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salemwritesxx · 4 years ago

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lycoris radiata

↳ pro-hero bakugou x pro-hero reader

summary: The myth around red spider lilies, lycoris radiata, is that, when you see someone you may never meet again, these flowers will bloom along the path. Thus, when Y/n and Katsuki depart on the morning of their 6th wedding anniversary to walk to their respective agencies and spider lilies bloom along the path Bakugou is walking on, Y/n gets an uneasy feeling, unaware that the legend surrounding these flowers may have a germ of truth to them after all.

w.count: 2k

content warning: angst, major character death, which leads to reader committing suicide, afterlife happy ending

“Okay, hey-“, you grinned and pulled him back one last time to peck his lips, “-don’t forget our rendezvous tonight, yeah?”, to which Bakugou only rolled his eyes – in a playful way though as he immediately pressed a soft kiss onto your mouth once more, not caring that you two stood in the middle of the streets.

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget.”, and with that, you finally let your husband go, though as he walked away from you, you couldn’t help but witness red spider lilies blooming along the pathway, hence you yelled after him, “Babe? Be careful, okay?”

“Ha?”, when he turned around and you pointed to the flowers, Katsuki only laughed and gestured a ‘whatever’ and saying a “Don’t be so superstitious, Y/n. It’s just a myth!”

Even though you both chuckled as he turned around and walked away for real this time, you still felt a slight uneasy feeling in your stomach, though you simply thought it was because you were excited to celebrate your 6th wedding anniversary with your husband.

“KATSUKI!”

You screamed as if you were the one being impaled, your knees were shaking, feeling like the ground was opening up underneath your feet and you fell into a dark, black hole any second.

Coughing up blood, he was hanging on the villain’s arm which was weirdly transformed to look like a lance – Bakugou hadn’t seen it coming, if he would have, he…

“Pathetic.”, the villain almost spit into his face before dropping him onto the pavement like some sort of trash, only to jump back immediately when other heroes already attacked him again.

You were rushing to your husband’s side who was coughing up more and more blood while squirming in pain, his “Y- Y/- Y/n…” being interrupted by his coughs, though you were already dropping to your knees to hold him.

“It’s okay, Baby, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay! Don’t worry, everything will be okay!”, you cried and sobbed, tears already streaming down your face while pressing him against your side and one hand against his wound where the villain impaled him.

Bakugou knew though. It’s why he was clawing at your hand so much, both of them soaked with his blood that just wouldn’t stop – he knew he wasn’t going to be okay. As he almost couldn’t speak anymore, because his lungs filled with more and more blood, he still grasped your hands as tightly as he could, smearing his own blood all over your arm in an attempt to stay.

“Y/n-“, gasping for breath, he was almost completely over the bridge as his tight grip slowly softened.

“I love you, Baby. I love you so much! Katsuki please, don’t go!”, not being able to suppress your desperate sobs, you barely choked out a “Please.” again as his grip loosened more and more around your own hand.

“I … love… y..o…u…”, were his last words, a single tear trickling down his cheek as his ruby eyes lost that sparkle you fell in love with the very first time you looked into them.

“Katsu… No….Kat… Nononono please! PLEASE!”, literally begging him to not go, you hugged his bloody, heavy body so close against your chest while you cried, not caring about the explosions from further back into the streets as other heroes still fought against the villains, while rescue heroes only gradually managed to get through the wrecked buildings.

You shouldn’t even be here. Bakugou and you had been in two different agencies, it only should have been a calm day at your respective work places, wanting to be done quickly so you could enjoy your wedding anniversary tonight, but then, all available heroes were called up when the villain went on a rampage.

How…? How did it turn out like that? A harmless villain turned out to be so strong? How… could have anyone guess that? How could have anyone seen that coming?

So, it was true. Walking along a path where red spider lilies bloomed meant you wouldn’t see each other again…

Rescue heroes tried to calm you down and get you to let go of Katsuki’s lifeless body, but you just yelled at them, your voice high-pitched and so full of pain, and cried and held him tighter, not caring that you were full of his blood as you still couldn’t process that this wasn’t a dream, but it was reality… Harsh reality.

Your husband was dead.

And with that, your soul and heart shattered into million little pieces, unable to be whole ever again.

-------6 weeks later--------

You sat in front of Katsuki’s grave.

It was a cold spring night, though to be honest, you hadn’t been warm in the last weeks ever since that accident – the coldness you felt was never going to leave ever again.

Your fingers were softly playing your guitar. Making music had always brought peace to your husband’s mind, whenever he felt angry, frustrated, anxious or any other negative feeling, he would flop beside you and make you play the guitar for him. It calmed him and sometimes, you would both sing crookedly to get him back into a better mood – very fond memories indeed.

Tears were blurring your vision, even though you shouldn’t have been able to cry anymore with how many tears you had shed in the last weeks, but it still felt surreal. Knowing he was never going to come back again – never.

Slowly, your fingers stopped as you stared onto his gravestone. There were red spider lilies planted around – how ironic. Though they weren’t blooming as it was now spring.

Was is really just superstition? Or should you have been warned that day? That uneasy feeling you had felt - it wasn’t excitement, it was a sense of foreboding, and you had ignored it…

Putting your guitar, that had stickers with his hero name and your own, as well as stupid little things like a dick doodle on it, to the side, you sighed and rubbed your red, swollen eyes. You did have this guitar since your middle school days after all. And you remembered when all these things happened oh so vividly. Still hearing the giggle and laughter of your, back then in high school, boyfriend, while you yelled at him for being an idiot. Being angry over a dick doodle seemed so petty now.

Taking your permanent marker, you opened the cap with your teeth, before leaning in and doodling a broken heart onto the surface with the date of your husband’s dying day on it. Spitting out the lid of the marker, you put the pen onto your guitar, before staring back at Bakugou’s grave.

“Please tell me.. Who should be my soulmate now? Who will hold my hand while I drive? Who will hold me when I can’t sleep at night? There is nobody like you out there, Baby…. so please tell me…”, you were crying again as you sobbed and rubbed over your face, “Tell me, who could possibly take your place? My first and last love. I won’t be able to do anything without you…”

Your heart was hurting so much, you couldn’t take it. You knew he was irreplaceable, there was no one out there that could ever give you what he gave you all those past years.

Bakugou was sitting beside you, though you didn’t know – of course you didn’t, was he a mere spirit now, never leaving your side as his translucent hand touched your own.

“Please, you need to go on. Don’t do it…”, tears were in the corner of his eyes, wishing he could talk to you, wishing you could hear his desperate attempts to keep you from committing suicide. Katsuki loved you, he wanted to be with you, but he couldn’t be selfish anymore – you couldn’t throw everything away just because of him.

Though, as he was a mere ghost sitting beside you, he couldn’t do anything but watch.

With a shaking hand you then reached for the gun you had purchased today on the black market – to think, at last, you were doing illegal stuff even though you were a hero – before coming here and sitting in front of his grave for hours. You couldn’t possibly be alive without him beside you. It just hurt too much. You didn’t care about anything, you had no one besides him. Katsuki was your everything and all you wanted to do was finally meet him again.

Sobbing quietly, you then held the end of the gun against your temple, your e/c still staring at his gravestone, before you whispered one last time, “I want to meet you again. Please. I miss you so much.”

“I promise, I’ll be there.”, Katsuki whispered.

For the first time in weeks, there was warmth surrounding your heart and with a smile you barely mumbled “I know you’re waiting for me.”

And then, a loud bang echoed through the silent night and the cemetery, cherry blossom petals, that were in full bloom now, swaying in the wind and slowly falling down and onto your lifeless body.

“Y/n…Y/n…”, the familiar voice made you gradually open your eyes – above you, it was an ocean of pink and white cherry blossoms. But then, as you looked further back, you saw directly into Katsuki’s face, his smile making you feel so warm and fuzzy instantly. It was in that moment you realized your head was resting in his lap.

“Katsu…”

“You should have lived a long, happy life…”, his voice was so soothing and calm as he combed through your hair, though you just shook your head, tears already welling up in your eyes.

“I was already dead inside the moment you were gone.”, and then, you finally sat back up to connect your lips, Bakugou immediately slinging his arms around your neck and pulling you in closer as you both fell back into a pile of cherry blossoms.

“I love you. I love you so much. And now we’re together again.”, you whispered against his lips, lacing your fingers together and Katsuki squeezing your hand tightly, the sparkle in his ruby eyes back as tears shimmered in them as well.

“And we will never be apart again.”, he barely mumbled back, before you hugged each other tightly as your lips melted together tenderly.

Katsuki and you were sitting on the gravestone together, it was the day your lifeless body joined Katsuki’s in the shared grave. Watching your family and Katsuki’s once more crying so much, it really did break your heart.

“I wish they wouldn’t have to go through that again.”, he said and sighed, though also squeezing your hand tightly.

“Mh… But it was inevitable… I know they know that, too…”, since you and Mitsuki were quite close, she, of course, knew how badly Katsuki’s death affected you, even though she tried to help, the moment you were alone, you knew you couldn’t take the loss of someone so precious to you.

“Y/n… I know your pain was immense… I just hope you are both happy now wherever you are…”, Mitsuki quietly cried as she stood in front of the grave with your coffin in it, joining Katsuki’s, Masaru holding her close by his side, both of them a red spider lily in their hands that weren’t blooming.

Looking at each other for a moment, you both stood up from the gravestone and walked towards his parents, softly touching the flower, making them bloom in their hands.

“Let’s go. We are free now. Let’s see the world - together.”, Bakugou smiled and you chuckled and nodded, “Yeah.”, only to pull him closer and softly kiss him and whisper, “Together forever.”, which earned you Katsuki’s soft giggle and him pulling you closer to connect your lips once more.

Mitsuki and Masaru were both completely astonished when the red spider lilies in their hands started blooming, as if it was your answer to their question if you were both happy now, making Katsuki’s Mom smile and cry a little harder.

Though, once she looked ahead, she thought it was probably because she was sleep-deprived and in so much emotional pain, but… she saw you and Katsuki holding onto and smiling at each other. His mind must be playing tricks on her and yet, it was bittersweet to witness you two like that…

“They are happy…”, she wiped away her tears and with a smile on her lips, Mitsuki threw the blooming spider lilies into the grave eventually, knowing that her son and son-in-law were now happily dancing in the cherry blossom trees.

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

writer’s note: ya boy literally chickened out the last minute and made it a somewhat happy ending instead of leaving it sad… idk i kind of just want them to find their happiness again in their afterlives 💌 my first idea was to make Y/n sing his heart out on like a roof and then jump, then I wanted him to sing his heart out in front of katsu’s grave and in the end, we just have some soft guitar play and a gun… but while I listen to the song I had playing on repeat while writing this, I still imagine Y/n singing loudly for his Baby and grieving terribly 💔

#salemswriting.#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x male reader #bnha x male reader #bakugou x you #bakugou angst

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cultgambles · 4 years ago

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Forgotten Lunch (Jumin Han x Reader)

This was originally posted as a little blurb but why the hell not put the whole thing am i rite?? Like, i wasn’t sure if tumblr would take it down bc of the whole ban, but the other writings have been up haha

Summary: Jumin thinks his MC comes to the office for a little chat, but MC has other plans...

n s f w, office (semi-public), being walked in on, bjs, vaginal fingering

wc: 2.1k

Masterlist | Requests? open

“Oh! MC! What a pleasant surprise! How are you doing today?”

“I’m wonderful Jaehee, hope Jumin isn’t working you to the bone too much?” you reply to the secretary with a small smile.

“Same old same old,” Jaeehee sighs. “Is that lunch for him? He’s free right now if you would like to go up.”

“Aww, I’ll tell him to chill a bit, okay? Maybe he’ll listen this time. And I have one for you, too. Don’t eat those bento boxes all the time, they’re not the healthiest,” you chide, reaching into your bag and pulling out some pasta you had made. Jaehee takes the meal graciously and tells you she has to go back to work otherwise she’d work more overtime than usual.

The walk to the elevator and the ride up seemed to take a millennium, and when the final ding rang, you practically jumped out and ran to his office at the end of the hallway.

You try to stifle your smile, breathing a deep breath and knocking twice on the door.

“Come in,” Jumin’s muffled voice wafts through the door. He looks up slightly, his eyes brightening when he sees you.

“My love, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he says, starting to stand.

“Don’t worry! You just stay right there, I’ve only come to bring you some lunch. I made Alfredo,” You smile, closing the door behind you.

“MC, you didn’t have to make me anything. I have those private chefs you know.”

“I thought it would be cute to bring you some food!” you pout, making your way around the desk after placing the thermos down. You lean forward behind him, running your hands down his chest, placing a small kiss on his cheek. You swear Jumin purrs before clearing his throat, and patting his leg for you to sit. You do, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and neck, leaning in to pepper kisses on his face. He pulls you flush against his body, and you trade kisses for a while. You sigh, leaning in the crook of his neck.

“Oh, how I wish to abandon everything right now,” he sighs softly, pressing the words into your neck.

“Why can’t you? Let’s just go home and relax...but also let Jaehee have the rest of the day off too?” You say with an afterthought.

“You know I can’t, kitten.”

“Fineeee, I’ll leave you be then,” You swing one leg over his, appearing to get off, but you plop your ass right back down, basically straddling his leg, and take notice of his computer screen. “Oooh, what are you working on?”

“Just some of the new products I want to export. Though, I am having to fight with my father about it because he just doesn’t think cat products would sell,” he replies, sucking in a breath of air. “What do you think you are doing?” he asks, strained as you slightly rock back and forth to get into a more comfortable position. His large hand finds purchase on your hip, sending tingles throughout your body.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say. That’s a lie though. You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re grinding your hips into his leg, dry humping him. The friction of your sliding back and forth makes you let out a small moan at how good it feels.

Jumin swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “So, this is the game you want to play? Let’s see it through then,” he mumbles lowly, leaning his head on his other hand. You lean forward to place your hands on his desk, moving more furiously against his leg, your body finally getting that friction it craved from when he touched you this morning. The feel of your panties against his pant leg rub together deliciously, and you’re tempted to hike up your yellow sundress to feel more of it.

“O-oh! Jumin,” you moan out, rolling your hips more deeply, feeling that sensation in your belly. His hand on your hip never leaves you, almost guiding you to your finish. The knot unravels, bursting through your body and clouding your senses. You shudder, feeling the waves of pleasure die down. You lean back against him, panting slightly. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Have fun there, sweetheart?” His voice is pretty stable for what you just did, but you definitely feel something poking your lower back.

“Mmm, yeah!” You say with a smile, getting up on shaky legs. “Well, I’m gonna go home and you finish up your work, okay?”

Before you can get very far, however, he catches your wrist and pulls you back onto his lap.

“You’re very naughty today, aren’t you? Did you want to be punished by daddy that badly?” Jumin says, running a hand down your stomach while the other holds your breast.

“I just missed you, s’all…” your voice goes up an octave as he bites your sweet spot.

“Well, we’re going to finish what you started then. Lucky for you, you came at the beginning of my lunch break, hmm?”

“Y-yes.”

“Did you plan that?”

“Maybe,” you say slyly.

“Really?” His hand stops just above the hem of your dress, just barely ghosting over your thigh.

“I planned it, you got me,” you whine, grinding your butt down.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks, pulling your dress up so the lower half of you is exposed. “You’re even wearing the lace red panties I like.”

“Yeah, so don’t rip them this time,” you quip, reaching behind to palm at his dick through his pants.

“I have all the money in the world to get you a new pair.” he rubs two fingers at your clit through the fabric. “You’re so wet for me, baby.”

“Jumin?” you squeak out.

“Yes?”

“Why is it a pair of panties even though it’s like one item?”

“Love, you say the most unsexy things at the worst times,” he chuckles, “but I think it’s because of the two leg holes.”

“Mmm, m-makes sense,” you stutter out as his fingers finally slip between the fabric and into your folds.

“I’m taking off the fucking dress,” you say reaching for the zipper. For the moment, Jumin doesn’t hesitate to throw it over you and into a corner of the room. You also reach behind your back, unclasping your bra and throwing that somewhere too.

“You like being exposed like this don’t you? Someone could walk in right now and that’d get you off even more, wouldn’t it?”

“I also like you fully clothed while I’m naked,” you purr. Jumin raises a brow, but continues the assault on your pussy.

“Well, I’m not complaining.”

Your lewd sounds fill the quiet air, and you feel the familiar knot in your abdomen. You come in Jumin’s hand, and you turn your head to give him an open mouthed kiss. Breaking the kiss, he pulls his long fingers out of you not before licking the slick off.

You stand over him slightly and lean down to undo his zipper and pull down his boxers. His cock springs free, the tip leaking pre cum. You reach down between your legs and swipe your fingers through the folds, wetting them. Your hand reaches up to his member and you grip around it, running your hand up and down the shaft.

Jumin makes a guttural sound as your mouth moves on him. He reaches his hand down to run through your hair.

Two knocks at the door.

You pause an anxious fear in your throat. Jumin clears his throat, “What is it?”

“It’s me, Sir, I’m here to remind you of your 2 o’clock meeting in about thirty minutes.” Jaehee says through the door. “Can I come in to give you the briefing?”

“You may.”

“Wow, ballsy,” you whisper, loud enough for him to hear. He smirks slightly and adjusts his tie.

“Well, you’re meeting with Mr. Phantomhive to discuss collaborating on a project. His company hasn’t really gotten footing here in South Korea,” Jaehee remarks.

Meanwhile, you’re bobbing your head on Jumin’s length, the thought of the both of you getting caught working you up. You massage his balls and try to suck in as much as you can, the tip hitting the back of your throat. Jumin huffs, making Jaehee pause to ask if he’s doing alright.

“Is that all? I have to finish up this cat project outline soon,” he says quietly.

“Ah, one more thing, Mr. Phantomhive hates being called short or looked down upon, so please try your best to behave!”

“Fine fine,” he waves her off, “I assume Meeting Room 3?”

“Yes Sir, I’ll come get you once Mr. Phantomhive arrives.”

“Good. Please close the door on the way out.” You hear Jaehee shuffle out awkwardly, the door clicking behind her.

“MC, you’re very distracting,” Jumin says, looking down at you.

“Yes, I know.”

“Why don’t you come up here then?” You pop off, licking your lips slightly and pull down your panties so it hangs off your ankle.

You give him a quick kiss before your hand reaches down for his dick. His hands lay on your hips as you sink your drenched core down, helping you better situate. You let out a moan as he fills you up, not a spot without him there.

“J-Jumin, you f-feel so good in me…” your arms wrap around the both of you, one gripping the chair and the other in his hair, pulling ever so slightly.

Not even 20 seconds later, you’re already bouncing, and he’s meeting every one perfectly.

“Love, why don’t you turn around so I can look at your pretty face?”

“But I don’t want to get up,” you whine.

“That’s an order, sweetheart,” he says, slightly lifting you up.

“Ooh, you know I love when you do that. I guess I can’t say no to that now, can I?” You turn to face him and fully sit this time, your heels just above his knees.

“I love looking at your face, the way it contorts into pleasure as I give it to you raw,” he growls, latching onto one of your breasts. You throw your head back in ecstasy, arching your back more as he pumps into you at a steady pace.

“Mmm...go faster..please. Absolutely wreck me,” you beg. That really seemed to get him going, his pace more erratic and his fingers digging into your sides. You lean down to kiss him, his mouth already slightly parted. His tongue instantly finds its way into your mouth and he groans into it.

“MC, I can’t last much longer, he pants.”

“Come in me, Daddy. Let’s have little Jumin’s and MC’s running around soon,” you tell him.

Thick ropes of cum fill your cervix, as you come yourself for the third time. Jumin holds you close as the both of you come down from your highs.

“I love you, Jumin,” you say, pressing your forehead against his.

“I love you more,” he whispers sweetly. “Oh how you do me.”

The phone on Jumin’s desk beeps, startling you both. “Mr. Han? Your appointment starts in 5 minutes. I’ll be up in a few,” the voice says.

“Oh I do not want to go to this meeting anymore,” Jumin says, “Let’s just stay like this.”

“You need to though, Mr. Phantomhive’s candy is really good and I haven’t had any since our trip to England,” You remark, getting off him and handing him a tissue.

“That’s reason enough,” he shrugs, cleaning up a bit and fixing his hair. Meanwhile, you slip your dress back on and stuff your bra in your purse.

“See you later, love,” you smile, leaning up to peck his cheek, and fix his tie.

“You’ll hopefully be seeing me earlier than planned,” he says, brushing down your hair.

“Oh? You gonna give Jaehee the day off?”

“Sure, yes. I’ll do that.”

“Thank you. Ellie and I will be waiting for your return...though I’m sorry I took you away from your lunch,” you say with a slight frown.

“I’ll eat a good dinner. So good until I have my fill,” he says in a sultry voice.

“Okay, tiger, calm down,” you laugh. “Bye for reals now.”

“MC? You’re still here?” Jaehee opens the door, a surprised look on her face. “I didn’t see you earlier when you walked in?”

“You came up? I must of been in the bathroom..Nice seeing you!” You smile at your friend and briskly walk out, the embarrassment of what you and your CEO-in-line just did mere minutes before.

“Mr. Han, are you ready for your meeting?”

“Yes, of course. Let’s get this over with.”

#jumin han #jumin x mc #jumin x reader #jumin smut #mm #mystic messenger #mystic messenger smut #Smut #lemon #fanfic #fanfiction #mysme

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hlcreators · 4 years ago

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AUTHOR REC: only_angel_28 / @beau-soleil-louis

Don’t forget to leave kudos and comment to show some love! ♡

a week and thirteen days (1k)

Harry falls in love with the morning sun.

I can’t do this alone (sometimes I just need a light) (7.8k)

“Harry,” he says after another contemplative moment, “can I hug you?”

It’s been...well, Harry doesn’t actually know how long it’s been. Less than an hour, probably, but already Louis says his name like it’s safe in his mouth, and now he’s opening his arms like Harry could be safe there too.

