have for dungeons.”

“Did you get much sleep?” Clarke worried as Lexa shoved her hands in her pockets and stood near her, leaning against the corner of the large table. “When I woke up you were gone.”

There was a look to her that betrayed the tired in her bones. The doctor saw it and thought of how to combat it, but she didn’t have a good answer for the potential shunning of an entire country someone loved to their very core.

“A little.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

Clarke shook her head and put down her coffee cup. She hugged Lexa tightly, surprising them both as to the extent of her strength. She closed her eyes so hard that stars appeared, but she did her best to transfer her energy and feeling to Lexa in that moment-- if she could give her the strength, the boost, the safety, the anything at all, then she would, and she was going to do it in a hug.

Reluctantly, Lexa pulled her hands out of her pockets and let out a heavy sigh, one she’d been holding for longer than she could remember, and she adjusted her chin on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“This might be one of our last moments alone for a while.”

Arms constricted around her neck a little tighter and Lexa smiled to herself as she felt Clarke take a deep breath, her nose finding her neck, warm and soft there.

“Nothing else matters. You’re about to do something very important. I’m not going anywhere, tiger.”

“I have to come out to the world today, and my stomach is in knots. I’ve never been in the spotlight before, just off to the side.”

“Hold on one second,” Clarke pulled away slightly. She surveyed Lexa’s face, she smooshed her face around in her hands and furrowed. “You’re the one that can turn into a wolf. Who comes from an unending line of greatness. Who has the blood of kings running through her. You were never made for anything but the spotlight, and you do it nobly.”

All she could do was nod slowly before Clarke decided that was good enough, and she hugged Lexa once again, the length of her frame hunched over to allow for it.

“I’m really happy, I think, deep, deep down.”

“I know.”

“Are you happy?”

“Very.”

It wasn’t until a voice cleared itself that Lexa felt Clarke’s arms slacken their hold. The daylight was already warming the chill on the glass and the clouds were barely hiding the day as grey rose up and illuminated everywhere.

There should have been more words, probably. Clarke wondered why she couldn’t say anything, or why the time spent together felt so short and like Lexa’s words were an omen, that it would be their last time alone for a while. Quickly, the feeling of calm disappeared

“Good morning, girls,” the queen greeted them, reading the paper with her head tilted to see out of her glasses. All business, she held the paper at a distance and read the headlines with interest, afraid to raise her eyes.

Her daughter blushed and sighed again.

“Good morning, Mom,” Lexa smiled softly before kissing her cheek as she took the seat at the head of the table. “How are the headlines?”

“Not bad at all,” she lied before folding it and slapping it on the table. “How did you sleep, Clarke?”

“Oh, fine, yes, fantastic. I slept in a palace.”

“It does have its perks, doesn’t it. Sit, sit. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and you both are going to need your strength today.”

Clarke looked to Lexa, in hopes of escape, but instead just followed her, mimicking her movement on the opposite side of the table. Almost instantly, maids skittered into the dining hall with trays of silver containing delicious smelling food and coffee. The fairy tales had it right, the doctor realized. These things just happened.

Breakfast just started, and before Clarke found refill her coffee cup, Aden made his way to join them, the king shortly after. It turned suddenly busy and loud and fun with the newest additions, that by the time the eldest made her way to meet them, her husband following with their hands linked, the table was laughing at something the king said to his wife about his lunch date with some ambassadors.

The queen sat at the end of the table and opened the news paper, hiding behind it.

Lexa glanced at the large black print and stalled, toast stuck in mid-air between the plate and her mouth. The table was quiet before her sister started laughing uncontrollably which spread to the rest.

GAY

The word covered the top half of the paper. Clarke looked at Lexa’s picture beneath it and watched her eyes grow wide.

“At least they used a nice picture,” Alex offered as he took another bite of his grapefruit.

The apartment was far from the hum of the big part of the city. It was far away from her actual apartment, but Clarke looked out of the floor-to-ceiling windows and couldn’t really figure out a way to complain about missing her place. Tucked high in a new building that she thought wasn’t even finished yet, Clarke was greeted by a modest staff of four when she arrived, a bag of her own things packed and waiting in the large bedroom down the hall.

With a sigh, Clarke sat on the couch and watched the late afternoon sunlight wane and doze behind the layer of clouds that never seemed to want to leave. Without Lexa near her, the entirety of the situation felt remarkably real. Suddenly, it wasn’t an abstract, and she wasn’t holding someone’s hand as they came out. Instead, she was alone, in a strange condo, with a security guard at the door.

It was only after being left with her thoughts for a few seconds that she decided she needed more distraction and noise in the quiet, and so Clarke put on the television to see her girlfriend’s face plastered on it.

Four talking heads debated something about Lexa’s coming out, or at least the pictures, and why it was a big deal. It made Clarke slightly sick to her stomach.

If she could have looked away, she would have, but her eyes were permanently glued to the screen for the first few hours of her isolation.

The nerves didn’t start until the time grew closer for Lexa’s address and interview. Everyone speculated as to when it would be, but Clarke actually knew. She spent hours with a trainer as to how to answer questions and what was about to happen. The royal family’s team was thorough, if anything, and it all made sense how secrets never made their way out of the gated palace.

But the nerves did start, and Clarke sat on the edge of her seat and waited as she held her breath.

“Are you ready for this?” Alex asked as he adjusted his collar, smoothing his sleeves in a graceful movement he’d perfected over the years.

“I’m about to come out to the entire planet and disrupt an entire monarchy,” Lexa nodded and tried to swallow away the dryness of her mouth, though that was about impossible.

“You’re not disrupting anything.”

“I’m disrupting your Tuesday.”

“That’s true,” he nodded.

The two stood backstage, amidst the flurry of excitement and eagerness to get the scoop. Everyone on the studio stage was fretting with everything, and the royals remained very still, something they’d learned and perfected across time.

“You are still my daughter. You are still the princess. You are still all of it,” he finally whispered as they found an ease after a few moments. “Show them that.”

“I don’t want to… I couldn’t ever-- I won’t disappoint you.”

“You could never.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this,” Lexa sighed and adjusted her collar before pressing her hand over her chest and rubbing there for a moment.

“I’d switch places with you if I could, to protect you from all of this. I’m not the one that has to deal with anything.”

“I don’t think Mom would take it very well if you came out to the entire world.”

Alex chuckled and nodded, the smile on his lips fading almost as soon as it came around. The call for the studio began, and it started to filter around.

“At the end of the day, I want you to know that I am your biggest fan, Al,” her father muttered. “Nothing will change that.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

The king watched his daughter out of the corner of his eye, proud of her so utterly and completely, for just a moment, he was not so sure he didn’t have a favorite. With a slight movement, he reached down and held her hand. Lexa didn’t look at him, but she squeezed her father’s hand to find some strength before dropping it as the green light blinked and it was her turn to make her way onto the camera.

She never looked back, and her father remembered all of her firsts-- steps, bike ride, graduation, enlistment, departure for duty-- and each time, she was the kid that never looked back for support or encouragement. Lexa was his daughter who didn’t need it, and he took pride in her assuredness.

But Lexa never looked back, and she didn’t see his teary smile, and so the king radiated all of the love he could for her and hoped it would be enough.

For hours after the broadcast, the news stations talked about Lexa and the monarchy and Clarke and the entire situation that now became a situation. The talking heads chatted, bringing on experts in both things that Lexa now proclaimed to be-- gay and a princess. Legal experts spoke about succession and the implications of a potential gay royal wedding while gay rights activists applauded the visibility and what this meant while lamenting the fact that Lexa existed in the closet for so long.

All of it, Clarke knew, was exhausting to her girlfriend. She was probably hating every minute of the attention and talking about herself.

Clarke spent the evening scrolling through social media and listening to everyone chatting about her and her girlfriend.

So enthralled, she didn’t notice the knocking at her door. She hadn’t expected it, locked up across town amidst the blitz.

As soon as she opened the door, a handful of flowers met her, and Clarke smiled before Lexa appeared behind them, bashful and exhausted and showing every ounce of it.

“Hey,” Clarke smiled.

“I had the roughest day at work,” Lexa sighed. “Can I come in?”

“To the safe house that you have guarded like a vault?”

“Yeah,” she grinned, slightly back to the helo pilot who was so tan her freckles were splattered across her shoulders and approached a girl in a makeshift bar.

Clarke hung on the door and looked past Lexa toward the guards and their burly chests and big guns and roving eyes. She looked back at Lexa’s deep brown ones, warm and gooey and lathering her up. She saw the shadow of the freckles on the bridge of her nose, hidden beneath the bags that were evident when her make up was removed. She nudged her head and welcomed the princess.

“I missed you,” Lexa sighed as she grabbed Clarke into a hug the moment the door was closed.

The flowers crinkled against Clarke’s back, but neither cared. She dug her nose into the princess’ neck and she inhaled and smiled against the skin there.

“I am so proud of you,” Clarke whispered, holding Lexa’s cheeks and wobbling her head slightly to punctuate her point.

“Can you believe I did my best to overturn an entire monarchy, because I like eating you out and it didn’t even budge?”

“I’m so glad you didn’t phrase it like that.”