“Please,” Harry nearly sobs, and sinks into him the way butter melts on toast. It’s an apt metaphor, really, because what Louis is giving him is as essential and sustaining as a loaf of bread to a starving man. His basic need for physical affection is as vital as his need for sustenance, for sleep, and he can’t believe he’s allowed himself to ignore it for so long.

Or: Harry is having a rough time. Louis is the kind stranger who makes him smile again.

I think I’m falling (I’m falling for you) (6.8k)

Louis is a disaster gay on a skateboard. Harry is a beautiful, quirky stranger on a bicycle. Their first encounter really makes a splash.

Bloom (just for you) (495)

“Do you ever think about boys?”

The words fall from Louis’ lips casually, but they’re fragile like a gossamer thread, a single silken strand from a spider’s web of labyrinthine thoughts. They’re the product of literal months of careful introspection, of soul-searching and agonizing and over-thinking. They’re words that he’s never dared to utter aloud, a mirror of his own swirling inner-turmoil of thoughts. Thoughts he previously held tightly to his chest, locked away in his heart along with all his other feelings regarding his best friend.

*Or the arrival of spring brings a new beginning for Harry and Louis.

dopamine (7.8k)

Louis honestly doesn’t know how he gets himself into these types of situations.

Well, actually, that’s a lie. He’s doing this because he needs the money, and because he’s curious. And, okay, maybe because he might be a little bit lonely too. He has always had what his mother affectionately calls an “adventurous spirit.” Couple that with being a (tragically single) broke grad student and voila! here he is scrawling his signature on a release form provided by the university’s sociology department. Essentially, he is agreeing to snog a stranger on camera for the sake of science.

Shouldn’t be a problem, right? All he has to do is lock lips with a (hopefully) fit bloke, collect his money, and be on his way. Easy peasy. Little does he know, fate has other plans for him in the form of one adorably quirky art student who goes by the name of Harry Styles.

How Would You Feel (If I Told You I Loved You) (81k)

An AU inspired by the music video for Ed Sheeran's song Perfect featuring two idiots who are too thick to see that their friendship is anything but platonic, lots of pining, too many terms of endearment to count, a wedding, slow dancing, a couple of steamy hot tub moments, karaoke, snow, a healthy dose of cuddling, love confessions, and Harry and Louis being quite generous to each other.

*Or the one where Harry has been in love with his best friend for four years, and New Year's Eve at his family's holiday home in Switzerland is perfect for finally telling Louis how he feels.

Breathe Me (13k)

The story of what happens when Harry finds a stranger sleeping inside the car his late grandfather left him.

“Louis?” Harry queries softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Why are you living in my car?”

Louis sighs, and this time it’s laced with a mixture of sadness and exhaustion, the sound of it tugging at Harry’s heartstrings. “Long story,” he says finally with a weak smile.

“Will you tell me?” Harry prods gently, his demeanor akin to that of someone approaching a wild animal with their arms outstretched in a gesture of submission. “You don’t have to, like—I mean…it’s just, I’m a pretty good listener, and you seem like maybe you could use a friend?”

“What gave me away?” Louis jokes dryly.

*Or the one where Harry has a broken heart, Louis has a broken home, and all it takes is one night together for them to fall in love.

You got that something, I got me an appetite (5.9k)

After years of being forced to hide their relationship, Harry and Louis decide to come out with a bang.

Shape of You (11k)

“Seriously?” Surely, Harry must be joking. Louis arches a skeptical brow and snaps the waistband of Harry’s joggers playfully. “What exactly do you have down there, Styles? I know you’ve got four nipples, d’ya have a couple extra bollocks as well or summat?”

“No!” Harry shrieks, his voice bordering on shrill. “No,” He repeats a little quieter, calmer, “I just—I’m, er, kinda…big, I guess.”

Louis rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. “That’s hardly a problem, curly.”

*Or Harry is insecure about a certain rather large part of his anatomy that is apparently intimidating to the point where it has actually scared off potential shags. When he ends up confessing this to his best friend and roommate, Louis takes it upon himself to prove that Harry’s size doesn't have to be a curse, and decides to help show him just how perfect he is.

Please Be Naked (17k)

Louis starts squirming, desperately needing something to do with his hands. Needing to do anything, really, to distract him from the perfect male specimen standing naked in front of him. In the end, the only thing he can do is strip out of his own jeans and briefs, which he does with trembling, clumsy fingers, his heart beating out a violent, chaotic rhythm in his chest the entire time.

He hears Harry’s sharp intake of breath, and slowly raises his eyes from where he was staring at his own bare feet to meet his gaze.

“So,” Harry says bashfully, his voice gone even deeper somehow. “We’re naked.”

“Yup,” Louis squeaks.

“You okay?”

No!

“Yup,” Louis repeats, sounding just as unstable as he did the first time.

This is the last favor Louis Tomlinson is ever doing for Zayn Malik. (Because, after today, he’ll be dead, but that’s neither here nor there.)

*Or the one where Louis agrees to help out Zayn with one of his art projects and ends up getting much more than he bargained for.

Hey I Heard You Were A Wild One (If I Took You Home It’d Be A Homerun) (12k)

"Are you out?” Louis huffs a long suffering sigh as he studies Harry from the other side of the bar, the neon from the beer signs making his eyes glow an unnatural shade of blue, and causing Harry to question - not for the first time tonight - if he is real or just some fever dream-esque fantasy conjured up by Harry’s alcohol addled brain.

“You’re fucking kidding me right?” Harry laughs incredulously.

Louis is resolute in his posture as he continues to observe Harry, the slight arch of a brow his only acknowledgement of Harry’s question. That’s fine, Harry decides, it was mostly rhetorical anyway.

“A gay cowboy who rides for a living, can you imagine all the Brokeback Mountain jokes I’d have to endure on a daily basis? I don’t really fancy being compared to Jake Gyllenhaal.”

A hint of a smirk tugs at the corners of Louis’ pursed lips. “Now you’re the one who must be joking, because you are so clearly Heath Ledger in that scenario.”

*Or Harry came to the bar to forget. Louis gives him a night to remember.

Your Love Is My Turning Page When Only The Sweetest Words Remain (8.4k)

“Crying already, Styles?” Louis chides him teasingly, unable to contain the smile that’s breaking across his face.

“So what if I am? What are you going to do about it?” Harry sniffs indignantly.

Louis makes a show of pretending to consider this, steepling his fingers in front of his chest and giving Harry a contemplative once-over.

“Marry you.” He decides, smirking at Harry.

“Guess you won’t be able to call me Styles much longer then.” Harry counters, biting down on his own barely-contained grin.

“Guess not.” Louis agrees happily.

Say You Won’t Let Go (5.7k)

Harry hates flying. Louis is the kind stranger who helps him when he gets sick in the airport restroom. The rest, as they say, is history.

Back To You (5.8k)

"Hello?" His voice came out all high and breathy like an anxious school girl, and he cringed internally at how wrecked he sounded already.

"Lou?"

Harry's voice was the same as ever, deeper than the sea and somehow both gravelly and smooth as silk. Harry was full of infuriating little contradictions like that. It drove Louis crazy. He had spent a good portion of his life questioning if Harry Styles was actually even human; on paper he just didn't make sense. He was an enigma, an anomaly, the exception to every rule.

*After dropping his new single, "Back To You" Louis gets a text from Harry inquiring about the true inspiration for the song.

#writer appreciation week #1dsource #hljournal #fics #author rec

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years ago

Text

Eskel SFW Alphabet

Affection (how affectionate are they, how do they show affection) He is very affectionate when you aren’t around other people. He puts his hand on your thigh or he laces your fingers together and brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles. He likes to leave kisses on your nose and cheeks and whisper to you how much he adores you. But when you are around other people, his signs of affection are less noticeable. He always has to be touching you though.

Best Friend (what would they be like as a best friend, how would the friendship begin) Eskel is a supportive best friend but he’s definitely the mom of the group. He doesn’t let you do anything stupid (unless Lambert is involved and in that case, Eskel has little to no control over what you do).

Cuddles (do they like to cuddle, how would they cuddle) Eskel loves nothing more than cuddling with you. He’ll hold you close so your body is practically molded against it, tuck his nose into your neck and listen to you giggle when his breath tickles you. Sometimes you’ll be sitting up in bed reading and he will clamber into the bed and lay himself between your legs. He’ll put his head on your thigh, one arm curling around your leg. Your hand will find his hair and you’ll start to read out loud to him.

Domestic (do they want to settle down, how good are they at cooking and cleaning) Eskel always wanted to settle down but it was unrealistic. He couldn’t properly do his job if he stayed in one place for too long. But when he met you, he realized settling down and finding a home away from Kaer Morhen was possible. Yes, he came and went when he needed, but he always had you to fall back on whenever he needed. When you first met, he didn’t know how to cook but he was rather well versed in cleaning. He explained that keeping their bunk tidy at Kaer Morhen was something each young witcher was expected to do. He picked up rather quickly on how to cook and bake. He watched you carefully and listened to every instruction. Now when he’s home, you’ll wake up to the smell of cookies at some ungodly hour before the sun is up. He likes to bake when he can’t sleep.

Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it) Eskel would be a nervous wreck. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, but he knows breaking up with you will hurt you a lot less than being with him in the long run. He could never give you the life you deserved, a family and a stable environment. He was always gone and you never knew when he’d return—if he’d return. He tells you he loves you and there’s nowhere else in the world that he’d rather be than by your side. But your well-being is more important to him than his happiness. He can’t stand to leave you so anxious and worried for months on end. He fits the tears in his eyes as you start to cry. He reminds himself constantly that this is best. This is what is needed.

Fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment, how quick are they to want to get married) Eskel isn’t fond of commitment but if he’s in a relationship, he knows it’s expected. He knows it isn’t ideal to have something (or someone) that could potentially tie him down. But you are the smile that takes his breath away when he fears the darkness clouding his mind. You are what drives him to be a better man, a better person. You give him reason, more so than just being a witcher. You bring him unadulterated happiness. But it takes him a while to convince himself he should marry you. He doesn’t think it’s necessary at first, but then he overhears you talking to one of your friends about how you’d like to be married someday. You were okay with things how they were with Eskel. As long as you had him, you didn’t need marriage. But he wanted to give you everything you ever wanted.

Gentle (how gentle are they both physically and emotionally) Eskel is a gentle giant okay. He’s so soft and sweet and he’s afraid to hurt you so he makes sure that when he lays his hands on you, he’s careful. He treats you as if you’re made of glass.

Hugs (do they like hugs, how often do they do it, what are their hugs like) Eskel loves hugs, but only from those close to him. His hugs are always suffocatingly tight but always so warm and comforting. He holds you so close each time, resting his chin on your head after giving you a kiss. He exhales softly then inhales, taking in your scent that is intoxicating. He hugs you every chance he gets.

I Love You (how fast do they say it) Eskel is very timid to be the first to say something that carries such a heavy weight. He doesn’t want to feel like he expects too much out of you, but he also doesn’t want to be the only one feeling that way in a relationship. He doesn’t want to feel stupid letting feelings be known that are unreciprocated. It takes him a good while but when he does, you promise him you feel the same.

Jealous (how jealous do they get, what do they do when they are jealous) Eskel doesn’t really get jealous. He trusts you and he knows that you love him, but his insecurities lie within himself. He doesn’t believe he deserves you, or that you should be with someone like him. He wholeheartedly believes you are too good for him.

Kisses (what are their kisses like, where do they like to kiss, where do they like to be kissed) Eskel’s kisses are always gentle and tender but so full of passion. He loves to kiss your temple, to pull you close and hold you. His favorite place for you to kiss him is his neck. He loves how carefully you brush your lips down the column of his neck, ghosting over his pulse. It makes him shiver and his skin tingle.

Little Ones (how are they around kids) He’s timid around kids. He’s fearful that somehow he’ll hurt them. He isn’t a small man. He’s rather tall and bulky with muscle. Not to mention he’s covered in scars. He’s actually had children cower away from him before so he’s very on guard around them. But he doesn’t mind them.

Mornings (how are mornings spent with them) Mornings are quiet and content. He is always up before you. He keeps quiet and does his best not to move so he doesn’t wake you. However, he does watch you and that often wakes you up. He brushes his fingers through your hair and watches the way your brows crinkle together just slightly or the way your lips move in your sleep like you’re trying to speak. Eventually, your eyes flutter open and you rub them. He quietly wishes you a good morning and you smile at the sound of his voice, snuggling close to him to bury your face in his chest.

Nights (how are nights spent with them) Nights are just as quiet as the mornings. After a long day of working out in the garden or finding little things to fix, he settles down with you. Oftentimes you lay on a blanket in front of the fire, reading a book. He’d come and lay alongside you. He brushes his fingers over your arm. He’ll ask you to read to him. Eventually, you’ll move into the bedroom to cozy up beneath the many blankets and furs you have on your bed.

Open (when would they start revealing things about themselves, do they say everything at once or do they wait a while and reveal everything slowly) Eskel has walls of stone so thick that you fear you’ll never see the man he truly is. He’s on guard constantly and he’s very short with his answers. For a while, you think that maybe he just doesn’t want you to know about his life. But

Patience (how easily angered are they) Eskel has all the patience in the world. It takes an awful lot to get him angry. He’s always calm and quiet and collected.

Quizzes (how much do they remember about you, do they remember every little detail you mentioned in passing, or do they kind of forget) He remembers everything. There isn’t a moment of your relationship that he doesn’t recall. He values you and the time you spend with him so much because he doesn’t feel that he deserves it to be honest.

Remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship) His favorite memory of your relationship is definitely the first time he told you he loved you. It wasn’t a good memory, but it solidified your relationship and proved to him that you truly loved him no matter his flaws. It was a chilly autumn night. Eskel had spent most of the night with his head in your lap while you read in front of the fireplace or sat on the bed and stitched holes in your clothes. He had fallen into a rather deep sleep, which was uncommon for the witcher. The next thing he knew, you were pinned beneath him on the bed, his hand around your throat. When he realized what had happened, that a night terror had caused him to put his hands on you, he immediately fell back on to the bed, tears springing to his eyes as an apology tumbled from his lips. You assured him that you were okay, that no harm had been done. He covered his face with his hands, sobbing as he told you how sorry he was, how he never wanted to hurt you. He was terrified you would kick him out, that you’d scream at him and tell him you never wanted to see him again. But you didn’t. Instead, you wrapped your arms around the witcher as best as you could, comforting him and whispering to him. You kissed his head and then his shoulder, reminding him that you loved him. He murmured them back, voice raspy and weak. He had never returned the sentiment before, and you never pressured him to do so. All in all, the memory was bad and he wished he could reverse time. But after you calmed him down, you stayed up with him, holding him, consoling him. You were there for him.

Security (how protective are they, how would they protect you, how would they like to be protected) He is very protective of you but he makes sure he’s never overbearing. He watches from a distance when the two of you go to town to the market. He can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.

Try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks) He puts all he has into dates-even if it’s just the two of you staying at home. He remembers every first in your relationship and he always makes sure you know that he appreciates you and loves you. He puts a lot of thought into his gifts, though he doesn’t get you many. You don’t like the idea of him spending what little coin he already has on you. Sometimes, however, the stubborn witcher finds something that catches his eye and makes him think of you.

Ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs) He has a very bad habit of feeling as though he doesn’t deserve anything good. He thinks he deserves only the bad and ugly that the world has to offer. You do your damnedest to prove otherwise but sometimes he's just so stubborn.

Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks) Eskel isn’t necessarily concerned about his looks in the sense that everyone else is about their own. He’s very self-conscious and very shy when it comes to his scars. He keeps his hair longer than Lambert’s (but not as long as Geralt’s) to hide his scars as best as he can. You always reassure him that you love him and that the scars don’t make him the monster he thinks he is. They make him who he is and you love him.

Whole (would they feel incomplete without you) Eskel feels like a piece of himself is missing when he’s away from you. He can survive without you, he doesn’t have to be around you twenty-four, seven. But having you around makes him feel like he’s got everything he needs in life.

Xtra (random headcanon) You can tell when something bothers him. He’ll rub the scarred side of his face and his brows will draw together. He’s more silent than usual and distances himself from you. You can coax him into telling you what’s bothering him with soft kisses and holding his fingers.

Yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, whether in a partner or in general) He doesn’t like loud noises or too quick of movement. From the trauma he’s endured and the lifestyle he lives, he can’t stand to be in loud environments. He doesn’t like when someone moves too fast, he stiffens up and watches them carefully, thinking that maybe they could be up to no good.

ZZZ (what are their sleeping habits like) Eskel sleeps worse than a cranky newborn. He’s always the last one of you two to fall asleep and the very first to wake up. He gets a couple hours of decent sleep every night, but the rest of the night he stays up wide awake, staring at the ceiling or watching you. Sometimes you can coax him to sleep like a toddler. You brush your fingers through his hair and hum or read to him. It normally takes a couple hours, but he sleeps pretty well on those nights.

#eskel sfw alphabet #eskel the witcher #the witcher #eskel #the witcher 3 #the wild hunt #eskel witcher

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metaphorical-love-for-a-car · 4 years ago

Text

Dealing with Devils-- Damien/Darkiplier x Reader

Prompt: I was inspired to write this when I saw this comic panel on Pinterest!

Warnings: light language

Word Count; 2k

Notes; I wrote this on impulse after rewatching Who Killed Markiplier? and Damien lol (gif creds)

You grimaced at the sunlight shining through the window. The cottage's lack of curtains only bothered you in the morning. Sure, sunrises were beautiful, but they were a pain in the ass when you desperately wanted to sleep in. A shiver ran through your body as your feet hit the cold floor. Spring was on its way. The snow was beginning to yield to grass and budding flowers, but the cold was still strong enough to seep into your bones. Wrapping a blanket around your shoulders, you shuffled over to the fireplace. You wrinkled your nose at the lack of kindling. There goes any hope of a fire this morning. Not wanting to spend another moment in the cold home, you begrudgingly pulled multiple layers of clothing out of the closet to prepare yourself for the day. You turned to the large mirror hanging on the wall, carefully observing your reflection. It was hard to see small details because of the cracks that webbed from its center. When you first moved into the cottage, Damien told you to get rid of it, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

A grin found its way across your face as the memories of your move resurfaced. Damien had insisted on helping, even though you hardly had any belongings to bring into your new home. Just some clothes, toiletry items, and... the mirror. Your brows furrowed. Where did it come from, anyway? You couldn't quite remember buying the mirror, but you felt such an attachment to it. Maybe it was an heirloom? If it was, why would Damien tell you to throw it away? A strange sensation began to form in the back of your mind. It felt as if static electricity was crawling across your brain. You leaned closer to the mirror. Your reflection seemed to shift out of focus the longer you stared at it. Was it your eyes playing tricks on you? You lifted a hand, carefully reaching towards the mirror, only to freeze before you had a chance to touch it. A sharp ring ripped through your eardrums, causing you to take a step back. You looked forward and realized that your entire reflection had changed. Your skin was a muddled gray color, and your eyes were filled with a lifeless black void. Horror filled every nerve in your body. Something was terribly wrong with this place.

A sudden commotion outside drew your attention away from your reflection. Desperate for an excuse to leave, you lunged at the door. A magpie sat on your porch, squawking up a storm. You frowned at the creature. I probably forgot to fill the bird-feeder again, you thought. Your shoulders dipped as you began to relax. Glancing over your shoulder, you surveyed the interior of your home. What were you getting so worked up about, again? Your eyes landed on the dark fireplace. Right, no kindling. You pulled the door, making sure it was secure before stepping off the porch. On your way to the shed, you checked the bird-feeder. You raised a brow. It was still full. Maybe the bird was freaking out about something else. You just hoped it would be quiet, wherever the thing went.

You made your way to the shed. There was an overhang that allowed you to store firewood outside without you having to worry about it getting wet. You stopped a few feet away from the shed and tilted your head to the side. You could've sworn there was a big lock on the door. No, you were //sure// there used to be a lock on it. Damien locked it when he was helping you move. You were never curious about going inside. He told you there was only old, rusty tools. You had no need for them, so you never bothered to try to get in. But now? The lock just disappeared. You hesitated to step forward, realizing that Damien disappeared too. He told you... no, he promised you that he would visit sometime. He said he would come back for you when he sorted out some business. What did he mean by that? You slowly pulled the door open. Creeping inside, you realized that Damien was right. For the most part, the shed was empty, other than the dust that occupied the shelves and some old gardening equipment piled in a wheelbarrow. Something towards the back of the shed caught your eye. A large sheet, stained from who knows how many years of exposure to the elements, covered something large. Sunlight poured in from the cobweb-covered window above it. It was almost as if it had a spotlight. You reached for the sheet, only to be distracted by squawking once more. You huffed and looked out of the dirty window, surprised to see that even more magpies had gathered in your yard. Your eyes darted back and forth between each one. Seven? Shaking your head, you returned your attention to the matters at hand. You pulled back the sheet to find an ornate desk. You ran a hand across the smooth surface. Unlike anything else in the shed, it withstood the passing of time. There wasn't a speck of dust. Your brows jumped when you noticed a folded piece of paper tucked away beneath an empty inkwell. You wasted no time in unfolding it, anxious to know its contents. A poem jotted down... in your handwriting. "One for sorrow," you muttered. It was a curious little thing. You had always appreciated poetry, but why did you decide to document an unsettling nursery rhyme?