“The vagina that toppled one of the last breathing monarchies.”

“Put it on my tombstone,” Clarke smiled and played with the hairs at the base of Lexa’s neck. “You had a long day.”

“I had the longest day.”

“It’s going to be a long week.”

“A very long week,” Lexa nodded, settling her hands on her girlfriend’s hips. She leaned her head forward so her forehead rested on Clarke’s shoulder.

“It’s going to be a long month.”

“I came over here to feel better.”

“Do you?”

With a small movement, despite herself, despite her worries and her thoughts, Lexa felt Clarke’s hands around her shoulders and she nodded softly.

“Good. We’ll try again in the morning,” Clarke decided. “Want to go to sleep.”

“For at least three weeks.”

“Three weeks sounds perfect.”

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hobbledhobbit · 6 years ago

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Scrutiny of the Scrivener

The first thing I ever wrote about the Institute Green. I hope to one day have enough of these for an anthology

When the house is in order, there is order in the house. At least that’s what the idea is. Was kind of recursive, redundant even. But what was life without the consistent churning of themes and intent.

Choices abound, inaction being one of them. There were no wholly innocent parties when it came to the wrongs of one’s life. That is, if one ascribed to the blame game. But truly, strife can make for interesting stories.

They’re all alone, you see. Each of those specs of consciousness floating on that blue sphere. They can see each other, certainly. Destroy, connect, create with one another, most assuredly. But in the end, when their light flickers and changes to something new, each is completely alone.

The place in which all of those specs end up is very posh. Hardwood, marble, and iron clad. Each is sent through the correct channels in an orderly fashion to record how they viewed their lives.

Seated in slightly uncomfortable leather chairs, they dictate their stories to those that record them. Some would call these recorders angels, but they are yet different types of consciousnesses, they glow a green instead of a yellow.

Dressed sharply was one of these consciousnesses called Mr. Pale. He had, as his name implied, a paleness to him. His suit was a Gainsboro gray, lending nothing to the ashen blonde hair nor the pallor of his skin. Even his eyes looked more beige than hazel.

Across from him, in the slightly squeaking leather chair sat a young and yellow young man. He looked well dressed. Stylish collared blue shirt, paired with bark brown slacks that cut a lovely figure. He had dark hair and eyes, and like all who sat there, looked apprehensive.

Confusedly, he asked, “Where am I? I was just getting ready for bed,” asked the young man.

Mr. Pale almost sneered, but settled with a quick smile, smoothing out the wrinkle in his rather long nose. “Ah, a surprise then,” he said in a bland manner, “No matter. Shall we get started?”

Shuffling some papers on his desk, Mr. Pale pulled a page out and nodded, setting it into his typewriter.

“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand where I am. Who are you?”

Mr. Pale rummaged in his desk and pulled out a box of cigarettes, Offering one to the man and being rebuffed when he shook his head. He pulled one out for himself and slid it behind his ear, placing the box on the desk next to a clean ashtray.

“You may call me Mr. Pale. Sir, I’m here to take down your life story. Let’s start with the basics. Name and age.”

The man sat up straighter, clearing his throat, “My stage name is Roland Pierce, but the name on my license is Pedro Montoya.”

The clicking of the typewriter was light, Mr. Pale not taking long. “Which would you like to be called by?”

The young man smiled, “I’d like it if you called me Monty. My friends and family do back home.”

Mr. Pale nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t overly fond of getting too friendly with those that sat before him, but he only showed a thoughtfulness as he typed more.

“This is your story. You may state anything you like for the record but I much prefer honesty and candor. I will state that you would prefer that too...Monty.” The name was said with a bit of a low pitch, as if he were trying it out for the first time.

Monty smiled and nodded, “I understand. Where do I begin?”

Mr. Pale stretched his shoulders, “Wherever you think the beginning is.”

Monty nodded and crossed his legs, trying to get a bit more comfortable. “Okay.”

“My childhood was fairly average, school was a little hard for me because of the dyslexia, but I managed to get through to highschool and graduate. Family time was good when it happened, both of my parents-”

Mr. Pale held up a hand to stop him, “I should mention that this is your story. If you are going to mention anyone else, it must be in passing or direct effect on you. No pressuming motives or actions of others without your direct witness… For posterity...Monty.”

His name still sounded foreign in Mr. Pale’s mouth, but Monty nodded in understanding. “Right, okay.”

“My parents were not around much, their absence is why I started to look for attention elsewhere.” Monty raised his eyebrows at Mr. Pale, checking to see if that was alright.

The typist nodded and made a gesture with his hand to say continue.

“Though reading was hard, I started to go to the library to research acting after getting the stage bug from highschool. My town didn’t have a lot of resources for that kind of thing, but they did have some play scripts.

“The papers said there was a community theater offering auditions. I prepared for all those weeks, pestering all my friends and family to read with me and make sure I got everything right. I was tenacious and felt more confident with each read through.”

Monty laughed, wiping his tears from the memory.

“I bombed the audition so bad. I was so nervous that I tripped over my own feet and fell right off the stage onto the director’s daughter, who was the leading lady.” He was interrupted again by a fit of giggles, “I got up and tried to apologize, but threw up right on her face.”

Mr. Pale sat back, taking the cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it. Try as he might, he enjoyed when someone found humor in their social gaffs, the giggle fit allowed him to take a few clean hits.

The smell of the smoke was sweet, almost too sweet, but just enough to set a calming atmosphere in the room.

Monty rubbed his cheeks from smiling too much and adjusted in his seat again. “Sorry, I haven’t thought about that in ages.”

“Quite alright,” Mr. Pale said, sliding his blazer off to hang on the back of his chair, placing the cigarette on the ashtray. “Please continue.”

“Oh, I thought that was the end of acting for me. Everywhere I went I heard giggles and heard people fake retching. Couldn’t get a date or a job because I was too embarrassed to even show my face.

“The director’s daughter came to my house and told me that it was okay, but acting was probably not for me. Made me sad and I decided to look into something else as a career.” Monty smiled knowingly.

“It was hard to get into the programs I wanted in college. Didn’t really have money, but ambition managed to get me out of there with a few broken hearted times and a masters in criminal justice. It was around graduation that I had met the girl who I would eventually marry. We had gone on a few dates, but opportunities drove us different places.

“My opportunities drove me to law enforcement. First a sheriff’s office, then a police officer in a big city, finally landing as an FBI agent. It was a pretty good gig until I got an injury in the field. Guess “female fbi agent made into swiss cheese in standoff” wasn’t a good look.”

Mr. Pale paused and gave a warning look, plucking and taking a drag of the cigarette.

Monty held up his hands, “Alright, alright, you’re right. I’ll keep to just me and not speculate on others’ motives.”

Mr. Pale found himself smirking, “I’d appreciate it. While I love a good narrative, we must keep to protocol.”

“Maybe we’ll gossip and speculate over drinks after we’re done, huh?” Monty offered.

Mr. Pale smiled genuinely, “Maybe.”

Monty wagged a finger, “Careful, Mr. Pale. It looks like we may be friends after this.”

Mr. Pale gave a shrug, “Nothing is certain, Monty.” The name now sounding more natural.

Monty wiggled in the seat again to find a good position. A lost battle, unfortunately.

“Okay, so I was in pretty bad shape. Physically not okay. But my lady showed up while I was recovering and literally claimed her undying love for me!”

Monty grunted at Mr. Pale’s raised eyebrow, “Her words! Not mine! ‘My love for you never faltered and should you have died, Beatriz, I would have died with you!’” Monty had stood with the recitation, giving a flourish.

“It was so romantic that I was rendered speechless. Took a full five minutes before I managed to squeak out, ‘Cool. Let’s get married.’” Monty was laughing again, leaning back in the chair.

“That woman, my Reina, could take all my composure and suavity in just a look. I was a bumbling fool and worked my hardest to get back on my feet, missing a few organs or not! I wanted to do everything in my power to get back to work so I could provide for my magical bride. So I could always be worthy to look upon her face and earn all her smiles.”

Mr. Pale stamped out his cigarette and got another behind his ear. He looked to be in a much better mood than when he had first laid eyes on Mr. Pedro Montoya.

Monty closed his eyes and took a breath, “I eventually was put back on duty, though in another department. Because of my voice, I was set in a unit devised to take down child predators. It was hard to read and report on the sickening habits of fellow humans. It took a lot out of me to pretend over a microphone to really be a child or teenager that wanted that putrid attention.

“It was only two years that I could last before problems really started to show at home. My lady encouraged me to resign and go to therapy. She went with sometimes. The doc was a bastard at first, making me admit to the feelings I tried to hide to protect Reina from, to protect myself from...It was hard.”

Monty rubbed his face and slicked back his hair, “But because of it I could admit to myself that I was scared for a long time. It let me go through with becoming Pedro fully, not just in the bedroom or at clubs. I could breathe easier with the monsters no longer hidden in my dreams or under my bed.

“I named myself for my father. My family supported me and accepted Reina when we visited. It was there that the funny story of my failed acting career reached my darling wife. With chanting and pressure I acted out the whole audition scene for my family.

“Of course I still remembered it, you don’t religiously do something hundreds of times and forget.”