Taking a breath, you continued to sift through the desk. The first two drawers you searched were filled with legal documents. You could recall all of them. They were milestones from your career. From your first case as a fledgling lawyer, to the most recent one from your current position as District Attorney. Your heart fluttered for a moment. Why was it, again, that you stopped working? You pursed your lips and pressed on. Your ears started ringing when you grabbed the handle of the bottom drawer. You blinked a few times in an attempt to keep focused. There weren't many papers in this drawer. You picked up the small bundle and placed them on the desk, spreading them out. A fond smile graced your features as you picked up an old photograph. It was of you and Damien, attending a ball together. You couldn't help but laugh at the memory. It was the first time he had asked you out, and to say that he was a nervous wreck is an understatement. The man was flustered beyond belief, hardly able to get a word out! He ended up shoving a bouquet of flowers in your arms and holding the ball invitation for you to read. The next photograph displayed not only you and Damien but also Mark and Celine. Double date night, something that happened often back when you and Damien were a new couple. A droplet fell onto the photograph. You gently touched your cheek. You didn't even know you had started crying. Moving on to the next item, your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. It was an invitation to a party hosted at Markiplier Mansion. Memories came flooding back. Too much champagne, a night of gambling, and enough terror to last you three lifetimes. Your wild eyes desperately searched your surroundings. Where were you? The last thing you remember before moving here was... You glanced down at the drawer once more. This time, there was a revolver sitting at the bottom. Your ears rang violently as a searing pain exploded across your abdomen. You instinctively pressed a hand to your stomach, only to snatch it away when you felt something warm and sticky. Your hand came away red. The ground swayed beneath your feet, and the atmosphere around you darkened. It was getting hard to breathe. You tried to take a step back, but your knees buckled.

Falling. That's the last thing you remember. The sensation of your insides going somersaults as you descended. You tried to scream, but no sound came out of your mouth. At least, not that you could hear. The only thing that filled your ears was that insufferable ringing. After what seemed like an eternity, you hit the ground with a violent crack. You kept your eyes closed, certain that you just broke every bone in your body. The ringing finally subsided, and you gathered up the courage to open your eyes. At first, you saw nothing but darkness. Then they appeared out of nowhere-- the magpies. Their white coloring contrasting the void like stars in the night sky. It gave you momentary comfort.

"Why?" You sat up with a grimace, trying your best to fight back the pain. The cracked mirror stood tall before you. This time, it didn't show your reflection. You finally made it to your feet, despite feeling as if you had been put through a meat grinder, and approached the mirror. Your eyes stung with tears. It looked like Damien, but this... this person was different. His whole being was monochrome, and the eyes you used to get lost in no longer held any warmth. They were cold and calculating your every move. "Why did you wake up?" he clarified.

"I don't... I don't understand." The man laughed. A sinister smile remaining on his face.

"Don't you?" The ringing rose once more. You covered your ears, clenching your eyes shut. You cried out in pain and tried to will yourself to remain standing. The memories that had been locked away came barreling into your mind. Tears were flowing freely when you looked back up at the man. Horror filled your expression, causing him to look amused.

"Where's Damien?" you whispered. His grin left as quick as it came. His face darkened. The air around him shifted as his muddled aura lashed out violently.

"You were a lamb to the slaughter. Don't you get it? Celine would have left your soul to rot, but he gave you mercy. He gave you a chance at peace. He saved you from damnation!" You flenched as his voice rose, and you could've sworn that you saw new cracks forming in the mirror. "But he's not here to protect you anymore. I'm in control now." His eyes had gone completely black, and his unnerving smile had returned. You glanced upward, relieved that the magpies were still there. Your brows knit together for a moment. Your eyes dashed between them, counting just as you had done moments before. Eyes widening, you remembered the last verse of the poem. Thirteen, beware, it's the devil himself.

"Who... no, what are you?" The man tilted his head, grin widening.

"An entity of vengeance, created by Celine and Damien. Celine had the reigns for a while, then Damien took control. But they were weak. Their need for revenge combined with the darkness that consumes the Manor grew until they were simply... no longer a factor. I run things now. I don't necessarily have a name, though, I suppose you could call me Dark. I'd say it's quite fitting. Wouldn't you agree?" You swallowed thickly, nodding.

The entity straightened his tie. "It's nice to know that we're on the same page. I understand why Damien was fond of you. You're... amusing, to say the least." He extended a hand towards the mirror. "I'm sure you're just itching to get out of that mirror, now that your memories have fully returned. I'll help you safely return in exchange for your companionship." Almost as if your body was acting on its own accord, you reached forward to take his hand. You stopped yourself, mere inches away from the mirror. Dark barked out a laugh. "Afraid to make a deal with the devil?"

~*~*~

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star-veil · 4 years ago

Text

“Endless Blue”

Water Creature!Jaskier AU from my ao3 <3 No TWs apply

Geralt woke up, much to his surprise, not coughing up a violent lungful of seawater but instead to the gentle strum of a finely tuned lute and a distant, echoing humming. The melody bounced off the walls of a cave dimly lit by a faint glow from the pools of water that surrounded Geralt. Magic, if he had to guess. There was no glimpse of light revealing a path out of here, though.

Fuck, he thought. It must have dragged him down here. But why ? Sirens didn’t keep their food, nor did mermaids for all he knew. Certainly not kept alive. And yet here he was, heartbeat slow as always and skin pallor and clammy from his deep sea dive. He glanced down at his bare forearms. Judging by the relatively normal color of his veins, Killer Whale had run out a while ago. He’d need another dose to get out of here. Grabbing at his hip to rifle around in his pouch, he found two bottles of swallow, a white honey, and a small and half-drunk flask of rafford’s, but no Killer Whale. Fuck, he thought, but this time with emphasis.

All the clues at the shore told him some kind of sea creature. One with intelligence, which is what led him to believe mermaid . If it was still in this cave with him, hiding in one of the magical pools, the least he could do was finish the contract before he escaped.

So Geralt knelt, then got to his feet, then with a sound much like a puzzle piece fitting in it’s slot pulled out his silver blade. This is how Witchers were meant to be- fighters, warriors, monster killers.

The leather-wrapped grip of the sword was damp and Geralt had to continuously change his grip to avoid the discomfort of wet leather sliding down his palm. His footsteps were quiet and well placed. The stone was slick and slippery, one wrong move and he’d go crashing to the ground and alert his captor. Then the advantage of surprise would be lost.

The Witcher followed the sound of the lute. It was not unpleasant, the player was clearly skilled, monster or not. A shame , Geralt thought. It’ll never get to play again .

He fit through a narrow passage of exposed seashell and stone which opened up in a larger, but more comfortable chamber. It was decorated in pretty looking wreaths of seaweed and flowers Geralt had never seen before. At once, he noticed two points of interest.

One was a deep glowing blue pool at the far end of the cave. It was lit not with magic but natural light. A way out.

The other was another figure. Facing away from him and perched on a little shelf of smooth stone was a man, no older than twenty, arms curled around a lute and fingers dancing up the strings. His hair, a deep chestnut brown streaked through with tawny sun-bleached strands, was decorated with weaving silvery jewelry that curled around his head almost like a crown. And, oh , Geralt realized, he was completely bare-ass naked.

He probably should have said something. Instead, all he could muster was a flustered wheeze. The man whirled around, and Geralt was immediately enraptured. Wow, he was going to die because he was horny for a mermaid.

But… no. Not mermaid. The man lacked a tail, having instead two slender legs he tucked beneath him till he was sitting back on his calves as he peered at Geralt. The man’s eyes were stunning. A deep seastone blue that only the best poets of Oxenfurt could not even begin to describe. A dusting of blue freckles over the bridge of his nose, and similar pretty markings dashed up his temples, framing his eyes and the circlet-like crown his silver jewelry formed. And his smile...

“You’re awake!” The man cried, lilting like songbirds on the first morning of spring. “Um- I really wasn’t sure how long you’d sleep, if I knew you’d be up so fast I would have tidied up a little,”

“Or put some clothes on?” The Witcher grumbled. And why was he not striking at the thing already ?

Immediately, the man’s cheeks went a bright blue. He blushed… blue . Holy shit. That was adorable. He gaped, wrapping his arms around himself and staring at Geralt like he’d insulted his virtue.

“Excuse me !” He cried. “Humans are so sensitive, so- so prude!” The sea creature in the form of a man stood up and padded across the cave to where a few silks and sashes hung from the wall. He hurriedly threw one over himself to conceal his… parts Geralt tried very hard not to look at. “Here I was, being such a gracious host and no t immediately killing you , and you have the gall to insinuate that I be indecent?” He flourished his hands out and the silky sash fell from his hips, leaving him completely bare again. He squeaked, loud, and quickly gathered it up in his arms.

“Not human, obviously, so what are you?” Geralt pressed. The man didn’t seem phased at all by the silver the Witcher wielded before him, keeping a sharp line of defense between the two of them.

The man looked deeply offended again, but to Geralt’s relief, did not go off on another blasting rant. “What do you suppose, dear Witcher?” He asked instead, side-eyeing him as he went to settle on his shelf. “Oh- I bet you’ll say mermaid. That’ll be rich.”

“Siren?” Geralt grumbled instead. Wrong thing to say. The man’s eyes went wide.

“Do I look like a mindless sex demon to you?”

“Well-”

“Don’t answer that. I’m Naiad, thank you very much.” The man scooped up his lute and held it like a child. “And I simply wanted an audience, but if you’re so hell-bent on killing me, get on with it then.”

This was certainly nothing Geralt had ever experienced before. He lowered his sword by an inch, still watching the Naiad warily. “You attacked fishermen, left them wrecked on shore.”

“Sirens attacked those men.” The Naiad corrected. “I was just having a chat… I wanted to sing for them, invite them into my home and play a few ballads. I’m quite good, or at least- I think I’m quite good. Would you like to hear-”

“Stay on topic.” Geralt snapped. He sheathed his sword, for now. This thing, if he was telling the truth, was not at fault and had done no harm to the fishermen. “So it wasn’t you? You had no part in the killings of those men?”

The Naiad shook his head and brown locks tousled over his forehead. “I just want to play my music, really.”

“Then why did you take me?” Geralt moved to stand opposite the Naiad, arms crossed.

“I already said,” he shrugged. “I just want an audience.”

Any other Witcher may not have stayed. Some Witchers may have slew the Naiad anyway, taken him in as proof as a contract completed. Emotionless. Heartless. Geralt was neither of those. He sat cross legged in front of the musical Naiad and blinked up at him.

“Alright. Go on, then.”

The Naiad looked surprised. If this was his method of gaining an audience, Geralt wouldn’t be surprised if he’d never gotten anyone to sit still and listen to him.

“O-oh, wonderful! Yes, yes… um-” He fumbled with his lute strings for a moment. “I’m Jaskier, aspiring poet and bard.” Jaskier grinned wide and bright and Geralt’s heart melted. “And here’s a song called…”

The Naiad bard went on for a little while, and Geralt began to lose track of time. Jaskier’s voice was stunningly melodic, capturing his attention completely until minutes melted into hours and hours melted into a timeless symphony of song.

When the Naiad was done, he set aside his lute, folded his hands in his lap, and looked down expectantly.

“Well?” Jaskier asked, anxious and tense. “Three words or less.”

“Your voice is beautiful,” Geralt replied breathlessly.

Jaskier frowned. “That’s four words.”

“Don’t care. It’s true.” That pretty blue blush returned to his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you, Witcher… for listening and- and for saying that of me.”

“Geralt.” He told Jaskier. “Not Witcher, Geralt.”

Jaskier’s eyes peered into his, a wide ocean of blue meeting the gold of the sun. “Thank you, Geralt.”

When Geralt wanted to leave, Jaskier was there to guide him to the shore. He took Geralt’s face in delicate soft hands and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. When Geralt made to question him, Jaskier smiled and shushed him.

“A charm for holding your breath. Sorry it’s so… forward.”

Geralt could only stare dumbly at the Naiad as he took his hand and guided him to the pool at the far end of the cave.

Jaskier guided him out and up, up, until the sky broke over their heads and Geralt could inhale fresh air again tinged by the mist of the ocean. Jaskier still clung to his hand, and his fingers were so soft so gentle entwined in his. Geralt wished there had been more to that ever so small kiss than just a charm.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Geralt,” Jaskier told him. His hair, now wet, stuck to his forehead in loose curls. “I do hope to see you along the coast sometime again. I… I like having an audience to play for.”

“I…” Geralt replied, blunt, stupid, struck with affection.

“Goodbye, Geralt.”

The Naiad slipped his hand from his and ducked beneath the still water. Geralt watched him disappear, warped by the water until he could no longer make out the Naiad’s shape. And he was alone, floating, in the endless blue.

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #nonhuman jaskier #non human jaskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #ik I posted the LINK to this but I'm hungry for validation in the form of READERS <3 #the witcher

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harryandmolly · 5 years ago

Text

Complicit // 1

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, me writing Niall’s accent

WC: 6.7k

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“So… are we talking like, full on whips and chains and nipple clamps and shit?”

Shawn’s eyebrows are lost somewhere in his hairline, but at least it’s more life in his eyes than Niall’s seen in a while. Niall tries not to go pink at Shawn’s assumption, but he’s still not that good at talking about all this.

“No, no, mate. I mean, some of ‘em do that. I think, I mean, based on what you pay for it, they’ll do whatever you want.”

Both guys go quiet and squirm a little uncomfortably. They’re sitting in Shawn’s living room in his $3 million bachelor pad, furnished very tastefully and expensively, talking about hiring sex workers. It doesn’t look or feel great.

Niall sighs. “It’s not like Pretty Woman. These girls don’t even charge by the hour. They’re escorts, not hookers. They’re educated and articulate and the kind o’ woman you could have on your arm at any industry schmoozing event and no one would bat an eye. That’s the whole point.”

Shawn nods thoughtfully. He’s heard of agencies like this, obviously. He’s been around the industry long enough to know guys like him, and producers and managers and agents and other high-powered men, aren’t driving down Hollywood Boulevard looking for $200 an hour streetwalkers. But that doesn’t mean Shawn’s ever remotely considered utilizing a service like this.

“But… they’re dominatrixes?”

Niall tips his head back and forth, squinting as he looks for the words. “They’re dommes. ‘S a bit different. La Splendeur is the name o’ the agency. They hire women that boss you around a bit, in some form or an udder. I mean, have you ever tried that?”

Shawn flushes a little and scrolls through his relatively short sexual history. “... sort of? Like, she’s on top?”

Niall sighs and closes his eyes with a wise smile. He has much to learn.

“‘S just a suggestion. La Splendeur is the best of the best. Super discreet. Beautiful. Interesting girls. And it’s better stress relief than I’ve found anywhere else.”

“Including golf?” Shawn quips.

Niall barks a laugh. “Including golf. I’ll leave you the number and you can decide. I really like Karina, but it might be weird knowin’ we’ve both had our hands in that cookie jar. Up to you, mate. Totally up to you.”

Shawn has never been so anxious about a phone call in his life. He goes through his phone and turns off location services first, suddenly paranoid that they could somehow track his device and be able to broadcast this for the whole internet. Plus, he’s busy with pre-festival run promo, so he’s forced to make the call in the middle of the day.

He goes to great lengths not to be heard, very publicly excusing himself to the bathroom and then running off to a quiet conference room down a hallway that was deserted. He shuts himself inside, stands in the corner by the window and dials, hands shaking.

The voice on the phone is smooth and easy, probably used to dealing with nervous wrecks like him all the time. She explains how it works -- the rates, the wire transfer, the security, the booking. Selecting his date comes down to an emailed photo portfolio, password encrypted and accompanied by a very stern warning not to share it with anyone, even potential referrals. Shawn supposes that makes sense -- they don’t want these photos getting passed around without the safety net of knowing that in return, the agency has the client’s private email address.

He’s twitchy all day before he can get home to his laptop, kick off his Saint Laurent chelsea boots, and pick his date.

‘Date’ is how he’s trying to think about it. Niall encouraged that, too. Shawn texted to let him know that he’d made the call (less than 24 hours after Niall had made the suggestion). Niall was over the moon, reminding him that it’s supposed to be fun and he shouldn’t feel weird about calling. It’s like a guaranteed great first date, just… a really expensive one.

Shawn opens the email to a PDF of professional and truly stunning photos. Each girl has a short bio and a series of shots that really don’t feel at all like advertisement for sex. He takes note of Karina, Niall’s favorite, a short and curvy Filipino girl who apparently excels at tennis, loves to sail and has an MBA. Her photos are gorgeous -- her on a beach wearing a tasteful cover-up and a flower in her hair with just enough cleavage to catch a guy’s attention, standing beside a tall window in a snug dress and heels, and grinning on a tennis court, a cute candid.

In total, there are about 25 women on La Splendeur’s roster of sorts, more than Shawn expected. They’re incredibly diverse in terms of race, shape and size, all accomplished and learned and surprisingly non-threatening, given the niche service they provide. Only one had him scrolling back up to look at her again and again.

Penny, 26, has a master’s degree in criminal psychology, is fluent in four languages, is an excellent skier and has a German shepherd named Pamela. Her photos show her lying barefoot in a cocktail dress on a lounge chair with a look in her eyes that says she already knows everything about you, looking over her shoulder to laugh at the camera during golden hour from above the Hollywood sign, and his personal favorite, a black and white close up headshot. She doesn’t look to be wearing a stitch of makeup. Her hair is wet and slung over and around her face like it’s in the wind. Her lips are parted, her eyes are dark, and Shawn has to meet her immediately.

Penny. Penny. Penny.

God, he can’t fucking wait. He’s so keyed up he actually grins at the change he gets from a barista at Commissary because she gives him back two cents.

His instructions are clear and concise. He is to get himself to the Chateau Marmont and head into the bar, where he will give his name. Someone will escort him up to his suite for the evening, where he will be greeted by security, who will confirm the receipt of the wire transfer and wait until his date arrives. Check out time is 11:30am the next morning.

The big guy who lets him into the room seems friendly enough, but Shawn is sure his every move is being watched by a hawk. Even with rich and famous clientele, agencies can’t afford to take risks with their employees. At least he doesn’t feel like a nervous kid being scrutinized by his prom date’s dad while he waits. In fact, the guy, Gus, he says, sees him shaking like a leaf and murmurs that the mini bar is fully stocked. He excuses himself to wait outside.

Shawn pours himself a glass of bourbon on the rocks and looks around. He’s never been in a room at the Chateau. It’s a bit odd -- almost too comfortable to be a hotel. There’s a full kitchen and vintage furniture that looks like it belongs in a warm, comfortable apartment rather than the stoic uniformity of a hotel.

He’s rattling ice in his glass anxiously and staring out at the lights of West Hollywood when the door opens. He’s just distracted enough not to stand immediately when she walks in, and he realizes a little late that it’s rude, so he scrambles to be upright and almost drops his fucking crystal glass.

She’s smiling warmly at him like they’re old family friends. It’s not clinical or superficial or forced. It’s a real smile, and it’s so beautiful. She’s so beautiful.

I mean, wow.

She’s medium height, 5’7” probably, but taller in her spiky heels. Her hair is lighter than he saw in the pictures, probably from the summer sun. Her olive skin is gorgeously bronzed. Her brown eyes are darker than his, like espresso. Her eyes are wide set and framed by well tamed thick brows. Her lips are full and European. Italian, he’d guess.

So why is her name Penny?

Shawn almost rolls his eyes at himself. He doesn’t know why that’s sticking in his head now, of all moments. Gus gives her a nod and shuts the door. As she approaches, graceful and quiet even in her heels, Shawn blinks, staring at the door.

“Is… uh, does he stand outside the whole time?”

Penny smiles again and cocks her head, shaking it. “No, no. He’s my driver, not my guard dog.”

Shawn gives a weak chuckle and it sounds pathetic to his own ears. At the mention of dogs, his mind springs to Pamela the German shepherd. He wonders if she’s real or a line in a bio to make Penny sound quirky and likeable. He watches her lift her sheath of thick hair over one shoulder and reach for the glass of bourbon in his hand to take a sip. He decides he doesn’t care.

“Please, have a seat,” she suggests, gesturing to the sofa. He blinks too much and plunks himself down, clearing his throat.

She lowers herself beside him, facing him with her arm stretched along the back of the couch toward him. She folds her ankles and for a second Shawn thinks about the scene in The Princess Diaries when Mia falls out of her chair trying to pull the same move. Penny emulates Queen Clarisse instead. Shawn tenses against his own will. He can feel himself shutting down.

Penny takes another sip of his drink and eyes him carefully from over the glass. She’s been doing this long enough to know when a guy is locking up in front of her eyes.

It’s like Operation. You have to move slow and careful, or you get zapped. He could be the kind of guy that would respond well to her dropping her hand to his knee while they talk, or it could send him springing across the room. Penny follows her instincts and instead flicks her heels until her multi-thousand dollar shoes clunk onto the hardwood below her. She curls up her feet beside her and tilts her head to rest against her fist.

“How long are you in LA for?”

It’s one of her favorite safe questions. It offers potential to discuss work if he wants to go there, but is vague enough to offer him an out if he wants it.

“Uh, for another couple weeks. I’ve got some meetings and events and stuff and then I think I’m bouncing around. New York, maybe. I don’t know my schedule as well as I probably should.”

Well, at least he’s talking. She hands him back his glass with a wink.

“Schedule schmedule.”

Shawn smiles. It’s tentative still, but sweet. She made the right move by taking off a layer of the untouchable glamour.

It’s her move again. She considers the board, eyes her options, keeps her fingers delicate on the tweezers.

“I listened to your music this week.”

It’s a risky shot, like going for the funny bone. She already knows, can tell by the way he carries himself, that he’s here to work something out of his system. This appointment isn’t about satisfying a rakish curiosity or an ego thing, or worse, a sex addiction. He needs something from her -- comfort, release. If it’s his music that’s driving him to need her, mentioning it off the bat like this could do some damage to the trust she’s working to build. She holds her breath.

He lights up.

“Oh, cool. All of it?”

She wiggles her naturally shaped eyebrows. “Right down to “Something Big.””

Shawn winces playfully and laughs. It sounds real this time. “Yikes.”

“No, it was cute,” she insists, her fingers stretching out along the back of the couch to nudge at his very solid arm. He goes a little pink.

“Do you have a favorite?”

Shawn doesn’t mean to put her on the spot. For all he knows, she just googled his albums to have something to say. But he asks anyway, despite himself, because he’d like to know which, if any, of his songs caught the attention of a woman like her.

“I like “Particular Taste.” It came on in my car the other day while I was on Mulholland. It’s a damn good car song.”

Shawn feels himself get a little smug. “Thanks. I like that one, too.”

They’re watching each other quietly, feeling the tension build. Penny wets her lips and leans in, getting ready to speak again.