Monty put a hand over his eyes and smiled, “Reina claimed to be star-stuck and started on a mission to get me into acting. Unfortunately for us, I still had horrific stagefright. But despite my continually diminishing confidence, an opportunity arose.

“Someone in somewhere had heard my rehearsing in the next room, specifically my making fun of a script. They insisted that I try voice acting. And lo and behold! Roland Pierce was born.

“I went for several years with pretty consistent gigs, usually playing a lady or a child, but I didn’t mind. Acting was acting and I had made it!

Monty was sitting upright again, thinking of where to go with his story. Mr. Pale took the opportunity to light up again. “Favorite part?” He offered.

“That would be a villainess role. Claw Rissa, from the teen cartoon Sweet Purrfection. Rissa had a large fan following, I was surprised that most villains do.”

“Reina and I liked to answer fanmail and respond. Only very seldom did we get anything awful. Only had to hand a letter to my old colleagues at the FBI once…” Monty thought, “Maybe twice.”

“I never truly felt threatened, all the mail was taken in by several proxies and we weren’t millionaires, so everything was pretty nice. A little lonely when Rei was away on a set, but otherwise very peaceful.”

Monty’s brow furrowed, “She’s away now. I have a surprise waiting for her on the kitchen table. Found a place that does adoptions. Wanted to run it by her before setting an appointment. Would be a good reason to redecorate the reading room.”

Mr. Pale let out a long drag, eyes scanning Monty. He wondered if the human before him realized what had happened yet. He motioned for him to continue.

“I had just done the dishes and was getting set to retire for the night, maybe watch one of her movies while I waited for her goodnight call. The house felt spooky somehow. I’ve never felt like that unless something was amiss.”

Monty closed his eyes and thought, “I remember feeling watched, then there was a crash. Near jumped out of my skin. I grabbed the baseball bat from the bedside and went to the front door. That’s where I had heard it.

“There was a frame on the floor, I accidentally got some glass in my foot and was cursing. The picture was her and me in college. A picture we kept in the office down the ha- the hall… Then there was pain and…”

Monty’s nose was pink and his eyes were starting to puff. He took a breath and covered his face, letting out a sob. Mr. Pale gave him time, offering a tissue. Monty instead used the collar of his shirt to wipe his eyes.

“It’s all gone, huh?” He asked, his voice a little choked.

Mr. Pale shook his head, letting out a drag with a sigh, “No. It’s still all there, Monty. Only you left.”

“Why?”

Mr. Pale shook his head slightly and shrugged, “I don’t have the answers to those questions.” He pinched out his cigarette with his fingers and placed it back behind his ear. “All I can do is ask if you’re satisfied with everything you told me.”

Monty fixed his collar and thought. They sat in silence for a while, Mr. Pale folding his hands on the desk in front of him, tilting his head slightly as he watched the human.

Finally, there was movement. Monty stood and nodded, “I had a pretty happy life, all things considered. I’m satisfied with it. Thank you, Mr. Pale.” He held out a hand to the typist for a shake.

Mr. Pale stood, looking into the light that shone behind Monty’s eyes. He smiled and nodded, shaking his hand.

In the next second, Mr. Pale is alone in his office again. He looked down and grinned, nodding to himself. Stacking all the papers with fresh, golden and glowing ink, he placed the pages neatly in a box.

“It was a pleasure, Monty, my friend.”

The scribe packed the box on a stack of other boxes next to a door labeled “Out” and took a box from a door labeled “In”.

He thought for a few moments, chewing on his bottom lip and shook his head. He opened the box and watched the next yellow energy flow from it and into the slightly uncomfortable leather chair.

#Inkwell writes #Mr. Pale #Institute Green

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atwaba · 5 years ago

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The Legacy You Leave [Ch 1]

Japan was used to crowded spaces.

His own cities were very populous for their sizes, and his trains were always filled to the brim with commuters and travelers with schedules to keep. He did not consider himself claustrophobic, and, in fact, quite liked being immersed in the crowds in his homeland. It allowed him to feel close to his people, without having to sacrifice his - or their - public personal spaces.

But this crowded Spanish elevator was a bit...much.

When the elevator car reached his destination floor, Japan had to withhold a sigh of relief, and quickly wiggled his way out into the lobby with a generous handful of ‘pardon me’s and ‘coming through’s. He even managed to maintain his calm exterior until the elevator doors had fully closed before stepping out, and he could finally relax, and let his tense posture drop.

Next time, he might just take the stairs...

The short nation took a quick look at the room navigation plaque before heading down the hallway, and looking out for the correct number. When he found it, he raised his hand, and knocked three times. After a few moments of silence, a set of heavy footsteps approached the door in a familiar pattern he’d come to learn over the decades. Japan smiled softly as the door opened, and bowed his head in a respectful nod.