“So how long have you been doing this?” Shawn blurts. His eyes go a little comically wide before he course corrects and inspects his nearly empty glass.

Penny is startled, but tucks some hair behind her ear and regroups. “Almost five years.”

“Wow. That’s… wow.”

Penny shares a wise sort of smile that reminds Shawn uncomfortably of Emily. “It’s nice work if you can get it.”

“Right,” Shawn croaks, glancing away.

Penny feels the gentle sting of having nicked the board just a bit with her tweezers. She reaches out the arm against the couch and lets her fingertips skim his lush curls. His chest shudders and his eyes dart toward the window. He raises his shaky hand with the empty glass to his lips for something to do.

Penny drops her other hand to his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey,” she murmurs, all honey, “Would you like me to refill that?”

Shawn looks down at his drink and shakes his head. “N-no, that’s ok.”

Penny swipes her tongue over the front of her teeth and decides to toss her playbook aside the way she does on rare occasions.

She scoots in, cups his cheek in her hand and focuses his eyes on hers. His jaw twitches under her fingers.

“What do you want, Shawn?”

He blinks quickly, startled that she said something, confronted him with the actual situation they’re dealing with.

“I’m… I don’t know. Can… can we just talk for a while?”

She eases back a little, drops her hands in her lap. “Of course. About anything in particular?”

Shawn bites the inside of his cheek, then says, “How did you get into… escorting?”

He emphasizes the last word as a question, unsure if he’s using the right terminology. She nods reassuringly.

“Well, around the time I was graduating from college, I met a girl at a party who recruited me, for lack of a better term. She told me about the money, the tips, the security, the gifts. Sounded pretty good to a 20-year-old without a post-grad plan.”

Shawn’s eyebrows lift. “You graduated college at 20?”

She shrugs. “I skipped the 4th grade and AP tested out of most of my freshman year.”

He’s impressed. And intimidated. He fights the instinct to curl him up into himself. He doesn’t want to feel small beside her. He wants to feel impressive, too.

“That’s pretty cool. Do you do this full time?”

Penny laughs. It’s light and airy and maybe just a little… restrained somehow.

“Yes. You’re very curious about my line of work.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be-- I mean, I just… Sorry--”

She stops him from stumbling all over himself by planting a hand around his wrist.

“It’s ok. I’m just not used to being asked. Most people… they don’t want to be reminded that they’re paying for it.”

As soon as she says it, she hears the mistake in her words. Fucking amateur bullshit, she scolds herself, watching him cave in. His eyes drop to his feet and his chest rises and falls a little harder.

“Hey,” she prompts gently, keeping her hands off this time for fear of sending him flying, “Don’t shut down on me.”

He looks back at her blankly. “Don’t…?”

She presses her tongue out to smooth along her lower lip. “I’m here to help make you feel good, Shawn. I’m excellent at knowing how best to do that, but I think I’m gonna need an assist from you this time. So just… don’t think, don’t act, don’t react, just feel it. And tell me what you want.”

“I want to cuddle.”

He says it so suddenly he surprises himself. Without missing a beat, Penny nods, formulating a new gameplan in her head. She bites her lip and reaches for his twitchy hand in his lap.

“Ok. I can do that. I just want to get comfy first, ok?”

Before he can wonder out loud what she’s going to change into and how she got clothes in here without him seeing, she leans in and presses her lips to his delicately. His frazzled brain lights up like the 4th of July, sending thoughts flying like out of control fireworks. He kisses back after a second or two, firm but chaste. He murmurs subtly into her mouth.

Small victories.

When Penny walks out of the bathroom five minutes later, her makeup is wiped clean, leaving her face a little shiny and flushed. She’s in touchably soft clingy leggings and a Lululemon hoodie, looking like an athleisure ad. She’s still barefoot, her white painted toes winking up at him before she drops onto the bed and waves him over. He makes to climb up next to her and she hisses, gesturing to him with a wave of her hand.

“I took off my armor, Mendes, you need to do the same.”

Shawn swallows and smiles shyly. He kicks off his shoes, balls up his socks and drops his jeans into a heap by the bed. In his taut navy t-shirt and custom printed Calvin Klein boxer briefs, he settles in beside her, mirroring her position on his side.

“Ok, cards on the table, I think. Bad breakup? Tour anxiety? Voice struggles?”

Shawn’s chest rises and falls heavily with a deep, unrestrained sigh. There’s no reason to hide from her. She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t have expectations. She’s a safe space.

He stares down at the curve of her hip as he speaks. He tells the story from what he thinks is the beginning -- Emily’s first mention of the idea of the PR relationship with Bex. He explains the strategy and the trajectory, that they expect to be in and out of the public eye throughout the summer festival run and will not-so-quietly break up just around the time his album releases in the fall and Bex heads out on tour for her brand new EP.

Penny nods along while he speaks, pursing her lips and shifting slightly closer to him. She’s not working consciously, not timing the seconds between movements like she sometimes does, like she did even just on the couch a few minutes ago. But as he talks, she feels the tension start to drip off him and release to the point where she has no hesitation in slipping her fingers into the tight, short curls at the back of his neck while she runs her toes up and down the back of his calf.

He seems comforted by being able to touch her, too. He rests a hand in the dip of her waist and it wanders slightly up her ribcage and upper arm, twisting his long pale fingers in her hair. He watches it curl and bend for him. He can’t remember the last time he played with a woman’s hair like this.

When his cursory explanation ends, he closes his eyes and rests his head on his folded arm. Penny’s fingers tug gently at the nape of his neck for his attention.

“Sounds like a lot.”

Shawn’s chest stutters. His eyes well. He turns his face into the pillow, embarrassed by the hair trigger of his emotional reaction.

“S-sorry, I just… fuck. I don’t know why I’m--”

He cuts himself off with a final unintended whimper of defeat, a nice bookend on a chunk of shame he can hang onto and revisit in his head when he needs it the least.

His eyes are snapped shut. The tears on his lashes start to wick into the expensive fabric of the pillowcase beneath his head. He’s waiting for her -- he doesn’t know what for. He’s waiting for her to leave him there to cry it out, get back in her expensive shoes and clack away from his misery. He’s waiting for her to shove a hand down his boxers and give him what she thinks he paid for. He’s waiting for her to hate him like he hates himself right now.

Slowly, timidly, he opens his eyes. She’s there, blinking at him, face as placid and reassuring as he’s seen since she got here. She doesn’t look ready to run. She doesn’t look at him like the pitiful creature he’s acting like. She slides her long fingers up further to cradle the back of his head and make his wet eyes flutter.

“Would you like to hear what I think?”

Shawn pauses, then nods.

Penny wets her lips. “I think maybe you’re not very good at compartmentalizing yet.”

Shawn frowns slightly and starts turning circles on her lower back with the pad of his thumb, nodding at her to continue.

“This relationship stunt doesn’t define you as a man or as an artist. It’s publicity, the same way appearing on GMA is publicity. It’s not as honest, maybe. I can see that’s part of what bothers you. I can understand that. But this is a means to an end. You’re not using Bex; she’s aware of what she’s involved in. She benefits, too.

“So instead of letting this become something that bothers you in quiet moments, makes you question what this makes you look like or even who this means you’re becoming, you need to accept that this is a part of your job and it’s not who you are.”

Shawn blinks dumbly. He’s been trying to convince himself of this for a while, but he’s never come close to sounding as soothing and confident as she does right now. This woman listened to him yammer for seven minutes about his stupid pop star problems without rolling her eyes or waving off his concerns.

Thank god he’s paying her to be here or he swears he’d already be half in love with her.

Shawn closes his eyes and nuzzles his cheek against the pillow. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes you may.”

He opens his eyes and watches her, settled by the distinct sensation that she’s allowing him to proceed as he’s comfortable. At the same time, he’s deliciously unnerved by something lurking behind her eyes, like she’s deciding how long to give him before she takes over. He hopes it won’t be long.

Shawn cups a large palm around her cheek, marveling at the silkiness of her hair in his fingers as he leans in, brushing his lips over hers. He hears himself murmur gently at the slick warmth of her lip balm. It tastes like rose water and coconut.

He eases back after a moment, his head spinning.

“Jesus Christ, that’s incredible.”

Her long, dark lashes lift and lower lazily, casting shadows on her cheeks in the lamplight. “Kissing me?”

He shakes his head, marveling with a gentle groan, “Yes. Why does kissing you feel like the best thing that’s happened to me in months?”

“It’s simple. It’s stable. It’s honest.”

She says it like she didn’t have to think about it. She’s unwavering and direct and he knows she’s probably really good at all this because of who she is and what she does but he doesn’t think he cares right now if it’s not genuine. It feels too fucking good.

He smirks. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

Her full lips spread in a lazy grin. “Yes.”

“Thank god,” Shawn mutters just before pressing his lips back to hers.

Shawn has no idea what to expect. It’s been what’s had him on a knife’s edge since he booked this appointment. His curiosity has been his friend while zoning out in meetings, standing in security lines at airports, stripped down to his boxers in front of a team of people while trying on show clothes. An experience like this to look forward to was an intense enough distraction from his anxiety.

And now, lying in a bed next to her with her perfect tongue tangled with his and her soft hands roaming his body hungrily, but with purpose, his mind races -- what will this be like? What will this feel like? Is it really as good as Niall says?

She pulls back suddenly, her lips leaving his with a wet smack. His hips rut against her stomach in response.

“Time for you to stop thinking,” she rasps. Shawn squirms at the fucked-out quality of her voice. Is it at all possible that he’s got her as worked up as she has him? He’s already throbbing for her in his briefs, which he knows she can feel against her thigh.

He brushes his nose against hers a little desperately, silently begging for more. Even with his eyes closed, he can tell she’s smiling when she cups his cheek and rolls their bodies so she’s lying slotted up against him in every way that makes him crazy.

“You like kissing, huh?” she breathes. It’s not teasing, not really. It’s curious and gentle. He can feel the way she takes note of the things that have him panting a little harder, pressing into her more insistently. It makes him feel important and a little bashful. He nods anyway, lifting the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a good kisser, Shawn,” she sighs into his mouth, dropping her weight into her hips and sliding her hands up his chest to rest over his pecs.

If her tongue wasn’t teasing his lower lip, he’d be grinning like an asshole.

His hands are growing frantic. They can’t decide where they like better -- her supernaturally soft hair, coursing up and down her spine, or resting on the toned swell of her ass. So they wander, getting grabbier as they go, until she pulls away again with a long lick of her wet lips.

“What are you going to do to me?”

He hears himself ask it over the rushing of blood in his ears. He can tell by the way she smiles down at him that he looks horrified at his own question. She pushes some curls off his forehead and looks him over, slowly, carefully, admiringly. Shawn is on fire beneath her, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

As if in slow motion, she tucks a hand under his neck. The motion fixes his manic, desperate eyes on hers. His breathing slows. His heart drops into his gut. His jaw tightens.

“Anything I want.”

Her voice is hot and sharp. Shawn’s face screws up like his body is physically overwhelmed by the idea of all the pleasure she can offer him. His eyes snap shut and the groan he releases is inhumanly loud.

When he can force himself to look back up at her, Penny has straddled his hips and works on lifting her hoodie up and over a black bra that he’s sure only a woman like Penny could wear… like that.

Her breasts are full and soft, as evenly tanned as the rest of her, from what he can see, which is not enough. He gets a flash of a vision of her lying on the chaise on the balcony outside their Chateau suite without a stitch on her, sipping a mimosa and smiling when she catches him admiring her. He grunts and reaches for her, needing to take and touch and taste.

His hands are pinned beside his head before he gets far. He gasps. His eyes blur with her quick movement until they can refocus and realize she’s holding him down, her breasts a breath away from his mouth.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

“Listen to me.”

It’s clear and stable and calm like a beacon in a storm. Shawn juts his chin up defiantly, licking his lips.

“You don’t touch me until I tell you to. If you do, you don’t touch me at all, not for the rest of the night. Do you understand?”

Shawn’s fingers curl into fists beside his head. His body aches, straining for the control she’s sapping from him. He’s not used to willingly giving it up, not anywhere, not for anyone.

“Take a deep breath,” she advises, feeling him struggle with the release of it, of the reins he’s held for so long his hands are fucking raw. His whole body feels raw looking up at her.

He does as he’s told. Her eyes are nearly black in the low light. He feels his shoulders soften and the squeezing of his heart start to slow, just a bit.

“You’re gonna have to walk me through this,” he grunts, shaking his head, “I-- I’m… for so…”

“I know,” she soothes, not to placate him, not to baby him. She wants him to know she understands. He feels it in the way she looks at him, the way she massages her fingers around his wrists.

He’s ok. He’s safe. He’s safe with her. It hits him all at once like a brick over the head. He swallows.

“I’m here to take care of you. I want to make you feel as good as I possibly can.”

He nods again.

She moves slowly, gracefully, like a lithe and dangerous predator. She pushes her leggings down her hips, sliding them off her feet until they’re forgotten in a pool at the end of the bed. His shirt and boxers join them, leaving his cock aching and leaking from the tip on his lower belly. He lies beside her, as instructed, with his arms over his head, grasping a pillow in his needy fingers.

She just… touches him.

He thought at first she was just going for a slow tease, would wrap her warm fingers around his cock after thirty seconds or so to get him somewhere, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan. He’s flat beside her, legs slightly spread, tensing and relaxing with each brush of her fingertips.

Before long, he realizes what she’s doing and it stuns him into holding his breath for so long that the gasp he releases when he remembers he needs oxygen makes her jump a little.

She’s studying him. She wants to know every inch of his body, wants to see how every subtle touch affects him. She is reading him like an instruction manual. Her eyes flicker, narrowing and darting and taking it all in. She can see every goosebump, every subtle lift of his hips, every intake of breath, every clench of muscle and little smile when she finds somewhere ticklish. By the time her scan seems complete, he’s panting, shaking, vibrating with need, and he knows she knows his body better than he does now.

And she gets to decide what to do with it.

From beside him, keeping her eyes on his, Penny reaches back and unclasps her architecturally stunning bra, draws the straps down her arms, and drops it off the side of the bed, revealing what Shawn had suspected to be the most perfect pair of breasts of all time. He was right.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he hisses, pressing his head back into the pillow to keep from lunging at her stiff brown nipples. He’s rewarded for his compliment with a sweeping hand down his stomach, her fingertips just skimming the line of pubic hair that reaches down from his navel. His hips roll up in response.

Penny turns. Shawn watches her hair swing low against her back like a pendulum, entranced before he realizes she’s standing and bending over to shed her black lace cheeky panties. He remains still, his head turned toward her as she bares herself, until she turns back and faces him and he chokes on air.

He’s seen beautiful women naked. Plenty of them. Really, he has. He knows somewhere in his addled mind that it’s the performance of it that has him so fucking high strung that he almost coughs up a lung when he sees Penny without clothes, that he really, legitimately feels like he’s going to have a heart attack just from looking at her.

But he’s never been so goddamn hard in his life.

She takes a step toward the bed and lifts her leg to climb up next to him. He realizes with a jolt as he watches her legs separate that she’s soaking fucking wet. The insides of her thighs are slick. Shawn presses his heels into the bed to ground himself.

You can’t fake that.

Without a word, she positions herself on top of him, her strong legs on either side of his hips, her hands sunken between pillows by his head. Their eyes are locked. Shawn’s cock shifts against his stomach impatiently. Penny lifts a corner of her soft wet mouth. Shawn chokes on a whimpering sound he’s never heard himself make before. She drops her hips and he hears himself gasp.

“Oh!” he cries, throwing his head back as his hips thrust up to meet her. He vaguely feels the warmth of her lips on his chest, but he’s busy trying to fight back his orgasm that, with just the pressure, warmth and wetness of her pussy resting against his length, is roaring up in his abdomen.

“J-jesus… fuck…” he hisses, rolling his head to the side, sure if he looks down at her pretty face he’ll be coming like a freight train before she even has the chance to really do anything.

“You’ve never felt anything like this before,” she tells him smoothly. It doesn’t smack of arrogance or condescension. It’s simple fact. They both know it.

He shakes his head no, panting breath into the pillowcase.

“You never knew it could be like this.”

Again, he’s agreeing.

“I want you to remember this, what this feels like with me in your lap, wet for you, showing you how this can feel with me. I want you to look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me, Shawn.”

Another purring whimper escapes his throat. Slowly, he peels his sweaty cheek from the pillow and blinks down at her. There’s something feral that’s taken the place of what he saw in her before -- the white painted toes, the cozy hoodie, the gentle giggles. This part he sees now is going to swallow him whole. He’s going to let it, with pleasure.

Penny rolls her hips from left to right, swinging back again easily, with the rhythm of a dancer. The sound their bodies make is absolutely obscene. He grits his teeth through a hiss, watching her eyes flutter.

“You feel… incredible,” she pants slightly, establishing a slow, aching pace that makes Shawn’s brows draw together and his knuckles whiten against the pillow.

“I don’t know how long I can--”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll tell you when you can come.”

She says it easily, like he’s in no danger of losing his fucking mind and spurting all over her stomach in probably only a few seconds. He realizes with a shiver it’s because she knows, for certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that he won’t come until she tells him.

“You’re so nice and hard for me, fuck. Touching you got me so wet. Can you hear us?”

Shawn is quaking, clinging to sanity, as her slick folds hug his cock, grinding harder with each pass of her hips. He doesn’t trust himself to speak anymore. He has no idea what could come out of his mouth at this point. He just nods eagerly, begging his eyes to stay open so he can obey her.

“Can you feel the way the head of your cock is rubbing my clit?” she nearly squeaks, sounding genuinely as close to orgasm as he is. His eyes go wide. His stupid mouth opens.

“Are-- are you gonna come like this?”

Holding her quick rocking pace, Penny springs up, snapping at his lower lip like a snake. He freezes, whining, and very nearly loses control of his tensed arms.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” she moans, and it’s the only warning he gets before her whole body goes tight atop him and she gushes all over his cock and thighs.

“Holy fuck, holy fucking shit,” Shawn gasps, rolling his hips to cradle her as she stutters through it, mewling and humming against his chest. He watches her eyes squeeze shut and open again slowly, looking up at him like she forgot he was there.

In the stillness, the room is so quiet, it’s loud. Shawn feels every cell in his body screaming, begging.

Penny licks her lips and shifts, getting ready to bear down. “You can come now.”

His hips take off at a sprint with her permission. She keeps up easily, using her weight in her knees to drive herself back against his every stroke, egged on by the wet slap of their skin and the glazed look in his eyes.

“Penny, I’m coming,” he warns her, because he feels like he should and he doesn’t know quite why other than he thinks she craves her permission for everything now. She squeezes her swollen lower lip under her row of straight white teeth and watches curiously, doubling down on the stroking of her hips.

“Shit! Oh fuck!” Shawn screams, hips roiling and rioting beneath hers as he comes hard, spurting against her swollen folds and between their clenching stomachs. His vision goes white. He can’t hear himself if he keeps talking, or yelling, and he can’t hear her if she’s trying to soothe him through it. It’s several seconds before he crash lands to feel her peeling her body off his and sees her shifting back over his thighs.

He doesn’t have time, or the mental capacity, to speak before she reaches between her legs and swipes a hand through her wetness and his. Her palm is slick, glistening in the low light. She reaches for his tired cock and gives it a squeeze.

“I want one more.”

His eyes bulge. “What?”

“One more, Shawn. Come again for me. You’ve been waiting for this for a week, I know you have it in you. Now fuck my fist and come for me.”

Shawn’s jaw drops as she pulses her fingers again. Despite everything he thought he knew about his own body, he feels himself already starting to harden in her palm again. He groans loudly, pulls his shaky legs so his feet plant below him, and starts lifting his hips.

“Ohmygod. Oh… oh my god,” he pants, eyes wild as they fix on her in disbelief. How did she know? How does she have this much power over him already? How does he make sure she never gives it back?

“Yes,” she praises, looking ravenous as his hips pick up speed and he grows fully hard in the clench of her fist, “Fuck, you’re so fucking good for me.”

His head tips back. He mewls a noise of overwhelmed pleasure and fucks his hips up even harder.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fucking come again!” he shouts, pupils blowing out as he comes up on his forearms and bucks his entire lower body, quaking as he hurtles toward a second orgasm.

Penny lurches forward, swallowing the scream she knows is building in his chest with a searing kiss. His abdomen clenches as he bursts for her again, drenching her fist and his belly. It’s shorter and rockier than the first orgasm, sending him falling back to the bed totally limp and sated in only a few seconds. Penny mercifully releases him from her fist, using her other hand to smooth through his hair.

She’s concerned for a minute that she broke him. He just keeps staring at her, blinking too slowly, not speaking. She presses little kisses over his face, partially to encourage him, and maybe a little bit to distract herself from trying to make him come again because holy shit, she loved that.

“Never done that before,” he mumbles finally, his eyes sliding shut, like he’s finally secure enough to close them and believe she’ll still be sitting there when he does.

She nods, though he can’t see her. On her own wiggly legs, she manages to stand and get a wet washcloth from the bathroom. When she returns to wipe him off, he’s blinking at her curiously.

“Can I touch you now?”

She grins. “Yes you may.”

Shawn smiles gently. His eyes slide shut. He lifts a heavy palm to her thigh, rubbing her soft bronzed skin in a tender gesture of thanks.

Penny tosses the cloth aside and folds up against him, manipulating his arm around her as she lies against his chest.

“Wanna see you again,” he whispers. She bobs her head.

“Anytime you want.”

He presses his face into her hair, inhaling expensive salon shampoo and exhaling at least three months’ worth of stress. He’s asleep in under ten minutes. She decides to let him rest and behaves herself enough not to wake him up for round two (or three, technically) for at least an hour.

----------

This is gonna be a wild one, guys. If you’re so inclined, the link to buy me a Ko-fi is in my bio!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @tnhmblive @greedydevil

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honestsycrets · 6 years ago

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Ivar the Boneless || Love Alphabet

A = Affection (PDA, what sort of affection he gives)

“Kisses, my sweet.” He shifts. “Anywhere-- and everywhere.”

Definitely someone who shows his affection day to day. He enjoys not only showing you that he loves you-- but making sure that everyone else knows that too. Both for your friends to know and any suitors that he might potentially have.

B = Babies

“Don’t play stupid.” He turns his head. “You know I want want to populate the earth.”

Ivar wants babies. After all, he was always someone that was told that he simply couldn’t have babies by all his brothers. Once he rids himself of stress-induced impotency, he’s just too excited to actually have one with you. Well, more than one. But one is a start!

C = Cuddles

“In bed.”

Lazy in bed. He wants to spend his time completely and totally with you when he can. Ivar is a man that is constantly busy so his time is valuable. He best finds it in bed under warm furs, your legs in his under the warm crackle of the fire rather than going out.

D = Darling (pet names)

“Are you complaining of them?” He twists his head to look over his shoulder. “I have others.”

My love, my sweet, my queen. He’s a little cheesy-- but after thinking that he would never have a love, he’s making up for it plus some.

E = Enamored (how hard do they fall when in love)

He looks down, a small embarrassed smile perking upon his lips. He has a hard time admitting it-- even to you.

Hardest of the hard. When Ivar is in love, its all or nothing. For Ivar there must be an instant connection. Once in love, he’s prone to listen to even things as silly as “get me the moon!” and he would consider it.

F = Firsts (a first on anything you pick)

He’s a ball of nerves. He won’t admit to anything, pouring you a glass of ale and motioning for you to sit down beside him, but you can tell in the way he moistens his lips so much.

Nervous. Nervous. Nervous. He’s a complete wreck trying to get everything together for his first date with you. He rather just spend time talking with you whether that is over the pier of Kattegat or taking a walk around his town with you.

G = Good Morning (how do they wake you)

“Wake up, sweet.” He rolls in the furs, laying the first of his kisses upon your neck that morning.

Wakes up cuddling close to you. He loves feeling your body in his bed after being so alone for so long. Tends to try to lay small peppering kisses along your neck, nibbles on your ears for softer wake ups. Though, sometimes waking you up isn’t always so innocent.

H = Hugs

“Hugs are for friends.” He grouches. “Do I look like a friend?”

He rather kiss your hand or lips rather then bother with hugs. He feels that hugs are intended for brothers-- not that he himself got many of those growing up. He’s a lazy hugger and gently runs his fingers down your spine when he is holding you tight.

I = In Labor

He stares from afar.

Ivar is anxious. No, anxious doesn’t even cover it! He’s a hot mess, drinking just to blur out your screams or cries. He’ll most definitely stay in the room while you’re in labor, smiling when you finally get a hold of his child.

J = Jealousy

“I hope you know how much I love you.”

He’s a jealous creature. It doesn’t take much for Ivar to look over and consider who you are talking to. If they are a threat-- or if they aren’t. Axes will fly. But if you’re lucky, maybe he’ll just walk over to scare off the suitor himself.

K = Kisses

“I can give you more, if you like.”

Daily life with Ivar is filled with kisses. Some on your wrist, neck or lips. He expects that his day will be filled with them. If he doesn’t get enough, he’ll assume you don’t love him as much that day or that he did something wrong.

L = Loyal

“What use is there in having someone else?” He reasons. “I see none.”

As a hopeless romantic, he isn’t one to venture out of the marriage or relationship. He’s there until it ends-- one way or another. He always hopes that this one will last.

M = Memory

“On Freyja’s night-- in the spring.” He recounts with a little start and stop. The way he stops in between his words lets him know that he was reliving the moment.

Watching you dance in front of the flames of a crackling fire during Freyja’s festival. Keeping his eye and swirling about in tight little circles until you were in front of him-- the first night that he met you.

N = Never!

Lies. Don’t lie to him or hide things from him. He doesn’t end up being quite forgiving in regards to it and will often remember it for quite a long time. He can forgive, in most cases, but he’ll definitely remember it.

O = On the Rocks

“I’m sorry.” You’re the only one he would apologize to like this, reaching out to set his hand upon your feet.

Ivar doesn’t apologize often. But if he were to, it would be to you. He knows that he’s a lot to handle... and so he’ll often appear at the front of your bed, rubbing your feet to see if he can slowly ease his way closer and closer to you. If you’re in the ‘dog house’ he’ll often ignore you until you do the same.

P = Playtime

Ivar is an eager lover. Out on raid or back at home, he knows just how he wants you. Ivar loves to be spoiled by you, sure, but his favourite is spoiling you the way he likes it. If he’s been away long, it will be hard and fast. But most of all, he likes taking his time with you.

Q = Quiet Time

“What quiet time?” He sighs.

He doesn’t get that much quiet time anymore-- mostly because of all the children he’s asked you for. More often he spends his time drunk with a child crawling over his lap, teaching his sons and daughters how to shoot properly and making a mess of the Great Hall.

R = Rapture

“Tell me about our child.” He’ll ask, rubbing his hand over your round stomach. “How is he today?”

He is most filled with infectious smiles and laughs when he hears you tell him something about your future with him. Accepting a date, accepting his offer for marriage-- those are all things that make him intensely happy.

S = Soulmate

“There are such things?” He asks. “I did not even know what a soul was.”

Ivar doesn’t believe that he has a soulmate until you tell him. Even still he is skeptical... but if anything, the dreams he has fortifies his belief in actually having a soulmate.

T = Together

“Come sit with me!”

Ivar tends to keep to you more than others. He’ll interact and tolerate his brothers, enjoy Whitehair’s company, but most of all-- he likes to be together with you in his free time.

U = Unyielding

“Whatever needs be done, I’ll do. You only need ask.”

Of all the brothers, Ivar is the least likely to give up on you. He’s not the type to let anyone get in the way of what he wants and if it has to be done with interlopers, he’ll be sure to get rid of the interlopers too.

V = Vulnerable

“I’m alone.” He says. “In everything but you.”

In all things war, no one can tell him anything. However... when it comes to you, kissing down his neck or asking him the most intimate of questions, he might fall silent. In the beginning of the relationship, you might need to take the lead.

W = Wedding

In his opinion, “The best of weddings is showing off your bride.”

Everything Ivar does is a little extra. So this is nothing new. He wants all of Kattegat to see his new bride-- and so you’re probably going to feel the pressure to be his perfect bride. In the end, Ivar comes to console you about the whole thing.

X = (E)x

“I don’t do exes very well.” By that he means, they don’t usually live.

In the case of his ex not being killed... he would be very much a balance of hateful and curious. Ignoring and showing off his new woman is of course something he would do, but when you don’t look, he might just be watching...

Y = Yearning

“I’m eager to get home to my wife.” He would tell his brothers, lost in frivolous moments with whatever thrall they chose overseas.

Ivar is good at separating raiding from loving. But as the war dies down and it’s time to go home, missing you gets too much to handle. Unlike his brothers, he’s not a rapist. He simply enjoys the time to himself with his hand and visions of home.

Z = Zzz...

“You’re precious to me.”

Ivar is a light sleeper. His mind is going-- constantly fretting over things that he cannot control. When he cannot sleep, he’ll spend his time watching you against the sheets.

#ivar x reader #love alphabet #my alphabet #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar imagine #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #vikings x reader

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aliceslantern · 5 years ago

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Beyond This Existence, Epilogue

Summary: After Xehanort's death, Demyx finds himself unexpectedly human in Radiant Garden. With nothing but fragments of his past and a cryptic statement from Xemnas, he's left to figure out who he is. When Ienzo asks for his help with a project, the two find common ground, but the trauma and secrets in both of their pasts could tear it apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post-KH3 canon compliant

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

“...That should do it. You’ve got to be more careful. I’ve got other things to do. You know?”

The little kid let go of his friend’s hand and flexed his now-healed knee. “Whatever,” he mumbled, clearly trying to hide the fact that there were still tears in his eyes. Then, a little more shyly, “Thanks.”

“Just don’t become a repeat patient.”

Demyx watched the kid and his friend walk away, to carry on with their lives like they hadn’t just had one of the worst wipeouts he’d ever seen. Skateboards had come to Radiant Garden. They were popular. And they didn’t go particularly well with the rough cobble roads. He and Aerith had their hands full tending to all the different myriad wounds. But better skateboards, he decided, than Heartless. There were still some around, here and there, but they grew less numerous by the day.

He dusted off his hands. It was a lovely spring day, and he hadn’t yet got a chance to actually enjoy it. He took out his gummiphone and texted Ienzo. Just set 3 different kids’ broken bones. I’ll be back in 10 if you want to grab lunch.

I was about to ask you the same, Ienzo wrote back.

Their relationship had deepened over the past year. Changed. Of course, the fact that neither of them were ending up in life-threatening situations did lessen the stakes significantly. The transition from dramatic to mundane had been a learning experience. They’d learned to spend time apart, and to pursue their own projects. Nothing would ever be quite normal, but this was about as close as it would get.

Demyx took his time passing through town. Now that he was getting to know people, it no longer felt so alien. Being seen and being known no longer were so terrifying. He wasn’t an Organization member, or a Dandelion. He was Just Demyx, and that was enough.

He saw another small herd of skateboarders, but noted with relief that these ones had adequate safety gear.

The castle was still a work in progress. They were all busy with their own goings-on, and it was huge; keeping the place clean and habitable would have been a tough job for many more people than just the six of them. Every now and again the committee would lend help and supplies, but it was the sort of place where if one thing was fixed, another broke.

Ienzo was, as always, in the library, though at least he was in front of a window this time, and not holed up in a dark alcove. For a moment, Demyx saw him first, gently shifting blueprints and papers to and fro. Honestly, seeing him working so earnestly on something he cared about was… pretty sexy.

“Baby, are you a library book? Because I’d like to check you out.”

Ienzo’s expression remained completely deadpan, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You’ve used that line before.”

Demyx gave him a kiss. “You been here all morning?”

“More or less.” He started rolling up the delicate print paper. “I wanted to take another look at it before I show it to the committee. Incorporating Dilan’s suggestions was necessary, but now I suspect I’m developing carpal tunnel.” He shook out his hand. “But I suppose you can fix that for me. It is quite convenient to have my own on-call physician.”

“Even would murder you if he heard you call me that.” Demyx took the offending hand and cast a minor anti-inflammatory spell. “I’m not a doctor. I’m a healer. In training.”

“I think he’s a touch jealous.”

“I don’t see why he should be. He doesn’t have to chase kids around just to get them to wear helmets.”

Ienzo put the plans in their cardboard tube and sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be fully happy with it. It’s been an exercise in creativity, if anything.”

“Well. For what it’s worth, I think it’s great.”

He stacked the books neatly. Botany, architecture, spiritualism. Ienzo took off his reading glasses and set them aside. “In a way, this feels as though it’s my firstborn,” he said softly. “It’s a complete end to this part of my life. Now I’m to head into the unknown.”

“Isn’t it exciting?”

Ienzo shrugged. “I’d say nerve-wracking. Shall we get lunch? I could use some fresh air.”

“There’s a new noodle place I wanted to try out. I can’t remember the last time I had some half-decent udon. Think you can spare an hour or two on me?”

“Maybe. If you behave.”

On their way they passed Aeleus, who was diligently painting over the pale green walls in a pale blue that brought more light into the space. Of them all, he was the most diligent in the repairs.

“We’re going out,” Ienzo said. “Would you like anything for lunch?”

He nodded, barely breaking brush stroke.

“I guess we’ll surprise you,” Demyx said.

The spring flowers were just coming into bloom. Seeing all the color after so much gray stillness made the world feel completely new. Ienzo sneezed. “Yes, my favorite time of year,” he said dryly.

“If you took your allergy medicine like I told you, you wouldn’t be such a wreck.”

Ienzo rolled his eyes.

They grabbed their lunch and sat at an outside table. Town was constantly growing. It seemed like every week something new popped up--new shops, new homes. The committee was constantly spread thin, though it seemed like mostly everyone was willing to give a few hours of time here and there. More and more people were returning.

“It probably won’t ever be like it was, but it certainly does give me a kind of hope,” Ienzo said.

“It’s grown on me,” Demyx said. “I like it here.”

“It does feel rather more like home than it used to. Though I suppose it’s more the people than anything.”

Demyx smiled a little.

“If you were able to travel freely again, would you?” he asked.

Demyx considered this. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I’ve seen a lot in my time. Kind of enough. But I haven’t seen the worlds when they’re at peace. What about you?”

“Part of me says yes, absolutely. But the other part…” He shrugged. “You’ve got to either hide or assimilate to maintain world order, which does take a certain amount of work.”

“What’s the point of world order? What happens if it isn’t up-kept? All these years, and nobody could give me a good answer.”

Ienzo furrowed his brows. The noodle between his chopsticks broke in half and disappeared into the broth. “I’m not entirely sure,” he said. “Perhaps it warrants some investigation.”

“Maybe you can work on that next.”

“Maybe,” he said cheerfully. “Though--this world is barely stabilizing.”

“Last time I talked to Cid, he said that they’re going to have to start planning some kind of government,” Demyx said. “Even though there hasn’t been any real crime or anything, someone’s still gotta step up.” He scraped at the bottom of the bowl and found there was nothing left but a few leeks. Healing was hungry work.

“I’d heard. They’d called Ansem down a couple of days ago. They offered him the job. He was once sage king, after all.”

Demyx whistled. “How did that go?”

“He turned them down. Said he didn’t want power, and didn’t deserve it. He did say he would serve as advisor to whoever ends up in the position, should they want his advice. Cid and Leon are going to organize a town hall. And then eventually there will be elections.”

“I wonder who it’ll be.” He grimaced. “Wait. Does that mean they’ll have to live with us?”

Ienzo chuckled. “Wouldn’t that shake things up. For some reason I don’t think that would go over too well. If you haven’t noticed, we’re all just a touch insular.”

“Have I noticed. They’re barely accepting me. ”

“Oh, don’t be too hard on yourself. I think Ansem rather likes having you around. It makes him feel young.”

Demyx hesitated. Ienzo was smiling, but there seemed something polite about it. Not so genuine. “How are things between you two?” he asked cautiously.

“Improving,” he said. “All the while improving. There’s more bitterness in me than I thought. But I assure you I am working through it. We both are, and we’re both willing, which is what matters.”

“You don’t have to forgive him to love him.”

“I know. But I feel as though I need to, to move on.” He set his chopsticks aside. “Are you still hungry?”

Demyx sighed. “Always,” he muttered. “Aerith said eventually my body will adjust to using so much magic so frequently. I beg to differ, though.”

“Are you still enjoying it?”

He considered. Truthfully, all those hours and days and nights of studying, then coupled with the home visits she’d took him on, didn’t always necessarily feel pleasant . He’d seen more gross things than he thought possible for a relatively peaceful town. Been puked on. Bled on. More than once he’d ended up having to stay out all night, finally collapsed into bed, only to get a call that he was needed. And yet. “I feel like I’m doing what I’m meant to. And I don’t have to give up music, either.”

“You can be passionate about more than one thing, you know,” Ienzo said lightly.

He was right. But still, after feeling so much apathy for so long in the Organization, having the motivation and the willingness to heal and create made him a touch anxious.

“Shall we head back?”

“Yeah. Think I need a nap. Fucking skateboarders.”

“In another life you’d be one of them,” Ienzo said.

“I hate that you’re right.”

----

The egg whites Demyx was whisking didn’t want to fluff up right. Despite the tremendous ache in his arm. Sometimes he regretted helping Ienzo cook, because Ienzo always gave him the jobs he himself hated. Like grating cheese. Or, in this case, whipping meringue, even though they had a perfectly good electric mixer that could do it for them.

“How does it look?” Ienzo asked. He peeked into the bowl. “Almost. Not quite.”

Demyx groaned and switched arms.

There was a vaguely pinched look to his face. Demyx knew he’d been waiting a long time for this day, so he really should be acting like less of a pain in the ass. Still. It really was hurting. “...You still anxious?”

Ienzo took the bowl from him and started to put the topping on the lemon pie. “I realize it’s illogical, but that doesn’t make it go away. ”

“They’re going to love it. I know they will.”

“Part of me feels like I’m rubbing salt in just-healed wounds.”

Demyx wrapped his arms around his waist. Every muscle in Ienzo’s body was fraught with tension. “They think about what happened all the time,” he said in a low voice. “This is closure. And you know closure can hurt a little sometimes.”

“I suppose.” He sighed. “Would you mind letting go of me? I’ve got to put the pie back in.”

Dinner now was far different than it used to be. There was no more dumb hierarchy. It was easier than ever before to talk to everyone. He felt more at ease. More at home. Dilan found great amusement when Demyx regaled him with the day’s injuries.

“Kids always have some new way of hurting themselves,” he said. He chuckled. “For your generation it was frisbees. We must have confiscated dozens of the damn things when the castle was open to the public. Still, must be odd being on the other side of such gap for the first time.”

“...I guess so. You know. I still don’t feel grown up.” He’d had a birthday recently, his twenty-third, and yet every day he went out to help people he always felt like he was pretending to be mature.

“Truthfully, one never does,” Even said. “It took me long enough to come to terms with it.”

The food was good, just like it always was, though Demyx noticed Ienzo ate far less than he normally was wont to. He reached beneath the table and squeezed his hand. He cleared the empty plates and was back in time to watch Ienzo explain his plan in full.

“I’m sure you all know by now what I’ve been working on,” he said. “I’d like to present it to you now, before I turn it over to the committee for approval.” He got up and retrieved the roll of plans and his written works. He smoothed out the blueprints in front of them. “It’s a garden. For those who fell.”

Planning the memorial had taken months of meticulous research and engineering. Ienzo was so thorough and thoughtful in the way he’d drafted every last blade of grass. Everything had a history, a symbol, a meaning to it. He’d chosen several sets of blooms, one for each type of loss incurred during Radiant Garden’s struggle with darkness--those killed by the initial fall, those who became Heartless, and lastly, those who had fallen because of their research. He’d chosen the breeds for their symbolism, and for how well they would keep and take root. Each flower would represent one soul lost; at the back of this garden he imagined a wall with all their names, as well as books with more information about each person lost.

Seeing it brought tears to Demyx’s eyes, and he could tell the others were moved too, though more stoically. Ansem reached over the table and took Ienzo’s hand. “That’ll do.”

----

The summer consisted of impossibly long days and longer nights. All of them at the castle did their part, and the committee helped too, when they had the time. Demyx found himself making better friends with them. It made the weeks of soreness and sunburn worth it. Moreso, to see the weight of guilt finally ease from Ienzo’s shoulders. To see him bloom.

Demyx was happy, probably for the first time in his whole life. He had a home now, friends, and a boyfriend he adored. Yet he couldn’t help but shake the feeling that something still hurt inside.

It came to him one August night. A crash of thunder woke him up from an aqueous sleep. Ienzo stirred but remained deeply asleep, thoroughly worn out from the long day in the sun (not to mention their erstwhile lovemaking). Demyx couldn’t help but shake the feeling he’d woken up from a nightmare, though what exactly he couldn’t say. He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face.

Trauma was a lot like dud firecrackers--they didn’t go off until they wanted to.

He went to crawl back in bed, but the light of his gummiphone caught on a sheaf of papers, neatly laid on top of a couple of volumes of the apprentices’ research. He reached for it. For a second his head swam as the old runes came into better focus.

Demyx hadn’t really looked at this thing in nearly a year, not since he’d regained his memory. He’d been too worried about Ienzo, and then after all that, busy enough that it faded to the background. The paper crinkled faintly. He could just barely feel a cool, rainy breeze against his overheated skin.

“Dem?” Ienzo mumbled sleepily. “You okay?”

He shut the light. “Just too warm. Go back to sleep, babe.”

----

He could not stop thinking about it. Through days planting in the garden. Through tending to more skateboard injuries. Through a small party that the committee had invited him and Ienzo to. Through it all.

On their first day off in weeks, rather than rest as he’d planned, he took the papers and went down to the old study room. Bits of various projects Ienzo was working on sat in neat, organized piles. Demyx took the cushion off the chair and sat on the floor, the score in front of him. The sunlight was so warm it burned.

They stared at each other.

He opened the first page. He remembered when this paper was new and soft still. Struggling to keep a ruler level to draw in all those lines, hundreds and hundreds of them. The slightly bitter smell of the ink. The weight of his first sitar--lighter, smaller, the soft grain of it.

He’d made progress, but he hadn’t fully processed it. He’d seen his past as something foreign and separate from himself.

If the words of it were hard to read, then playing it was next to impossible. He tried to summon Arpeggio. His hand trembled. It came at last, hitting his thigh with something akin to a smack. “I know,” he said to it.

Words were heavy, but Demyx had never been much of a writer. There should have been something interesting in seeing his old compositions. Nostalgia, or even embarrassment at how amateur they were. He felt none of these things.

His younger self’s emotions bled from each movement, each less contained than the last, reflected in the odd meters and rhythms scattered all throughout, the awkward keys. To play it felt like being cornered. Like having his heart ripped in two. He’d felt so much pain and sadness and fear, but above all, stark loneliness. This diary hadn’t been so much of a composition as a cry for help.

He hadn’t thought he’d make it out of the war alive, after all.

But he had.

Demyx had, and so much more besides. That was the important thing.

As he played, he felt the heartbeat of it. The strings of the present and past wove together, and once he was through with the old score, he pushed it aside, and began to work on the future.

#beyond this existence #demyx #ienzo #zemyx #demyx/ienzo #that's all folks!

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literaryoblivion · 6 years ago

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October 1: Fall Leaves (Jack/Bitty)

(Read on AO3)

While everywhere in the US experiences the seasons in some way, shape, or form, certain areas are better displays of certain seasons than others. Summer is best on the sandy beach in California, winters in Colorado in a snowy ski cabin are ideal, and fall in New England is picture-perfect.

Of course, other areas’ residents might be biased, and sure, it’s a rather subjective concept in general. And as much as Bitty misses his home in Georgia (whose best season might be the sliver of spring when it’s cool right before it gets hot and muggy in the summer), he will always prefer the cool breeze through the changing fall leaves as he walks to class at Samwell. It’s like he can smell the change in the air, although that might be the pumpkin spice lattes he’s always getting (or being given), and he informs Jack of this while they are walking across the bridge to Faber for morning practice.