“Good morning, Germany, Italy.” He greeted, moving inside as Germany stepped back, and waved him in. “Are you prepared for today’s meeting?”

“Almost, Japan!” Italy replied cheerfully from where he rummaged, out of sight, through his suitcase in the closet. Every few seconds, a piece of discarded clothing was flung into sight, and onto the bed. “Germany had to take a phone call from his brother, but we were almost ready, anyway. I just need to find my jacket!”

“I see.” Japan looked up at Germany. The blond nation closed the door behind them, and raised a hand to rub at his temples.

“You wouldn’t have to search for it if you would just hang it up when you first got here…” He muttered under his breath before looking down at Japan. “Gilbert called a few minutes ago,” Germany confirmed. “To check in and apologize for not calling last week. He sounds like he is doing well, but...he did not want to chat. Said he was running late for...something. He did not specify.”

Japan made a quiet noise of affirmation, but let Germany’s words hangin the air, for the moment. Gilbert - the nation formerly known as Prussia - had come home one day, three months ago, and declared that he was moving out of his brother’s basement. The decision had been sudden, to say the least.

He hadn’t even said anything until the basement had been all but empty.

Germany had been supportive of the decision on the outside, but Japan knew (through Italy’s nervous babble) that the abrupt change had caught the nation off guard. As much as he griped and grumbled about his brother’s living situation, having Prussia - having Gilbert - so close by meant that Germany could always be assured that he was still there.

But out of respect for his friend, Japan kept these observations to himself, and simply placed a comforting hand on Germany’s arm.

For a moment, Germany seemed to hold his breath. Then he exhaled, and Japan let his hand drop. Germany cast the shorter nation a momentary glance before Italy popped out from around the corner, triumphantly tugging on the lapels of his jacket.

“There we go! All nice and fancy!” Italy grinned. “Hey Germany, do you think we could stop for lunch on the way? I saw this little cafe on the cab ride over that had these lovely ladies sitting in the patio-”

“No, we cannot!” Germany snapped, back to his usual stern self in an instant. “We are already running late as it is!” Japan wisely stepped back and opened the door as Germany hustled Italy out into the hallway, grabbing the two briefcases off the closet shelf with one hand as he passed. “It’s incredibly unprofessional to show up late to a world meeting - especially if you’re carpooling with others who have a reputation for being punctual!”

Japan quietly let the hotel door swing shut, and followed after the pair with a small, fond smile. He caught up to them at the elevators once more, and slipped into the (thankfully far less crowded) car just in time for the doors to close.

…….

Another day, another body...and another unsolved murder.

Spain stared down at the local news headline scrolling across his phone and frowned. A charred corpse had been found in an alley out in Seville; headless and handless, just like all the rest that had been found over the last decade. The police had no suspects, and few leads to follow, and had given the media a vague statement, as usual.

And, as usual, the media hadn’t bought it.

Theories and speculations had been flying across the Spanish airwaves all day, ranging from the plausible (a serial killer?) to the ridiculous (aliens?!). Most people seemed to agree that these terrible murders were some sort of gang violence, though no local group had laid claim to them. Spain wasn’t sure he believed that.

“Hey, España!” Romano’s voice cut through the nation’s somber thoughts, and Spain quickly locked his phone. Romano leaned his hip against the threshold of the open door, and crossed his arms with his usual scowl, his jacket tossed over one arm. “Are you ready to go or not? You’re not gonna show up late to a meeting in your own house, are you?”

“Nope!” Spain pasted on a wide smile - one that he’d had centuries to practice - and stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Sorry, Romano. I guess I got a little distracted.” He laughed. Romano rolled his eyes.

“At least tell me you’re not playing that stupid ‘Treat Tower’ game.” The shorter man spun around in the doorway and stomped down the hall. “It’s dumb Tetris knock-off, and you shouldn’t give Russia the satisfaction of knowing you play….” Spain’s smile slipped as Romano’s voice faded down the hall, and he silently picked up his jacket from the back of the chair he’d thrown it over.

Most of the nations didn’t bother watching the news when traveling abroad for these meetings, unless there was a major event they wanted to keep an eye on. A murder should slip right under the radar of even the most keen-eyed among them...it happened everywhere, after all. He just had to put this out of his mind until the meeting concluded in about three days (if they could be as productive as last time).

He could go back to worrying then.

#mun's writing #hetalia #The Legacy You Leave #TLYL #aph a drop of ink #((*vibrating intensely*))#((here I go attempting to one-up my own fanfiction))

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mageyewoqirife · 6 years ago

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Fixing a Broken Heart

Read on AO3

Inspired by this post by gale-of-the-nomads

Chapter 1

“She's just so perfect…” With a dreamy sigh and far off look in his green eyes, Adrien sat back against the cafe seat. His friends watched him with wide eyes, unsure of how to react to this new bit of information. Nino just stared at his best friend who supposedly had a crush on some beauty that he mentioned through the years on occasion, but for some reason today he seemed overcome with his love for the mysterious girl. All they can get out of him is that they met through work and have known each other for two years during which they have done their best to see each other at least once a week.

Alya's eyes swept over to Marinette who was looking down at the ground, the smallest of frowns on her lips. Heart breaking for her best friend while the boys remain oblivious, Alya opens her mouth to comfort Marinette, but gets cut off instead by a too cheerful voice.

“You should tell her! I mean - Any girl would be lucky to seen you, Adrien. I mean, to be seeing you. I mean, be Seen by you!” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before trying again. “You deserved to be happy with the one you love.”

Alya looks startled at Marinette encouraging Adrien to pursue another girl and makes a note to have a very interesting conversation with her later. Nino just seems confused, but goes with the flow. After all, his best friend is pretty awesome and he wants his friend to be happy. If dating this mystery girl makes him so content, then he should give it a go.

Adrien seems blissfully unaware of the check age in Marinette's emotional state or Alya glaring at him. He gives Marinette a dazzling smile that makes her heart pick up speed and thanks her. His eyes sparkle as he agrees and says he will bring it up next time they meet.

Lunch period came to a close and they began their truck back to school. Nino and Adrien took the lead, holding the doors open for the girls before sinking into a comfortable conversation that didn't interest their companions. In fact, Alya only had one topic on her mind.

“What are you playing at, girl! The last thing you should be doing if you want to be with Adrien is telling him to ask someone else out! What were you thinking?!” Concern mixed with curiosity in Alya's voice as she questioned her best friend. For two years Marinette had been crazy over Adrien so why was she backing off now.

“Alya, I want him to be happy. Yes, I love him, but he has been clear that we are just friends. As his friend, the most loving thing I can do is encourage him to be happy. He made his choice and I want to support it.” Marinette felt like this was a sign she was starting to mature and finally find a little bit of stability in the emotions that controlled her instead of blindly following her hormone driven feelings. Being Ladybug forced her to grow up and make difficult decisions. Time to make another. “I'm Adrien's good friend. Nothing more.”

Recognizing that her best friend had made up her mind, Alya simply let the subject drop for now. She would talk to the others in the class and maybe come up with a plan. Marinette was not good at following her own advice at all. She deserved to be happy too, but her sweet friend was willing to sacrifice her own happiness to give Adrien his own.

Every girl in their class wanted to help get them together. They make a plan to hang out that weekend at Juleka's place and invite Marinette to hopefully talk some sense in the girl. Rose starts planning, her romantic nature taking charge as she maps out Adrien and Marinette’ future relationship.

That weekend, most of the girls in their class find themselves tucked away on Juleka's house boat, giggling and having a blast ignoring their cares. The room is filled with carefree laughter and playful bantering when Marinette arrives, late as usual. Alya waves her over to sit on the floor between her and Rose who is chatting happily about the latest celebrity romance she noticed and how positively sweet it was seeing them together and so in love!

Marinette rolled her eyes and slid down to the floor, gently resting her purse holding Tikki beside her and rolls her eyes as the conversation shifts to the most popular (not) relationship in Paris: Ladybug and Chat Noir.

No matter how many times she denies it as Ladybug, people love to speculate about her and her silly kitty together. Seriously, the only way she could think that she could ever get out of it was to show up with a ring on her finger and Adr-... A random, non existent man on her arm. For so long, that man had soft golden locks and curious green eyes with a smile that made her swoon. Now, her future was tall and faceless standing next to her. A twinge of sadness made her lip twitch downward, but she squashed the flicker of emotion down and forced a smile. The future was simply unwritten and one day, she would meet her perfect match. One day.

“They have to have at least kissed or something. I mean, they have been partners for two years, both of them chase each other the city in skin tight suits and Chat Noir isn't exactly shy about what he wants.” Alix never did let anything hold her back from saying what was on her mind.

Alya shakes her head with a knowing smile on her face. “Don't we all wish. I'm all for Ladybug and Chat Noir getting together, but Ladybug still denies it. Best we can do is hope for the future. Trust me, if it happens, it will be all over my Ladyblog!” Marinette knows Alya was a fan in an out of the mask. As Rena Rouge, she tries her hand at matchmaking between the two super heros just like she does with Marinette and Adrien. If only she knew she was trying to set up her best friend with two different guys. Every time Rena Rouge gets Ladybug alone for a minute, she makes a quick joke or a suggestive comment, but the answer never changs.