“There’s a place a few minutes from campus that has some great colors on the leaves. I’ve been meaning to photograph them. Maybe we can go later? I can show you?” Jack asks hesitantly, shoving his hands in his jean pockets like he’s cold, although Bitty knows his Canadian blood can withstand much lower temperatures.

“That would be lovely, Jack. I don’t have class this afternoon,” Bitty hints, hoping Jack will offer to take him to this special place, both because he wants to see it and because he always wants to spend more time with Jack alone.

As if considering this, Jack nods, “I should be back at the Haus around three?”

Bitty desperately wants to say ‘It’s a date’ but restrains himself. “I’ll be there!” he says instead with a smile.

By the time three o’clock nears, Bitty is a nervous wreck. With no afternoon class to distract him and the severe lack of motivation to study, he’s baked up a storm in an attempt to keep himself occupied while he waited for Jack. He definitely doesn’t mind baking and making the Haus smell like pumpkin spice goodness, but he’s positive Betsy has not been pleased with the workload.

He’s pulling out the last batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies when Jack comes into the kitchen, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Those smell good,” Jack says, nodding his head at the tray Bitty had just set on the counter, which makes Bitty beam. “I just need to drop my bag off upstairs and get my camera, then we can go?” He points with his thumb over his shoulder then adds, gesturing to the cookies, “We should take some of those with us.”

Bitty laughs. “Yes, sir. I’ll pack some up.”

With one last smile, Jack disappears upstairs. When he comes back, Bitty has a small bag prepared with some water bottles and a few cookies and hand-pies that were cool. He doesn’t bother putting the other sweets that are still cooling away because he knows they’ll be gone by the time he and Jack come back, whether he hid them or not. These hockey boys didn’t care if they burned their mouths if it meant more deliciousness.

Jack insists on walking to the spot he’d mentioned. It’s nice enough out, and Bitty’s got a thick sweater on, so he should be okay. It’s a pleasant walk, and they talk about their classes, some new recipes Bitty’s found to try, the frogs that seem to be improving (Jack, ever the captain). Every once in a while Jack stops to take a few pictures as they walk, anything that seems to strike him as worthy of his lens. Bitty doesn’t mind and is glad that Jack has this creative side to him that he’s willing to share and have him help with.

They pass a few people as they walk through and off of campus, but once they’re clear of Samwell, it’s fairly quiet with no one else around aside from a few cars that drive by. It’s wonderful and peaceful, and Bitty can’t help but imagine what it’d be like to walk like this with Jack all the time, shoulders brushing, calm conversation… intertwined hands that swing gently between them as they go.

He feels his face flush with the image, and he hopes that Jack can’t see it or that he thinks it’s from the cool breeze outside. Jack guides Bitty with a hand on the small of his back to the left and once they turn the corner a small grove of trees come into view. There’s a winding path between the trees and what look to be street lamps scattered along the path, although it’s still day time so they aren’t on yet.

The trees are beautiful; the leaves are various shades of red and orange and gold, some still have spots of green, other spots of brown, and several have leaves that fall with every small gust of wind that rustles through them.

“What do you think?” Jack asks after a few moments of them standing near the start of the path.

“It’s amazing, Jack! No wonder you wanted to take some pictures here. I’m sure they’ll turn out gorgeous, honey.”

Jack smiles, nodding slightly, as he brings his camera up to start taking pictures more earnestly than while they had been walking. Bitty decides to leave him to it, walking further along the path to see more of the trees. He doesn’t realize Jack’s actually following him until he spots a pile of leaves nearby and turns to call to Jack.

“Oh,” he says with a small chuckle. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Jack says softly.

“I kind of want to jump in that pile of leaves.”

“You should do it, then.”

Bitty bites his bottom lip slightly in hesitation and then grins mischievously. With a shout, he runs and jumps into the pile. He’s vaguely aware of the sound of a shutter going off behind him, but he doesn’t pay it any attention.

He laughs and kicks the leaves around, reveling in the crunching sound beneath his feet as he swishes through the leaves. It makes him feel like a child, jumping around in the leaves, and on instinct, he gathers up several handfuls of them and throws them up in the air, laughing and smiling at the sky as he watches the colors in the air floating for a brief moment almost before they fall down around him.

He looks up at Jack, who’s had his camera to his face almost the whole time, clicking quickly as Bitty had played in the pile. He smiles sheepishly at him, and he feels breathless as Jack slowly lowers his camera to stare at Bitty. It’s not a look he recognizes ever having seen on his captain’s face, and it makes Bitty nervous, not being able to tell what Jack is feeling and unconsciously displaying on his face.

Jack slowly steps closer to him, letting go of his camera so it’s held around his shoulder by its strap. The nearer Jack gets, the more Bitty is anxious about what he will say, what he’ll do.

“That was rather silly, huh?” Bitty says with a self-deprecating laugh.

Jack smiles and shakes his head, finally coming to stop so he’s directly in front of Bitty, so close that Bitty can feel the warmth of his body, just has to take a fraction of a step until he’s pressed against Jack.

“You have, uh,” Jack says before reaching out and plucking something off the top of Bitty’s head, a leaf. He slowly brings it up between them, twirling it by its stem between his fingers.

“Oh,” Bitty says, cheeks getting hot and, he’s sure, flaming red. “Thanks.” He smiles up at Jack and moves to take the leaf from Jack’s fingers, but Jack doesn’t let go, and they end up holding the leaf together, Jack’s hand warm and big beneath Bitty’s.

“Um,” Jack says, his cheeks equally flushing as much as Bitty’s sure his are.

“Jack, I…” Bitty says, although he’s not sure what he was going to say.

“Bittle, you’re… I think…” Jack takes a breath, closing his eyes slightly before opening them again to stare at Bitty with an intensity that Bitty usually only ever sees on the ice. “Bitty, you’re gorgeous.”

Bitty can feel his whole face heat, and his eyes are wide with shock because he was not expecting Jack to say that at all.

“I, wow, thank you, sweetie. You’re, uh… I think you’re pretty gorgeous yourself.” Bitty knows his voice is quiet, and he’s looking down at their feet because he can’t bring himself to look at Jack.

He feels Jack take the hand that’s holding the leaf, and brings it down, letting go of the leaf so he can squeeze Bitty’s fingers. Then, Jack uses his other hand to touch Bitty’s chin and brings his face back up to meet his eyes.

“Can I kiss you, Bits?” Jack asks in a whisper, thumb softly stroking Bitty’s jawline.

Bitty can’t even speak, throat caught in his throat, so he just nods in answer, and then Jack leans down and presses his lips to his.

It’s a light pressure at first, almost hesitant, like Bitty might suddenly change his mind and push Jack away, but there’s no way that will ever happen. Bitty has been imagining kissing Jack for months now, and now that it’s actually happening, there’s no way he’s backing away from it. He pushes into Jack, leaning up on his toes for a better height, lips a little more insistent, his arms coming up around Jack’s neck.

Finally he can feel Jack relax, bring his own arms around Bitty’s waist and pull him in closer. When they break apart, they’re both grinning and breathless. They can’t seem to stop staring at each other, so they don’t. Bitty’s sure that if anyone were to see them, they would think they were crazy and weird, love-sick fools. He doesn’t really care though because he and Jack kissed, and it was wonderful and perfect and he can’t wait to do it again.

“There’s a, uh, bench a little further down,” Jack says as they come back down to earth, pulling away from each other slightly. Jack takes his hand, threads their fingers together, and walks Bitty over to the bench.

They sit and talk, snack on the treats that Bitty had brought, and Jack takes a few more pictures. After some insistence, Jack finally lets Bitty see the pictures he took on the small display of Jack’s camera.

It doesn’t take long for Bitty to realize that almost all the pictures are of him; there’s a few of the trees, of the falling leaves, but most feature Bitty’s smile, his blush as he laughs, his nose as he looks up at the leaves he had thrown in the air, the leaf that hand landed in his hair before Jack had taken it out.

“I thought you wanted to take pictures of the leaves?” Bitty says, snuggled up to Jack on the bench. They’ll have to go soon, the sun is going down and it’s getting colder because of it.

Jack shrugs. “I found a better subject. The leaves are pretty, but you in the leaves? Way better.”

“Oh, honey,” Bitty says, lovingly shoving Jack in the side. Jack looks down at him with a grin, like he knows how cheesy and sappy he was just then, and Bitty wants to kiss him so bad.

So he does.

#freckinktober #zimbits #zimbits fic #jackbitty #bittyjack #my fic #omgcp

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i-write-shakespeare-not-disney · 6 years ago

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Fragile Hearts Ch. 9- Trying to Put it Into Words

Click the OP if the READ MORE link does not show!

THANK YOU TO @bluejayb1rd FOR COMMISSIONING!!! I’ve missed this story and I really hope you all enjoy this one <3

Click Here for Chapter 1

Click Here for Chapter 8

Fragile Hearts Playlist here

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11928798/chapters/33483498

The motel room was nicer than Pidge expected. The ones she’d seen on TV were usually ones with peeling wall paint, water stains, and roaches scurrying around rusted bathroom sinks and tubs. This one smelled like cotton air freshener and had little lamps and comfortable beds. It wasn’t as nice as the hotel room she’d gotten with Hunk back in New York, but that was to be expected.

As she finished brushing her teeth, she could feel Lance’s eyes on her. She ignored it, hoping to simply fall asleep for the night and keep the journey going in the morning.

Then he cleared his throat, and her stomach flipped. “So… are we gonna talk about Ohio?”

“No,” she said firmly.

“Pidge-”

“I really, really don’t want to, Lance. Please drop it.”

Lance sighed and raised his hands in defeat, going to the bathroom to take a shower with Leon at his heels. Pidge crawled into bed and let out a long breath.

After a few hours of driving from Pidge’s apartment, it had somehow come about that Pidge had never learned to drive. Lance had taken it as a personal offense and couldn’t understand how Pidge, the girl who flew a gigantic robot lion, didn’t know how to drive down the highway in a Honda Civic.

And despite Pidge insisting that she was fine without driving, Lance assured her that learning to drive would come in handy. And he added some spiel about being independent and whatnot and Pidge finally switched seats to shut him up.

Everything was fine at first. Lance taught her the basics and tried to keep her calm because she was stiff and anxious. It was so different piloting a war machine versus driving a mundane box of metal. There were no rules in space. She was supposed to wreck things. The lion was sentient! Sitting in the driver’s seat with her hands on the wheel meant she felt the rumble of the engine more prominently than when she sat in the passenger seat.

The rush of cars around her, their engines revving and their drivers honking, and even Leon’s barking all began to slowly morph like a tuning radio station. They warped in her mind until they weren’t just cars and annoyed drivers, but Galran spaceships shooting at her, sirens waking her in the middle of the night to get to her lion.

When she began to speed, caught up in her head, Lance started asking her to slow down, but she couldn’t fully register his voice. It was a warble among everything else and soon, it was just part of her memories too.

She had no idea how they ended up safely pulled over on the side of the road. But she knew there was a cop car behind her and she couldn’t stop hyperventilating even with Lance talking to her gently, bringing her back. Her hands had the steering wheel in a vice grip and it took a lot of concentration to pry them off.

Lance had given the officer some long-winded story about relatives and weddings and driving lessons, passing Pidge off for a 16-year-old. The officer had asked her if she was okay, and Pidge figured she looked a mess with the trauma making her shake and the tears she hadn’t realized were streaming down her face until she blinked to look at the woman in uniform. Pidge’s brain kicked back up to function enough for her to pass off her emotions as a broken-hearted teenage girl whose boyfriend had broken up with her.

They were let off with a warning, and Lance took the driver’s seat back. He’d stopped at a gas station to get her a water, and hugged her tightly, apologizing for making her drive and assuring her she was okay, that it was okay that she freaked out.

He hadn’t asked what happened or why until they got to the motel room. But she did not want to talk about it. She didn’t want to keep thinking about how the weakness caught up to her again. She just wanted to move on and forget; enjoy her time before the next break.

Before she could fall asleep, her phone buzzed.

No vid chat today honeysuckle?

Pidge smiled at the text and, for a moment, felt lighter and forgot about the incident in Ohio. She shut her eyes and feigned sleep, snapping a picture before typing: Long day. Very drained. Can I call in the morning? I miss you.

The response came quickly. Of course rest up and feel better honeybee. I miss you more. Goodnight.

She smiled and put her phone to charge before pulling the covers up over her. She felt calm enough to maybe actually fall asleep.

This time, her dreams were merciful and blank.

When she woke up the next morning, she woke up to Lance snoring in his bed, tightly hugging one of the pillows on the bed while Leon curled up beside him. Pidge chuckled and got up figuring she could walk to the McDonald’s down the street to get some breakfast before they hit the road again.

She sent Hunk a good morning text before pulling on her shoes and leaving a note in case Lance woke up, and she left the motel, greeted by crisp morning air. After spending so long in a car, she was happy to get a chance to actually use her legs for more than standing in a shower and walking to a bed.

When she was at McDonald’s, she ordered the food then called Hunk. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey honeybun. Feeling better?”

“Much,” she said with a smile. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to hear his voice. It was warm and she was anxious to hear it in person again. “How’d you sleep?”

“I slept okay. With the break, there’s a lot of orders coming in and it’s been keeping everyone busy. Where are you, it sounds kind of crowded?”

Pidge looked around at the varying people around her, all people going to work or parents who woke up early enough to bring their kids to breakfast to reign in Spring break. “I’m at McDonald’s, getting breakfast.”

He hummed and said, “Sounds good. I might go there on my lunch break. It’s like across the street anyway.” Pidge laughed and scanned the counter for her order. “Hey, so what happened yesterday? You said you were drained; are you okay?”

Pidge bit her lip and frowned. “Yeah. I’m okay, it’s just I was really tired. I think I just needed a little personal day, you know?”

“Ah, okay. Well, I have to start getting ready for work. I’ll call you on my lunch break, yeah?”

“Okay, talk to you later. Have fun at work!”

They counted to three and hung up.

A few minutes later, Pidge got her food and started walking back to the motel. Surprisingly, Lance still wasn’t awake, but with a few nudges and the smell of pancakes in the air, Lance opened his eyes and sat up, stretching.

“How’d you go to McDonald’s?”

“It’s down the street. I walked.” He hummed, squinting at her, but Pidge ignored it. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” he said with a smile as he gave Leon some food. He washed his hands and sat down to prepare his pancakes, casting Pidge a quick glance. Then after a beat, he asked, “What about you?”

“I can’t remember my dreams, so it was great.” Lance frowned, but he didn’t prod.

They spent their breakfast in comfortable silence, watching a crude cartoon comedy on Netflix using Pidge’s laptop. Once they’d eaten and freshened up for the day, they piled back into the car and the road trip began again.

Leon kept his head perched on Pidge’s shoulder and nuzzled her cheek with his nose every now and then.

“He’s an emotional support dog,” Lance said suddenly. “That’s why he’s all over you. He’s been trained to sense when I get anxious or stressed. And he comforts me through it.” He glanced over at her then looked back at the road. “He’s trying to help you too because he senses it with you.”

“Oh,” Pidge said awkwardly. “I’m okay, boy.” She pet his head, but Leon whined and licked her face, lifting his paw to rest on the shoulder of the seat, but it kept slipping.

Lance chuckled and shook his head. “You can lie to me, Pidge, but you can’t lie to a dog.” Pidge rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Did you do therapy when we got back?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Yes, I went to therapy, I took the meds, I was fine. I learned to live my life and I was fine. I don’t need it anymore. School keeps me busy and focused, and I’m fine. Please, Lance can you drop it?”

Lance didn’t answer. Instead he started flipping through radio stations. “Well, I wasn’t expecting this drive to take so long,” Lance said nonchalantly. “It was an impulse decision, and I didn’t think to even look at how long we’d have to drive.”

Pidge laughed as she looked at the GPS. “Yeah… I feel like half of break is going to be us driving there and back. I guess Keith must’ve rubbed off on you if you’re making impulsive choices now.” She flinched when she heard herself and looked over at Lance who was frowning at the road. “I’m so sorry. I- I shouldn’t have brought him up, that was stupid-”

“No, it’s cool,” Lance said with a shrug. “I write about the guy, for Christ’s sake. I’m not angry with him. Or with how we ended things.”

Pidge hummed and bit her lip. “Do… do you miss him?” Lance raised an eyebrow and looked at her blankly. She scrunched her nose. “Don’t wanna talk about it. Makes sense.”

Lance laughed and shook his head, humming along to the music for a while. “After I ran into you and Hunk, I keep expecting I’ll see him somewhere. I haven’t heard from him in years, and for all I know….” He sighed. “I just hope he’s safe. And living the life he wanted.” He smiled and looked at the GPS. “But we are not driving back. I’d rather pay to transport my car while we get a flight back.”

There was still another two days of driving left, considering bathroom breaks, traffic, and rest stops so Lance wasn’t exhausting himself. Maybe a little more. Pidge tapped her finger on the arm rest and said, “Lance? Why don’t you just pay to transport your car back to New York, and we get the next flight to Vegas at the next airport? It’ll take like three or four hours if we stop at Chicago.”

Lance pulled over at a gas station and grabbed his phone, looking something up rapidly. “Shit, these are expensive,” he muttered. “Last minute Spring Break trip to Vegas? Just us, Pidge. Just. Us.” He dialed someone and Pidge frowned. “I’m trying to see if I can pull some strings. One sec.” He got out of the car and Pidge scrolled through her phone leisurely.

She could hear a muffled conversation and after a couple songs, Lance got back into the car. “Sweet. It worked. I got us two tickets to Vegas. Leon is good to stay with us since he’s registered as an ESA. My car will be transferred back to New York, and we have our standby tickets for the end of the week. I just have to do two book signings while I’m there.”

Pidge raised her eyebrows, evidently impressed. “Wow. You have connections.”

“World-wide YA series author pays off,” he said. “It’s not Brad Pitt fame, but things are pretty easy. Plus the Garrison is paying for the return tickets….”

“Garrison provided a pretty big scholarship for me to go to school, so yeah, I see that,” Pidge said with a laugh.

“Alright, Chicago, here we come,” Lance said, rerouting the GPS.

---

It was nice weather for spring. A lot of people were evidently tourists on their break. Meanwhile, Pidge and Lance were waiting on an Uber to get them to Hunk’s bakery.

“So how come you can handle being on a plane?” Lance asked. “And you can handle being in a car, but not driving?”

Pidge rolled her eyes and groaned, tired of the same topic. “I freak out a bit during take off and landing. All the shuddering and the engine sounds…. But I can handle it. The driving… it was the fact I was in charge of something. Now can we not talk about it for the rest of break?” Lance raised his hands in surrender. “Anyway, won’t they say something about Leon being in the bakery? It’s a food place.”

“Maybe, but it’ll get Hunk attention,” Lance said. “And I’ll leave if they ask me to. I just want to see Hunk and surprise him.” He stood up from the bench they were on. “Ride’s almost here.”

Sure enough, an SUV pulled up and the window came down. A driver asked to be sure they were the one’s looking for the ride and let them on. Leon quickly hopped onto the car, curling up at Lance’s feet. Pidge sat in the back, feeling butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Lance easily began conversing with the driver, laughing and asking questions with the ease he always had when it came to talking to people. Pidge watched the city blurring past and the longer they drove the more anxious she got.

This would be the first time she would see Hunk since they started dating. It was kind of surreal to think of, even if she had spent so many nights chatting with him.

The car came to a stop and Pidge gulped as she saw the bakery. Lance thanked the driver and got off with Leon’s leash in one hand and his duffel bag in the other. Pidge hefted her backpack and gripped her own luggage a little tighter.

“Whoa,” Lance breathed. “This is Hunk’s bakery?” Lance went up to the window, staring at the cakes in awe. “Look at these colors. The scenes- the details. Oh my God.” Pidge looked over at Lance who seemed to be choking up. She noticed the way his eyes glistened and the way Leon perked up, sniffing at him. “These are amazing,” he whispered.

“That’s how I felt when I first saw them. I didn’t even know he lived here. I just saw the cakes and… they felt so familiar.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed. “They have… Hunk written all over them.” Lance laughed and wiped at his eyes. “Well, what are we waiting for?” He went into the bakery with Leon trotting beside him and Pidge behind him.

Almost immediately, the girl at the register said, “Um, sir! You can’t have dogs in here if they’re not a service dog.”

“He’s an ESA.”

She shook her head. “Only service dogs, sir, I’m sorry.”

Lance nodded. “Okay, okay, but can we talk to the head chef please?” The girl looked a little uncomfortable, maybe a little annoyed. “We’ll leave right away, we just want to see the chef.”

“The chef doesn’t take personal-”

“Can you please just ask?” Lance asked kindly, smiling. Pidge looked at him and swore he was purposefully putting on the charm. Big blue eyes, side smirk, the whole shebang. She had to keep herself from rolling her eyes and scoffing.

A few other customers were staring, so Pidge walked around to see some of the new cake designs.

After a moment she heard a familiar voice say, “If that’s not a service d- oh my God! Lance! What the- what are you- oh my God!”

She turned and saw Hunk engulfing Lance in a hug. Leon wagged his tail excitedly, sniffing and jumping at Hunk. “Hunk! Dude! I’m so fucking proud of you, look at all this!” Lance exclaimed, ruffling his hair.

Hunk laughed, and Pidge felt like she was floating from the sound alone. “Thank you! God, I’d love to show you more, but I could get in huge trouble letting Leon stay. Hey buddy!” Hunk pet Leon affectionately. “Did you just come in? This is a great surprise!”

“Oh, that’s not all of it,” Lance said with a smile. “I’m gonna take Leon out, but uh….” Lance gestured over to where Pidge was.

Hunk turned and Pidge laughed as she watched his expression go from confusion to shock to joy. “Pidge!” He rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her completely. Pidge laughed and buried her face in his chest. “Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

He pulled back and Pidge touched his cheek. Her face hurt from smiling, but she didn’t care. She’d been yearning for this moment for so long. “Surprise!” she said, trying to sound excited, but she didn’t trust her voice to go above a whisper. “Hi,” she giggled.