Marinette grins at her own private knowledge of the whole situation and proud that her best friend chooses truth over gossip. Rose notices her grin and calls her out “Marinette, don't you think they would be sooooo cute together?” Hearts swim in Rose's eyes, imagining what she sees as the ultimate super romance.

Marinette just brushes it off, used to it by now. After all, Nadja Chamack has been trying to catch them together since that first live interview and rumors are harder to kill than cockroaches. “I think Ladybug and Chat Noir have enough going on without adding a relationship.” No one needed to know just how aware she was that neither hero had never had a serious relationship.

The conversation melts into a comfortable chatter or relationships and innocent gossip until Alix speaks up with a new suggestion: “Let's play Marry-Kiss-Kill!”

All the girls look around at each other before nodding at the simple game. They have played it before, but the combinations were endless so it never got old and several times it got one of them to admit a crush that no one knew about. “I'll start,” Alex said. “Gimme my names.”

“Max, Kim, Nathaniel”

“Easy, keep that order. Marry Max because those brains are bound to get him a good job, kiss Kim because his face would be hilarious and sorry Nathaniel. Bye bye. Rose, Juleka, your turn! Rose, Sabrina and Marinette.”

Juleka always blushes when given Rose, but she played along. “Marry Rose, kiss Marinette and kill Sabrina. Sorry.” Rose beam, happy with the answer and Marinette was simply happy she lived through the round. Now it was Juleka's turn to assign names. She always gives easy ones. “Mylene: Ivan, Nino and Adrien.”

“Marry Ivan of course,” Mylene doesn't hesitate about marrying her boyfriend of two years, but the others take a second to choose. “Kiss Adrien and kill Nino. Sorry Marinette and Alya.” She grins wide, tapping her chin with a finger until she points at Rose. “Alya, Chloe and Juleka”

“Well, Juleka is already marrying me. I'd rather kiss Alya, so kill Chloe” Beaming, she takes her pick, looking at the Ladyblogger and shifts the game from classmates to a whole new genre. “Alya, get to choose Rena Rouge, Carapace and Queen Bee!” Everybody waits eagerly for Alya's answer, but they didn't expect her to laugh.

“Easy. Carapace gets to marry me.” Alya wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, knowing full well who is behind the mask. “Rena Rogue gets the kiss because she is a foxy lady and I guess Queen Bee takes the fall.” Marinette grins, laughing quietly that Alya would rather kiss herself than Chloe.

“Marinette: Ladybug, Rena Rouge and Chat Noir.” Marinette's laugh died on her lips and frowned. She didn't want to kill any of them. Then again, she didn't want to kiss or marry herself or Alya, but her friends didn't know her personal connections. It gets quiet and Marinette realizes they are all waiting on her to answer, but this just wasn't fair. How could she chose between herself and her two best friends on either side of the mask!?

“I guess marry Rena Rouge.” Marinette did catch her best friend beam as soon as she spoke. “Can't I just kiss them both? I don't want to kill either of them.” This game was no longer fun. The other encouraged her to just pick, unaware of the war inside her. Deciding on who she would rather survive, Marinette answered honestly.

“Kiss Chat Noir, kill Ladybug.” Everyone froze. After a beat, they all spoke at once.

“You would kill Ladybug!?”

“But she can do her Miraculous Recovery magic thing and fix anything”

“You like Chat Noir enough to kiss him?”

“Ladybug…” “Chat��” “Marinette!”

Marinette flushed red, knowing none of them could understand and she couldn't possibly explain properly, but she did try the best she could. “I just think that's the way Ladybug would want it to happen. She would rather let her partner live even if it means she has to go.” The others forgot the game and started deliberating the three themselves. Some chose to kill Rena Rouge. Some chose to kill Chat Noir. No one else chose Ladybug.

Marinette decided she needed to walk about and get some fresh air and maybe a glass of water. Her thoughts followed her as she walked out, barely noticed by the others in their new heated conversation. The sixteen year old girl made her way to the kitchen and filled a glass with water before walking out on the desk and closing her eyes to the feel of a fresh breeze.

The cool air helped clear her mind along with a sweet melody playing from some unknown place. The music surrounds her and she lets her mind go blank, simply feeling each note and letting it wash over her.

“Hello, Ma-Ma-Marinette.”

#miraculous ladybug #marrinette dupain chang #marinnete #marichat #chat noir #luka couffaine #lukanette #djwifi #adrien agreste #adrienette #ladynoir #ladrien #ml fanfic

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