Hunk encased her face in his hands which smelled like sugar. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to see you, Pidge,” he said. She blushed and bit her lip, loving the feeling of hearing him in person, of his touch against her face. “I missed you.” He chuckled as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Pidge felt like all of the stress of school and road trips and homework had melted away. The nervous energy she’d been holding dissipated with the taste of his lips. All those doubts and worries she’d had half a world away were nonsensical and unnecessary. Because he was here with her, holding her, kissing her. His touch was so gentle, and the feeling of his lips was familiar even if they’d only had one day of dating together.

Hunk pulled back and kissed her nose, making Pidge laugh softly. He wiped away a tear she hadn’t realized had even run down her cheek. “Here, tell Lance to come around the back, I’ll let you guys into my office.”

She nodded and pulled away, suddenly very aware of the many strangers in the bakery staring and whispering and giggling. Many of them seemed to be swooning, like they’d witnessed a proposal. Others were trying to be polite and look away. Either way, Pidge felt her cheeks heat up and she nearly ran out of the bakery.

“I was watching through the window and that was so cheesy, but so perfect. I could write a romance book and make that a perfect scene,” Lance said as she went out to greet him.

She punched his arm and hefted her duffel bag. “Hunk said to go around the back. He’ll let us in.”

Together, they went around the bakery and found the door propped open. Pidge peeked in and the saw the bakers working on different sets of cake. Hunk noticed her and went to open the door for them, clearing a path for them to get to the office. It didn’t seem like anyone noticed Leon, much less Pidge and Lance making their way to Hunk’s office.

When they got in, Pidge dropped her bag and looked around. She noticed a few Polaroids taped to the wall, all taken in the winter. The first one Hunk took of her where she hadn’t even been looking at the camera, the one they took on a bench with Pidge laughing and Hunk looking at her so adoringly it made her blush, and the last one he took of her at the airport. She tugged at the ends of her hair and tried to hide her giddiness.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me you were coming in? I would’ve taken the day off!” Hunk exclaimed, sitting down. He noticed Pidge looking at the pictures and blushed as well.

“Well, I wanted to surprise you. Pidge didn’t know I was going to bring her, so it was a surprise for both of you,” Lance said proudly. “God, Hunk, I mean I- I heard about the cakes, and I saw pictures online, but…. Seeing them in person… it’s like I can’t believe you created all of this, but I know no one else but you could have.”

Hunk blushed more profusely and rubbed his neck as he thanked Lance. Pidge walked behind him and wrapped her around him, resting her chin on top of his head. Because she could do that now. She was his girlfriend. “Also, don’t worry about taking the day off. We need to stop at Matt’s anyway. Oh, and uh… Lance was definitely on the verge of tears when we got here.”

Hunk chuckled and one hand began to caress her hands. “Really?”

Lance scoffed. “Well- yeah! I’m really proud of you! I’m not ashamed to admit I got emotional. Do you have a lot of work this week?”

“Mostly just simple cakes. All the big orders are done,” he said. “So it wouldn’t hurt if I closed a little earlier this week.” Pidge hummed above him and Hunk chuckled. “It really won’t! Besides you guys flew all the way out here. I want to spend time with you guys.”

“We’re gonna make Vegas our bitch this week,” Lance said, making Hunk and Pidge burst into laughter. “Alright, I wanna go leave this at Matt’s until you get off work. I’m assuming I can crash with you? Unless you two lovebirds wanna stay together, then I can ask Matt if I can stay with him-”

“Uh, I think it’s cool,” Hunk said, glancing up at Pidge. “Were you planning on staying with me?”

“Um… I mean, I thought I was staying with Matt but-”

“Oh, this is awkward,” Lance said through a pained chuckle. “I’m kind of loving it. Okay, so you guys figure it out. I’ll be on my phone finding an Uber.”

Pidge glared at him, then felt a tug on her arms. Hunk pulled her around to face him. “Did you want to stay with me?”

“I mean, we used to do it all the time,” she said with a shrug. Hunk hummed and looked at her expectantly, knowing her well enough that he knew she was holding something else back. “It’s different now, isn’t it? Spending the night together as a couple versus as friends?”

“If it’s not something you want to do, that’s okay,” Hunk assured. “I’m not offended.” Pidge grimaced, and he cupped her face to pull her down to a gentle kiss. “My little honeycomb, always overthinking.” Pidge felt herself melt a little at the way he said that. “Stay with your brother. And you’re more than welcome to stay with me whenever you want.”

“Okay,” she whispered. She looked over at Lance who was pointedly staring at his phone. “Did you get a ride for us?”

“Yep! You have the keys, right?” She nodded. “Alright, well, they’re on the way, so….”

“Let me walk you guys out,” Hunk said, standing up. He took Pidge by the hand which made Pidge feel a whole new wave of giddiness and butterflies and jitters. Hunk walked with them to the sidewalk and waited until the car came. “I’ll go over to Matt’s as soon as I’m off work, okay? And we can go out to a bar or a movie or something.”

“Sounds like a perfect plan,” Lance said. “Okay, I think this is our car.” He waved the driver over after checking the license plate and then loaded their luggage.

“I’ll see you guys soon, okay?” Hunk promised, pushing her hair back. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Pidge bit her lip and smiled before she leaned up on her toes to kiss him. “Me too. I’ll see you at Matt’s.” She went to join Lance in the car and they waved as Hunk went back into the bakery.

Lance waited until they were at Matt’s apartment to say anything to Pidge. “So… you’re gonna stay here?” She looked at him as she came back to sit on the couch after leaving her stuff in her room. “You’re not staying with your boyfriend? What was with the ‘it’s different now’ thing?”

“Eavesdropper,” she accused. Lance just shrugged. “Well, I mean it is. Before, it didn’t mean anything, it was just a thing we did. Now we’re dating, and it… it means something, I think. I just don’t want to rush into anything.”

Lance smirked and shook his head.

“What?” Pidge demanded. “Lance, what? What is it?”

“Nothing! Just… it’s very you.” Pidge crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “I just mean that… you’re still being super cautious. Which is kind of weird to me because I never am when I’m in a relationship. But I don’t know if you’re being cautious because it’s what you do or because you think this is going to end in disaster.”

Pidge hesitated and mindlessly flipped through the channels. “I mean… what am I supposed to do if it does?” she whispered. “He’s my best friend. If there’s a disaster, I’m not just losing a boyfriend, I’m losing a best friend. Maybe two if you stay more his friend than mine.”

��Pidge-”

“I know, I know,” she said. “I’m not supposed to be so pessimistic, I have to live in the moment, blah, blah, blah,” she groaned. “They’re just worries I can’t help but have. And then with people always giving their two cents, it just… sucks.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then Lance asked, “Who’s giving what two cents?”

“It’s stupid,” Pidge muttered. “One of my roommates always… used to ask about how this was working. What I would do if Hunk found someone else because we’re on opposite sides of the country. It’s like she was just always judging, always… picking at it. Even though my other roommates were on my side, it still sucked because… it’s like her words were the loudest anyway.

“Actually being with Hunk, it feels different. I feel invincible, I feel like nothing can come between us, I feel like… we’re meant to be. But then I’m away from him, and reality just….” She pantomimed slapping someone, and Lance chuckled. “I don’t know how to live in the moment because I’ve always calculated everything, and now I’m just supposed to… roll with it.”

Lance nodded in understanding and nudged her gently. “Well, hey. It doesn’t matter what other people say about the relationship you two have. And I think you should talk to Hunk about those insecurities. I think it would help if you both just took tonight to talk and be together.” Pidge began to protest, but Lance waved the rebuttals away. “I’m tired from driving and the jetlag. Plus one of those signings is actually tomorrow… so, yeah. It’s cool. Besides, I’ll get to have all week to have sleepovers with Hunk.”

Pidge snorted and shook her head. Before she could respond, she heard the sound of keys jiggling in a lock and the door opened. Matt jumped and grabbed a hold of the coat hanger he had near the door before he realized who had intruded his home.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” he yelped, once the shock wore away.

“Surprise?” Pidge said uncertainly. “We didn’t mean to scare you!”

Matt burst into laughter and rushed forward to hug her tightly. Then he turned to Lance and greeted him just as joyously. “Dude, I heard about the books! Congrats! And you look great, it’s so good to see you again.”

Lance smiled and Pidge finally saw that spark of friendship she’d always expected her brother and Lance to have. “Thanks, man. It’s been pretty great. Busy, but that’s a good thing, I think. But yeah, I abducted Pidge and then we ambushed Hunk and then apparently the next step was scaring the shit out of you. Sorry.”

Matt laughed that off and shrugged. “It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting to see this terror until May, so it’s a great surprise. Are you guys both staying here or at Hunk’s?”

“I’m staying here, Lance is staying at Hunk’s,” Pidge said before any snide comments could be made. But Matt just nodded and Lance was half-watching TV.

“Tonight’s date night for Hunk and Pidge though,” Lance said. “They have catching up to do.”

“Perfect,” Matt said, squaring his shoulders. “I get to perfect my Protective Big Brother act.” Pidge rolled her eyes and plopped down on the couch with Lance. “So catch me up! How’s life been for both of you? How was the trip here? What are the Spring Break plans?”

The three of them took turns talking about what they wanted to do over break and even plans for later- particularly when Pidge graduated. Lance was a little miffed about ending up as the only one on the east coast while his friends stayed on the west side of the country. Somewhere between a conversation about Lance next book signing, there was a knock on the door.

“Unless Matt was expecting company, that must be your guy,” Lance said. Pidge bit her lip and walked over to the door.

The guys kept talking while Pidge opened the door. Sure enough, there was Hunk having changed into his usual attire with a happy smile and bright eyes that brightened further when they met Pidge’s. “Hey, there,” he said softly.

Pidge smiled and wrapped her arms around him, looking up at him with a blushing face. He leaned down and kissed her lightly before she let him in.

“Hunk, buddy, how was work?” Matt asked, shouting from the living room.

“It was great. I got a great surprise today from these two. Oh, hey boy.” Hunk laughed as Leon jumped on him for attention. “So, what’s the plan? We going to eat or what?”

“I was thinking you guys could have a date night,” Lance said. “I have a book signing early tomorrow, and I’m not that hungry.”

Hunk furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you sure? We could order in and stay here. You’re staying with me right?”

“Yeah, for sure! I just figured you’d want a date night….”

Hunk looked over at Pidge, tugging on a strand of her hair. “Yeah, but I’d like to have a chance to plan that out. So, are we eating in?”

“I could go for pizza,” Matt chimed in.

“I’ll order,” Pidge offered. She went to get her laptop from her room to submit an online order. She plopped down on the couch between Hunk and Lance. “Alright, what are we getting?”

The guys took a while to figure out their order, but it was eventually placed and Pidge finally felt herself relax. She had Hunk’s reassuring warmth beside her, his arm draped behind her and playing idly with her hair. She had Lance telling funny stories and making them laugh. She had her brother across from her looking happier than he had in a long time, joking along with Lance. The TV played for no one and Leon hopped from the couch to under the arm chair Matt was in.

Eventually, they had pizza and soda in the mix which made it even better especially with Leon doing tricks in hopes of getting a treat for it.

It felt natural. It felt whole. Pidge had expected her break to consist of sitting at home and watching reruns of Friends by herself on her couch. Instead, she was here, with the people she trusted most and making new memories that made her feel light and… safe.

When it got late, Lance insisted he had to turn in, and Pidge insisted Hunk needed to get rest before his shift the next day. Matt had work too, so he had already been laughing at nothing and everything from tiredness.

Matt soon headed off to bed, too tired for proper goodbyes. While Lance grabbed his things to leave with Hunk, Pidge curled further into the arms of her boyfriend.

“So when I video chatted you while you were at McDonald’s, you were already on your way here, huh?” he murmured into her hair, stroking it gently. He used his other hand to pull her legs onto his lap. She nodded and smiled smugly. “I can’t believe I finally have you in person again,” he said. “I feel like I might never get used to these moments.”

Pidge sighed and hesitated slightly before sliding her hand into his. “I know. But hopefully soon, we can be around each other a lot more often and it can stop feeling like a delusion or something.” Hunk chuckled and pressed his lips to her temple, making Pidge shiver slightly.

She was so unused to this. These affections that screamed girlfriend. Cuddling with Hunk was something she was used to. Hugs, of course. But the handholding and the kissing were still so new. Their relationship so far had been solely through a screen, and now they had a chance to change that.

It made Pidge realize she had no idea whatsoever how to even be a girlfriend.

“Hey. You okay?” She looked at Hunk who was eyeing her worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she assured. “Want me to stop by the bakery when you’re on your lunch break tomorrow?”

Hunk smiled and bumped his nose with hers. “I’d love that.” Pidge smiled and kissed him, letting herself relax into the feeling of being with Hunk this way.

“Yo, lovebirds,” Lance called from the door. “I hate to interrupt, but I’m super tired and need a nap.”

“I’m going,” Hunk said. Pidge stood up with him and went to the front door. “I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?” Pidge nodded and Hunk stepped out into the hallway.

“Pidge, you’re taking me on a tour tomorrow after my signing,” Lance said with a playful wink. “Alrighty, come on, Leon!”

Pidge laughed as she stared after them walking out and then shut the door, still able to hear the two talking in the halls. She locked the door and went to her room to change into PJs.

The next day, Lance and Pidge went up and down the Strip until Hunk’s lunch hour came around. Then they all went to eat at a fast food joint. Lance told them about his book signing. At one point someone actually went up to him with their kid, having recognized him from his book picture and having heard he was in town with a book signing.

The more Pidge walked around with them, the more she felt like this place could be home. Whether she stayed with Matt or maybe one day moved in with Hunk or just got her own place… Vegas felt like it could be home.

She was glad that she wasn’t completely horrible at this girlfriend thing. She loved the feeling of her hand in Hunk’s. It felt like the most natural thing in the world the way their hands found each other’s. Lance was more than happy to play photographer for them, insisting that they needed couple photos. At those moments, Hunk would kiss her cheek or hold her close or smile at her in a way that made Pidge feel like the most important person in the world.

She found herself getting a little more used to the idea of her and Hunk as a unit as the day went on. It had always been the two of them, but each as their own. Now, as a couple, it was a little different. She knew she was still her own person, still able to stand on her own, but now she was also part of a relationship.

Originally, Pidge had been a little terrified about that. She was worried she’d be stripped of who she was until she was just Hunk’s girlfriend. She’d been worried people would expect her to constantly point out that she wasn’t just Pidge now, but Pidge-and-Hunk, and in turn afraid that would make her feel a little less her own person. But that wasn’t the case at all.

Lance teased, but not too much to get frustrating. Matt only smiled seeing her with Hunk. And actually being with Hunk…. She wasn’t afraid when she was with him. She liked being part of this Hunk-and-Pidge thing. It felt like a new layer of her rather than a reset.

Maybe it was a stupid thing to worry about, a stupid thing to think on so much, but Pidge was a person who overthought. Especially when it came to relationships with other people. That had been proven many a times before. And after so long having this relationship solely through phone and computer screens, it still felt new in some ways now that it got a chance to develop in person.

For example, the moments when she wasn’t expecting a touch and received one kept taking her by surprise. Moments when they’d be sitting on a bench or in a restaurant or, later that night, a bar, and she would feel Hunk’s arm around her suddenly. Or he’d tuck her hair back. Or he’d cup her face. Or he’d lean in just to kiss her shoulder.

Those moments kept making her freeze up and have reboot her system to start functioning again.

It was also kind of wonderful to think that Hunk had such natural tendencies towards her. That he felt the urge to just have some sort of contact with her at random moments. She was worried, though, that her lack of reciprocity would come off wrong. But otherwise it would seem forced.

Shit, relationships were hard.

By the time the night was over, they were hanging out at Hunk’s place. They’d all had a few drinks, but Lance was especially tired from waking up so early for the signing. He ended up falling asleep on the couch, and Pidge had to wake him up to tell him he could go to bed. He muttered and shuffled off to Hunk’s room with Leon trotting behind him.

Meanwhile Hunk grabbed some blankets from the linen closet and draped them on the couch where he was sleeping until he got a chance to get an air mattress. He sat down, draping the blankets around him and opening his arms in a silent invitation for Pidge.

She smiled and walked over, sitting between his legs as he browsed through Netflix. He started rocking side to side slowly. Pidge nuzzled closer and sighed happily.

He put on their favorite comedy, and then wrapped his arms around Pidge. They only talked for Pidge’s occasional question on the show or when they commented on something happening. It felt like the way they always interacted, just with more contact, less reserved. No more holding back.

After a couple episodes, Pidge felt Hunk’s thumb rubbing circles into her arm. “Hey.” She hummed, tilting her head to look at him. He looked a little serious. She shifted and looked at him more directly, furrowing her eyebrows. Before she could ask, Hunk said, “Lance told me about the thing that happened in Ohio.”

A muscle in Pidge’s jaw jumped as she clenched her teeth. A weight fell in her stomach, and suddenly she just wanted to go back to Matt’s.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Hunk said softly, his hand coming up to her cheek.

She scoffed and turned her face away. “I’m fine,” she insisted.

“If you were, you wouldn’t react like this, honey badger.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Honey badger?”

“You’re angry. It fits.” He smiled at her, but Pidge kept staring, unamused. He sighed and put a finger under her chin to tilt her head back to him. “Katie, you could’ve gotten hurt. You both could have. Talk to me, what happened? I know you have nightmares, but-”

“What else could it possibly be?” she snapped. “I spend all these years piloting a fucking lion and in the middle of a war and I’m supposed to just… be able to handle cars and planes and….” She sighed, knowing it sounded ridiculous. Cars and planes were nothing like the Green Lion. But they made her anxious. She couldn’t help the way her brain worked. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe you need to.”

“What, another therapist? I was with one for a year when we got back. Bi-weekly meetings. I get nightmares and flashbacks, they can’t help with that. I just have to live with it.” Hunk looked at her with sad brown eyes that made her feel small. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Pidge, I….” Hunk sighed and put a hand on her cheek. “You’re one of the most important people in my life. It hurts me that you’re still in so much pain. I get it, there’s some stuff that just won’t go away, but…. You can’t just not acknowledge or face this. You had to be pried from the pedals. Lance had to use the emergency brake. You were on an access road, someone could’ve hit you, you could’ve hit someone else.”

“I know!” she yelled.

“Hey,” he said, trying to placate her. He got a hold of her waist before she could get up and storm off. He pulled her back gently, and she let him. “Easy. I’m just trying to explain why I’m worried.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m strong, I can handle it.” She put her legs on either side of him, facing him fully, trying to meet his gaze in a way that would prove she was fine.

Hunk sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. His thumb ran across her cheekbone. “If it were me, would you worry?” Pidge shut her eyes and sighed. Then she nodded slowly. “Then don’t tell me not to.”

“I’ll be okay,” she insisted.

“So stubborn.” She chuckled lightly and opened her eyes. He stared at her for a moment before leaning in to kiss her softly. “Oute alofa ia te oe.”

Pidge smiled and tilted her head. “What’s that mean?”

“It means you’re the most magnificent person I know,” he answered. Pidge smiled smugly at that. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I know,” she said, her smile dropping. “I just… don’t want to hold on to those weak moments more than I need to.”

“Pidge, you’re not weak. That is the last word anyone would ever think to use to describe you. And I don’t want you to think that I worry or ask because it seems weak. I’m asking because I don’t want you to have to fight so much to be okay when you have me and Lance and your brother to help. You’re not alone anymore. You’re my best friend and my girlfriend. I want to know that you’ll let me help you when you need it.”

She sighed and looked at him. The vulnerability in his eyes made her heart break and come back together all at once. She reached a hand out, running her fingers through his hair. His eyes shut as she pushed it back. Then she put her hands on either side of his face.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she whispered. His eyes opened. “But I’m glad I did it.”

“Pidge-”

She leaned forward to kiss him. To really kiss him. To kiss him with all of her heart, with all of the affection she’d stored up since the day she’d kissed him goodbye at the airport. To hopefully tell him that just because she didn’t want to tell him about her weaker moments, it didn’t mean she didn’t trust him, she just wanted him to know and have the best of her. To tell him she was willing to work through all of her fears if it meant having moments like this with him for the rest of her life.

His lips were gentle with hers. He held her tightly, one hand at her waist, the other at the back of her neck. Pidge let her hands drop to his shoulders. One arm draped around him as her other hand threaded through his hair.

Hunk let out a soft grunt that made a fire sear through Pidge’s body. The hand at her waist moved to wrap around her torso and pull her closer. Their breaths increased in speed, but their lips remained connected. Pidge shivered as she realized how new this was. Being with Hunk this way…. Feeling all these new things with Hunk, because of Hunk.

She’d never had a kiss like this. She’d never felt so wrapped up by the sensation. The heat was almost uncomfortable, but she reveled in it because it felt so wonderful to be there, with Hunk’s hands on her with his lips against hers, with the sound of his breaths.

They only stopped because Hunk tilted his head down after a while, catching his breath, humming softly. Pidge trembled slightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead which made Hunk chuckle softly.

“Are you staying tonight?” he asked. His voice sounded broken, but in a good way. In that way it must always be when you kiss someone for so long.

“Yeah,” Pidge said, deciding at that very moment. Hunk looked back up at her and smiled. “Now kiss me again.”

Hunk laughed and kissed her nose. “Your lips and chin are red,” he noted.

“Because of your beard,” she said. “But I don’t mind it.” She leaned against him, shifting to sit beside him with one of his arms around her. “You should sleep. You have work in the morning.”

Hunk groaned, but he shifted to lay down, wrapping Pidge in his arms. His breath tickled her a bit, but she kind of enjoyed it. It meant they were close. It meant they were together.

After a while, his breaths evened out. He’d fallen asleep. Pidge let the TV keep playing as she traced his tattoos with a finger. She wondered how long a person was supposed to wait before falling in love. Something told her it wasn’t a logistical thing either. That she’d have to welcome it as it came, and although that also terrified her… she was excited about it too.

They woke up to someone flicking water at their faces. Pidge grumbled and opened her eyes to see Lance behind the couch, a smirk on his face. “If you were staying over, I could’ve taken the couch.” He walked away to pick up a cup of coffee he’d left on the counter. “Hunk, I’m hungry,” he whined.

“I didn’t know I was gonna stay,” Pidge mumbled, shuffling onto her other side to hide her face in Hunk’s chest.

“I’m hungry too. Why don’t you make me breakfast for once,” Hunk yawned, cuddling Pidge closer. “Wake me when it’s ready.”

“The hospitality in Vegas sucks,” Lance said. Pidge laughed into Hunk’s chest.

After a few clatters of pots and pans- which Pidge was certain were on purpose- Hunk groaned and sat up. “Alright, I’m coming, stop touching stuff, you heathen.”

Pidge sat up so he could get off the couch and wrapped herself in the blanket as he went to the kitchen, shooing Lance away. The smell of food soon filled the apartment and if Pidge closed her eyes, she could imagine a morning waking up in Hunk’s bed to this same thing. She could imagine it being a routine. She could imagine joining him in the kitchen, learning his recipes and sitting to eat with him every day. She could imagine them dancing playfully along to the music he liked to hum as he cooked.

She was starting to get swept up in fantasies. It was a little reckless…. But she didn’t mind it all.

Click here for Ch. 10

#hidge #fragile heart #hunk and pidge #team punk #vld #voltron

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shookethbrooketh · 6 years ago

Text

stars

chapter 27

dan soundly slept through the night; he must have been tired, as every logical position said he would have woken up multiple times either from situational anxiety or discomfort of the hospital floor. when he woke up, sun was shining through the windows, and margo wasn’t breathing.

summary: dan grew up in a normal 1930s london family with his parents and little brother. everything was completely and utterly normal… until the bombs started dropping. When dan was fifteen his father went off to war, and when he was sixteen he and his brother hayden were sent off to a foster family in rural england. he looked up at the stars and couldn’t help but wonder how something that beautiful could exist in such a broken world. just when he thought things would never get better, dan met phil, and he became the shining star of his life. but when phil turned eighteen and went off to war, dan couldn’t help but wonder when, if ever, the stars would twinkle the same way again.

rating: t

genre: angst, fluff, history au, strangers to lovers, teenagers

whole fic warnings: warfare (not descriptive), bombings, fire, panic attacks, ptsd, epilepsy/seizures, homophobia, death, fighting/arguing, general angst, mentions of a car accident, hospitals chapter warnings: death, mentions of a car accident, hospitals, mentions of blood

chapter word count: 2.2k total word count: 40.4k

read it on ao3 read it on wattpad fic masterlist

a/n: this chapter’s super duper sad and kinda dark so be careful reading it! it should be better next chapter :)

University was difficult for Dan, but he managed to keep up. As a law student, he’d found himself in about the hardest program possible, but the time it took up managed to distract him from all the people he missed.

Of course, he still wrote to both Phil and Hayden every day, but his studies kept him from thinking about them every moment of every day, which was an extreme step up.

His first semester was the hardest for multiple reasons. Being alone for the first time was a terrible struggle; he barely knew how to provide for himself. Had it not been for his roommate, he probably wouldn’t have managed to remember his schedule or even buy food.

Luckily, he did make some friends while he was there. He chose to avoid most of the party scenes after being invited to one party and being hit on by multiple girls, but he found himself in plenty of study groups with other kids sharing his same struggles. He even met a few people who had loved ones off in the war and managed to bond with them over the shared situation. It was surprising, through all the stress, but Dan was somehow happy there.

Despite his happiness at uni, Dan was even happier when his midterms were finished and it was time to go home for Christmas holiday.

When he pulled into the driveway, Hayden was waiting on the porch, bundled up in the cold. “Danny!” he shouted, and Dan was more than happy with the fact that he would never forget the joy on the child’s face. Dan jumped out of the truck and ran up to give him a hug. He’d gotten taller since Dan left.

There was a certain warmth coming from the hug; he hadn’t left his brother since he was born, and reuniting with him after a few, long months was sweet enough that it materialized in warmth.

Spending the holidays with Hayden and the family was nice, but being back in the house with nothing to do made it difficult not to think about Phil. Everything he did brought a sense of joy about him, even when it was negative, because he felt at home throughout it all, but he also felt a deep sadness he refused to acknowledge. Everything reminded him of both Hayden and Phil, and they just balanced out for him to have a decent holiday.

It was nice to head back up to the tree on the days when it wasn’t snowing or freezing; he even took Hayden with him so it would be just like the days of the past summer. On snowy days, he managed to have a snowball fight or two with Hayden, just as they did with Phil two years earlier.

It was odd to think two years had passed; time was a bizarre construct that Dan had yet to figure out through the chaos. The day he first arrived two years earlier was one of the hardest for Dan to spend at the house, but he made it through.

After a bittersweet few weeks, it was finally time for Dan to head back to uni. Dan and Hayden both were a bit less of wrecks that time, which comforted Dan plenty. Both knew it was time for Dan to go back to his adult life.

It was about halfway through the spring semester when Dan was approached by the head of his dorm and told he was wanted by the president of the school. Dan was anxious as he approached the office, but it was significantly worse than he had thought.

“Mr Howell, correct?” he asked, and Dan nodded. “We’ve received a call from a hospital in southwest England. Do you happen to have a brother named Hayden?”

Dan’s heart raced. Hayden must have had an episode with his epilepsy. “Yes, sir; he’s my brother.”

“He told the doctors to call you, and they called the university and told me to relay the message. He and who I assume are your parents were in a car crash last night. He’s alright, but your parents are in critical condition. I’m sorry.”

Dan’s mind joined his heart in the race, and he hadn’t a clue what to say. “Thank you,” he muttered before blankly standing and walking out of the room. He had no memory of the latter of this interaction; he was buried in his own thoughts.

Were they going to be alright? What would happen to Hayden if something happened to Margo and Harold? How could he ever tell Phil? What if Dan never got the chance to tell Margo how much she’d helped him after Phil left? Dan ran around campus to all his professors to tell them he’d have to go before frantically packing his things and hitting the road. He had to go home.

He arrived at the same hospital where they’d taken Hayden for his past seizures and inquired a secretary near the front entrance as to whether or not the family was there.

“Do you have Margo and Harold Lester?” he asked, eyes wide with anticipation and fear.

“What’re they in for?” she asked in a careless voice.

“They were in a car crash.”

“Ask emergency.”

Dan rolled his eyes and trekked to the emergency room, where he was told they’d been taken to intensive care. He finally made it to the ICU and the secretary there gave him a room number.

Margo and Harold were the only two in the room. The fact that Hayden didn’t have to be surrounded by complete strangers would have reassured him had he not been brought to tears just by the sight of them. It was barely possible to tell who they were; Harold was in a full body cast, and Margo had multiple casts on her body and even more bruises. A sob escaped his mouth as he looked at them; they were both unconscious. It was only a moment later when Dan realized Hayden was nowhere to be found. He was about to panic when a doctor walked in.

“You must be Daniel,” the doctor said, looking down at his clipboard.

“Yes, I am.”

“Your brother is downstairs in the cafeteria. We’ve tried to find him somewhere else to go, but he refused to leave and had us call you. A nurse took him to get some food; they’ll be back soon.”

“Thank you, doctor. What happened?” Dan gestured towards the beds, refusing to look back at them again. He couldn’t imagine Hayden having had to witness that tragedy occur.

“They were driving and were hit head on by a drunkard. The front half of the car was bashed in, and they were both hit hard. Your brother was in the backseat, so he was flung forward and hit the driver’s seat. He’s got a good few bruises, and he jammed his arm in between the seat and the door and broke it, but he’s generally doing alright. Obviously he’s already been discharged.”

Dan nodded, speechless. “Hayden!” he shouted as he saw the boy coming up behind the doctor. A nurse wandered behind him nonchalantly smoking a cigarette.

“Oh, good, the brother. Finally.” She didn’t seem to care much.

Dan tried to hug Hayden, but he winced, so he backed off. He took a step back and looked at his brother; he had a bandaged cut on his forehead and bruises on one arm and a cast on the other. Regardless, he was beaming. “It’s so good to see you.”

The first night was the easiest; Dan took Hayden home and they packed him a hospital bag full of his favorite clothes, toys, and snacks. They spent the evening together in front of the radio, and Dan couldn’t help but feel odd being in the house without Margo and Harold. There was a certain emptiness about it he couldn’t quite describe.

They slept at the house that night and drove back to the hospital in the morning. There was an unwritten agreement that they simply wouldn’t talk about the incident. Dan couldn’t imagine how Hayden was feeling; after all he’d been through, he ended up in a car accident watching the second set of parents he got nearly bleed to death.

They arrived at the hospital to a doctor holding them out of the room. “Harold is having a bit of an...incident. Have you had breakfast yet? You should go get some breakfast.”

“We’ve already eat-” Before Dan even had a chance to finish, the doctor whipped back around and rushed back into the room. Dan sighed and took Hayden’s hand. “Do you want some ice cream?”

Dan didn’t love feeding his brother ice cream at 10:00 in the morning, but he assumed it was better than whatever was to be found in the hospital room. They came back upstairs two ice cream cones later to find Harold hooked up to a breathing machine. “Why don’t you find something fun to play with in your backpack?” he asked Hayden, and he nodded and went to the chair in the corner of the room, where he started looking through his bag for something to occupy him. “I’ll be right back.”

Dan left the room and found the doctor he’d spoken to the day before. “What happened to him?”

“They’re both suffering from a lot of internal bleeding, and his flared up. Neither of them are stable; if I’m being honest with you, I don’t know if they’ll make it through the day.”

Dan took a deep breath and bit his lip, looking back at Hayden in the corner of Margo and Harold’s room. “Thank you.”

He turned on his heel and walked over to Hayden, who was playing solitaire. “Got room for another?”

It was a slow day of card games and hospital food until Harold gasped. Both the boys jumped and turned to his bed, where he was writhing in pain. Dan turned to Hayden, who looked about ready to cry on the site. “Come on,” he said, pulling him out of the room. “Doctor!”

They let the doctors rush past them in a second attempt to save Harold, and Hayden started to cry. “Danny, is he dying?”

Dan took a split second to consider this question. “I don’t know,” he replied, and Hayden’s sobs got louder. His parenting skills could definitely use some work. “But it’s going to be okay, alright? We’ve gotten through a lot together over the years, and we’re going to get through this.”

Hayden’s cries softened until they stopped, and Dan wiped the tears from his brother’s puppy dog eyes. “Okay.”

A doctor came out of the room and threw his bloody gloves in a trash can. “I’m sorry,” he said to the two of them, putting on a sad face although Dan knew this wasn’t new to him, “he’s gone.”

Dan took Hayden’s hand and led him in to where Harold lay lifeless. He had a bit of blood around his mouth, but otherwise he looked as normal as a dead person could. “Do you want to say goodbye?”

Hayden held back tears this time, as if he’d accepted the situation. Dan was so numb by then that he couldn’t think or feel enough to cry. “Goodbye, Harold.” He stood there for a moment, taking and squeezing his limp hand. “Thank you.”

Dan finally broke at that, holding back tears of his own. “Bye, then,” he said, smiling weakly at the man who took him in. He thought of the times he’d taken Dan out driving. “Thanks for everything.”

The doctors took him away shortly after, stopping to tell Dan they expected Margo to follow. According to them, it wouldn’t be as violent, but she was doing gradually worse rather than better. Eventually, her body would simply stop functioning.

After Hayden fell asleep in the chair, Dan stood at Margo’s bedside clutching her hand. “Please don’t leave,” he whispered. “I just want to be able to tell you how much you matter to me. Never has anyone supported me as much as you, save for Phil and maybe Hayden. I thought it was impossible, but you truly took on the role of my mum while I’ve been away from her. I don’t know how to express how thankful I am for that.” He paused for a moment, looking up at her closed eyes. In the dark, she reminded him of Phil. “And thank you for giving me the love of my life.”

Dan soundly slept through the night; he must have been tired, as every logical position said he would have woken up multiple times either from situational anxiety or discomfort of the hospital floor. When he woke up, sun was shining through the windows, and Margo wasn’t breathing.

He left Hayden asleep and got up to call a doctor in; they concluded that she didn’t have a pulse, and Dan woke up Hayden. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

This was a rougher goodbye for the both of them; apparently Hayden had grown closer to Margo since Dan had left. When they eventually wheeled her out, Dan slid down against the wall, his head in his hands. He’d been expecting this result, and although they both cried over Margo, Dan’s thoughts were occupied mostly by something else.

“How am I going to tell Phil?”

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phic stuff #stars #chapter 27 #dong and ping

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golden-pickaxe · 6 years ago

Text

Odal - Part 5

Fandom: Vikings

Paring: Ivar x Reader

Type: Viking Times

Word Count: 1986

Warnings: none

[All Parts Here]

A/N: Another part! The next part will probably take a while longer again, not only because this week I have to work a lot, but also because it will be a bit longer with a lot more happening! This is just setting the scene, mostly.

Anyways, what I wanted to say was: Thank you all so much for your positive feedback! Every like, every comment, every ask and every reblog makes me so, so, so happy! Thank you to every one who reads my story!

[Playlist]

Summary: When you were just a child, you had been adopted by two shieldmaidens, as one of six sisters. Now, all grown up, the lot of you join king Harald to avenge the death of Ragnar in England. A journey, that is going to change the life you’ve known before.

Tags: @lightningwitcher @lovelynerdytraveler @everlasting9 @cbouvier23 @hallowed-heathen

You departed in the early hours of the morning, the massive fleet of Viking ships leaving the fjord of Kattegat behind, to make their way over the big ocean and towards the shores of England.

It was hard for you to contain your excitement, your mind running wild with all kinds of scenarios.

Would there be calm ears on your way? Would there be storms? You had heard of many ships taken by Ran, which had succumbed to the ocean on their way west. Apparently the very ship that had brought king Ragnar to England for his last journey had sunken in a storm, he and his son Ivar just barely surviving.

Where would you land? Northumbria or Wessex? How long would it be until you faced the armies of the English kings? And how would England look in general?

Asta had told you a bit about the land, trying to describe all the differences she had noticed. The soil, she had said, was much more fertile than back home, and the clouds were so low in the sky, it seemed as if you were able to touch them if you stretched high enough. The grass was greener than any she had seen before, and thick forests covered part of the land.

“I can almost hear your thoughts, sister, so hard you seem to be thinking them.” You were suddenly pulled back to reality by Gudrun, who had sat down next to you with a slight smile, tilting her head at you. Today she for once had braided her hair back, as the wind on the sea would just blow it into her face.

You all were still travelling with Hrafnkell and his men, currently sitting on deck of his large ship, watching your homeland disappear in the distance. A sudden thought hit you, that you had never been this far away from home, that you had actually never really left Norway.

“I’m just.. anxious.” You answered, mirroring her smile, not specifying what kind of anxious you meant. Your sister though, seemed to understand your meaning completely.

“Me too, Y/N, me too.” She simply said, lightly squeezing your arm with her hand, before returning her warm, brown eyes towards the deep blue sea.

You followed her eyes, watching the waves hitting the wood of your ship, the smell of salt in your nose. The wind was cool against your skin, and you inhaled deeply, the anticipation almost too much for you.

Three days you were on sea, three long days with nothing but the endless, open water around you. A part of you was scared, scared that you would never reach shore, that there was nothing beyond, but another part of you managed to quite it down, remembering that your people, by the gods, that your own sister, had undertaken this journey many, many times, and while it certainly was dangerous, it was not impossible.

During your time on sea you fleet had lost sight of three of your king’s ships, hoping that they had only been blown slightly off course, and would find you again as soon as you had reached the coast.

But nevertheless, the gods had been kind, and no storm had wrecked your fleet on the cliffs in front of England.

It was truly a wonderous moment, when the white beaches of England had finally come into view. You had stood right at the front of the ship, your arm wrapped around the carved dragon head, staring into the distance where you could make out low, grassy hills, which turned into forests, the clouds in the sky truly as low as your sister had described them to you.

The moment the your fleet landed on shore, a new wave of excitement washed over you, and you jumped off the ship, knee deep in the salt water of the ocean, going to land with the rest of the massive army of the sons of Ragnar.

The princes, the jarls and king Harald shouted commands, ordered the establishment of a camp, to gather the warriors and to plan the attack.

Working together you set up tents, built table and benches, established a forge and quickly secured a small river for water. The army was surprisingly efficient, considering its sheer size and the different clans that had been thrown together, and after only a short few hours the encampment almost felt like a city to you.

You and your sister had a tent for just the six of you, even though it was not particularly large, rather close to Hrafnkell’s band of warriors, who themselves were not too far away from the king. You had to admit, you were quite fortunate to travel with Hrafnkell, as through him you got to enjoy a better position in the army itself.

Your meeting with king Harald, shortly before you had departed for Kattegat, had probably also helped to establish a certain goodwill with the man. If the king knew who you were, you certainly already had a huge advantage.

Despite the incredibly green grass and the fluffy clouds, the first really marvellous thing you noticed about England was, that despite it being summer, the sun completely set, the night coming a lot earlier and a lot darker than you had anticipated.

Fascinated you watched the sunset, as if it was just early spring, the warm light tinting the clouds purple, orange and pink.

You were sitting in front of the tent that you shared with your sisters, a warm bowl of soup in your hands, eating a bit later than the others, as you had joined them a bit later, due to you helping to set up some tables with Hallgrim.

Hrafna was sitting next to you, sharpening her axe with a whetstone, while Yeva was mending her armour, singing a song in her mother tongue. You did not understand the words, but it sounded happy, and you, as always, enjoyed the woman’s voice.

You were not quite sure where Gudrun and Hallgrim where, whom you had not seen since you had worked together, but you knew that Asta had left shorty after you had set up camp to attend a meeting of the jarls and high ranking warriors, together with Hrafnkell, to discuss the plans for the coming days, and how to attack the English. A scout had brought news that you were close to York just an hour ago, and also that they knew of your arrival.

Sitting there, eating, and listening to the voice of Yeva, your mind went wandering again. It was quaint here, you thought. This place had something oddly peaceful about it, and you understood completely why king Ragnar’s dream had been to settle this land. It would have been beautiful, you were sure, living here and farming the fertile soil. Frey had blessed this land as it seemed.

But with the Christians owning this land, and murdering the men, women and children who had tried to start a life here, the peace around you seemed like nothing more than a lie.

Of course, even you had heard of the massacre of thousands of Saxon pagans in Verden by the hands of the previous Christian king of Frankia, a story your real mother had told you, warning you about the evil these people brought upon all the lands they invaded. Knowing this, it certainly did not surprise you that the English king had broken his promise, and betrayed Ragnar. Just for this he already deserved to die, as an oath breaker never had a good fate in stall.

With your thoughts turning grim, your slightly shook your head, returning to reality, and turning your attention to the people around you. Some tended their weapons and armour, while others continued to set up their camp. Some were, just like you, eating their evening meal, talking amongst themselves about what would await them in the morning.

Thinking about going to battle the next day, always brought a thrill with it. Was tomorrow your fated death day? Or would you live another morning, to fight yet another war? You were not afraid, why should you be? Either you died, or you survived, and even if you would decide not to fight, you would die either way when it was your time.

You continued to eat your soup, looking around the camp once more and finally spotting Hallgrim behind some of the tents. She was tending some of the animals the army had brought with them, currently stroking the fur of a young goat, a content smile on her face. Before you had departed Kattegat, Hallgrim had cut her hair, shaving off the sides completely. She often pointed out how much hair in her face annoyed her, and you could not remember her ever wearing it short.

When she had been a child, everyone had assumed she was a boy, the way she always took a knife and cut it as short as she could, until your mothers had done it for her, to keep her form accidently hurting herself.

Hrafna was, even though she was just as, if not even more annoyed by hair in her face, the complete opposite of Hallgrim in that matter. She always kept her long hair strickly braided, out of her face and along her skull, the long braid on her back bound together with pieces of leather.

While Hallgrim cut her hair as often as she could, Hrafna never did. You still remembered when you were children, how the ginger had screamed and cried when Thora had tried to cut her hair a bit, Asta and Ragnhild having to hold her down forcefully to enable Thora to just cut the broken ends.

Now though, that she was not a child anymore, and your mothers could not cut her hair for her, she let it grow. And it had grown, her long braid reaching past her hips, although you knew that it was still a bit longer when it was opened.

A smile wandered onto your face, as you still watched Hallgrim with the goat. You certainly did not have a normal family. You had never met a person with two mothers and six sisters, who were from all over the known world, each of them so unlike the other, so unlike you, that some people had wondered what held you together.

Still, you considered yourself lucky, and could not wish for a better family, as you trusted them with your life. Even though you sometimes felt bad for thinking it, you had been fortunate for it to have come this way. If you had still been the daughter of a simple boat builder, you would probably not be here now, a shieldmaiden of the kind and part of the massive army of the sons of Ragnar, about to conquer England.

You were ultimately pulled out of your thoughts by Asta, who returned from the direction of the king’s tent, a very content expression on her face. She nodded to Hallgrim, who had also spotted her, and who quickly put down the goat in her arms to join you at your tent. Gudrun also came back, as she had apparently sat together with some other shieldmaidens from Sweden.

“What happened?” you asked, causing Hrafna and Yeva to also turn their attention to your oldest sister, when she had finally reached you.

“King Harald wants us to fight next to him in the shield wall. In the front line.” Asta smiled smugly. “Apparently seeing us train every day showed him what we are capable of, and convinced him that we fight better tan most of his own men.”

Hrafna laughed loudly at her words, a more than triumphant grin on her face. Her pale eyes glinted a bit murderously.

“Oh, by the gods, he won’t regret his choice!” she said, running a thumb over the sharp edge of her axe.

#ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #vikings imagine #ivar x reader #ivars heathen army #odal

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